Content note: this entry talks about domestic abuse and coercive control. Please read it when you feel able to. 🤍
I sat in my car for a while after recording this week's episode.
Hollie had just spent an hour telling me things that most people would never say out loud, and I drove home with this heavy, buzzing feeling in my chest that I couldn't shake.
Not sadness exactly. More like… urgency.
Because here's the bit that keeps circling my head: one in four women in the UK will experience domestic abuse in her lifetime. One in four.
Look around your WhatsApp group. Your school gate. Your work chat. Your family.
It's not happening somewhere else, to some other kind of woman. It's happening on our streets, in nice houses, to women who look completely fine on the outside.
And that's the part I don't think we talk about enough.
Because when I was younger, I think I imagined abuse looked obvious. Bruises. Shouting through walls. Something you'd see.
But so much of it isn't like that at all.
It's the slow stuff.
It's being made to feel a bit stupid, over and over, until you stop trusting your own opinions. It's your money being "managed" for you. It's the sulking that lasts three days because you saw your best friend. It's being tracked, checked, questioned — and being told it's because he loves you that much.
It's the way your world quietly shrinks until there's almost nobody left to tell.
That's coercive control. And it's a crime in this country now, which so many women still don't know.
What struck me most about Hollie's story wasn't just what she survived. It was how long she carried it before anyone knew.
And I keep thinking about all the women right now who are in that exact place. Making excuses. Managing his moods. Telling themselves it's not that bad because he hasn't hit her, or because he was lovely again the next morning.
If that's you, I want to say something very plainly:
You are allowed to ask for help before it gets worse.
You don't need a dramatic story. You don't need proof. You don't need to be certain. "Something doesn't feel right" is enough of a reason to talk to someone.
And to the rest of us — the friends, the sisters, the mums, the colleagues — I think we have a job here too.
Because the women in these situations often can't be the ones to reach out first. That's the whole design of it.
So we reach in.
Notice when she goes quiet. Notice when she stops coming to things. Notice when she checks her phone like it's a test she might fail.
And then don't make her explain everything. Just say the small, unglamorous thing: "I'm here. No judgement. Whenever you want."
One thing I've learned from these conversations is that people rarely leave the first time someone asks. But they remember who asked.
That's what gets them out eventually — not one heroic rescue, but a handful of people who kept the door open.
Don't give ultimatums. Don't say "I'd never put up with that." Don't disappear when she goes back. Just stay.
What Hollie has done with House of Her is honestly one of the most powerful things I've come across — a trauma-informed hub for women who are questioning their relationship, planning to leave, or trying to rebuild afterwards. You can find it at houseofherhub.com.
And if you need help right now, the National Domestic Abuse Helpline is free and open 24 hours a day on 0808 2000 247. In an emergency, always call 999 — and if you can't speak, press 55 when prompted and the call will be put through to police.
I know this isn't my usual soft, chaotic, toddler-covered-in-paint kind of entry.
But this podcast has always been about the conversations we don't have enough. And this one matters more than most.
If you read this and one woman came into your mind — please just message her. Today. Nothing heavy. Just, "thinking of you, fancy a coffee?"
You never know which small thing becomes the thing she holds onto.
Storme x