Today I’m going to write about the last weekend with perp before I left for good. This is pretty tough for me to talk about as there were alot of conflicting emotions going on at this point and alot of home truths came to light.

In the previous weeks leading up to this weekend I had already attempted to leave several times. The latest one I had stayed with a friend for a few days but because he wouldn’t allow the kids to come with me I always went back, of course a clever tactic. As much as I despised him I would never ever have left my children with him long term so it was always a decision that was out of my hands. After this stay he promised to go to the doctors for help for his mental health & drinking, and for the first time in 12 years he actually went. Deep down I knew no matter what I wouldn’t stay with him but my thought process told me to keep quiet be with the kids and earn as much money as possible whilst making a proper plan to leave. I had already put money away without him knowing, my other savings he has since claimed as his. At the non-mol hearing he told the judge “I took all his cash savings” BITCH PLEASE 🙄 he owes me hundreds! (Let alone now almost 6 months worth of child maintenance, not that I want it I would much rather be skint thank you very much) I paid every single bill in that house, every birthday & Christmas, every holiday, I worked my fucking arse off for him to just spend it.

Anyways, the weekend to Barcelona had been booked for about 2 months.

Did I want to go? Simple answer, fuck no.

Did I feel I had a choice? Simple answer, fuck no.

I hadn’t really prepared anything because the thought of it made me feel physically sick. I can’t even begin to explain the state of me mentally at this stage, every day I focused on getting through every minute, just about putting one foot in front of the other. The physical attacks were every few days & verbal daily by now. I didn’t know my head from my arse.

To be honest all there was to do was pack and just arrange food for the pets, the kids were to be looked after at home so it was fairly simple. Although the edition of a random new dog hadn’t really helped matters, a dog now I might add that has been seized after attacking a small child. And they wonder why I didn’t want to keep him?

I had a playdate with some school mum’s at a soft play, I really wasn’t up to brave facing it but didn’t want to let them down. Whenever I went anywhere without him I got shit, and he used to say “You only take the kids places that suit you” Like a soft play with other mum’s. Why do parents go to soft play? So the kids can fuck off, play and wear themselves out whilst we get peace for an hour or 2. Am I ashamed to admit that?

Absofuckinglutely not.

But that’s a bad parent apparently, must be quite a few of us 🤷‍♀️

The tension had been building for a couple of days, I always felt it coming. The silent treatment had begun. Now this again is a very common tactic used, the silent treatment puts you on edge. You don’t know what they are thinking, planning or doing. This can last days sometimes weeks for people! Just hideous.

Before I left I got the whole

“You never do anything to help, you never fucking do anything for any of us only your friends and your fucking lash people”

I left the house ignoring him as always. When away from the house I would get millions of calls and texts. I had severe anxiety over missing phone calls, if I ever missed a phone call even if he knew I was working I was up to something or ignoring him. We would say goodbye in the morning and within an hour the cunt fuck would be on the phone, like mate I don’t need to hear from you every second of the damn day 🤦‍♀️ then I would get the “You never want to talk to me on the phone” No, no I fucking do not because I spoke to you 30 God damn minutes ago what the fuck is there to talk about?! Jesus!

Anyways we get home and it was just pure ranting for hours. He would follow me around the house, he came upstairs when I was packing and pulled it all out the bag throwing it all everywhere. As always I would just try to leave the room as quickly as possible before it was my turn to be thrown about.

By the time early evening came the tension had increased, he was now throwing things about (he was also drunk as per usual) I’d like to quickly add too that the abuse happened whether he was drunk, stoned or sober however alcohol fuelled the fire and I was always at a higher chance of being physically hurt while he was drunk.

Did you know that perpetrators often “gear themselves up” to be physical? They don’t really like to do it, its effort at the end of the day. But when they feel that control slipping it’s the only way, alcohol or drugs will give them an excuse.

By this stage in our relationship I was always prepared to be thrown out. I sat in the living room with my coat on, in my pockets would be money/phone/fags/lighter and car keys if possible. I would also have my shoes on. This was a regular occurrence, I had learnt to be prepared. When I was about 7 months pregnant with my boy I had to sleep in my car, that was a bad nights sleep! Many a time I was thrown out with fuck all especially in winter no shoes was a cunt! I had learned from my mistakes.

Whilst he screamed and shouted upstairs I sat shaking, my mind in pure overdrive and my body pumping with adrenaline.

You know I pulled my kids over to me and I whispered to them,

“Listen to mummy, if I tell you that you have to leave we have to leave straight away. Do not listen to your dad just run straight out that door when I tell you and don’t go back”

Again I had learned that he would stop me taking them, I knew he was getting worse and chances of it absolutely fucking blowing up were high, I couldn’t bare them listening or seeing it anymore it broke my heart into pieces.

Upstairs he was screaming and laughing,

“Your husbands fucking crazy haha!”

Then the doorbell went. He fucking bolted down the stairs still screwing and snarling at me and threw open the door.

It was his friend.

“Oh hello mate!” In a calm cheery voice.

They then continued to have a good old chat and a laugh while I was sitting in the living room ready to run for my life.

I have since seen said friend, he walked past me and my girl in the street maybe 2 months after I left perp. He glared at me like I was a piece of shit. The evil woman who had taken her kids away from their loving father. I hope one day you read this and realise I’m talking about you YOU VILE PATHETIC PIECE OF SHIT. Anyone who condones abusive behaviour is just as bad as the abuser in my opinion. If I was strong enough I would if wiped that look straight off his motherfucking face, prick.

It was then that I truly realised perp was able to control himself. This wasn’t bipolar, this wasn’t a genuine mental health issue he really was just an evil son of a bitch. And I mean that literally he was born from evil.

He calmed ever so slightly after friend left, I put the kids to bed not knowing whether I would be there for them in the morning as we were scheduled to leave at 3am ish. They didn’t know either, that thought sickens me.

We continued to argue until about 1am, I kept telling him I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to leave my kids so he said fine take me to the airport then I’ll go by myself. Fucking sweet mate let’s go!

And so I drove him to the airport in my pyjamas and left him there. It was a hideous journey, I kept thinking he was going to grab the steering wheel and force us off the road.

Driving back was the weirdest experience of my life, I felt completely numb. He was ringing and texting but I ignored it. I got home and got into bed, I so badly just wanted to go to sleep. I wanted it all to go away, but I knew if I went to sleep I would miss the fight and I would be FUCKED. I very much doubt he would of gone alone, the thought of him coming back and smashing the door in when we missed the flight scared the living shit out of me and I just couldn’t bare the thought of the kids witnessing it, I didn’t know how far he would take that betrayal. And so I grabbed my stuff and went to the airport, I didn’t have a choice.

I’m not sure how I was functioning, by the time we got there I had been awake for over 24 hours. As always the brave face was on. This is why I struggle to know who I truly am nowadays, I was never myself around him, I couldn’t be. I couldn’t allow myself to let my guard down, I had to protect myself and be the person he wanted me to be.

On the 2nd day we went gokarting, now this was his newest phase but I have always enjoyed it so was excited to go. After our first go we pulled up and he jumped out of his kart, he went straight over to the men who had been on too and completely ignored me. Surely a normal person would go to their wife? How was it babe? Did you have fun?

No, because quite simply he couldn’t give 2 fucks about me and that hurt.

The rest of the time I spent stoned if I’m honest with you, I’ve never been a drinker but smoking enabled me to cope with him I would just zone out. I am fairly proud that it’s been almost 6 months since I smoked last, go me 💪

On the last day I woke up feeling so emotional, I just knew it was done, I couldn’t keep being this false, I couldn’t keep pretending I loved him. That love had gone on the wedding night. I despised him.

He asked what was wrong and of course I couldn’t admit that, in a foreign country alone with him? Christ I wasn’t suicidal! But he sensed it, he knew the control was slipping and he went off on one, threw his wedding ring at me (for the 1000th time) and stormed out.

He came back and I just lied, said my period made me emotional and I was just tired I wanted to fix us.

I survived the last day, I couldn’t wait to get home to my babies!

Here is where I finish because the rest of this leads to the last day and that’s for another time. Many will have heard his version of that last day but I will of course speak the truth like always.

Until next time,

B xxx