There’s no instruction manual for what happens when your world is shattered. No guide for the first breath you take after stepping out of a cage you didn’t realise you were locked inside. I’m writing this from a place of rawness and reflection, hoping to give my story a voice — even if it’s trembling.

Thirteen days ago, I left an abusive relationship. It wasn’t just my partner I left behind but the life I’d built, the love I’d invested, and the parts of me that became wrapped up in her and our home. I walked away, carrying not only the weight of survival but also the unbearable ache of being separated from my children — my 13-month-old son and my 4-year-old stepdaughter.

My son, who became my anchor through the darkest moments, was the hardest to leave. He doesn’t understand why I’m not there, and the thought of him thinking I’ve abandoned him keeps me awake most nights. I haven’t been able to open my phone’s photos or videos yet — they feel like a bridge back to a place I can’t walk across without falling apart. My stepdaughter, more self-sufficient in many ways, is still a child whose world is now split by forces beyond her control. Together, they’re the pieces of my heart I left behind for their safety and mine.

This blog is the first pebble I’m taking out of my overflowing backpack of pain, guilt, and exhaustion. Sharing my story doesn’t solve everything, but it’s a start. It’s the way I remind myself I’m not defined by what happened to me or the accusations and chaos left in the wake of my escape. It’s how I begin to turn wounds into something others might find strength in.

I don’t know exactly where this road leads, but I’m inviting you to walk it with me. Whether you’re here out of curiosity, shared pain, or solidarity, I hope this space becomes something meaningful. A corner of the internet where we can be human — vulnerable, flawed, and healing.

Here’s to surviving, one word at a time.