Surviving After Survival

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...

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...

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...