We hear frequently that the internet is a scary place. Every week, we read stories of trolling, revenge porn, online bullying and harassment. This abuse is not new, perpetrators simply have more tools at their fingertips. But if they have new ways of inflicting fear, we must have new ways of overcoming it.
Did things end well? Or not so well, and you explain the animosity by declaring that they were 'out of their mind', 'crazy' or 'unhinged'? This kind of language is harmful and enormously disrespectful of people with mental health problems, so we wouldn't normally use it - but here it's important to use those labels.
Ridding the world of gender inequality will, I believe, curb the increase in intimate abuse. I want to live in a world where no one is shamed because of their body, the money they earn or their perceived gender. The Istanbul Convention is the vehicle for tackling gender inequality, and that's why I support it.
To my particular abuser, who did many but not all of the things above, I say this. Every time I say sorry for no reason. That's on you. Every time I flinch at a raised voice. That's on you. Every time I wake sweating from a nightmare of what you did. That's on you. Every time I cry remembering the things you did and said. That's on you.
Should she bring a child into a relationship where there was abuse just because 'she didn't believe in abortion'? Is that the best thing for her to do? She was already keeping the abuse secret from her family and her kids, how could she choose to inflict this life of secrecy and pain on an innocent child who never asked to be born?
How do you grieve for something that's not a physical being? You haven't lost a relative or friend, or your dog that you've had in the family since you were small. You don't get the usual 'I'm sorry for your loss', because have you actually lost anything? For anyone who's been through or going through this then of course the answer is yes.
I am frequently asked, what's Rob like to play? Well it sounds trite, but - it's a privilege. The old cliche that 'the villains are the most fun to play' is in part, true (although along with 'break a leg' and 'I'm not out of work, just resting', I've never once heard it said by an actor). But Rob Titchener is more than a 'villain'. He is arrogant, narcissistic and abusive psychopath. He is also - so he believes - charming, kind, loving and selfless. Very complex, in other words. And therein lies the challenge and the thrill to the actor.
Victimhood is not a competition. There should be help for all who need it. But by cutting services for women, lives are put at risk. Of course men need support to recover from domestic abuse. But to deny that iceberg exists, to deny the roots of the still-rising tide of violence against women in misogyny and inequality, is to turn our backs on prevention.
Escaping from abuse isn't as easy as 'just leaving'. You can't get up and walk away when you decide you've had enough. I wish it was that easy. It is often a long process, a long time of wanting to do it but not knowing how. Then comes how to do it, you need a window of opportunity, a carefully devised plan of action to minimise any threat to your safety.
For the next week or so he'd randomly be waiting for me outside of work or at the station, watching from a distance so he could see me but I couldn't see him. As I type this it's a sickening thought, basically being stalked by your own boyfriend because he can't even trust you to get home on your own.