Coming Home to the Fight

6th June 2025

Coming home from our family holiday feels like hitting a wall. The holiday was everything I needed — sunshine, peace, a break from everything heavy. I didn’t realise quite how much I needed it until I had to come back. I didn’t mind the idea of coming home, but I did mind coming back to this village… to the weight of everything I’ve had to carry for so long. And it’s all still here waiting for me — the fear, the anger, the sadness, and the feeling that we’ve been let down by the very people who were supposed to protect us.

It’s not fair. I’ve done everything I can think of to raise the alarm about what happened to our daughter — to be her voice when she was too small to understand the power of her own — and it’s still like shouting into a void. I know I had to complain, and I don’t regret doing it, but coming back to face it all again feels exhausting. And honestly, I’m dreading today. There’s so much to deal with — I need to arrange the call with the GP, which I know is going to bring everything back to the surface. I need to …

And in the middle of all this, I’m just trying to be the best mum I can be — to give my little girl the peace and safety she deserves, even when I’m struggling myself.

I wish things had been different. I wish people had listened the first time. I wish we hadn’t had to fight this hard just to be believed. But since we did, I’m going to keep going. For our daughter. Because she matters. Because this matters. And because even when it hurts, silence is not an option anymore.