It was one night in the holiday season. I felt like everyone was happy except me. We were in the car, I was looking out the windows of the houses we were passing by, people happy to be together, families united... and I felt an intense need to get out, to join real life. I felt trapped in my relationship, in my home, in my daily life. At the end of the evening at my sister's house, I found an excuse to stay and sleep with the children. The next day, we called SOS. I spent 2 months in the shelter. My sister was so important during that time, she came with me to the lawyer's office, she looked after my children when I was looking for a place to live, she lent me her car... and so much more. Above all, she was there and I knew she would stay until the end. It's been 4 years now and my life is beautiful. Thank you life!

We were getting ready to go to my office Christmas party. He didn't want to go. We were in the bathroom. He grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me in front of the mirror. He held me there with his hands and his body pressed behind my back and told me to look at myself, that I had put on make-up like a «slut». I told him that I had put on my make-up exactly as usual. I begged him to stop, but he just kept going and going. He whispered in my ear that I was trying to impress someone, that I was «cruising» my colleagues. I was crying, my makeup was running and he was laughing. No matter how many times I told him it wasn't true, he kept going. He didn't hold me hard enough to bruise me, but just enough so that I couldn't leave. I ended up yelling at him and I scratched his hand, trying to get him to let go of me. He let me go and called me «crazy bitch». I didn't want to go to the party anymore, but he insisted on going. I had to redo my makeup because it was all ruined. I put on less makeup than usual after all, I didn't want it to start again. When we got to the party, I was just extremely depressed and stressed and I didn't dare talk to my male colleagues. He, on the contrary, talked to everyone. Later in the evening, a colleague came up to me and told me that he was showing everyone his scratch, and that he was asking them how they found me at the office, because I was aggressive at home...

Back when we were in the red zone, we weren't allowed to invite people into the house... but since my opinion counts zero in the balance he didn't care... there were 15 of them in the basement at one point and he forced me to stay with them... I was afraid someone had Covid and would cause an outbreak, I was afraid to catch it, there were real risks... and I was afraid we would get caught too... it was extremely stressful.

I felt inadequate all the time, stressed out, worried about what he would think of what I was wearing, what I was saying, the way I was moving, the way I was breathing. I was always afraid because he would react abruptly or harshly towards me, over a host of tiny little details. I tried to think of everything but I could never succeed, there was always something. It was so stressful. I'd never been a particularly anxious person before, but I became a nervous wreck... and even that he blamed me for.

We start making love and he asks me to do something he knows I don't want to do. When I refuse, he quickly gets upset, he shouts, he calls me a "bitch" and accuses me of cheating on him... Later, he puts blankets on the floor for me to sleep on... like a real bitch.

When the lockdown eased and we were finally "orange" and allowed to see our loved ones outside, I suggested that we go see my sister in her backyard. He shot me looks of total contempt... as if I was totally irresponsible for thinking of doing that. We ended up not going.

Little by little, each day a little more tension built... interspersed with days that I took as gifts where he was smiling, felt like the man I loved was back, the loving father... Until that fateful day when he called me a piece of shit and a slut in front of my children, and I saw my six year old with big tears in his eyes asking me why daddy was talking to me like that, that it wasn't true, that I wasn't bad... Those tears in my children's eyes and the incomprehension in my oldest's eyes were the first trigger. The fury and disgust in the eyes of the man I loved when he looked at me and threw me on the floor were the next. I couldn't take it anymore, it had to stop. Now. Right now...

The holidays are hell. If I'm too happy, he finds a way to make me cry, or to make me angry. If I'm looking forward to seeing my loved ones, he expresses jealousy or creates conflict with them. If I'm too eager to go somewhere, he finds a way to cancel the outing... but if I'm not happy enough, he blames me too.

He gave me a beautiful little puppy for our 3rd wedding anniversary: a little Australian shepherd whom I named Jack. Poor Jack... he became my double... instead of threatening me or hitting me, he hit Jack. I don't remember how many times he left with Jack telling me that he was going to get rid of him, or have him euthanized... then he would come back saying that he couldn't do it, that he wasn't going to «let me turn him into a monster»... (because of course it was always my fault). I wanted to go to a shelter but I didn't have a place to leave Jack safely, so I stayed.

I had the impression that my husband had a huge «bubble» , that took up all the available space, and I was stuck underneath, with almost no room to move. And when I moved too much... it «burst» his bubble and I paid the price...

The few times we went to the restaurant together, he would barely look at me during the whole meal. He ate in silence with a scornful facial expression. I was just an accessory in front of him. Sometimes he would even sit diagonally opposite me when there were two of us at a table for four.

He manipulated me repeatedly in such a skillful way. One minute he told me I was the woman of his life and the next he was insulting and degrading me. He took out his rage on me and took pleasure in seeing me suffer psychologically.