Tomorrow, I begin something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. For the next seven days, I’ll be talking about something much more difficult than autumn favourites and getting to know me. Tomorrow marks the beginning of my seven-day domestic abuse awareness series. I feel very nervous sharing this with you. I’m slightly scared about how this will be perceived, but this is exactly why I’m doing it. I feel quite protective of myself going into this, but I’m determined to stay strong and, hopefully, help spread more awareness and understanding around the subject. You will hear my story. Apart from when I introduced what is going to be happening on this blog throughout October, and the few times people have asked me questions, I haven’t really talked about what happened to me for around three years. I don’t think I’ve ever gone into the full depth of what happened with anyone. There are probably only a handful of people I’ve directly told, and because of one person’s reaction at the time, that experience has stayed with me for so long. It’s also one of the reasons why I’m so anxious about talking about this now. Pressing “publish” over the next seven days is probably going to be seven of the most important posts I’ve ever written. I spent two years, and the aftermath of those two years, feeling scared of someone. I shouldn’t have to be scared to talk about what happened to me.
I’m doing this because the statistics are scary, but behind every statistic is a person. Someone who has experienced something they may be frightened, ashamed or simply not ready to talk about. Understandably, survivors of domestic abuse don’t usually share their stories, and because of that, I think so much of our understanding of domestic abuse relies on statistics, definitions and information about the signs to look out for. Those things are incredibly important, but I also think there is something powerful about hearing what abuse can actually look and feel like from someone who has experienced it. I hope that by talking in depth about some of the things I experienced, I might help someone realise that there is more to domestic abuse than what we might traditionally imagine. I was even guilty of that myself before I experienced it. What I understand now, that I didn’t understand then, is that there were many things I thought were “normal” that definitely weren’t what a healthy relationship should look like. Until things started becoming physical, I accepted so many of the signs that came before as, “This must just be how things are.” I wish more people understood that abuse doesn’t necessarily begin with physical violence. Sometimes, by the time things become physical, there has already been a long pattern of control, fear, manipulation or other abusive behaviour.
I also wish more people understood that the period around leaving an abusive relationship can be particularly dangerous. Leaving isn’t always the simple solution that people on the outside might imagine it to be. If even one person reads something this week and thinks, “I didn’t realise that was abuse,” then sharing this part of myself will have been worth it. If one survivor reads these posts and feels a little less alone, then I’ll have done what I set out to do. I’m not sharing these posts because I want people to feel sorry for me. I’m sharing them because I want to create awareness.
I think it’s also important to talk about how the signs of abuse aren’t always obvious to friends, family or colleagues. In many ways, you learn how to act. I never wanted anyone to worry about me, and over time I became very good at wearing a mask. If I didn’t appear happy enough with him in front of other people, there were consequences, so I became very good at rehearsing in my head how I was going to behave, what I was going to say and how I needed to appear. From the outside, I can understand why someone might not have realised what was happening. I was learning how to make everything look normal. I didn’t want to speak up because I had been made to believe that I wouldn’t be believed. The reality is that abuse doesn’t always look like someone denying what they’ve done. Sometimes the control, fear and manipulation are already so deeply present that speaking out feels impossible. This is why I think someone looking from the outside might misunderstand, and why abuse can be so difficult to recognise. This coming week isn’t simply about physical violence. It’s about understanding that domestic abuse is so much more than that.
Over the next seven days, I’ll be talking about the different forms domestic abuse can take and why it isn’t always easy to recognise.
Day 1 will explore how domestic abuse doesn’t always leave bruises, and how abuse can exist in many different ways beyond what people might traditionally imagine.
Day 2 will look at why it isn’t jealousy or love, it’s control. We’ll talk about behaviours that can sometimes be mistaken for love, care or concern, but can actually become controlling and harmful.
Day 3 will focus on when control becomes abuse and understanding coercive control. We’ll look at patterns of behaviour rather than individual incidents, because abuse is often about a repeated pattern over time.
Day 4 is when we’ll talk about the question survivors hear far too often: “Why didn’t they just leave?” This is where I’ll talk about my own experience of why leaving wasn’t as simple as people might think and why there are so many barriers that can make it incredibly difficult.
Day 5 will focus on what to do if someone you love tells you they are being abused. We’ll talk about what to say, what not to say and what genuine support for a survivor can look like.
Day 6 will be about life after abuse and what rebuilding yourself can look like, finding your identity again and moving forward after something that changed your life.
Day 7 will focus on why we need to believe survivors, why we shouldn’t look away and why these conversations need to continue long after this week ends. Some of these conversations will be difficult. Some may bring up emotions or memories for people reading, which is why I want to take a moment to acknowledge that before we begin.
I am fully aware that I am talking about a subject that may be personally relevant to people silently reading my blog. As much as I will include a content warning on each post, I don’t want anyone to feel pressured to read this series. You do not need to read every post, and if at any point something feels too much, please step away and look after yourself. If you need to unsubscribe for your own wellbeing, please do. Your peace and your healing matter more than staying up to date with these posts. Looking after yourself comes first, always. I would never want anyone to put themselves through something that takes away their sense of safety or peace of mind. I also want to make it clear that there is absolutely no expectation for anyone to share their own experiences. You do not owe anyone your story, and you do not have to explain what you have been through. I expect the comment section to be quiet, and that is completely okay. Just know that I see you. I believe you. If you are reading this because you have lived through something similar, I hope this week reminds you that you are not alone.
There are parts of my story I will share, and there are parts that I will keep for myself. I will share as much as I feel comfortable sharing and go into as much detail as I am able to. There are some parts that are still a blur, because it got to a point where it didn’t seem to matter how careful I was or how much I tried to avoid conflict. Things could switch so quickly, and I was left trying to understand what I had done wrong. The reality is, I shouldn’t have had to constantly monitor my words, my actions or my behaviour in the first place. I will also be leaving out any information about him as a person. I don’t know where he is, what he is doing now, or who may be reading these posts, and for my own peace of mind, I would rather keep those details private. I am happy to answer questions or respond to comments where I feel able to, but please bear in mind that I am telling my story on my terms. Sharing this is bringing up a lot of emotions and memories for me, and I need to make sure I am also looking after myself throughout this process. My main focus is getting these seven days of posts out there and continuing this conversation. I truly hope I won’t need to stop, but if I do need to take a break afterwards, that is an option I need to allow myself. It may also be that I introduce some lighter content in between these posts if things become a little too much.
Thank you for reading, for listening and for hearing me out. Thank you also for the messages I have received so far. I’ve already had some really meaningful conversations with people about this topic, and it has been incredible to see that awareness and openness beginning already.
Tomorrow, we begin. I know these next seven days won’t always be easy to write, and they may not always be easy to read, but I believe these conversations matter. For a long time, I was afraid to talk about what happened to me. I carried this part of my story quietly, and I convinced myself that staying silent was easier, but silence is also how so many people continue to feel alone. If sharing my experiences helps someone recognise something they didn’t understand before, helps someone support a person they love, or helps even one survivor feel a little less alone, then it will be worth it. This week isn’t about looking back and staying there. It’s about understanding, awareness and hope. It’s about breaking the silence. Hopefully, by talking about the things that are often left unspoken, we can help create a world where more people feel believed, supported and safe.
Tomorrow, I begin.
Amy x
