There’s something quietly powerful—yet painfully bittersweet—about the moment people who once doubted you start to see the truth.
They reach out after months of silence.
They apologise.
They say they “had no idea how bad things really were.”
And for a second, time stands still.
You knew the truth all along.
You lived it.
While others were speculating, walking away, or trying to stay “neutral,” you were in survival mode—sometimes curled up on the floor, alone, fighting off suicidal thoughts, wondering how the people who told you to leave could then vanish when you needed them most.
It’s a deep betrayal. One that cuts in a way only survivors truly understand.
🧠From a Psychological Perspective: What’s Going On?
In trauma recovery, we call this “secondary abandonment”—when the realisation that someone is being abused is followed not by support, but by silence.
Why does this happen?
- Cognitive Dissonance
It’s easier for some people to believe that you might be exaggerating than to accept that someone they know could be abusive. It creates discomfort in their minds, and many opt for denial over confrontation. - Disengagement for Self-Preservation
Friends sometimes pull away not because they don’t care, but because they feel helpless, overwhelmed, or afraid of being pulled into conflict. Unfortunately, that fear can come at the cost of your emotional well-being. - Societal Conditioning
We are taught to downplay emotional abuse. Unless there are visible bruises, many people fail to understand the depth of psychological damage. They miss the signs—until the fog lifts, and then they say:
“I wish I had known. I’m so sorry.”
🧍‍♀️ What It Feels Like for Survivors
Being left in the aftermath is soul-crushing. You weren’t just grieving a relationship—you were grieving the sudden, chilling silence of people you thought would stand by you.
🔹 You didn’t need them to fix it. You just needed them to show up.
🔹 You didn’t expect perfection. You just hoped for presence.
🔹 And when that didn’t come? It added another layer to the trauma.
Some days, the loneliness was so thick it felt like drowning in silence. And still, you carried on. You survived the storms. Alone.
✨ And Then One Day… They See It
Your family begins to speak up.
Old mutual friends come back with tears in their eyes.
Apologies pour in.
They start to connect the dots—the things they once brushed off now glaringly obvious.
And you feel… what?
Relief? Resentment? Both?
This is the moment no one prepares you for: when vindication meets grief.
Because yes, it’s validating. But also, you remember all the nights you needed that support—and it never came.
đź’Ş Why This Fuels the Work We Do
This is why we speak out.
Why we advocate.
Why we sit with survivors in volunteer circles and whisper, “I see you. I believe you.”
Because we know what it’s like to be the one left behind.
To scream into the void.
To be encouraged to leave—and then abandoned once we do.
The loneliest place in the world isn’t the abuse itself. It’s the aftershock.
It’s the echo chamber of silence when you finally find the courage to break free.
And that is why we show up for others.
Because we remember.
❤️ To Those Who Came Back and Apologised: Thank You
It takes courage to admit you were wrong.
It matters.
It doesn’t erase the past—but it acknowledges the pain, and that is healing in itself.
And to the survivors still walking through the fire, here’s what I want you to know:
🌀 You are not crazy.
🌀 You are not dramatic.
🌀 You are not alone.
Life is hard.
People can disappoint us.
But what doesn’t kill you?
It makes you wiser, stronger, and far more compassionate than you ever imagined.
You learn who’s real.
You learn how to protect your peace.
And you become the kind of person who will never turn their back on someone in pain—because you know how it feels.
— Linda C J Turner – always by your side
Trauma Therapist | Neuroscience & Emotional Intelligence Practitioner | Advocate for Women’s Empowerment
