Author:

Ptissem Abourachid

The Domestic Abuse Diaries – The Refuge

I open my eyes, and instead of seeing trees outside my bedroom window, I'm faced with the grey steel of the upper bunk bed. My 3-year-old has crept into bed with me after falling out of his own. I guess I'm not the only one having a hard time getting used to sleeping in a bunk…

The Domestic Abuse Diaries – The Pregnancy

Finally, some clothes that fit.  I was in that awkward 5-month stage of pregnancy, where your regular clothes no longer fit comfortably.  I choose what to wear from my new maternity wardrobe, and spend the weekend at the park with my husband and son. He's been better recently. Having my parents involved seems to have…

The Domestic Abuse Diaries – The Playdate

"Dad, it's Ptissem....I'm sorry but we're not going to make it to lunch today." I hated lying to my parents...especially when I could tell my dad didn't believe me. He knew something was up. I'd never leave it this late to cancel lunch, not after all the trouble my mum had gone to.  But there…

The Domestic Abuse Diaries – The Baby Food

2 peppers, 1 courgette, a red onion and a large aubergine… Finally, something more interesting to make besides pureed carrots and sweet potato. Today was batch cooking day. My son was napping and I planned to use this time wisely. I had my Annabel Karmel book open on the counter, and three trays full of sliced…

The Domestic Abuse Diaries – The Super-Market

Carrot cake or Victoria sponge... God, I don't know...maybe she'd prefer some good old Mr Kipling. What kind of cakes do 80-year olds like anyway? And then what do I get mum...we’re going to hers afterwards and I hate walking in empty handed, especially with a husband who eats for two, sometimes three... OK, I'm getting…

The Domestic Abuse Diaries – The Honey Moon

“He’s going to think you’re a slag now, I hope you realise that!” My husband marched alongside me pulling his suitcase behind him, his face red and angry. Any joy we’d experienced on the flight had disappeared.  “You can’t shake people’s hands” he whispered angrily.  “I’m sorry...I didn’t think it was a problem” I replied, sad…