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Domestic violence was something that happened to other people until 7pm last Thursday night, when it happened to me. I was, I suppose, the victim: although what happened didn't make me feel like a victim. All the same, I was physically abused. My hair was pulled, my glasses were torn off my face, and my leg was bruised.

But the aggressor wasn't my partner: he wasn't even in the house at the time. It was my daughter, aged 15, who lashed out at me, kicking and screaming, as we locked horns over her request to go out that evening.

Even a week later, I'm shocked that Emily and I could have come to this. It has made me feel a failure: I feel ashamed of how we ended up, I feel I drove her to it and am confused by why and how a fairly ordinary domestic situation got so quickly out of control

Bailing out on her simply isn't an option.

So what can I do?

What is crucial, from everything I've read this week about this kind of violence, is to nip it in the bud and make sure it doesn't become a habit