I spent all week unsure whether to go back to the domestic abuse group or not.

I didn’t want to go and spend the whole time in tears again, partly because I’m not good with being emotional in front of people and partly because I feel it stops the group doing what they’ve come for; instead, all of the focus would be on me. I woke up this morning, realised I have nothing to lose, and so I went. It took all of my courage to walk through that door.

I didn’t cry at all; it wasn’t nearly as hard as last week, and I feel as though I’ve come away with so much. We did some work around boundaries, and I have some homework to do, in secret, of course. There were a few other women there this week that weren’t there last week, and I felt I had more in common with them, as in, the levels and types of abuse we’ve suffered being similar.

The past week has been a difficult week for me, not difficult at home – that’s the same as always, and I’m used to it – difficult on a personal level.

I’m learning a lot about myself, some good, some not so good. I’m really having to face demons from my past and my present, but I know that in the long run, it will benefit me and my children.

I think the one thing that’s kept me sane this week is writing. It’s proving to be very cathartic for me. I’m finding myself looking forward to the end of the day when everyone has gone to bed so I can get my thoughts and feelings down, knowing there is one place where they are truly safe. No one is going to disrespect them or invalidate them, as Tom does with everything else.

I’ve been taking things one day at a time and being gentler on myself; I’m still feeling very sad, but I’m muddling through.