‘I was a captive in MY OWN HOME’

After 16 years, Olivia* found the courage to escape from her coercive and abusive husband

Iwas 19 when I first met Ben*, in March 2003. I’d just come out of a bad relationship and couldn’t believe my luck – he was a few years older than me, charming and attentive, and wanted us to spend all our time together. He made me feel so loved and cared for. My parents liked him too – they were glad I’d found someone who would look after me, and it wasn’t long before I left home and moved in with him.

Blinded by love

But before long, things began to change. Ben started making jokes at my expense, and I found them really hurtful. He’d dismiss them as banter and I thought I was just being sensitive, but his cruel jokes became a habit and, looking back, it signalled what was to come.

Because Ben wanted us to spend every second together, I had no time to myself, so my friendships started to crumble. My friends didn’t like him, and soon my parents weren’t sure about him.

That should have been enough of a warning but I was in too deep by then, blinded by love. A year into our relationship, we started to argue. Of course, that’s quite common among couples, but Ben’s rage would escalate into physical violence.

He hurt me on numerous occasions: once, he slammed my hand into a kitchen cupboard and broke two of my fingers. Every time he hurt me, he’d be so apologetic – he’d say he loved me and he’d never do it again, but that I shouldn’t have wound him up. I felt the rages were my fault and so I’d try my best not to push his buttons.

When I became pregnant with our daughter Rachel* in 2008, the physical attacks stopped – but the emotional abuse continued. Ben constantly made belittling comments, telling me I was fat or stupid, that I had baby brain and I’d be a terrible mother. When I gave birth in 2009, I prayed things would get better, but having a newborn made him even more controlling. Ben would call me constantly from work, asking where I’d been, what I was doing. I told myself it was because he cared.

I was exhausted, but Ben insisted I had to breastfeed. If Rachel started crying when we were out, he’d make me sit on a bench or pull me to the nearest cafe to feed her. I didn’t feel comfortable breastfeeding in public, and I’d ask if I could go home, or back to the car, but he called me selfish and said I was being an awful mother.

Two years after having Rachel, we got married. My mother knew things weren’t right between us and took me to one side on the morning of the wedding to say it wasn’t too late to change my mind. I remember looking at Rachel, feeling

‘I was more like a possession than his partner’

I owed it to her for us to be a proper family. A year later, I gave birth to our son Adam*. The pregnancy had been difficult and I suffered from postnatal depression. I’d become completely isolated from friends and barely saw my family, so I battled on my own. Again, Ben insisted I breastfeed, although I was worn out. He never helped with anything; everywhere I went, the children had to come – I couldn’t even take a bath without having them with me.

I was desperate to go to work. I wanted to enrol on an access-to-nursing course and start a career for myself.

‘It’s your decision so I’m not paying for childcare,’ Ben would say, knowing

I didn’t have savings to follow my dreams.

Soon he started becoming even more controlling about where I went. He’d even time me on the rare occasions when I visited my mum. ‘That should only take you 40 minutes,’ Ben would say, and he’d call if I wasn’t back in time. ‘You’re my wife,’ he’d say. ‘I need to know where you are.’ I was more like his possession than his partner.

In 2016, things escalated. He got a security company to place cameras around the house – he put four in the front and three at the back, and even one inside the car. He said it was for our safety, but every time I left or someone was at the door, he’d get a notification on his phone and he’d call me, demanding to know who I’d seen and what I’d been doing. Eventually I didn’t want to leave the house or have anyone visit me.

There were times when I’d had enough and tried to leave – but Ben would guilt-trip me into staying, saying he’d change, we had to stay together for the kids, that no one else would put up with me like he did. If I tried to talk to him, he’d just dismiss it, putting it down to my bad mental health – I’d been diagnosed with depression and anxiety over the years.

But in May 2021 something switched. Hearing Ben shouting at the children one morning before school and seeing them cry, I saw the terror on their faces as he hurled things around. Rachel told me she was scared he was going to hurt her, and that’s when I knew we had to leave for good. I packed some bags, grabbed the kids and went to stay with the only friend I had left. I plucked up the courage to call the police to tell them what had been happening, but was amazed to be told there wasn’t anything they could do. They described it as a ‘grey area’.

Ben would call and message dozens of times each day – begging me to come back or telling me I was worthless and a terrible mum. I started to search for organisations that could give me some advice, and I came across Victim Support. They were incredibly supportive, and helped me see that his behaviour wasn’t OK and that it wasn’t my fault.

With their help, I managed to take out a non-molestation order against him, and in November that year, our divorce went through on the grounds of domestic abuse. We were given shared custody of the children. I’ve now found somewhere new to live, and I’m trying to rebuild my

‘I felt his rages were my fault’

Don’t suffer alone

life and relationships. I’m hoping to do a degree in social work, as I really want to help others. Things haven’t been easy, but I’m getting there. I’m just so relieved my kids and I are safe and free from abuse.

For anyone going through something similar, I’d say you’ve got to look for that glimmer of light, dig deep and get yourself through it. It can get better – and you don’t have to suffer alone. Most importantly, please reach out to services like Victim Support. They have given me the courage to fight for myself.