By Shannon, Counsellor at DVassist
Celebrating the achievement of thriving through the day, instead of just surviving through the violence.
One of the most powerful things I’ve learned in my work as a counsellor is that healing doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a slow return to self — and often, the first achievement is simply making it through the day.
For women who have experienced family and domestic violence, leaving the relationship is not the end — it’s the beginning of a different kind of journey. A journey filled with courage, grief, confusion, and yes, strength. Recovery isn’t straightforward. Even once someone is no longer living with abuse, they’re often still managing trauma responses, safety measures, and rebuilding their identity — piece by piece.
One of the most common and painful emotions I see in victim-survivors is guilt. We call it survivor’s guilt. It’s that voice inside that says, Why did I stay so long? Why didn’t I protect the kids better? Why am I safe now, when others aren’t? These questions often come from women who, for years, put everyone else’s needs ahead of their own — especially mothers, who worked endlessly to protect their children in whatever way they could.
When safety finally comes, it can bring unexpected emotions. Some women feel lost in the quiet or unsure how to live without the constant tension. It takes time — and support — to adjust to a life where you’re no longer in survival mode, bracing for conflict or walking on eggshells.
Many women, after they leave an abusive relationship, expect to feel relief or peace, but instead, they’re met with confusion, sadness, or even numbness. Some say that when the noise and intensity stop, the quiet feels unfamiliar. Others describe feeling like they should be happy but instead find themselves replaying the past — questioning their choices, worrying about their children, or feeling like they didn’t do enough.
This experience is incredibly common — and it doesn’t mean something is wrong with you. It means you’ve been living in survival mode for a long time, and your body and mind are slowly learning that it’s safe to exhale. It means you cared deeply, and you’re trying to make sense of something that was never your fault.
Many women describe this exact moment: being physically safe, but emotionally unsteady. That’s why, in the early stages of healing, I often encourage women not to rush toward “being happy” — but instead, to gently reclaim their right to feel, rest, and forgive themselves.
Here are five small but meaningful steps I often share to support that process:
The first five steps toward forgiveness
- “You have no power over me anymore” – Try saying this in the mirror each day. It might feel awkward at first, but over time, it helps reclaim your voice.
- “A breath a day keeps the pain away” – Five minutes of deep breathing outside with bare feet on the ground. It sounds simple, but grounding your body helps settle your mind.
- A “ME” activity – A hot bath, a new book, buy new shoes, go for a walk, or get a fresh haircut. Something just for you. Not because you earned it — but because you exist and you matter.
- “Acknowledge the positive, grieve the negative” – It’s okay to miss parts of the relationship. That doesn’t mean you want to go back. Write down three things that bring you joy today, even if there’s also sadness.
- Write a letter to yourself – Tell the story of what happened — from start to finish. Then burn it, rip it up, or bury it. It’s a way of saying: I see you. I believe you. And I’m letting this go.
There will always be ups and downs. That’s part of healing. But I want you to know that there is strength in the small wins — a quiet cup of tea, a walk with your kids without fear, laughter you didn’t expect.
From surviving to thriving
Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It means letting go of the blame that was never yours to carry. It means recognising that surviving was an act of courage — and healing is your birthright.
You don’t have to do this alone. We’re here, whenever you’re ready, to walk with you. One step at a time. You are worthy of peace, of joy, and of a future that feels like yours.
You deserve to celebrate the good days — even the little ones.
*The experiences described in this article reflect common themes shared by many women in recovery and are not based on any one individual.
