Our rows always started with something small - more often than not it was money - but sometimes it would be how I felt David made no effort with my family or had been rude to one of my friends.

But it would escalate into a series of complaints that, taken individually, seemed like nothing, but collectively suggested to me that I'd made a terrible mistake and I should never have married him.

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Slumped on the living room floor, exhausted and red-eyed after arguing in circles for hours, my husband David and I'd had enough.

It was the same tired argument, the one we'd been having over and over for years, but this time something had changed. The row had begun innocuously - as it always did - when I noticed he had spent more than £150 at the supermarket on items we could ill afford.

He seemed confused about why we were even having counselling.

I veered between feeling frustrated that he couldn't see we had a problem and guilty because maybe we didn't.

The rows had become more frequent after the birth of our first child.

By the time Harry was two, David and I were worried enough to make an appointment with Relate.

I was surprised to find how devastated I felt at the idea of ending the marriage. Most of the time we were OK, I told myself - I would just have to learn not to let small things bother me so much. Days later, telling a friend about how bad things had become, I referred to David and my 'monthly row' and a lightbulb went off.

When I thought back, I realised the rows did happen pretty much every month. And that's when I finally understood that the problem wasn't a result of an accumulation of petty irritations finally becoming too much to bear, but that it was all hormonal.

I had yelled at him, accusing him of being irresponsible and unable - or unwilling - to communicate.

He had countered by saying I was 'hysterical', over-reacting as usual.

Our fights always - yes, always - happened in the week before my period was due.