Part of the countdown to the end of Domestic Abuse Awareness Month

People frame leaving as bravery, but it’s far more complex.

It’s survival layered with fear, logistics, and sacrifice.

Leaving meant letting go of everything I’d built long before I met him.

I funded the home from my own savings, paid the mortgage alone, and raised my child as a single parent because of past events. A fair amount of time over the 18 months I spent living there was likely lost because he wouldn’t leave.

But finances and stability meant nothing compared to facing another day in that house, sleeping in clothes, and having my voice recorder always running on my phone.

I was done with the manipulation. I knew the truth.

The trauma bond was broken, but it still took more for me to find the strength to leave.

November 2023.

The day I finally said enough.

The day I took my three beautiful children and left, making ourselves homeless because staying meant we were no longer safe.

After seeing the fear in my son’s eyes, a mirror of the dread I had long buried.

I knew there was no going back.

No manipulation could ever drag me into that darkness again.

I still remember the look in his eyes, the flinch when my ex stood up.

The fear I’d carried for years had taken root in him.

I packed our bags in silence while, upstairs, he cast himself as the victim, accusing me of cruelty, unaware that within ten minutes, we would be gone. Free.

He could try all his usual tricks – tantrums, shouting, threats.

None of it could change my decision to leave.

I was desperate for freedom, for safety, to live, but had nowhere to go and felt trapped from the second I woke up!

Every sound made my heart race.

I pretended it was just another day, but inside, I knew: if I didn’t leave, I’d be gambling not just with my sanity, but with our safety.

So I left. Freedom came with consequences, and I paid for it.

But if you think the abuse stopped when I walked out that door, you’d be wrong.

Control Became a Narrative

In the weeks and nearly two years since I left, abuse didn’t stop; it evolved.

When direct control failed, the focus shifted to controlling the narrative: how others saw me, what they were told, and which version of events survived.

I can now name the pattern: blame-shifting, performative victimhood, and quiet history rewrites.

The old caution is accurate:

listen to how someone talks about every ex; they may be describing themselves.

I wish I’d believed those who came before me, but abusers are skilled performers.

He worked hard to make me doubt my judgment until I stopped accepting his script and wrote my own.

Those early days were filled with police disclosures, failing to document, safeguarding calls, and court forms.

Exhausting doesn’t begin to cover it.

But even in that exhaustion, there was one undeniable truth: I could breathe again.

I could choose when I saw my family. I could choose to spend time with all three of my children. I could choose to rebuild the bond we’d all been starved of.

As time passed, trauma set in, and I realised I needed help.

Yet, despite the torment that followed, I thrived as the version of myself I refused to let him strip away, the nurse, the empath, the mum, the student, the one committed to saving others from the pain I was forced to endure.

Some days, I questioned whether it was worth it, whether facing the consequences of leaving was worth it.

But the reality is, yes, it is!

That autonomy, the freedom, and the ability for our children to live, bond, and be a family after years of control was worth everything.

Here’s what he could never understand, what he could never do no matter how hard he tried: he could not change how I perceive the greatness in others, or diminish my capacity to help and to heal.

While he continued his attacks through family court, while he manipulated the world around him, I was building.

Not just surviving – thriving:

Through the pain, Through the love and words of my children. In 12 months I achieved.

• A distinction in a postgraduate certificate in the Neuroscience of Psychology and Mental Health
• Developed and published my original trauma-based therapy methodology m, created tools to help others navigate what I’d lived through
• Published 6 books in total, 4 of which are part of my “From Troubled Minds to Empowered Voices” collection, including working with my daughter at age 4
• Founded a peer support website – NAA Advocating for Change – providing information and resources for self-advocacy around mental health, domestic violence, and LGBTQIA+ awareness
• Reestablished this blog after starting it before I left him.
• Started doing things I enjoyed again, went to the rugby, taught my kids how to change pads and discs on cars, Fitted a new kitchen and bathroom myself, learnt to plaster, proving I could create a home with my own hands! And taught my kids.
• Got a motorbike again.
• Achieved financial stability after years of economic abuse and coercion, and brought a new car.
• I studied the Children’s Act and police legislation. I took courses, constantly expanding my knowledge and capabilities to pray I could help others access the system that was supposedly meant to protect, because protecting against control had almost destroyed me and everything.
• When insomnia was rife, and still to this day, I use the knowledge I gained and have now supported women who can’t afford legal representation, nor access legal aid, through domestic abuse, family court, and mistreatment, turning my pain into purpose

Of all my achievements, one stands above the rest.

My five-year-old now draws pictures of her family, her older brothers, herself, and me, all smiling in a row.

To some, it’s a small thing.

But not long ago, every drawing was filled with sad faces.

The most significant accomplishment I hold is reflected in the bond my children now share: the love they deserved but were once starved of.

Two nights ago, as I lay beside my little one, she whispered her nightly “I love you.” I always reply, “I love you more,” before she finishes. But she didn’t say “you” this time, she told her brother’s name.

A day spent with him, learning guitar, and being loved.

Her “safe people,” as she calls them, include her two teenage boys, me, and others close to us.

And I am proud of that.

The boys lived through hell, yet not one resents a single hair on her head.

Our home is finally filled with safety, guitars, time, together, and days out. Their friends became a support and part of our family, and they accepted her, letting her join in, her little protectors!

Years apart in age, never divided, no resentment, no rivalry.

Just pure sibling banter, jest, bickering, love and fierce protection… Just Normal!

How it was years before she was born.

That is what I’m proudest of. And in that safety, they’ve found the freedom to be who they truly are.

In the quiet of night, I continue working on more, but that will have to be saved for another blog!

But all of it has made me stronger, sharper, more determined.

He thought breaking me would be easy.

He thought taking everything would leave me empty.

He was catastrophically wrong.

The Truth About Leaving

I no longer respond to character attacks.

I don’t read anything directly from him; friends, family, or colleagues do it for me.

Then they outline what needs to be done, which, funny enough, I usually predict.

Just by revisiting the statement I wrote before I left him.

That’s DARVo in action.

I document. I protect my children. I keep moving.

Every book I publish is a testament to survival.

Every woman and man I have supported proves that pain can transform into purpose.

Every course I complete, every skill I learn, every achievement I claim, all pieces of myself I’ve reclaimed from the wreckage he tried to create.

Leaving isn’t a single event. It’s a process of reclaiming yourself, piece by piece.

And I’m not done yet.

For anyone still in the darkness: You are stronger than you know.

The person you were before the abuse is still within you, transformed yet waiting for you to remember.

And when you leave and finally break free, you’ll discover you’re capable of more than you ever imagined.

To those who came before me and tried to warn me: I see you now.

I believe you!

And I’m using everything I learned to make sure others don’t have to learn these lessons alone.

If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse:

• National Domestic Abuse Helpline: 0808 2000 247 (24/7)
• C.A.L.L. Helpline (Wales): 0800 132 737
• Men’s Advice Line: 0808 8010 327

You deserve safety. You deserve peace. You deserve to reclaim your life.