On Friday morning my husband hit our daughter (15), in front of our son (13). It wasn't the first time. It was just before school, there was the usual banter between them, it got out of control, with it descending into violence. He cornered her, announced he was going to smack her, then did. She was crying, shouting, "move away from me, step back!" I felt unable to intervene. I have experienced his temper for 22 years. Although he's never laid a finger on me, I have had over half my life of gaslighting, silent treatment, just basic mind fuckery. She ran up to her room. I wasn't allowed to go up and make sure she was ok, never allowed to be a good mum because then I was defending her, "pandering to her". He went back into the front room, back in front of the computer, where he sits for most of the day talking to other fans of old TV shows and sci fi. He doesn't work. Doesn't do much housework. I caught her on the stairs as she was coming down to leave for school, she was in an awful state. I hugged her and whispered "please tell a teacher." I kissed her on the cheek and quickly stepped back as I heard him coming back out into the hallway. She left with her brother who had witnessed it all.
I went into the kitchen, I had just done all the washing up but there was his usual porridge bowl left in the sink. I couldn't bring up what had just happened so I asked him if he could please just wash it up quickly as I'd just done everything else. "No," he said, "I don't see the point of washing one thing. I'll do it when there's more to do, when there's a few items." I wash up as I go, so it rarely builds up. I asked again, stating that it'd only take 20 seconds to do. "I'm not wasting washing up liquid on one thing." So, I told him to use the washing up sponge as there is washing up liquid in it, as I'd just used it. He replied, "I don't like the feel of the sponge in my hands."
I know he'd just physically assaulted our daughter, and now making excuses as to why he can't wash up his own bowl. I've had this shit throughout our whole marriage. His emotional abuse which has started to turn into physical abuse. His excuses as to why he can't do anything, even when I ask.
I went upstairs to be away from him and to put washing away, he followed me up. Almost as if he knew he'd done something wrong and needed to talk to me to justify it.
"She's a fucking lunatic, isn't she!" He huffed at me, whilst wearing a fleece blanket as a cape. He was wearing a dressing gown in the house up until last week but can't wear it now because he has regenerated. (I know this sounds mad, he has Asperger's and wears everything in order, his year is split up into four sets of 13, he will wear a certain set of clothes for 13 weeks, then "regenerate" - like doctor who - and wear different stuff.... I know... Bear with me please!!)
I looked at him, fucking annoyed by the fleece blanket and all the fuckwittery it represents. "She's going to tell a teacher, we will end up with social services involved..."
"Good!" He threw his hands up and screamed "They can take her away and put her in a home! I won't have to put up with the fat cow ever again!"
From this point on I sat on the bed, with my phone on my lap, secretly filming our conversation. I have him admitting he hit her, that she "drives him to it" (classic abuser language). I stayed calm. Tried to tell him what he should have done to avoid what had just happened. He doesn't listen. He's always right.
I get a message on WhatsApp from my daughter. She can't find her head of year and can I please send an email to him. I send an email, just saying that she urgently needs to speak to him. Within half an hour she sends me another message saying she's now in the office and about to tell him.
My husband is back in front of the computer by now, typing away, wearing his blanket.
I shout in that I'm going for a walk before it rains and leave.
I drive about two minutes down the road, pull over and cry my eyes out. I only have three friends but I ring one, he tells me to come over. I spend most of the day sat with my friend and his husband. Both telling me that the police need to be involved, we need out of there. I know we do. I have a phone call from the school, asking if it's safe to talk, if I'm ok. The teacher says he's in shock, my daughter is one of the loveliest girls he's ever taught and he'd never have imagined we were going through anything like this. He says he has to report it to the police, I agree. He tells me to come to the school at the end of the day, as my daughter feels unsafe to go home. I'm interviewed by the safeguarding team, by the principal, then by MASH and a social worker. I'm finally being listened to. I finally feel supported.
I have tried in the past to escape. I've tried to apply for a council house, I was told that I was making my children and I voluntarily homeless, so I didn't qualify for one. I contacted the Samaritans, three times. I contacted women's aid. I contacted his psychotherapist, who diagnosed him, who basically told me not to expect any more from him as he has Asperger's. There was never any practical help. I felt ignored. It was my bed, I had to lie in it. I was even told once that emotional abuse is so hard to prove, if he'd only hit me there would be bruises as evidence...
I was asked if I had anywhere to go for the night. I said no. Nobody I know would be able to or even has room for us. So the school paid for our first night at a hotel, they even ordered pizza for us. I'm in total shock. Our social worker sees us into the hotel, hands me £10, makes sure we're ok, says she will be in touch again on Monday morning and leaves. We stand in that hotel room, eating pizza and crying. I ring my friend again. He offers to pay for the rest of the weekend. I find it hard to accept but I have to, we can't go home.
It's now Sunday morning. We've been here since Friday night. The kids are fine, mostly. My husband has tried to contact me twice. Once on Friday night at about 9pm, once he finally realised that we're probably not coming home and again yesterday afternoon. He left a voicemail, obviously drunk, but so sorry, he wants us all home, he hates this life, he realises what he did was wrong, please come home. I ignore it. My Son keeps repeating that his Dad deserves this, he's deserved it for a long time. "All the times he's ignored us and now he's getting it he doesn't like it!"
I'm in shock, hiding it from the kids, we left without anything. I've had to buy a few clothes and shoes for them as all they had was their uniforms. The police are meant to be speaking to him but I've no idea if they have yet. As of Friday evening the social workers couldn't get hold of the police to find out if they'd been to see him yet. We are in limbo. But we are together. My daughter keeps crying, as if she feels guilty for having caused us to lose our home. I reassure her that she did exactly the right thing. I'm not going anywhere without her.
I just don't know what's going to happen. I needed to vent, thank you if you've managed to read all this, it's very early on a Sunday morning and my brain is a bit frazzled....