I’m not sure if it’s five or six weeks of seeing the psychotherapist, but I do know that I am feeling stronger each week, despite my near disaster three days ago. In turn, Tom seems weaker.

His moods are awful lately; he senses the change within me, and it must threaten him. After all, he was attracted to a vulnerable, shy, unassertive girl, not a woman healing and growing in strength.

I’m really starting to see how fundamentally different we are. We share no hobbies or interests. We don’t like the same TV programs or music. He likes to drink; I don’t.

We are so totally different. He shouts, he’s angry, he’s spiteful, and I really don’t think I need to live with this much longer. I guess having angry, repressed, moody parents taught me to expect this, but expectations change, and I’m starting to slowly value myself, to realise that I don’t have to live with the anger in my life. I’d chosen to out of a wrong belief that I have to; I think soon I will choose not to.