04/09/2026
“People always say, 'stay together for the children'. They say children need two parents. That leaving creates a broken home. That divorce ruins lives. But I'm one of those children. And I'm here to tell you what staying did to me.”
These are the words of a survivor of childhood domestic abuse. She has shared with us the deep and lasting impact this has had on her life. She has chosen to do this in the hope it could help others and raise awareness. She entitled this: "The little girl who thought this was love":
“My childhood wasn't filled with bedtime stories or happy family memories. It was filled with fear.
“Fear of raised voices. Fear of slammed doors. Fear of hearing my mum scream. Fear that tonight would be the night my dad finally killed her.
“No child should know that kind of fear.
“No child should lie in bed listening, wondering whether they should run downstairs or hide under the duvet. No child should rehearse in their head what they'll say to the emergency services if they have to ring 999.
“But I did.
“I was just a little girl when I made that call.
“This is what abuse does.
“It steals your childhood long before you understand what childhood even is.
“People think children don't notice.
“We notice everything.
“We notice the silence after an argument. We notice the tears that are wiped away before anyone sees them. We notice Mum saying she walked into a door. We notice Dad pretending nothing happened. We notice the tension, the fear, the eggshells everyone tiptoes across.
“Children don't need to witness the violence to be traumatised by it.
“They feel it in every room of the house.
“Growing up like that completely changed who I became.
“I grew into a woman with almost no self-esteem.
“I didn't know who I was unless somebody else told me.
“If someone called me beautiful, I believed them. If someone called me ugly, I believed that too.
“My worth was whatever someone else decided it was that day.
“No child is born believing they're unworthy.
“Someone teaches them that.
“I also never learned what love was supposed to look like.
“Nobody showed me gentle love. Nobody showed me respectful love. Nobody showed me safe love.
“So when I met men who controlled me... it felt familiar.
“When they shouted... it felt familiar.
“When they isolated me... it felt familiar.
“When they hurt me... it still felt familiar.
“Because somewhere deep inside me, I'd learned that this was what love looked like.
“And maybe that is the hardest part of all.
“I can't physically go back and change the story of that little girl. But maybe I can take everything she lived through and use it for something. I can use her story. I can use her voice.
“I can start the conversations people avoid—the difficult ones, the uncomfortable ones, the ones that might make someone realise that staying together isn't always protecting a child.
“And maybe, just maybe, by speaking about what happened to me, I can stop another little heart from breaking in the same way.
“I can't go back and glue her heart back together. I can't give her the childhood she deserved.
“But perhaps I can take those broken pieces and use them to build something different for someone else. Perhaps I can become the voice she never had.
“Because I can't change where she came from. But I can help change where other children are going. What I never had, I will give them.
“And maybe, just maybe, that little girl inside me can finally know:
“I heard you.
“I remember you.
“And I am, and always will be, here to protect you.”
We would like to thank this brave survivor for sharing her story so selflessly and openly in the hope it might help others. If you have experienced domestic abuse, please know that there is help and support available.
You can contact the Lincolnshire Domestic Abuse Specialist Service (link in comments) or call the freephone 24-hour National Domestic Abuse Helpline on 0808 2000 247.
