What Came Next: Building a social enterprise

I have never written out the experiences of my first relationship in black and white. In fact, it's only in the last year that I felt able to fully confront what happened in therapy and be open about how things really unfolded. There are a few reasons for this. It's painful to relive, and there is shame around my own reactions - the way I let him back in before finally finding the strength to walk away for good.

The Beginning

I met him when I was incredibly vulnerable. I'd just moved to London as a 20-year-old anxious woman, navigating the financial and social demands of living in the city. If I'm being honest, I think some of my upbringing contributed to my understanding of how relationships should look. I didn't question his desire for control, his need to make all the decisions.

But the warning signs were there early. My flatmate at the time warned me that he was already controlling what I could and couldn't do. I dismissed her concerns as jealousy - I'd found myself in a relationship and she hadn't. I see now that she was trying to protect me from the control I couldn't yet recognise.

I moved in with him quickly. It made financial sense at the time, but it became one of the reasons I felt I couldn't leave. I remember being scrutinised for what I was wearing, the people I wanted as friends. He convinced me that my family didn't care about me. These were all things I was already anxious and vulnerable about, which made me ready to believe him.

It was a gradual buildup. I didn't even notice at first how fearful I'd become about doing the wrong thing around him - the raised voices and intimidation, the anger whenever I did something not to his exact liking.

Sometimes he would break me down so much and then still expect to have sex with me. When I said no - still crying - and rolled over, he would force himself on me anyway. I'd often be crying through the whole experience. I didn't know that my initial "no" should have been enough. This left me with physical symptoms that were impossible to bear. I recall several occasions during nights like this where I would run myself a cold bath to soothe myself, crying and wondering how I'd gotten into this position. Recurring UTIs have been an ongoing ordeal ever since.

The first time it became apparent to my friends that I was in this situation was when I went home for Christmas. I met up with some school friends, and despite his warnings not to go clubbing, I felt bold enough to join them. When we left the club, I was shocked and scared to see that he had driven from London down to Sussex to “take me home”. My friends could instantly tell this wouldn’t be safe for me.

Leaving

It took me a couple of months to leave him, which was an ordeal in itself. On one occasion when I went back to the flat to collect some belongings, he forced me to my knees outside the front door and instructed me to "beg" for my things while he filmed the humiliating ordeal. I was sobbing, begging, feeling any remaining self-worth I had just completely disappear.

What ensued was months of stalking. He had been tracking my phone and monitoring my emails - he'd held all of my passwords during the relationship. There was one evening that changed everything - he kidnapped me. I ended up in his car for most of the night, not being allowed to leave, not knowing where I was. I was having severe panic attacks and was assaulted that night with my throat held against the car window. Throughout all the stalking, he would make threats about me and my family.

The kidnapping was what prompted me to contact the police, though I didn't know to call it kidnapping - it was them who told me that what I'd experienced was that. I ended up dropping the charges against him, my compassion for him making me feel unable to see it through, and in 2016 I even made the mistake of seeing him again despite all the hard work I'd done to walk away. I had been having a really hard time trying to find a sense of myself and self-worth away from the relationship, and I genuinely thought I didn't have it in me to navigate the world without him controlling my moves.

I was so lost, but I did eventually find the strength to leave him for good.

The Aftermath

What came next, initially, was a period of complete self-abandonment. I drank too much, exercised myself into something unrecognisable, and made some very questionable decisions. I was trying so hard to ignore what I had been through, to show everyone that I was "better now," that I had escaped. I was anything but okay, and in 2017, a year later, it really caught up with me. I'd basically put a lid on the trauma, hoping it would never resurface.

It was in 2017 that I found myself in a much more loving and secure relationship, and I think it was in the safety and security of that loving situation that I was suddenly able to process just how traumatic it all had been. I cried multiple times a day and didn't want to carry on living, despite the loving relationship. I thought this pain would follow me for the rest of my life, and I didn't want to live like that, so I didn't want to live at all.

It was in this period of desperation that it became apparent I needed mental health support.

The suicidal thoughts were obviously extremely concerning to my boyfriend at the time, and together we started looking at options for talking therapy. I could either pay almost £70 a week or wait 9+ months on the NHS - neither of which were favorable or possible options given the crisis I found myself in. I was so infuriated that all the people who cared about me were telling me to talk about my mental health, but the same question kept popping up in my mind… where?! Where do I talk about it?

Finding Purpose

I decided the world needed a more accessible space for talking about these difficult thoughts and feelings. That's where Run Talk Run was born.

It took months of no-shows and very slow traction to get Run Talk Run moving. There were plenty of runs where I would show up, waiting in the cold outside Monument Station and ending up running alone. However, with springtime and a new bag drop location, the momentum started to build. Soon we became a global community of mental health runners, all supporting each other, running with each other, and reminding each other that it truly is okay to show up exactly as you are. In November 2020 we launched Walk Talk Walk, which is the same premise as our runs but without the jogging.

Healing Through Helping

The process of building Run Talk Run was tough, especially while dealing with an existential crisis and not wanting to be here anymore. But slowly it helped me build a sense of purpose for myself. Instead of living for myself and supporting my own mental health, my purpose became about living for other people and supporting their mental health. In some strange way, that was what healed me.

I learned a huge array of skills in what it took to build a social enterprise. We got registered as a CIC and employed someone part-time. I learned how to manage 200+ volunteers whilst holding down a full-time job. We navigated COVID and the massive influx of new run and walk leaders who were looking for purpose in their own "new normal."

Building this social enterprise gave me back the sense of identity that the relationship had taken away from me. It brought me back to what truly matters to me - to live in support of other people and leave this world in a better place than I found it. It showed me who I really am at my core… someone who wants to help and support, and isn't afraid to look cringe whilst trying.

I want so badly for other women to find their own identity post-domestic abuse - maybe not through building a social enterprise, perhaps through running or therapy or yoga or painting - and that is what drives me now.