A couple of years ago the longest relationship I have ever known ended amicably and my current life began.

For four of the five-or-so years my ex-partner and I were together, we lived in a small cottage off the coast of south west Scotland. It was the most beautiful place I have ever lived, with the nearest neighbour just under a mile away, and the nearest village around four miles away. I could open my back door and see the coast of Ireland, at night the lights would glimmer and shine, reflecting on the expanse of water between the two coasts. Wildlife was abundant, owls and eagles were regularly sighted, field mice would often be seen scurrying for cover and the occasional sheep or cow would wander through looking for greener grass.

I lived there with a good woman, a woman now named Louise Campbell. Louise has been in the news a lot recently, her custody battle for her daughter has been dominating BBC and Sky news headlines at regular intervals. Much of what has been reported about Louise and her family has been speculation, and I can only imagine the heartbreak some of the misrepresentations of truth have caused for those involved.

When I first met Louise in Blackburn, she suffered greatly from anxiety and depression. Her children were in the custody of their father due to a difficult divorce and Louise’s ill health, and the loss of her children had worsened her condition. The one fact that shone, the thing that made her most beautiful was her love for her children. She loved each of them equally, cared for them unconditionally and wept for them always.

We moved to Scotland to be closer to Louise’s family.

Her children could visit only with their fathers permission, meaning that often months and months would pass without her seeing her children. Sometimes promised visits would be cancelled at a moments notice, and often the effect was devastating for Louis, but when they did arrive, her love was such a wonderful thing to see. She adored them all, would hold them and hug them, play their games and listen to their endless stories and jokes. Louise had always felt that the world saw her as a bad mother for not having custody of her children, but she was a fantastic mother – a natural mother.

Louise’s only ambition was to be well enough to have her children with her full time, and with dedication and determination, she strived towards that goal.

We lived as recluses, I more so than Louise. We dedicated every day to her wellbeing and I endeavoured to help her gently face and overcome each and every obstacle that was preventing her recovery… and day by day Louise began to get stronger.

Unfortunately my own condition began to worsen.

Although I had no idea at the time that I was suffering from Asperger’s, I was aware that my mind wasn’t quite ‘normal’. I had (throughout my formative years) developed coping mechanisms in order to integrate with society, and as the years in Scotland passed, those mechanisms began to fall apart.

Social situations are difficult. Emotions are not the same for me and so I have to fabricate responses and reactions when amongst others in order to appear more human. Body language and certain turns of phrase are too easy to misinterpret, my mind views all possible meanings to the simplest wave of a hand or the emphasis of a word and reaches too many conclusions for me to be sure of what those signals meant… and so I put in place mechanisms, methods of sidestepping or adapting my inadequacies. I invented a persona. I became the shy guy that livens up once you get to know him. This allowed me to sit back at first and observe, to learn an individuals mannerisms and body language, to find their boundaries and distractions before engaging them in deeper conversation, cataloguing acceptable reactions and responses for later use, like a not-too-bright but talented actor quietly rehearsing his lines before playing the role of a rocket scientist, having no idea of what I was doing, but playing the part well.

However, as the Scottish years passed in virtual seclusion, it became harder and harder to return to social situations, to crank up the mechanisms and put on a show, and as such my ability to be there for Louise on the final stages of her recovery diminished.

We parted on friendly terms, a decision we both agreed would be best for us both; I returned to Blackburn, Louise remained in Scotland.

I refuse to speculate upon the recent developments in her life as they are played out for the nations entertainment, but I will say that above all else Louise Campbell loves her children, and Louise Campbell is a damn good mother who has battled insurmountable odds to come out strong enough to make a stand for the love she holds dear – and I believe any decisions she has made during the unfolding events were made solely on the basis of that love, and I hope above all else that her strength remains.