About the Author
Sally is a survivor of domestic abuse and a member of Chosen and Beloved. Through sharing her lived experience, she hopes to encourage others to recognise their worth, find hope in healing, and know they are not alone.
“Healing isn’t about becoming someone new; it’s about finding the person abuse tried to erase.”
— Sally
For many years, I knew exactly who I was. I was confident, independent and outgoing. I loved meeting people, speaking in public and encouraging others. I was someone who embraced life with enthusiasm and purpose.
Looking back now, I realise that one of the greatest losses I experienced through domestic abuse wasn’t the relationship itself. It was losing myself.
When Love Changes
My relationship was loving and healthy for ten years before it became abusive. Because of those years, accepting what was happening wasn’t easy. I wasn’t holding on to the relationship I was living in; I was holding on to the relationship I remembered.
I kept believing that things would return to how they had once been. I hoped that if I was more patient, more understanding, or simply waited long enough, everything would change. Hope can sometimes keep us going. But it can also keep us trapped.
I now understand that I was grieving the relationship I had lost while trying to survive the one I was living in.
The Silent Erosion of Identity
Domestic abuse doesn’t only affect your safety. It affects your identity.
Over time, I stopped recognising myself. The confident woman I had always been slowly disappeared.
I questioned every decision I made. I doubted my own judgement. I apologised for things that weren’t my fault. I became anxious in situations that had once felt natural. Most painfully, I began believing that I was somehow responsible for the abuse.
I searched for reasons within myself. What have I done wrong? What can I do differently? How can I make things better?
Like many survivors, I spent years trying to change myself instead of recognising that I wasn’t responsible for someone else’s behaviour.
“I spent years trying to fix myself before I realised I was never the problem.”
— Sally
The Courage to Leave
After five years of living with abuse, I found the strength to leave. People often think that leaving is the end of the story. For me, it was the beginning of another journey.
I didn’t leave only for myself. By that time, my son was four years old. Although he was still very young, he had already become aware of the negativity around him. As a mother, it broke my heart to realise that he was growing up in an environment that no child should experience.
That realisation became one of the turning points for me. I wanted him to grow up knowing what a safe, loving and respectful home looked like. I wanted him to understand that relationships should never be built on fear or control.
Leaving was one of the hardest decisions I have ever made, but I knew it was the right one, not only for me, but for my son.
Although I had left the relationship, I hadn’t left behind everything it had done to me. I was emotionally exhausted. My confidence had disappeared. The woman who once stood comfortably in front of a room of people could barely find the confidence to speak.
I didn’t just leave a relationship. I left feeling like a stranger to myself.
The Moment I Began to Wake Up
One day, someone who had known me for many years looked at me and said, “Sally, this has changed you.” Those words stopped me. Until that moment, I had been so focused on surviving that I hadn’t realised how much I had changed.
That conversation led me to ask one simple but life-changing question: Who am I?
Not who fear had convinced me I was. Not who abuse had reduced me to. But who I really was.
That question became the beginning of my healing.
“The day I asked, ‘Who am I?’ was the day my healing truly began.”
— Sally
Rediscovering My Identity
Healing didn’t happen overnight. There wasn’t a single moment when everything changed. Instead, healing happened through countless small moments.
Learning to trust my instincts again. Allowing myself to laugh without guilt. Speaking up when I had spent years staying silent. Accepting support from people who genuinely cared. Learning that I deserved kindness, respect and peace.
Then life gave me an unexpected opportunity to continue rebuilding. I became the Special Guardian to my nephew when he was just six months old. Today, he is ten years old, and caring for him has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. Becoming his guardian gave me more than responsibility. It gave me purpose.
As I helped him grow, I slowly began to grow too. Looking after him reminded me that I was capable, dependable and stronger than I had allowed myself to believe. Caring for him helped me reconnect with qualities that abuse had almost convinced me I had lost: my resilience, my compassion and my ability to love.
Perhaps the greatest lesson of all was this: I realised that I was worthy of love. And I was worthy of giving love.
That simple but profound truth became a turning point in my healing. It reminded me that someone else’s behaviour had never defined my worth. That renewed sense of purpose gave me the confidence to return to university to study Social Work.
Going back into education wasn’t simply about gaining a qualification. It was about believing in myself again and recognising that I still had something valuable to contribute.
Today, I have the privilege of working in a career where I can support, advocate for and empower others. My lived experience has shaped the professional I am today, allowing me to approach others with empathy, understanding and hope.
Looking back, I realise that healing isn’t about becoming someone different. It’s about reconnecting with the person you have always been beneath the fear, self-doubt and pain.
“Sometimes the life you rebuild becomes stronger than the life you thought you had lost.”
— Sally
What I Know Now
Today, I understand something I wish every survivor could believe. Your worth is not determined by the way someone chooses to treat you. You are not weak because you stayed. You are not defined by the abuse you experienced. You are not responsible for another person’s choices.
Domestic abuse can change how you see yourself. It can affect your confidence, your relationships and your sense of identity. But it cannot take away your value.
“Someone else’s cruelty can change how you see yourself, but it can never change your worth.”
— Sally
Chosen and Beloved
The name Chosen and Beloved speaks deeply to me. Regardless of our background, beliefs or experiences, every person deserves to know that they have value.
Abuse often tells us the opposite. It tells us we are not enough. It tells us we are unworthy. It tells us that we should accept less than we deserve.
Healing begins when we start rejecting those lies.
For me, rediscovering my identity meant recognising that my life would no longer be defined by what had happened to me, but by who I chose to become. A woman with purpose. A mother. A Special Guardian. A social worker. An advocate. A survivor.
Most importantly, someone who finally understood that she was worthy of both receiving love and giving it freely.
That choice has not always been easy. Some days healing has felt like progress. Other days it has simply meant putting one foot in front of the other. Both are victories.
A Message to Anyone Who Needs to Hear This
If you are reading this and no longer recognise yourself, I want you to know that you are not alone.
The person you were before the abuse has not disappeared. They may feel buried beneath fear, self-doubt and pain, but they are still there.
Be patient with yourself. Healing is not a straight line. Celebrate every step forward, no matter how small. Ask for help when you need it. Most importantly, never allow someone else’s actions to define your worth.
Your story is not only about surviving. It is also about rediscovering yourself, rebuilding your confidence and creating a future that is no longer shaped by fear.
Sally’s Reflection
“My story didn’t end with abuse. That’s where my journey back to myself began.”
— Sally
For a long time, I believed I had lost myself forever. I hadn’t.
The woman I thought had disappeared was still there, waiting for me to believe in her again.
Looking back, I realise that healing wasn’t something I did alone. My son gave me the courage to choose a different future. My nephew gave me a renewed sense of purpose. Returning to university gave me the confidence to believe in myself again. Becoming a social worker showed me that my experiences could become a source of strength, not only for me, but for the people I now have the privilege of supporting.
Healing has taught me that resilience isn’t about never being broken. It’s about having the courage to rebuild.
Most importantly, it has taught me that I am worthy of love, and worthy of giving love.
If my story encourages just one person to stop blaming themselves, to reach out for support, or to believe that healing is possible, then sharing it has been worthwhile. Because beyond the pain, beyond the fear and beyond the silence, there is hope.
There is purpose beyond survival. And there is life beyond abuse.
In future, I’ll share more of what I learned about rebuilding confidence, recognising healthy relationships, and finding hope after abuse. Until then, remember this: your story is still being written.
Blessings,
Sally Latona
