Two years ago, I was assessed as being at Extremo — Extreme risk, the highest standard risk category within Spain’s VioGén domestic violence risk-assessment system.

It is difficult to put into words what it feels like to discover that the situation you have been living in for years is far more dangerous than you ever fully understood. When you are living with abuse, you can become so accustomed to managing each day, avoiding conflict and trying to keep the peace that you lose sight of the bigger picture. You learn to survive, but you may not recognise just how much danger you are in.

It took me many years to speak openly to a professional about what was happening. When I finally did, the assessment of my circumstances was terrifying. Then the Guardia Civil became involved, examined the evidence and carried out further assessments. The seriousness of my situation became unmistakable.

Today, two years on, my assessed risk level has reduced to Medio — Medium. That is a significant change, but it is important to explain what that means in my circumstances.

It does not mean that the past has disappeared or that the original danger was exaggerated. It does not mean that everything suddenly became safe because time passed. My circumstances have changed, and the protections around me have played an important part.

There is a restraining order in place. I have continued contact and monitoring from the Guardia Civil. My former husband does not know where I now live, and I spend much of my time outside Spain. These measures help reduce my exposure to risk and allow me to live with greater freedom.

My risk level has reduced because the circumstances around my safety have changed — not because the years of abuse did not matter.

I am careful not to interpret a risk category as a guarantee. An assessment reflects the information and circumstances considered at that time. Risk can change, and protective measures remain important. Medium does not mean no risk, and I continue to take my safety seriously.

But there is another side to this story.

I am living again. I can enjoy the simple things that once felt impossible: peace in my home, the sound of the sea, music, friendship, laughter and the freedom to make my own decisions. I am rebuilding a life in which fear no longer dictates every choice.

I share this because I want other women and men experiencing domestic abuse to understand something that took me far too long to recognise: you do not have to wait until you understand the full extent of the danger before you ask for help.

If your partner controls who you speak to, accompanies you everywhere so that you cannot talk privately to a doctor, isolates you from friends and family, monitors your movements, threatens you or makes you afraid of what might happen if you leave, please do not dismiss these behaviours as simply part of a difficult relationship.

Speak privately to a professional who understands domestic abuse. Tell them the whole story, including incidents that happened years ago. Keep evidence where it is safe to do so. If you are already receiving police protection, report new concerns and ask for your circumstances to be reassessed when anything changes.

You may have become accustomed to your situation. Someone independent may recognise risks that you have been forced to normalise.

I am not sharing my experience to frighten anyone, and I am not seeking revenge. I am sharing it because understanding, professional assessment and appropriate protection can make a profound difference.

Two years ago, my situation was assessed as extreme risk. Today, with protective measures in place and greater freedom to live my life, my assessed risk has reduced to medium.

I never take that for granted. I know why those protections matter, and I will continue to take sensible precautions.

But I also refuse to let the years I spent in fear define all the years that lie ahead.

I deserve to live in peace. We all do.