I didn't believe I could leave: It didn't feel like an option

His hands wrapped around my neck, I surrendered to the inevitable. I felt myself relax, detach from the moment and promise myself that should I somehow make it out alive, I would leave him immediately. I thought this might be how I die.

It sounds crazy, but I called the police who couldn't help me because he had left the house and they had no way of knowing where he was. I look back and think why didn't the police take it upon themselves to protect me, find him and put him behind bars? It set the tone for all the abuse that came later. I knew I wasn't protected and I submitted to my reality early on.

I had to face him alone and tell him I wanted a divorce.

He didn't bother saying anything to the kids, just packed his bags and left. His silence was just as aggressive as his violence.

Even though he had been abusive physically and mentally with me, legally he was given access to the children every weekend. I trusted he wouldn't hurt them, I believed all his rage was aimed at me, and me alone.

I just didn't know I needed to know about the psychological consequences on their mental health.

This was a quite a while ago, in a country where women had little power to protect their children. I couldn't leave, and I couldn't go to court and demand sole custody. In order to survive financially and emotionally I knew fighting him was not an option. He would have demanded sole custody and probably won.

Although I was working when our divorce process started, I was not making enough to support myself and the kids. We had more than enough money for us not to worry, but he controlled the payments and that was a sure way to control me. He used the money I needed to survive as a weapon, often not paying on time or refusing to pay for the children's schooling or activities. I had to re-evaluate my career options, which meant working during the day and studying at night until I was qualified.

I missed out on precious moments with my children, but I had no choice and I did my best to balance everything. Sadly, we had to move home quite a few times, and sometimes that included changing schools. I can't work out if he hated me enough to uproot our children, or if he genuinely didn't care about them.

Each move was disruptive and destabilising for them, and as adults I can see how they were impacted by his abuse. He was mean, and he used them to get to me.

This included ignoring the agreed school fees or sharing the cost of a birthday party. He refused to pay for clothes or books, it was for me to cover everything.

He was that man who refused to pay for a school trip.

Did I see the signs when we dated? In retrospect it's easy to say yes. He appeared to be caring, mentoring, helping me settle into a role in a company by teaching me essential business skills. We were both expats in a strange land and I was new to the land, and he wasn't. It was appealing, sexy, and he knew what he wanted unlike the other men (boys) I met.

When he proposed I said yes, but I also asked for some time before rushing into the marriage. I was young and I knew I wasn't ready to be a wife. He said it's now or never and in my naivety I succumbed to his demand. He wanted me to change my surname, I didn't see the need and I don't have a brother. My surname was precious to me. He was enraged and although he didn't beat me, he was aggressive to say he was violent.

I didn't think or feel that I could leave.

It doesn't make sense now, but back then I really believed I had no choice. After that argument he became loving and kind and we had a lot of fun together, I dismissed it, swept it under the rug and blamed it on stress. We moved into a new home, finally got our citizenship and then decided we were ready to start a family.

The pregnancy was easy, and I worked up until the last week. The birth traumatised me. Everything that could have gone wrong, did. I was in a lot of pain and really needed to heal, but he dismissed my needs and demanded I get back to work. I could barely walk let alone sit at a desk. The slow drip of not caring for me began, and I was so tired being a new mother, I didn't stand up for myself.

The actual physical abuse started after the birth of our second child.

It was subtle at first, and again I made excuses for his temper. I over empathised and blamed it on his childhood and how his father had treated him and his mother.

When the kids were young he paid little attention to them, and as they grew older he was good with them in a 'as long as we do what I want' way. Which was how he manipulated the play time and family time. It had to suit him at the right time or they were strangers to him. After the divorce, he decided it would be more fun to chip away at their personalities and looks. When they refused to go to him on the weekend, I didn't force them to. I was relieved, and for a while he was distracted and didn't care.

It's upsetting that 30 years later, these kids are still the ones who call him, check in on him and make an effort to try and meet. They always end up in tears or distressed and I can't stop them from hurting themselves. Every so often he will call and suggest he has changed and promise to turn up, and then he doesn't. Or if he does, he makes it about him and the effort it cost him.

How am I? Back then I didn't have the money or the time for therapy, which I needed. I got on with life. It took me years to build myself up, and thankfully I haven't had any contact with him in a very long time. I hear from mutual acquaintances he still talks about me as though I owe him for everything.

Leaving an abusive relationship is often unsafe if you try to make the move alone. Please, always reach to support groups and local centres to get you the correct plan in place.

If you would like to share your story or you are a professional who wants to share some insights, please email me here