The beatings happen every day. I’ve had black eyes, cuts and split lips – and considered ending my life to make it stop. My attacker? My own nine-year-old son. Read my story before you judge: MARIA GOODMAN

Every morning I prepare myself for the first blow. I’m so used to hiding black eyes, cuts and split lips with makeup. I dress carefully to keep the bruises on my body hidden.

Insults also occur frequently. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been called a b***h.

I feel like a prisoner in my own home, trapped in this abusive relationship. We are too afraid to admit the truth to the world.

My children were also injured, something that broke my heart and completely destroyed their sense of security.

You may wonder why I didn’t leave, for their sake if not for my own.

But this is not a classic case of domestic violence; My abuser is not my husband of 20 years. Actually, he also on the receiving end.

My attacker is our nine-year-old son Henry, who has severe autism.

He is so intense and his needs have so taken over our home that I can say with certainty that he has destroyed my life, my husband’s life, and our other three children.

The damage it does to our marriage, emotions, health, finances, and social lives is nothing short of devastating.

Of course, admitting this much remains taboo. Unconditional maternal love seems to mean overlooking dark truths like these.

But it’s not because I don’t like Henry. He is still my son; I’ll remember this as he punches and kicks me. But I hate and resent how miserable our family’s existence has become.

Henry attacks almost every day, and as he grows older and stronger, I fear his chapped lips and black eyes will turn into broken bones. Or that one day he might actually kill someone. Maybe because I’m his number one target.

I used to think it was because he hated me, but experts say he takes his aggression out on me because I’m his safe space, the person he knows he can always count on to be there for him. Whatever happens.

This isn’t Henry’s fault, it’s the way his brain is wired. Therefore, without complaint or reprisal, I have to bear the brunt.

All I ever wanted to be was a mother. I did well at school and then university and built a successful career in IT sales. A career that is another casualty of our situation.

I dreamed of having six children with just one sibling; And this was a puppy that would bring me so much love and joy. When I met Nick, now 46, through work in 2008, he too wanted a large family.

We imagined our gang of kids climbing into bed for Sunday morning cuddles, long dog walks by the river near our home in Buckinghamshire, and piling them into the car for happy day trips to parks and beaches.

Along came Amber (now 16), George (13), Freya (11) and that was exactly the case. Until Henry was born in July 2017, when I was 36 years old.

It’s hard to marry the memory of the gorgeous, warm little bundle the midwife placed in my arms and the scary, unpredictable boy he became.

When he was three years old, I noticed that his speech was delayed, he never played with toys, and he started to attack. However, before starting school, he learned to go to the toilet and brush his teeth. However, it must be admitted that he only takes a bath or shower once every ten days because he hates the sound and feel of water.

I started to really worry when I was four, right before I left kindergarten. At that moment, an event happened at home that I will never forget. Henry tried to hit Amber, who was 12 at the time, after she tried to stop him from running out the front door. When I intervened, he attacked me; He kicked and punched angrily.

It took 45 minutes for him to calm down. Then I hugged my other children and we cried together while treating my wounds and bruises.

This was the clearest and most devastating sign that Henry had serious behavioral problems. He was referred for an assessment of a child’s Education, Health and Care Plan (EHCP), which outlines a child’s special educational needs. However, diagnosis turned out to be a long and difficult process.

A year later, when Henry, then almost six, started truant from school, arriving at the doorstep of his home, a ten-minute walk away, I was still waiting for a decision and I was terrified he might wander onto a road and get hit by a car. Sometimes he would destroy the house in anger and frustration, and sometimes he would just want to sit alone in his tent.

When he later kicked a window pane at school, the headteacher immediately called NHS Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services (CAMHS) for advice because Henry was now displaying behavior that could pose a threat to the lives of others and his own.

Within four days we were diagnosed with autism and anxiety – her official diagnosis is autism with generalized anxiety – symptoms include complete overwhelm of the tongue and sensory overload.

He was prescribed the medication clonidine to help calm him down and reduce impulsive behavior. But despite medication, Henry continued to break things, rip out electrical outlets, and escape. He had been using melatonin for years. He would be asleep within half an hour of taking the medication so the rest of us could enjoy a family evening. Unfortunately it recently stopped working and we haven’t found a replacement yet.

Even though someone told the school that Henry had made terrible remarks during an argument, no other parents complained to my face.

There is no one-on-one teaching assistant (Assistant) at school due to lack of funding, but the classroom assistant sits with him as it is not safe for him to be on his own.

Fortunately, he never attacked other children, but in June 2024, when he was seven, he hit a teacher and the school temporarily suspended him.

I’ve been begging them to do this for months because a recorded suspension would be the quickest way to get him into a special needs school – unfortunately there are no schools locally, so he’s still in a mainstream school, albeit for no more than four hours a week – per an agreement made with the school and CAMHS.

My £30,000-a-year job and whatever freedoms I had became instant losses because I had to be at home with him. Since he won’t be busy learning, I don’t teach him. I would love to read books with him – or to her – but he can’t stand it.

Instead, he spends all day in front of a screen in his pajamas. He kicks and punches me when I try to get him dressed or do an activity with me.

Henry only returns to school four hours a week because he hit a teacher and was temporarily suspended. Maria would love to tutor him and read to him at home, but he says he’s not busy (picture taken by models)

Meanwhile, we are in great financial trouble, except for my salary. My poor husband works all hours as a one-man IT troubleshooter to pay the mortgage, bills, and basic living expenses.

Our car broke down months ago but we can’t afford to fix it, so Nick has to walk 40 minutes to and from the station to commute and we can’t afford basic renovations to our old Victorian house.

And God knows he needs it because Henry is constantly destroying things: three televisions to date, various doors, ornaments, and window panes. He was seriously injured by punching a window, but a few days later he put his foot through another window.

Some weeks he refuses to go to school at all, which means I’m stuck inside too. Having previously been very outdoorsy and healthy, with very rare exposure to sunlight, I have now been diagnosed with chronic vitamin D deficiency and prescribed Citalopram for depression and anxiety. I also had a 2nd and developed fibromyalgia which caused chronic pain all over my body – which my doctor says is stress related.

I can’t even let a friend have coffee because Henry won’t allow visitors into the house. My older kids can’t invite their friends either. There are no family days out on the weekends because either Nick or I have to be home with Henry. Even if I realize that an ingredient is missing while cooking dinner, I can’t give up.

There is no break. He refuses to sleep anywhere other than the bed between Nick and me. He won’t even go to the toilet without insisting that I wait for him in front of the door.

And then there is violence.

Nick and I were also told to follow the ‘zero demand approach’. For example, ‘No! Stop!’ because his autism has a component known as Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA). This means asking him to do anything could lead to a tantrum. Talking to him is like chatting with a bomb that could explode at any moment.

Instead we need to be a calm and quiet presence, which is a difficult question when you beat me up.

I was taught a process called ‘squashing’ where I sit or lie on it as this is the most effective way to calm it down as such heavy pressure allows the nervous system to regulate.

My family and friends are very worried. We took a big gamble and invited my dad over for Christmas two years ago, but he witnessed Henry throw a huge tantrum, furious that Grandpa was home.

‘Don’t do this to your mother!’ When I tried to lie down on Henry to calm him down, my father screamed very sadly.

Meanwhile, my oldest son retaliated twice and fought back when Henry launched an attack. I can’t blame him as he is a very calm and orderly boy. She even said: ‘Henry ruined my life.’

My youngest daughter was so upset recently when she was desperate for her friends to come over that she shouted: ‘I hate him, everyone hates him. ‘I wake up every day and wish I were dead!’

Hearing this devastated me.

It’s hard not to blame Henry for all our problems. Sometimes I get so angry at him that I consider foster care or boarding school. At least then my other children would have their lives back and Nick and I could repair our marriage.

Thank goodness we’re still friends, but there was zero closeness between us for a few years. We even discussed divorce. Sometimes I thought that living separately and sharing custody would give us comfort, at least for a short while. Then again, neither of us could handle it alone.

In my darkest moments, I wondered if ending my own life would help my other children access the therapy they needed.

But every now and then Henry has a good week or so and says to me: ‘You’re the best mummy ever!’ And then I hate myself for even having thoughts like that.

Despite everything, my biggest fear for Henry is that one day he will do something so terrible that he will be sent to prison and he will not be able to cope there.

We’re currently having a slightly better spell as the GP has increased Henry’s clonidine, meaning Henry has at least stopped attacking his siblings. I even managed to take him to the barber for a haircut this week, but then I paid the price for it with an attack.

His psychiatrist at CAHMS calls us every two weeks to check how we’re doing. We receive occupational therapy at school and see the pediatrician every six months.

So are we doomed to live in this small, isolated world forever? Now 45, I have little motivation or hope for the future, least of all the house full of grandchildren that Nick and I dream of having one day – Henry couldn’t stand them.

And so we all just continue to exist. Because we have no choice.

• Maria Goodman is a pseudonym. Names and identification information have been changed. Call the Samaritans for confidential support 116 123 or visit samaritans.org
• Interview by Sadie Nicholas