Divorce, once rare and stigmatised, has become mainstream – 42 per cent of marriages now end this way, meaning nearly half of us who get married can expect to experience it in our lifetime. Just as every marriage is different, so is every divorce. In this column, divorcees reflect on their life-changing experience. Helped by the benefit of hindsight, they share advice and reflections. Here, Naomi* shares how her husband’s uncontrolled temper and erratic behaviour led to her ill health.

My father was a tricky man. This is the only explanation I can find to make sense of why I got into a relationship with, and then married, Marcus*. I look back on it now – we’ve been divorced for two years and separated for three – and I am ashamed and embarrassed to recognise the toll my marriage took on my mental and physical health. 

Towards the end of our 15-year marriage, I was getting increasingly ill. I spent a lot of time in bed because I felt so exhausted and couldn’t face the world. I had endless headaches that developed into migraines. But it took me a long time to realise that my physical ailments were actually a reaction to the coercive, controlling relationship that I was in. 

Marcus started out as a loving partner. I didn’t meet him until I was 35. By then, all of my friends had got married and most of them had children. I felt like an old maid, the one who’d be sitting on the shelf forever. It wasn’t that I didn’t have boyfriends, but none of the relationships really stuck. I think it’s because my dad made everything very difficult for them. Whoever I brought home, he disapproved.

So I had pretty much given up on love until I met Marcus through work. I was 35 and he was 36. We hit it off immediately. We went for lots of drinks and dinners and we got to know each other very well. I honestly think I did my due diligence. 

When things started to get serious, I met his family. He met my mine. My father rather uncharacteristically liked him. Maybe I should have seen this was a red flag.

However, I wanted to be in love and Marcus treated me very well. At the beginning, there was no sense that he would become so controlling and difficult. So a year after we met, we got married. 

We had talked about having children and he had always said he wanted them, yet when I told him I was going to come off my contraceptive pill, he got really cross with me. He would say things like he should be enough for me and why did I even want to have a baby. So we never did.

Quite often he would just walk out. He would literally pick up his car keys and go. I would then keep calling him and texting him but he wouldn’t reply. Sometimes this would go on for days – I felt so abandoned and hurt.

He once walked out of a dinner party because he said I was flirting with the host’s husband, which was completely untrue. He was highly critical of me, often putting me down in front of friends. He’d say things like, “Naomi’s so muddle-headed”, and then pat me on my head like a dog. He’d often make me out to be stupid, talentless, disorganised. 

He was also prone to rages, and anything would set him off. One time, I came home half an hour late because I’d gone to buy some delicious fish to cook for dinner and he was so angry with me that he shouted at me, threw a huge strop, and wouldn’t talk to me until the next day. 

I found it increasingly difficult to deal with his moods. I spent a lot of my life learning how to soothe him. I was basically walking on eggshells. I was so terrified of making him angry or critical that I turned myself into a person I didn’t recognise. I became very quiet and  timid. I lost my sense of self.

But every time I thought I was going to leave him, he’d be so super charming and lovely, just like the Marcus I first met, and I’d be lured back into the marriage again. 

Gradually, I got increasingly ill. Actually, Marcus liked it – maybe because I was lacking in any power. He looked after me, but the minute I got better, the moods and the strops would start again. 

The crisis point came at Christmas, three years ago. Marcus and I were hosting it and my family were coming. I was rushing around begging everybody to be quiet and eat all the food, even if they didn’t like it, so that Marcus wouldn’t get cross. 

Then at some point my eldest niece, who I love very much, took me to one side and said: “What is going on? You are no longer you.”

That was it. It was as if someone had finally given me permission to say everything and I completely broke down. I told her everything very hurriedly, rushed and in a whisper. I was terrified Marcus would hear us. 

She then told me I was to get in her car and she was taking me back to her home in London. 

A week later, I filed for divorce. 

It took a lot to get Marcus out of the house, let alone out of my life. His temper and vengefulness took on an even nastier turn. However, by this point, I was protected by my family and also by a women’s support group that I had joined to help women who were in coercively controlling relationships. 

Three years sounds like a long time, but it feels quite short to me. I sometimes still feel fear when I think about his temperamental behaviour. But with support, I know I will get over this and move on.

The good news is, my health has completely recovered. I go to yoga, which really helps me, and I practise breathing, none of which I would have done if I hadn’t been through what I’ve been through. I feel stronger and I know I am much more able to spot red flags. I would walk away from anyone if it looked as if I might have to walk on eggshells around them.