I lost my home. I lost my savings. But I didn’t lose myself. This is what surviving looks like.
There are things we don’t talk about after divorce.
Not because we’re ashamed — though, for a while, I was.
But because the scale of it feels unfathomable.
And because when you’re a woman who stayed home to raise children,
people assume you’re to blame for not having a pension,
a paycheck, or a safety net.
So let me say it out loud:
I am half a million pounds in debt.
Not because I went shopping.
Not because I was reckless.
Not because I didn’t try.
But because I tried *so hard* to protect my children,
to fight for fairness, and to survive a system that wasn’t built with women like me in mind.
The Cost of Divorce Isn’t Just Emotional
Since 2018, I’ve been trapped in the legal system.
Family court. Financial hearings. CMS appeals.
Every time I thought it might be over, another wave hit.
Barristers. Bundles. School fees. Court dates.
No maintenance for years.
I borrowed to cover rent, to keep the lights on,
to pay for uniforms, for food,
to stop my children being pulled out of school mid-GCSEs because their father —
who obtained the school fees order —
decided he couldn’t pay anymore.
I borrowed to survive.
What Hurts Most
I gave twenty years of my life to being a mother.
To building a family.
To showing up, day in, day out, for my children.
And I came out of that financially with nothing but debt.
No house.
No assets.
No maintenance.
No equity.
Just bills, threats of court, and a constant voice in my head asking:
How did I get here?
What hurts most isn’t even the number.
It’s the fact that I spent so long being made to feel like I deserved it.
The Legal Fees That Broke Me
I’ve spent hundreds of thousands in legal fees. Just to seek fairness.
My ex spent far more trying to shut me down.
One solicitor filed applications in my name without my knowledge.
It led to a wasted costs order, negligence, and trauma I’m still unpacking.
Yes — I settled with the firm.
No — I didn’t walk away with money.
Just another lesson. Another scar. Another mess I had to clean up.
The Comfort Zone of Survival
When you live like that for long enough —
the stress, the juggling, the dread that today is the day it all collapses —
you stop noticing the toll it’s taking.
I was surviving. Barely.
Then I met a financial coach who changed everything.
She told me I was stuck in the comfort zone of survival.
Not comfort in the cosy sense. Comfort in the familiar.
I was used to spinning plates while they were on fire.
Used to feeding my kids while hiding letters from court.
Used to pretending I was fine when I wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating,
wasn’t breathing.
She told me I needed to stop surviving and start rebuilding.
And that began with rewriting the story:
– “Debt” became “funding.”
– “Loss” became “lessons.”
– “Shame” became “strategy.”
I Wrote a Letter to My Future Self
One day, I sat down and wrote to the woman on the other side of this —
the one who paid it off, restructured, or out-earned it.
The one who didn’t just survive, but rose.
And I reminded her of everything I’ve already done:
– Raised three boys with integrity and grace.
– Outlasted a seven-year legal war.
– Built a brand from nothing.
– Never missed a meal, even when I missed every deadline.
– Kept going when most would’ve crumbled.
I might be £500,000 in debt.
But I’m also wealthy in strength, values, fight, and clarity.
No Shame, No Secrets
For years, I hid the truth. Even from friends. Especially from myself.
But silence is what shame feeds on — and I’ve decided to starve it.
I take full responsibility for my choices, but I refuse to carry blame for a system that failed me.
I don’t expect anyone else to fix this. But I won’t let it define me, either.
I’m in debt.
But I am not defeated.
I’m building something.
And this time, it’s mine.
My words. My voice. My story.
And it’s going to save me — I can feel it.
If You’re Quietly Drowning
Here’s what I want you to know:
💡Emotion drowns you. Knowledge saves you.
💡You’re not bad with money. You’ve just been surviving.
💡You already have the skills — resilience, strategy, hustle.
💡Write them down. Build from there.
This isn’t a cautionary tale.
This is a rallying cry.
If I can stand here, £500,000 in the red, and still tell my story with power —
then maybe you can take the first step too.
You don’t need to have it all figured out.
Just the courage to say:
“I’m not hiding anymore.”
A Final Note
If my story resonates with you—or if you’re navigating difficult relationships, debt, or rebuilding your life—I’m sharing more tools, survival strategies, and unfiltered truths on:
- My Substack (for free and paid subscribers)
- My Stan Store (for guides and tips)
You’re stronger than you think. And your next chapter starts now.
One breath. One boundary. One brave choice at a time.
You’re not alone. And you’re stronger than you think.
If you’ve rebuilt after a financial crash, what was your first small win?
Mine was finally opening my mail without shaking.
For free UK legal/financial support, visit Surviving Economic Abuse