The Wounds People Don’t Always See

Survivors are far more likely to struggle with anxiety, depression, PTSD, sleep problems, low self‑esteem, and thoughts of self‑harm or suicide. For many people, gaslighting plays a huge role. Being told again and again that what they’re experiencing isn’t real, that they’re “too sensitive” or “imagining things,” slowly erodes the trust that they had in themselves. Eventually, even asking for help can feel risky. The victim starts to question whether they’ll be believed, or whether they can even trust their own version of events.

There’s also a statistic that I can’t ignore. According to Women’s Aid, women who experience domestic abuse are three times more likely to die by suicide than women who do not. And shockingly, that figure isn’t going down, it’s continuing to rise!

That matters. It tells us something important about how deeply abuse affects mental health, and how dangerous it can be when trauma goes unsupported. Domestic abuse doesn’t just end when someone leaves. For too many women, the psychological impact continues quietly, and sometimes fatally, long after the visible harm has stopped.

Living in a rural area adds another layer, and it’s something we’re not talking about enough.

Isolation is used as a weapon. Distance from services, poor transport, patchy phone or internet signal, and a lack of local support all make it harder to reach out, especially in moments of crisis. In small communities, confidentiality can feel fragile. The fear of being recognised, judged, or not believed is real. Abusers can use local reputation or connections to keep control, and that can make speaking out feel even riskier.

For people living on farms or in tied accommodation, abuse can also be tangled up with homes, livelihoods, and animals. When threats extend to pets, livestock, or income, leaving doesn’t just feel emotionally overwhelming; it can feel impossible.

Coercive control doesn’t always look dramatic from the outside, but its impact can be devastating. Controlling access to money, transport, communication, or social contact slowly strips away independence. Over time, it can leave someone doubting their own judgment or struggling to imagine a future beyond the abuse. That loss of self doesn’t always disappear just because the relationship ends, in fact, far from it

I understand why so many survivors don’t ask for help straight away. Fear of not being believed. Worries about children, Money, Stigma, Immigration status, and disability. All of it plays a part.

In rural areas, long waiting lists and a lack of specialist services only add to those barriers. And when abuse has been going on for a long time, it can become normalised, even minimised! especially if it doesn’t match outdated ideas of what domestic abuse is “supposed” to look like.

Healing from domestic abuse isn’t neat or linear. Trauma‑informed mental health support matters because it puts safety, choice, and empowerment first. No one should be pressured to “move on.” Healing happens in stages, often slowly, and being believed and heard makes a real difference.

When I attended the National Rural Crime Conference back in April, what stayed with me wasn’t just the conversation about domestic abuse and mental health, but how clearly the need for meaningful rural data came through. Not assumptions. Not urban comparisons. Real information that reflects rural and lives. There was recognition that rural abuse isn’t just “the same but further away,” but comes with its own risks and realities.

Conversations around trauma‑informed responses and better collaboration felt like a step in the right direction. That’s why a recent development shared by ACRE feels important. It signals a shift, a clearer responsibility on authorities to take proper account of the realities of rural and coastal communities, rather than treating them as an afterthought.

For me, this matters because data isn’t just numbers. It’s visibility. It’s whether people living rurally are seen, understood, and taken seriously.

Domestic abuse and mental health are deeply connected, yet services still don't always reflect that. Survivors shouldn't have to navigate separate systems while already carrying so much.  And survivors should never have to survive alone. Preventing self‑harm and suicide has to be part of how we respond to abuse-related trauma.

If you're living with the mental health impact of domestic abuse, I want you to know this: what you're experiencing is a normal response to abnormal circumstances. Isolation doesn't mean invisibility. Struggling doesn't mean weakness. Support exists, and recovery is possible! 

At The Willow Project, raising awareness of rural domestic abuse and making sure rural voices are heard isn't an optional extra; it's central to everything we do.