Almost a Year On: The Day My Life Changed Forever

The last time I wrote here, I was navigating life as a new mother, learning how to balance my identity with the needs of my children, my career, and my relationships. I felt stretched in every direction- but I also felt secure. I thought I knew who I was building a future with. I thought I knew what came next. I thought I knew what my future looked like.

But nearly a year ago, my world was turned upside down.
And now, nearly a year later, I feel ready to tell the story of how my world fell apart- and how I’ve slowly begun to rebuild it.

The Beginning of the End

There wasn’t one single moment that ended it all- more a slow, silent unraveling that started with a gut instinct I couldn’t shake.

In the weeks leading up to what was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, things started to feel…off. The man I loved became distant. Cold. He disappeared at strange hours, offered no real answers, and moved through life like I wasn’t even there. The more I tried to hold things together, the more I felt myself falling apart.

There were nights he didn’t come home. There were excuses that didn’t make sense. I watched someone I had once trusted with everything act like I meant nothing- and I tried to justify it, explain it, make it make sense.

But love doesn’t excuse betrayal.
And being surrounded by the wrong people only fuels it.

It became clear that he was heavily influenced by the men around him- men who normalised disrespect, who spoke of relationships like games, who didn’t value the women in their own lives. When you surround yourself with that kind of energy, it changes you. It makes it easier to cross lines. To cheat. To lie. To destroy something sacred and feel no remorse.

I was being broken by someone who no longer respected me- and I was still trying to build a life with him.

Then came the moment where truth met reality- where what I suspected could no longer be ignored. I discovered more than I ever wanted to know. I won’t go into every detail. Some things are too traumatic to write down. What I will say is that behind closed doors, I experienced things that will stay with me forever.

There was betrayal. There was cruelty. And there was trauma.
The kind of pain that doesn’t just touch the heart- it reaches into your bones.

It is not okay to break someone who loves you.

And the betrayal wasn’t just emotional. It seeped into every part of my life. While I was grieving what we’d lost, some of the people around him- people who should have stayed neutral chose cruelty instead. Hurtful things were said about me as a mother, and as a woman. All from people who didn’t see what happened behind closed doors. Who didn’t witness the pain I was in, or what I endured.

The pain that nearly broke me

In the days and weeks that followed, I was in so much pain I could hardly function. I didn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. My body began to shut down. I was so weak, I couldn’t even lift my daughter. My friend came to see me every single day, just to make sure I was still standing.

That period of my life broke me in ways I can’t fully describe. The grief wasn’t just about losing a relationship- it was the death of a life I had imagined, a future I had trusted, and a version of myself I had built around that trust. I was suddenly a woman with no wedding, no plan, no clear path forward- and three children who still needed me to be strong when I felt like I had nothing left to give.

And yet, I gave. Because that’s what women do. We carry it all, even when we are crumbling inside.

No one really knew what was happening behind closed doors. I reached a point where I didn’t want to live anymore. I truly believed that my best years were behind me- that love, safety, and happiness were things I would never feel again. The pain was more immense than anything I could ever describe. It swallowed me whole.

People often ask, “Why did you stay so long?”
But when you're in a relationship that chips away at your sense of reality, your nervous system goes into survival mode. You stop trusting yourself. You learn to tolerate what should never be tolerated. You cling to the good moments, hoping they’ll return. You minimise the damage just to keep going.

It’s not weakness. It’s trauma.
It’s love, tangled with fear.
And it’s more common than anyone wants to admit.

When the world watched 

Despite the pain, I still showed up on what would’ve been my wedding day.

Not because I was in denial- but because I needed to take back my story. I needed to feel like I still had some control over a life that had been torn apart.

What I didn’t expect was that my story would end up in The Sun newspaper- photos, headlines, opinions from strangers who didn’t know me or what I’d been through. Suddenly I wasn’t just a woman grieving a relationship- I was a story, a spectacle.

Seeing my name printed in the press at one of the lowest points of my life was surreal. Part of me felt exposed. Part of me felt empowered. It was painful, but it also gave me the chance to reclaim my narrative. I didn’t need to be ashamed. I had survived something that nearly destroyed me -and that survival deserved to be seen.

Rebuilding from the rubble 

Since then, I’ve been trying to build a new life- one I never planned for.

Navigating single motherhood, heartbreak, and identity all at once hasn’t been easy. There are still days when the grief hits me out of nowhere. But I’ve been held by an incredible circle of friends and family- people who saw me when I couldn’t see myself.

I’ve slowly started to accept my new normal. I’ve tried dating, thinking maybe a new beginning might heal the old wounds. But if I’m honest, it’s been disappointing. So far, the men I’ve met haven’t brought any peace into my life. Most have been unreliable, or simply not ready for the depth I now carry.

No man has ever truly made me feel good about myself. Not deeply. Not consistently.
And sometimes, I wonder if that kind of love exists for me at all.

I’m beginning to face the possibility that I may be alone- not just for now, but maybe forever.

And strangely, I’m okay with that.

Because I’m not truly alone.
I have my children.
I have love. I have purpose.

I’m in a Better Place Now

It’s taken time, but I can finally say this with honesty:
I’m in a much better place now.

When everything fell apart, I knew I had two choices: let it destroy me, or use the rubble to rebuild something stronger. I chose the latter- slowly, painfully, but with purpose.

I started dancing, for the first time in my life. I walked into that studio not knowing a single move, and left with confidence, joy, and an incredible group of women who lifted me up. They reminded me that sisterhood is powerful and healing doesn’t have to happen alone.

I poured my energy into my career. I’ve been focused, driven, and successful in the cases I’ve worked on. I’m proud of the woman I am professionally- determined, resilient, and respected.

And more importantly, I now know what I deserve in every part of my life.

I deserve to be treated with respect.
I deserve to be loved in full- not in fragments.
I will never again settle for anything less than being cherished.

I want to meet someone who is obsessed with me- in the most genuine, wholehearted way. Someone who sees my worth and worships the ground I walk on, because they know how rare it is to find a woman like me.

But if that person never comes along?
I am learning to be happy by myself.

Because I know now: I am enough. Just as I am.

A Message to Anyone Feeling the Same

If you're reading this and you're feeling that same loneliness- I want you to know this:

You do not need a man to be whole.
You don’t need to be in a relationship to be worthy of love. You don’t need someone else to save you. You are not half of anything. You are not waiting to be chosen.

You are already complete.

You may feel broken right now and that’s okay.
You may feel lost, or unloved, or invisible and that’s okay too.

But please know that healing is not linear. Grief doesn’t come with a timeline. And the emptiness you feel today won’t last forever. One day, you will look back and realise how far you've come- not because someone else carried you, but because you carried yourself.

So many women are walking around with invisible wounds. So many of us are surviving things no one knows about. If this story reminds you of your own pain, I hope it also reminds you of your own power.

You are not weak for loving someone who hurt you.
You are not broken because someone walked away.
And you are not alone even in your darkest moments.

You are resilient. You are brave. And you are becoming whole all by yourself.

Keep going.