We met when we were 17 and ended up doing the same course in college. He was verbally abusive towards me, in person and in texts. He was verbally abusive towards me, in person and in texts.

One day, in class, I had to stand up and give a presentation and was using my phone as a timer. As I was giving the presentation I kept receiving text after text from him telling me I was stupid, and what I was saying didn’t make sense, that I wasn’t smart enough to be doing the course and that everyone in the class thought the same.

He was always putting me down and hated to see me doing well. Along with his ever present verbal and emotional abuse, the threat of violence was always lingering. He would threaten me constantly saying things like “if you don’t do this for me [some sort of sexual activity] you’ll regret it” or “if you go out with her [a friend] you’ll regret it.” Until one day, that threat became reality.

“Fat pig” was one of his favourite things to call me and used it frequently. He would tell me that he needed me to look more like other girls for him to be attracted to me and that I needed to try and lose some weight. So I started running. At first I started running to change myself physically for him but I ended up enjoying it for myself. It was freeing and calmed my mind. Last year I completed my second Dublin Marathon and completed my third, in Paris, in April.

I am 24 years old, I have one daughter and we live alone together with our dog. I was just turning 17 when I met my ex-partner. We hooked up at my 17th birthday party. He was 21 at the time. Having a 21 year old interested in me at the age of 17 certainly felt thrilling at the time. The relationship lasted for the best part of 6 years and was mostly on/off. At the beginning he was nice At the beginning he was nice, making sure I got home safely and on time for curfew. He was attentive to how I was feeling on a daily basis and he never failed to mention how good looking I was to him, in fact he used to say that I was unique, which made me feel like I was, I felt wanted and special.

Things became different after we had moved in together when I had just turned 18. It started when he said he’d like to see me wearing clothes of a certain style because he had a better fashion sense and knew what he was talking about. He then began doubting my relationships with friends because of their lifestyle choices. He would try to convince me that they were bad influences on me “because they’re nothing but sluts” or “they’re trying to keep you away from me because they’re jealous of our relationship” he would say. Eventually I was convinced that he was right and that he was just looking out for my best interest and I was soon socially isolated from my friends.

One time he dragged me in to the apartment by my hair. One time he dragged me in to the apartment by my hair. It was one of the few times that I fought back. I kicked him, but that just shocked and angered him even more. “Kick me, will ye?!” he shouted and responded with kicking me in the back of the head. I managed to get away from him and ran in to the bathroom. He tried to come in after me. I told him that I was seriously hurt and that my head was bleeding. This worried him and he kept trying to get in to the bathroom. He insisted I show him the blood, he wanted to see proof. That was out of fear for himself, not out of sympathy for me.

I never fought back after that, out of fear of making things worse for myself. I just took the abuse. After a while, you get to a point where you feel like you can take it. You can’t ever get used to or feel like you take the mental abuse though. The name calling, the control, being told what to wear.

I remember pleading with my mum to help me “get him out of my head!” That was the first time I ever shared anything with her. She had no clue what was going on. I had hid it from everyone. Speaking up was the best thing I ever did, and I hope women reading this will do the same.”

I don’t know where I went the two years I was with him. I completely lost my voice and my independent self. I cannot believe I stayed so long in that environment, I had such a lucky escape. Yet in other ways, I still can’t believe I got out, with no ties, what would have become of me if I didn’t get out the way I did? I don’t know where I went the two years I was with him. I completely lost my voice and my independent self. I got off a plane after working and traveling the other side of the world and walked straight into hell.

After the physical assault I googled domestic abuse. I felt sick. I read the red flags and could relate to nearly all of them. It felt like someone was watching my relationship from afar and documented what was happening. You might be in denial and think all will be okay, but in reality, it won’t. It’s not all about one slap or one physical assault, it’s a pattern of abuse and control that can lead to being seriously injured or in some cases, death.

It’s not all about one slap or one physical assault, it’s a pattern of abuse and control. It sends a cold shiver through me when I read those horrific stories about murder and serious assaults. The ignorance towards the complexity of domestic abuse concerns me and people still question; Why did she stay? What did she do? Or, Why did she do that? This ignorance can cost lives and women are afraid to speak up. If we live in a society where a woman is made feel isolated for speaking up we are allowing the cycle to continue.

If I had one wish it would be that every single person on the planet who is in any relationship, whether they think it’s good or bad, Google the red flags like I did, or look at the Women’s Aid website and educate yourself. It was a dose of reality I wasn’t expecting and is difficult for it to register and understand that that’s what you’ve been experiencing.

I was in a relationship with a man one year older than me, I met him in my first year of college and there was some pretty severe violence involved I had a five-minute phone call with Women’s Aid. It was the first time I felt validation for what I’d gone through. We were together for two years, and about a year and a half after the relationship ended, I had a five-minute phone call with Women’s Aid. It was the first time I felt validation for what I’d gone through. It was the first time I felt like someone really took me seriously, understood what I was feeling and the damage that had been done. They advised me on what I should do next as well as giving me legal advice, they suggested therapy to begin to unravel the trauma I had endured.

I had amazing friends and family around me that were so supportive, but if you haven’t been through it yourself or you’re not trained to respond, I think it can be a complex topic to give good advice and support on. It was actually other people’s reactions – which I knew I couldn’t control – that stopped me from telling people. People’s reactions made me feel insecure about what I’d gone through. It made me feel like I was over exaggerating. Or people didn’t believe me, and if they did believe me, they just didn’t think it was that bad. Because of this, I had to spend copious amounts of time around my ex-boyfriend, hear his voice and have him beside me constantly, which was really traumatising for me. I felt like I had to relive everything I had gone through each time I saw him, and I felt completely alone in doing so.

Something else that stopped me from telling people was this stereotype of a domestic abuse victim, a person who is damaged, delicate and frail, who isn’t capable of having a healthy and functional friendship or relationship – which is obviously not true. I was afraid that if I publicly identified as a domestic abuse victim, people would stereotype me like that, I’d walk into a room and that’s all people would see, and that’s not how it felt.

I’m now completely open about my story and one question I get all the time is: ‘if you were getting abused why didn’t you leave?’. It’s a fair question if you haven’t been through it yourself but for me, I was completely manipulated into believing that I would be on my own forever if I left this person, that all my friends hated me and that I had no other support network other than my abuser. My self-esteem was absolute rock-bottom and I was completely isolated… My self-esteem was absolute rock-bottom and I was completely isolated, I had cut myself off from friends and family because of this relationship. The darkest thought I had was that I was going to marry this person, and this abuse might be how I was going to die, and I still stayed. So, that’s how brainwashed you are. I accepted it and I stayed.

Every time I put up a post about this, I get messages from women that I know and women that I don’t, telling me they’ve gone through the same thing. It’s so much more common than you’d think.

My name is Sarah. I am 24 years old. I am a survivor of emotional abuse.

When I was 17, I got into a relationship with an older boy. I thought at the time that he fancied me. I was in school at that time, which wasn’t the best time for me, I really struggled. Looking back now, that was clearly a reason why he was able to do the things he did, as I was quite vulnerable.

From the start of the relationship, I was vulnerable. I turned 18 a few weeks after we had started to go out with each other. He was older, he worked full-time, and I attended secondary school. At the very least this should have been a warning sign, why an older boy would want to see a girl as young as me? I didn’t think anything of it at the time.

A few months in, he was adamant for me to stay in his house on the weekends, this is where the isolation began. Not hanging out with my friends on weekends, not spending time with my family. If I was to hang out with friends or attend a birthday party he would always join. I was bombarded with messages and calls from him. Asking me questions like “who’s there? Are there any boys there?”

I ignored this. I started a part time job in a nightclub. As I was young, he was very against it from the beginning. He was adamant he was to collect me no one else, I wasn’t able to get a lift with a colleague or my parents.

I started a new job and the same thing happened. Except this time, I worked weekends and any days off I had, he would bring me back to his place. Again, I didn’t have much time for family or friends.

After I finished secondary school, I started college and worked part time. From the minute I finished school he immediately told me I wasn’t intelligent enough to do my course.

Early in the relationship, he never planned any dates or spent time doing things that I enjoyed, it was always what he wanted, which I voiced many times. However, this is where the love-bombing started. He would get me anything I wanted, and I never had to worry about money.

He would discuss very personal things about me and my body to his ‘friends’. Eventually his friends saw that this made me uncomfortable and stopped. He would also question what I was wearing on nights out, he hid some of my clothes so that I couldn’t find them. He’d tell me I didn’t need to wear makeup or do my hair, and ask me “who are you trying to impress?” Was I looking to attract other boys? I couldn’t speak to my friends who were male.

After two years of this behavior, I became a recluse. I felt so alone from falling out with my best friend and family over him. This made me feel even worse as I thought he was the only person I had left.

One day I got a message from his best friend’s sister, she said she had something to tell me. I was told that he had slept with her. She was the same age as me when I had met him and still in secondary school.

I got many other messages, I found condom wrappers in the strangest of places, I found clothes not belonging to me, I found messages on his phone, which was a rare occasion as I was never allowed on his phone. But he had full control of my phone and who I spoke to.

I tried to end the relationship, more love bombing, empty apologies and exhausted “I love you”’s. I decided to take him back. He made me feel absolutely insane. I thought I was dirt on someone’s shoe, he didn’t care about me.

After three years, I finally started to see the light. After my graduation I packed all my stuff I could find into my suitcase. I found some more messages while he was in the shower and decided that I will not be hurt like this anymore.

We had an altercation where I was held against the wall in his bedroom as he exploded and continued to tell me he loved me while he wouldn’t let me move. This was the moment I knew I needed help.

I was hysterical and said goodbye to his parents for the last time, I knew I wouldn’t be back. I pretended I was okay the entire journey home and talked about the following weekend. As I got home, I entered my kitchen and I collapsed onto the floor. I told my mother I needed out and I didn’t know what to do as I had tried to end the relationship before.

I had to change my mobile number and block him on multiple platforms and email as he kept trying to contact me.

I never heard of Women’s Aid and their Too Into You campaign, I wish I had sooner. I knew what he was doing was wrong, but I couldn’t stay away, he had isolated me from all my family and my friends, and I felt like I had nothing left but him. Now, four years later, after years of therapy and countless reflections, I finally have my voice back, and I am ready to use it.