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Breaking Up with Isolation

They say Britain is a nation of stiff upper lips. We keep calm, carry on, and maybe have a cheeky cry in the loo at work before reapplying our mascara. But what happens when you’ve been through something that makes “carrying on” feel impossible? When the world tells you to “move on,” but every glance, every whisper, every judgmental look drags you back into silence? That’s the life of many domestic abuse survivors. And the cruel twist is, even after the abuse ends, the isolation doesn’t. When the World Turns Away Abuse already steals your confidence, your trust, your sense of safety. But the aftermath can feel like a second punishment. You leave, you speak up, you tell your truth—and suddenly, people stare. They whisper. They tilt their heads with that pitying look you’d rather avoid. Or worse, they say, “Why didn’t you leave sooner?” as if surviving hell was simply poor time management. So what do we do? We shrink. We cancel plans. We ghost group chats. We become experts at hiding...
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Did Thatcher Have It Right All Along?

How We’ve Changed from Offender Punishment to Offender Rehabilitation — and It’s Not Working Remember the good old days when Margaret Thatcher was the ultimate “tough on crime” poster child? Longer prison sentences, strict punishments, and a very clear message: “Break the law, pay up.” No sugarcoating. No second chances. Just justice — or so we thought. Fast forward a few decades, and the system did a 180-degree spin. Now it’s all about rehabilitation. Suspended sentences, rehab days, community orders. The justice system decided to swap the hammer for a “let’s help you fix your life” toolkit. Sounds like a fairy tale ending, right? Except it’s more like a fairy tale with a broken wand. So, what happened? We went from “lock ’em up” to “let’s give ’em a chance” without really figuring out how to make the “chance” count. The idea of rehabilitation is lovely in theory. Who wouldn’t want to help someone get back on their feet? But in practice? It’s often a slapdash half-day se...
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The Friendships That Don’t Survive Abuse: Why Speaking Out Changes Everything

Some friendships don’t end with a dramatic fallout. Some just wither into silence the moment you tell the truth. When I spoke out about the abuse I endured, I braced myself for many things—the scrutiny, the doubt, the emotional exhaustion. But what I wasn’t prepared for was the quiet betrayal of people I once called friends. The colleagues who stopped making eye contact. The friends who suddenly got “too busy.” The ones who thought staying neutral was a virtue. The truth is, speaking out doesn’t just reveal the abuser. It reveals everyone else too. When Silence Speaks Louder Than Words The first thing you notice isn’t a confrontation. It’s the silence. The unread messages. The sudden distance. It’s not that they don’t believe you. It’s that believing you would make their world too uncomfortable. When you expose abuse, you’re not just challenging one person. You’re challenging a system. A status quo. And for many, that’s too heavy a truth to carry. It’s easier to step back, look away, a...
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🩶 Disclosure is a One-Way Street: How the Justice System Silences Victims (Again)

We live in an age where “justice” is branded as survivor-centered, trauma-informed, and fair. We are told that the system is there to protect us, to give us a voice, to hold those who hurt us accountable. But somewhere between the courtroom doors and the paperwork, something gets lost. Because when it comes to disclosure , justice remains a one-way street. As a survivor, you give everything. You hand over your witness statement, recounting your worst moments with forensic precision. You submit your Victim Personal Statement, laying bare the nights you couldn’t sleep, the therapy sessions you needed just to function, the way your child screams in his sleep because he nearly saw you dead. You give them your voice, your trauma, your fear, your vulnerability — all for the promise of justice. And the person who hurt you? They get to read it all. An evidence pack laid out like a coffee table magazine. But when they write their statement, painting you as unstable,...
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As We Wait for the Verdict: Karen Read’s Trial and the Agony of Waiting

Waiting for a verdict? It’s the worst kind of purgatory. You’re stuck in limbo, caught between hope and dread, with every second stretched out like an eternity. And if you think it’s just the jury locked away hashing it out, think again. Karen Read and the victim’s family are living this hell on repeat. Let’s start with Karen. Imagine her life right now — no matter what you think about the case, this woman’s existence is on pause. The spotlight is unforgiving. Every text, every call, every glance at the news must feel like a punch to the gut. She’s probably cycling through every possible outcome in her head, rehearsing what-ifs and maybes, all while trying not to lose it completely. Waiting is torture because it gives your mind too much room to roam. Then there’s the family of the victim, the people who have already lost so much. For them, this isn’t just a trial — it’s a reopening of wounds that might never properly heal. Every juror’s question, every delay, is another twist in a stor...
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🌿 Can a Garden Heal a Broken Heart — and a Broken Justice System?

  A blog about surviving, growing, and getting justice on your own terms — with mud on your boots and a brew in hand. After the abuse. After the betrayals. After the traumatising trial. I didn’t find peace in a counsellor’s office. I didn’t find it at the bottom of a bottle. I didn’t even find it in the justice system that promised to protect me. No, I found it in a bag of compost, a battered trowel, and a patch of lawn I watered with my tears — tears that had been held down and buried for over a year. I didn’t plan on turning into some kind of village gardening granny. I wasn’t searching for zen or mindfulness. I was just a woman who needed something to do — something to dig, something to nurture, and something to smash into the dirt instead of smashing up my own headspace. So, I went outside and got stuck in. Digging through it At first, it wasn’t spiritual or Instagram-worthy. It was survival. My hands shook with fury. My chest felt like it was full of b...
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Unlearning the Lies: The Dangerous Habit of Victim Blaming

"Why didn’t she leave?" It’s a question that sits on the tip of the tongue like concern but make no mistake — it’s an accusation dressed in curiosity. It’s the starting point of an all-too-familiar interrogation that turns a survivor into a suspect in their own trauma. Victim blaming isn’t just a toxic cultural reflex — it’s a systemic rot embedded in our institutions, courtrooms, and conversations. And its long past time we unlearned the lies we’ve been fed about what it means to survive abuse. The Cost of Blame In the UK, 1 in 4 women and 1 in 6 men will experience domestic abuse in their lifetime (Office for National Statistics, 2023). Every year, over 2.4 million adults are subjected to it — yet only a fraction will report it. Why? Because the minute they do, the spotlight shifts from the perpetrator to their own perceived failings. It’s not an abstract fear. The 2021 report from HM Inspectorate of Constabulary concluded that victims of domestic abuse often ...
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