I got back from holiday yesterday.
It was an awful holiday. I was so horrible to my mum all the way through. I was angry, I was resentful, I was spiteful. For reasons unbeknown to her.
On the 25th December I was attacked by my partner. For the second time in 2 months. The first time I was admitted into hospital for 4 days. Suspected fractured jaw. Soft diet. Concussion.
Didn’t press charges. Not sure why, really? He called me whilst I was there asking for my door keys. I let him stay in my home whilst I was holed up in hospital. After he put me there.
On the 24th December, the day started as any other. I’d kicked him out a few days prior. I found out he’d stolen from me. £750 in a month.
He called me. Said he’d help me find my iPad which I’m now convinced he’s stolen and sold. I met him in town. He helped me do some Christmas shopping.
I didn’t feel great, so we went to the pub at around 2pm. It all went downhill from there. I remember returning home at around 11pm. He’d got my key and disappeared somewhere so I broke into my own home. Tanked up.
He came back at some point. Not sure what happened but I remember fighting. I remember having my hair grabbed, I remember kicking him in the face. I remember being punched. I remember him taking a knife and telling me to leave. I was scared to turn round. I refused. He again told me to leave, pointing a knife at me. So I ran. I ran with no shoes on. I ran with no key. I ran with no phone. I ran to the main road and managed to ring the police.
So, Christmas Day was spent having my front door boarded up after the police rammed it. Then, I had to ring a friend and sleep there. I had to do the whole police station thing. I had to make a statement. I had to get photos taken of my injuries. I was told he’d been arrested.
My mum’s present to me was a trip to Tenerife on the 29th December for a couple of days. I’ve been horrible to her. I know I have. I know I’ve been so difficult. But I’m going through so much.
Just as I begin to think it’s over… I receive a missed call yesterday. I google the number and it belongs to his remand prison. So, now I’m almost sitting by my phone hoping he calls again. Why aren’t I mad? Why aren’t I disgusted? I had to hide the bruises. I had to make up a lie about my door. Why don’t I want to live without him?
I have nobody to talk to. Everyone, I feel, is so wrapped up in their own lives – engagements, boyfriends, houses, children – and I’m not necessarily saying that’s wrong ‘cos it’s great – but nobody checks in. Nobody checks to see if I’m OK. Nobody rings me for a chat. Nobody stops by my home for a cup of tea.
For the first time ever, I’m alone. Completely alone. Even when I had him I wasn’t alone and I sacrificed my wellbeing and health in order to not be alone. Now, I’m alone and I’d rather go back to him than be here.