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Read Lydia’s Story
Background
Seven years ago, I married a man after what felt like a whirlwind two-year romance. As a single mother who had spent nine years raising two children on my own, I truly believed I had finally found someone kind, gentle, and caring. I trusted him completely and believed we were building a safe and loving future together. But almost immediately after we married, the man I thought I knew disappeared.
Suddenly, everything about me was “wrong.” Every small detail of my life was criticised, how I dressed, how I spoke, how I looked, what I wore, what I ate, and even who I spoke to. At first, I tried to reason with him, but the criticism only intensified. Slowly, day by day, my confidence and sense of self were chipped away. It became a constant battle with my own sanity. I genuinely began to feel like I was losing my mind.
The humiliation was relentless. It happened privately behind closed doors, but also publicly in front of others, including my children and stepchildren. He would make jokes on my expense. My daughter was eventually driven out of my home because she could not bear to watch the way I was treated. Watching her leave was one of the most painful moments of my life, yet I felt powerless to stop it.
Control over my life became absolute. I was forced to spend time with his friends, people I barely knew and had nothing in common with. I could not leave the house without telling him exactly where I was going and who I would be meeting. Even my time and daily routines were dictated by him. I was made to go to the gym with him every day because it was his favourite hobby. There, he would make me stand in front of a full-length mirror and call me an “ugly chunky fat cow.” for an hour each day. Hearing those words day after day slowly destroyed my self-worth. After a year of hearing it repeatedly, I began to believe him. Even today, I sometimes struggle to look at my own reflection and have fear of being in a gym.
Family holidays, school breaks, birthdays, and festive occasions became the times I dreaded most. Those were the moments when the abuse intensified, particularly when alcohol was involved. Instead of joyful family memories, those days became memories filled with fear and humiliation. There were moments when the pain felt unbearable. I thought about ending my life more than once. But I could never bring myself to do it because I could not leave my son behind in the care of someone capable of such cruelty.
When we married, my son was 14 and lived with us full-time. Despite being so young, he instinctively tried to protect me. He would stay around the house as much as possible because he believed his presence might prevent the abuse. There were times he physically stood between us and warned my husband that if he hurt me, he would defend me. No child should ever have to carry that burden.
Throughout the entire marriage, I carried the responsibility of keeping the household running. I paid the mortgage, the household bills, and even funded family holidays. I made sure food was always on the table and that the house was clean and functioning. Yet despite everything I did, I was treated as though I had no value. At times, I felt less like a partner and more like a servant.
When my son eventually left for university, the situation became far worse. Being alone in the house with my husband made me feel deeply unsafe. I avoided him whenever possible and tried to minimise interaction simply to keep the peace. The final breaking point came when he threatened not only my safety, but also my immigration status. He demanded that I transfer half the ownership of my home to him and hand over the money in my bank accounts. The threat was clear: if I refused, he would destroy me and my life in this country. That was when I knew I had to act.
I applied for a Non-Molestation Order and a Non-Occupation Order. But on the night those orders were served, he threatened my life again. In that moment, I realised that my home was no longer safe. I had no choice but to run. Leaving was terrifying. He searched for me relentlessly, as though he was hunting me. I could not stay with my daughter because he would drive past her house every day checking if I was there. I eventually found temporary refuge with a friend and her family, but I was so frightened that I barely left the bedroom. I even had to change my car because I believed I was being followed.
The trauma took a severe toll on my mental health. I experienced panic attacks, overwhelming fear, and suicidal thoughts. Eventually, I was referred for a mental health evaluation and placed on suicide watch.
My son suggested that I relocate to Derby so I could be closer to him and have some support. It was then that I was advised to reach out to Women’s Work. At that time, I was still deeply traumatised and suffering from Complex PTSD after years of emotional abuse. I felt broken, isolated, and unsure if I would ever feel like myself again.
How we helped
Walking into Women’s Work was one of the most important steps I have ever taken in my life. For the first time in years, I felt safe. Women’s Work gave me something I had not felt in a very long time, understanding without judgement. The staff and therapist created a safe and supportive space where women like me could speak openly about our experiences, knowing we would be believed, supported, and treated with compassion.
I have now been attending Women’s Work for just over a year, and the change in me has been truly life-changing. Women’s Work helped me realise something that years of abuse had made me forget, that my voice matters, that my life has value, and that I deserve to live without fear.
Through therapy and support groups, I learned that I was not alone. Hearing other women share their stories helped me understand that what happened to me was not my fault. Slowly, the shame and guilt I carried began to lift. I am no longer constantly living in fear or hyper-vigilance. When I feel triggered, I now have healthy ways to cope and manage my emotions.
Most importantly, Women’s Work helped me rediscover the woman I used to be, the confident woman, the strong mother, and the person who deserves love, dignity, and respect. The work that Women’s Work does is truly life-changing. They provide hope, community, and empowerment for women who have survived abuse and trauma. They do far more than offer support services — they restore confidence, dignity, and a sense of possibility for women whose lives have been shattered by abuse.
For many women like me, walking through the doors of Women’s Work is the first step towards reclaiming our lives. It is a place where survivors are believed. A place where healing begins. A place where women find the strength to rebuild.
Today, I am no longer the frightened, broken woman who ran away from her own home. I am rebuilding my life step by step. There are still moments when the memories surface, but I now have the strength, tools, and support to face them. Today, I am learning to love myself again. I am rebuilding my confidence, my independence, and my future. For that, I will always be deeply grateful.
I cannot thank Women’s Work enough for the compassion, dedication, and life-saving support they provide, not only for me, but for so many women trying to rebuild their lives after abuse. Because of Women’s Work, I am no longer just surviving. I am healing. And I am learning to live again. No woman should ever feel alone in her fight to rebuild her life.
