Unhappy woman in an abusive relationship

9th February 2017

I arrived at counselling all flustered.

And sweaty.

And late.

I was thinking so furiously about my dilemma with little Elijah and Marcus that I missed my train stop and had to back-track, only to start panicking that I was late, which caused me to set off in the wrong direction – luckily that only lasted for 2 minutes. I was 15 minutes late to a 45-minute session, an extra minute taken for texting my parents and sister to confirm that I had indeed arrived.

It didn’t look at all like how I imagined it to be – all clinical. From the outside, it just looked like a normal house, of which the outside walls had just been given a fresh coat of white paint. Inside was light and airy and there was the faintest smell of incense – sandalwood, I think. My counsellor Nikki was lovely. She introduced herself and asked me why I came. And then left me to do the rest of the talking. It was extremely awkward at first – it was the first time I had admitted that I had been raped to anybody. I also revealed to her that I’ve only just found out that my rapist had enrolled his son deliberately in a nursery around the corner from where I live and that his harassment was totally freaking me out, which was the reason why I was late. I struggled to form the words in my mouth, but when I did, it felt like some tension had been released from my shoulders.

I felt calmer.

Ever so slightly more grounded.

Nikki asked me if I had reported him to the police. I felt so guilty when I admitted that I hadn’t (I know my non-action could potentially put another female at risk) but I explained that given the circumstances it would be viewed as my word against his. It’s really weird – we always have notions of what we would do if (God forbid!) we were put into an awful situation, but when it does happen, those notions can fly completely out of the window!  Her facial expressions were non-judgmental and she didn’t push the matter, which really helped me to talk to her. She also asked whether I had taken the morning after pill or had gone for an STI test. I replied yes to the former and no to the latter. When she probed me on why I hadn’t yet, I realised then that I was too scared to find out. Denial and hoping for the best wouldn’t help. Nikki booked me an STI test for the following week to be done before my next session (my sister actually paid for 10 weeks’ worth of sessions and failed to tell me!! Gosh I really do love her!! 🙂 ).

Nikki asked me why I thought Marcus had chosen me as his target rather than any other female. Does he really think of me like that? Did he choose me because he was attracted to me and liked me, or because I was easy prey and easily manipulated? I thought I was in a good place mentally when we met. We couldn’t explore this question in too much depth since I ran out of time, but Nikki said we’d discuss it next week.  She did, however, warn me to stay away from Marcus at all costs in order to reach an objective standpoint about him and see him for what he really is.

I’ve told her that I’ve made a pact with myself to return to work on Monday and asked if my sessions could be moved to Friday evenings. She’s fine with that so my sessions will be at 7pm from now on. She has advised me to change my route to the train station etc. and do whatever it takes to ensure I don’t encounter Trainboy and Elijah again. He is using his son to try and ensnare me once again.

I’ve promised her I will.

I’m really glad I went. Talking to total strangers about your problems in a safe space is so therapeutic!! I should have started years ago – maybe I wouldn’t have found myself in this situation. Anyway, it’s just what the doctor ordered! ?

10th February 2017

I’m really impressed my sister managed to bite her tongue for the whole of yesterday after my counselling session. She only asked me if I was okay. I said yes and that was it. She kept glancing in my direction when she thought I wasn’t looking with questions etched on her face, which was highly amusing, but kept silent until she couldn’t take it anymore this this evening when she returned from work. She had 101 questions to pester me with:

  • was my counsellor was helpful?
  • had she had chosen well?
  • would I would be going back?

Yada, yada, yada.

I laughed, thanked her for her support, replied to her easier non-invasive questions and gave her a huge kiss on the cheek. She looked happy and relieved so that’s something!

Then at 9pm, the doorbell went and who was outside the front door???


How did she not tell me he was coming!!! It was a good thing I looked halfway decent. My sister wanted to introduce him to our parents – I could tell they approved of him straight away. And to think he could have been mine! ☹

It’s still very odd seeing them together. I wonder how much he knows about my situation? I’m sure my sister wouldn’t disclose anything to him out of respect for me, but if he does know, he certainly isn’t showing it. He stayed for an hour before he took her out to dinner at some swanky restaurant – a pre-Valentine’s Day date. I let him know that I’d be seeing him at work on Monday. He asked if I had a sick note from the doctors. I winced and replied no but he just smiled at me for the longest time. Then he left the house with my sister waving shouting back that he’d square things with the boss before I returned.

So, Brandon has friends in high places lol! ?

At least that’s one problem almost sorted.


Will our Diary Writer finally return to work, as promised?? Find out in Chapter 30…


  • Why is it highly beneficial to see a counsellor?

Missed some? Catch up here:

Chapter 1   *   Chapter 2   *   Chapter 3   *   Chapter 4   *   Chapter 5   *   Chapter 6   *   Chapter 7   *   Chapter 8   *   Chapter 9   *   Chapter 10   *   Chapter 11   *   Chapter 12   *   Chapter 13   *   Chapter 14   *   Chapter 15   *   Chapter 16   *   Chapter 17   *   Chapter 18   *   Chapter 19   *   Chapter 20   *    Chapter 21   *   Chapter 22   *   Chapter 23   *   Chapter 24   *   Chapter 25   *   Chapter 26   *   Chapter 27   *   Chapter 28

Credits: Original Picture by GraphicStock

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