By Jane Hamilton
Contributor
For many survivors, leaving an abusive relationship is only the first step in a long and complex journey.
The trauma they have suffered doesn’t vanish overnight, and the path to healing is rarely linear.
But for some of the women who bravely shared their stories in the BBC Scotland documentary Disclosure: Surviving Domestic Abuse, which aired in March 2024, life after abuse is not just about surviving – it’s about reclaiming happiness, rediscovering passions, and fighting to ensure other victims are protected.
Five of those women – Elizabeth Shanks, Shona Campbell, Lauren Hardie, Maggie McLean and Carolyn Quinn – have shared new insights with 1919 how their lives have evolved since the documentary, highlighting both the struggles and the triumphs that come with rebuilding after abuse.
Their stories, alongside many others, are a testament to the resilience of survivors and the ongoing work needed to support them in the aftermath.
For Elizabeth, the contrast between her past and present is stark.
After enduring a relationship that stripped her of self-worth, she now knows what it means to be truly valued.
Elizabeth, who survived a horrific campaign of abuse by her former partner and was convinced she would die at his hands, says: “I went on to meet someone who showed me what I should have been treated like all along.”
“Three-and-a-half years on, we are expecting our first baby, my parents’ first grandchild. Everyone is over the moon, and we can’t wait to meet our little one.”
Her words radiate hope – proof that love, when it is healthy and respectful, can bring healing.
But it is more than just romance that has helped Elizabeth move forward. The unwavering support of her family, who have shared in her excitement over this new chapter, plays a crucial role in her ongoing journey.
After years of feeling trapped in a cycle of fear, violence and control, she feels she is now stepping into a future where she is loved, respected, and safe.
For many survivors, one of the most devastating aspects of domestic abuse is how it isolates them. Abusers often strip victims of their independence, hobbies, and friendships, leaving them disconnected from the lives they once enjoyed.
Elizabeth knows this all too well.
“I slowly got back out doing what I loved before I met my abuser,” she explains. “I attend classic car shows and have joined a group called Scottish Old Skool. We have all become really good friends.
“They understand the complexity of my trauma and keep me safe, allowing me to attend shows with minimal anxieties.”
Finding a supportive community has been life-changing for Elizabeth. Rebuilding a social life, especially after years of control and manipulation, can be daunting. But the patience and understanding of her old and new friends have given her the freedom to enjoy her passion for classic cars without fear.
“I have my social life back with new and old friends that I treasure very much,” she says.
In those words lies something so many survivors hope for: normality. A return to the things that once made them feel like themselves.
Though life after abuse can be filled with new beginnings, healing is not immediate. Many survivors suffer from Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (CPTSD), a condition that stems from prolonged trauma and affects emotional regulation, sense of safety, and trust in others.
Elizabeth is open about the fact that her recovery is still ongoing. “I still have issues surrounding my CPTSD and anxiety, but I feel safer than I ever did before and manage through the tough times.”
That feeling of safety is not something to be taken for granted. Survivors often live in fear long after their abusers are out of their lives – whether due to legal battles, ongoing harassment, or simply the psychological scars left behind. Learning to manage those fears and anxieties is a lifelong process.
Elizabeth’s ex partner, Christopher Forrest, who was sentenced to 27 months in prison for his catalogue of abuse, tormented her from behind bars after he launched a civil action to reclaim a sofa from their former home.
“It’s taken me a long time to have coping strategies and mechanisms to ensure my mental health stays on an even keel. I am happier than I’ve been for a long time but it takes the support of others to stay that way.”
For Elizabeth, one of the most significant sources of support has come from the other women from the documentary.
“Some aspects of the trauma never leave you, and you learn to cope. But the girls from the documentary help me realise I’m not alone or unreasonable in how I’m feeling at times. I’m forever grateful we all met through the documentary.”
That sense of solidarity has been crucial. Knowing that others understand, that their reactions and struggles are valid, has helped them navigate the challenges of recovery.
For Carolyn Quinn, the fight for justice was long and gruelling. Her abuser, Kenneth Quinn, subjected her to nearly 30 years of abuse, including multiple rapes. In January 2024 he was sentenced to 15 years in prison, with a total 25-year sentence, a lifelong restraining order, and a place on the sex offenders’ register.
“This was a positive outcome for both my son and me,” Carolyn says. “Justice was served appropriately.”
Yet even with her abuser behind bars, the effects of his control persist. “Following the end of the court case, you perceive that you will be able to move on positively with your life, which my son and I have successfully done. However, in the background, the convicted abuser continues to loom under the radar from his prison cell.”
Despite his imprisonment, Quinn still attempts to exert influence.
“He continues to make his presence felt and gain some control. That was an online video of him laughing during a virtual prison visit in his prison garb. He also continues to plead that he is innocent through online channels voiced by those closest to him.”
The ability of abusers to manipulate and influence from behind bars is a chilling reality for many survivors. But Carolyn refuses to let his actions define her future.
“My focus is supporting others who may have experienced similar abuse and living my life to the full, where I do not fear violence and feel safe. I remain hyper-vigilant and am cautious of individuals unknown to me.
“I am proud of all I and the other women from the documentary have achieved.”
Beyond their own personal healing, many survivors turn their experiences into activism, working to ensure nobody else has to suffer as they did. All of the women are still actively campaigning for change through the Victims, Witnesses, and Justice Reform (Scotland) Bill, with the help of MSP and Scottish Conservative leader Russell Findlay.
Their advocacy is not just about securing justice for past victims but ensuring that future victims are better protected.
Elizabeth, a firefighter, says she is using her lived experience to push for policy changes within her workplace.
“I am hopeful my employer will utilise me in order to put together a robust domestic abuse policy and training programme. I have been invited to be part of the working group, and even now, I continue to support victims of domestic abuse from work.”
This is the kind of systemic change that is desperately needed. Workplaces, legal systems, and social services must be equipped to support survivors in rebuilding their lives as well as escaping abuse.
Shona Campbell, who survived years of abuse, says: “When everything came to a head I fell apart. I worried that I wouldn’t cope. There were people telling me I wouldn’t cope, that I wouldn’t survive and I believed them. They were wrong.
“Seven years later I am not only still standing, but I have turned my life around. My children are thriving, I have a new career, I can cook what I want, do what I want, and watch what I want. All without walking on eggshells and fear of repercussions.”
Lauren Hardie, a 26-year-old nurse, was left furious after her abusive boyfriend was given a verbal warning by the courts, and has vowed to continue to campaign for change.
She says: “Following on from reporting my abuser at age 20, and finally having the case close at age 21, I have received my paediatric nursing degree that I was working towards during my case and went on to study neonatal nursing as a postgraduate.
“I have continued working as a nurse within a NICU [neonatal intensive care unit], and more recently began guiding yoga and meditation. These two practices helped me immensely in my journey to re discover self-love and compassion after abuse, and I am so passionate about sharing this with those who have experienced their own hardships and trauma.
“I have rediscovered how powerful and strong I am, and really acknowledged that I am not what happened to me and used it as a tool to flourish into a strong, independent woman.
“I now use this knowledge and power to advocate for those failed by our systems, as I was, and hold trauma sensitive events to help people advocate for themselves in the same way.”
Lauren adds: “Each day is a journey, and I definitely still have moments of struggle. CPTSD doesn’t just go away, but I have learned how to use it to my benefit and by using my voice I have learned how I was and will never be to blame.
“There are so many people experiencing what I did every day, and they need our help more than ever. Not everyone has the privilege to use their voice, so I will never stop using mine.
“Russell Findlay has been a huge factor in fighting for change, and he has continued to give us a platform to advocate for the changes we need within the justice and police system. I wouldn’t choose to go through what I did, but I wouldn’t change the pain for what I know now.”
But Maggie McLean, who suffered a 10-year campaign of violence at the hands of her soldier husband, said her experience with the justice system has left her feeling “let down”.
Her abuser, Terence Lowe, was given 270 hours of unpaid work as part of a two-year community payback order.
She says: “Following my case I have felt somewhat let down by the system. What I thought would be a sentence which would protect me, I feel it’s solidified the abuser’s strategies without any repercussions.
“He pled guilty; the plea deal dropped endangering of life and stalking. I was never given any information about this until it was over. I felt pushed out of my own case…
“He refuses to work towards a divorce. It was nearly a year before I knew he stopped paying the mortgage which almost left me and the three children homeless. I would love to move on, but it seems he is not capable of being reasonable after everything he has done to us.
“I still suffer from CPTSD. He is still having a huge effect on my day to day living. We’ve been separated for five years and not much further forward.
“The laughable part of this scenario for most women is the abuser gets to move on with their lives. There is not much protection for the victim. The only positive outcome for me is he pled guilty and I have a five-year non molestation order.”
The women’s differing experiences highlight both the resilience of survivors and the need for continued societal change.
Their stories prove that life after abuse is not just about survival – it’s about reclaiming their joy, forging meaningful connections professionally and personally, and helping to ensure that nobody else suffers in silence.
Elizabeth says: “Recovery is a process. Trauma lingers and true healing takes time, support, and understanding. It requires friends who will stand by you, employers who listen, and partners who love with kindness instead of control and violence.
She adds: “Above all, it requires a society that refuses to turn away. Through documentaries and the ongoing activism of survivors, awareness is growing.
“With every conversation, campaign, and policy change, we move closer to a world where no one has to endure what we did.
“Our stories are proof that hope is possible. That even after the darkest of times, there can be love, friendship, and a future filled with possibilities.”