For a long time I believed that if I just tried harder, loved better, stayed quieter, things at home would get better. They didn't. I slowly stopped recognising myself.

A friend helped me make a plan, and one morning I left with a bag and my documents. I was terrified. I'm not going to pretend the months after were easy.

But today I laugh loudly again. I make my own choices. I'm rebuilding slowly, with support. If you are where I was, please know that help exists, and you deserve to feel safe at home.