‘After I had our baby it took my partner just eight weeks to attack me in our home’

‘I think about you more than you think about me,’ my ex-partner, Clive*, told me when I explained I wasn’t going to cancel plans with my friends that evening.

‘I’d do anything for you,’ he continued. ‘I’d cancel my friends for you, I just want to spend all my time with you but you don’t seem to want to do that with me.’

He laid the guilt on pretty thick, but it worked – I bailed on my plans.

We had only been together a few weeks at that point and I thought the world of Clive – the last thing I wanted was to upset him, but still, something inside of me felt uncomfortable.

At first, he made me feel special, but the relationship went from loving to intrusive very quickly. It wasn’t long before Clive started to attack me.

We met through work. I had just come out of a long term relationship, after discovering that my partner had cheated, which was hard to deal with.

My colleagues could tell I was struggling and one day Clive asked if I’d like to have a drink with him. It felt so kind and thoughtful, so I went.

From there, it quickly developed into a full-blown relationship between us. Clive promised he’d never cheat like my ex, and showered me with compliments and praise. 

He would call and message me constantly and at the time it felt good to be with a man who showed me so much love – but looking back I can see how vulnerable I was. 

Within a few months Clive had moved into my house and the constant messages began to shed any signs of affection. Instead, they began to feel intrusive – if I didn’t respond immediately, he would call until I picked up. 

One day Clive told me he was heartbroken that I still had photos of my ex on my phone, as it showed that I wasn’t ‘all in’ with him, the way he was with me. He insisted he wouldn’t dream of still having pictures of his ex and accused me of being in love with someone else. 

Desperate not to upset him, I spent nine hours deleting those memories and ended up creating a brand new social media profile just to appease Clive. I did it to make him happy at the expense of my own happiness.

It was around six months into our relationship that he first became physically violent. We’d been out for something to eat and a couple of drinks at a local pub and when we came back around midnight, Clive’s phone kept ringing.

I saw a woman’s name – not even questioning who it was or why they were calling him – and simply told him that somebody was trying to get hold of him. He brushed it off and ignored it.

But the ringing didn’t stop for another two hours, so at 2am, I told Clive he should answer it. That comment sent him over the edge.

He threw a drink in my face and dragged me off the bed. Panicked, I ran downstairs and tried to get to the front door but he caught up with me and pushed me against the wall, pressing his hand across my face, screaming: ‘I’m not him, I won’t cheat on you, how dare you doubt me!’

Eventually, Clive let me go and I ran to the living room, where he grabbed me and threw me on the sofa, screaming at me again. After a few minutes he stopped suddenly, as if he had come out of a trance and realised what he did. 

Pacing the room, Clive was clearly panicked, saying he’d ruined everything and that I would never forgive him. Terrified and in shock, I did the safest thing I could – I told him it was OK. 

I softly patted his arm and told him we should just go back to bed, that we could talk tomorrow. I was calm on the outside, but every part of me was filled with fear.

In the morning, with puppy dog eyes, Clive apologised. He told me it happened because of how much he loved me.

Looking back, I think he was testing the waters with me – while he had physically hurt me he hadn’t technically hit me, and that was probably how he defended what happened to himself. He needed to see how far he could push me and that was the turning point for him; he saw that I had accepted it and said we should move on. 

After that, the  violence got progressively worse over the years, going from physical to sexual violence. It resulted in some serious injuries – and I ended up having a miscarriage. 

When I eventually had my daughter, Annie* something changed in me, and I vowed to do whatever I could to protect this baby.

After returning home from the hospital, it took Clive just eight weeks to attack me in our home – this time I rang 999 for the first time. 

He initially fled, but when he came home I made it clear that we were over – I would never, ever let Annie be put in danger.

Because I had called the police, social services had also been alerted and we had a really impactful conversation. Finally, I felt heard and I was put in contact with a domestic violence worker.

I also told my family what had really been happening, after hiding everything from them for so long.

The two years following our break-up were harrowing – worse than any part of the relationship I had with Clive. He moved out but I suffered badly with my mental health. 

He had asked to keep seeing Annie, so I did everything I was told to do.  I would organise carefully timed access – in public so there were always people around –  which were usually dictated by Annie’s sleep routine as she was still very young. But in an effort to continually control me, he would cancel at the last minute, not turn up and then arrive unannounced at the house at all hours, demanding to see her, which took a huge toll on me. 

Then there were the constant texts and phone calls, sometimes hundreds in a day, all while I was desperately trying to navigate the family court system, which I had no knowledge of at all.

Clive failed several times to be part of Annie’s life. As he was on her birth certificate, I had to file for a non-molestation order in a bid to stop him from harassing and stalking me, which took months as each order was only for six months. Finally, after 18 months of back and forth, the judge granted me a non-contact order. Now, Clive can’t see Annie  or contact her in any possible way.

Not long after, the Police Victim’s Unit called to tell me that the CPS was taking a criminal case against Clive to court. Through Clare’s Law – which allows you to make an application on behalf of yourself, a friend or family member to see if someone has a history of violence or domestic abuse – I had discovered I wasn’t the first person that Clive had done this to; there were two other women, they suspected, before me. 

Both cases before me fell through, one was due to lack of evidence but the CPS pleaded with me to go ahead.

I realised then how important reporting violence was. It meant that if any woman searched Clive in the future, the information about what he did to me would be there, and I did end up securing a conviction against him.

It’s now coming up to nine years since I left, and part of me is never going to fully recover.

It took me up until last year to understand the sense of shame I carried and accept it’s a long road ahead.

Mental health services have been fantastic too. I am still on the medication they put me on, and I’ve found that time is a great healer.

Education is so important, too. I remember my domestic violence worker showing me the diagram of the cycle of abuse, which breaks down what an abuse relationship looks like into four stages (tension building; a violent incident; reconciliation; a period of calm) and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing – it felt like someone had drawn out my life on this piece of paper. 

Working with Refuge has been a massive help for me, as well as finally being open with loved ones. I no longer have to keep putting that mask on, pretending everything’s fine. If you’re experiencing domestic abuse, I’d urge you to please, tell someone – a friend, family member, a charity like Refuge or your employer – anyone you can trust and genuinely feels like they are safe.

*Names have been changed.

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