The day my body could take no more

I went back to collect our belongings. I never imagined I would leave in an ambulance.

Leaving an abusive relationship is difficult enough, but nobody really prepares you for what happens when you have to return to the place you once called home. The place where you built a life, made memories and imagined your future, but also the place where you experienced so much pain that eventually you had no choice but to leave.

When I returned to the house I jointly owned with my ex-partner to collect mine and my daughter's belongings, I wasn't just walking back into a building. I was walking back into an environment where I had spent years feeling frightened, controlled and emotionally exhausted. I knew I couldn't face it alone, so I took my brother and friends with me for support.

The first time I returned, I found him passed out on the sofa in the middle of the day. The curtains were closed, the room was dark, the house was in a complete state and there was an overwhelming smell of alcohol. Seeing the home we'd shared in that condition was upsetting, but what followed reminded me exactly why I'd been so frightened to return.

As we tried to collect our belongings, he followed us around the house, repeatedly telling me and my friends what I could and couldn't take. Everything seemed to be met with "That's mine" or "She can't have that", as though he still had the authority to dictate what I was allowed to do.

He even called the police in an attempt to stop me collecting my own possessions.

When the officers arrived, however, they recognised what was happening. They kept him downstairs in the living room while I continued collecting my things, although even then he was shouting instructions about what I could and couldn't take. The officers confirmed that I was entitled to return to the home I jointly owned and that his claim that a solicitor had said I wasn't allowed inside was not correct.

What stayed with me most was something one of the officers said. They told me I had been brave to leave in the first place, but even braver to return and face him to collect what belonged to me. They encouraged me to take my time and collect as much as I could.

For someone who had spent years having her confidence and judgement undermined, hearing that meant more than I can explain.

The Second Time I Returned

Unfortunately, we couldn't collect everything in one visit, so another date was arranged through our solicitors. This time, he was permitted to have someone present and chose his father, someone he had described to me as having been physically and emotionally abusive towards him throughout his childhood and beyond. I couldn't help reflecting on that choice, particularly given everything he had told me about their relationship.

I was allowed to bring additional people because I needed help moving my belongings, and once again my brother and friends came to support me.

I cannot adequately describe the anxiety I felt leading up to that day. Months had passed since I'd left, but the abuse hadn't simply disappeared. There had been ongoing legal difficulties, online harassment and distressing things that mutual friends had told me were being said about me in group conversations. Even with a Non-Molestation Order in place, I was terrified at the thought of being in the same room as him again.

When we arrived, he prevented my brother from entering the house. To me, this felt like another attempt to control the situation, particularly because he knew my brother had been my biggest source of support throughout everything.

My friends immediately began packing belongings into boxes and bags, determined to get everything done as quickly as possible. I was trying to hold myself together, but the anxiety was overwhelming.

And then something happened that none of us could have anticipated.

When My Body Finally Gave Way

I collapsed.

In front of my friends, my brother and my ex-partner, I suffered a seizure. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, and I have very little memory of what happened next.

I was later told that my ex had picked me up from the floor and placed me on the sofa. During the seizure, I lost control of my bladder, something that can happen during a seizure and is completely outside a person's control.

An ambulance was called, and I was taken to hospital, where I was told I had experienced a genuine seizure. The medical team discussed the significant stress and trauma I had experienced, and the possibility that these had contributed to what happened.

I had spent years trying to cope with everything emotionally, pushing through situations that frightened me and doing my best to keep going. That day made me realise just how seriously prolonged fear and stress can affect a person's physical health.

What happened was frightening enough, but what hurt almost as much was what happened afterwards.

Even Then, I Was Still Trying to Keep Him Happy

After spending hours in hospital, I returned to the house feeling completely exhausted. All I wanted was for the next few months to be peaceful, for the legal matters to be resolved and for us both to move forward without any more conflict.

Despite everything that had happened, I suggested that we have a hug and try to be amicable.

Looking back, I can see how quickly I slipped back into the role I'd occupied throughout our relationship. I could sense him wanting to talk over me, and almost instinctively I began trying to calm him down, putting his feelings ahead of my own, even after I'd just been taken to hospital.

At the time, I thought I was simply trying to keep the peace. Afterwards, I felt foolish for comforting someone whose behaviour had caused me so much distress. But I understand now that when you've spent years trying to prevent arguments and manage another person's reactions, those habits don't disappear overnight.

I asked to sit down because I was physically and emotionally exhausted. It was then that he mocked me for wetting myself during the seizure, showing more concern for the sofa than for what had happened to me.

He then began telling me how awful I had been for leaving him with the house, as though I had somehow abandoned him and left him to deal with everything alone.

What he failed to acknowledge was that my daughter and I were the ones who had lost our home. We were the ones who had been forced to find somewhere else to live, leaving behind the security and stability we'd once had.

I hadn't simply walked away from a home I no longer wanted. I had left because I no longer felt safe living there.

And even after witnessing me collapse, even after seeing an ambulance take me to hospital, the conversation somehow returned to what I had supposedly done wrong.

The Effects of Abuse Don't End When You Leave

For a long time afterwards, I questioned why I had hugged him, why I'd tried to make him feel better and why I hadn't stood up for myself when he began criticising me again.

But I've come to understand that this is something many survivors experience. When you've spent years trying to avoid conflict, anticipating another person's moods and doing whatever you can to keep the peace, those responses can become deeply ingrained. Sometimes they're described as appeasement or fawning, a response in which someone tries to reduce perceived danger by keeping another person happy.

I wasn't weak for wanting peace. I wasn't foolish for falling back into familiar behaviour. I was someone who had spent years adapting to an environment that had made me frightened, and I was still learning how to exist outside it.

I also learned that trauma isn't always something you can see. It doesn't always look like crying or visibly falling apart. Sometimes it looks like someone continuing to work, smile, make plans and appear perfectly fine while carrying an enormous amount of fear beneath the surface.

That day was a frightening reminder that our emotional experiences can have very real physical consequences. Although seizures can have different medical causes and should always be properly investigated, I couldn't ignore the impact that years of stress and fear had had on my wellbeing.

To Anyone Who Recognises Themselves in This Story

If you've left an abusive relationship but still find yourself frightened of the person you left, please don't feel ashamed. If you still instinctively apologise, try to keep them happy or struggle to stand up for yourself, it doesn't mean you want to return or that leaving was a mistake.

It can take time to unlearn the ways you adapted to survive.

You are allowed to protect your peace, ask for support and set boundaries that keep you safe. You don't owe someone physical affection, reassurance or access to you simply because you once shared a life together.

And if you need to return to a former home to collect belongings, please don't feel that you have to do it alone. Seek advice, make arrangements through appropriate professionals where necessary and prioritise your safety above getting everything collected in one visit.

I went back that day to collect the things my daughter and I had left behind, but I came away with a deeper understanding of just how much the relationship had affected me.

Leaving was the beginning of reclaiming my life, but learning that I no longer had to keep him happy at the expense of my own wellbeing was another part of ReBecoming Her.

If you're experiencing domestic abuse, coercive control or harassment, you can find information about support and protection through the ReBecoming Her Get Support page. You don't have to face it alone.