“You cannot aspire to something you don’t know exists.”

On Friday 6 November 2026, I found myself at The Brewery in London, receiving the AAT Community Impact Award. Me, the girl who failed her Maths O-level! I couldn’t help but smile at the irony.

Becoming a chartered management accountant, let alone receiving an award from the professional body that helped me build my career, wasn’t something I could ever have imagined as a child.

As I reflected on the award, my thoughts returned to the little girl I once was. The one who struggled at school, was bullied and sometimes hid in the toilets or library because they felt safer than being anywhere else. She had no idea what her future might hold, what opportunities existed or what she might be capable of.

Receiving this award brought together different chapters of my life: childhood adversity, discovering accountancy, my breakdown in 2001, the breakthrough that followed and the opportunities I’ve had to use my knowledge and experiences to help others.

The world I knew

I grew up experiencing childhood sexual abuse, physical abuse, neglect, poverty and domestic violence across three households. There were times when I was hungry, frightened and uncertain about what might happen next. Yet, as a child, I didn’t necessarily recognise how abnormal my circumstances were because they were the only world I knew.

When children grow up surrounded by abuse or neglect, they may not have the knowledge, language or experience to understand what’s happening to them. They develop ways of coping, often without realising how their experiences may affect their education, confidence, relationships, and physical and mental health.

I wonder how many children are struggling in classrooms today, perhaps labelled as difficult or underachieving, when the adults around them know little about what they’re experiencing outside school.

I’ve often said that the world can become your oyster or your prison. Not because people simply choose one or the other, but because our experiences, opportunities and the support available to us influence what we believe is possible.

As a child, I couldn’t see much beyond my circumstances. I certainly couldn’t see myself becoming an accountant. I didn’t even know that was an option.

An unexpected opportunity

Between the ages of 16 and 18, I attended a catering course where financial accounting was introduced as part of the curriculum. Something clicked. Here was a subject and a potential career I’d never considered, offering something that mattered enormously to me: financial independence.

When you’ve grown up with so much outside your control, being able to earn your own money, support yourself and make your own decisions means a great deal. It took around ten years to qualify, with plenty of challenges along the way, but accountancy gave me independence, opportunities and a foundation on which to build my future.

What I didn’t appreciate then was how much its principles would influence the rest of my life.

Accountancy taught me to examine evidence, recognise patterns, assess risks, question discrepancies and look beyond what’s immediately apparent. It taught me the importance of transparency, accountability, monitoring, evaluation and corrective action.

When something doesn’t add up, you investigate why. You identify the risks, establish appropriate controls and check whether they’re working. Having a policy or procedure isn’t enough if nobody knows whether it’s effective.

I’ve applied those principles to business, governance, advocacy and the systems intended to protect people. I’ve often questioned why we apply such rigour to financial risks while continuing to encounter serious difficulties in safeguarding and child protection. The legal responsibilities differ, but the importance of prevention, effective reporting, oversight and accountability is common to both.

I never imagined how useful the lessons from that catering classroom would become.

My breakdown became my breakthrough

In 2001, I experienced a breakdown. Looking back, I now recognise that my breakdown became my breakthrough.

It wasn’t an overnight transformation, and it certainly wasn’t easy. But it marked the beginning of a different chapter in my life, one in which I started to understand myself, the impact of my childhood experiences and the connections between my physical and mental health and wellbeing.

By then, I’d already achieved my accountancy qualifications and established my professional career. But those achievements didn’t make me immune to the effects of childhood adversity.

The years that followed involved learning about myself, understanding my experiences, making changes and finding ways to move forward. There were setbacks, difficult decisions and plenty of lessons along the way.

Looking back now, I realise just how much I’ve built in the 25 years since that breakdown. My businesses, my advocacy, my involvement in national work, the establishment of Survivors Of aBuse and the opportunities I’ve had to work alongside others have all developed during that period.

That doesn’t mean the effects of my childhood have disappeared or that every difficult experience has somehow become a positive one. Some things are simply painful and unfair. But for me, 2001 was the beginning of discovering more about myself, what I needed and what might be possible.

I couldn’t have imagined then where that journey would lead.

From personal experience to community impact

My experiences of childhood abuse and later navigating the criminal justice system led me to question how organisations and services respond to people who have been harmed by abuse. I wanted to understand not only what had happened in my circumstances, but whether others faced similar difficulties and what could be done differently.

In 2015, I joined the Victims and Survivors Consultative Panel of the Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse (IICSA), remaining involved until 2022. Working alongside fellow panel members and professionals gave me opportunities to contribute to important discussions about participation, institutional responses and improving practice.

One of the things I learned was how easily people could misunderstand one another, even when discussing the same issue. People who had experienced abuse might be explaining how a process affected them, while professionals were considering legal duties, organisational responsibilities and practical constraints.

I often found myself helping to bridge that gap, encouraging understanding between people approaching the same problem from different perspectives.

I’ve never believed that challenging something and collaborating with others are mutually exclusive. We can recognise different viewpoints, negotiate approaches and work towards solutions without compromising fundamental principles such as integrity, safety, fairness and accountability.

My accountancy background has influenced that approach enormously. Rather than simply identifying what isn’t working, I want to understand why, what could improve it and how we would measure whether change has made a difference.

I’ve continued contributing that combination of lived experience and professional knowledge through my involvement with Anglia Ruskin University’s International Policing and Public Protection Research Institute.

Opening doors for others

In April 2016, I established Survivors Of aBuse (SoB), bringing together much of what I’d learned personally and professionally.

As a child, I hadn’t understood what was happening to me or how those experiences might affect my future. As an adult, gaining knowledge about trauma, stress, relationships, physical and mental health and wellbeing helped me understand things I hadn’t previously recognised.

I wanted other people who had experienced childhood abuse or neglect to have opportunities to access information, explore their experiences and make informed choices about what might help them.

That thinking helped shape our eight-week Breaking the Cycle™ C.L.E.A.N.E.R.™ Living Therapy Programme, combining trauma-informed education, gentle movement, practical wellbeing strategies and counsellor-supported group learning.

It isn’t about telling people how to live or suggesting there’s one solution for everyone. It’s about creating opportunities to learn, reflect, connect and explore possibilities.

By April 2026, we’d supported more than 110 people through the programme. But community impact isn’t simply about numbers. It’s about the people who begin to understand something about themselves, the connections they make and the knowledge they take into their everyday lives.

One of the things I value most about our programme is the opportunity for people to share their experiences, learn from one another and develop a better understanding of themselves. Everyone brings their own knowledge, perspectives and life experiences into the room. That exchange is an important part of the learning process, and it also helps us continue to reflect on and improve what we deliver.

Running SoB has also meant applying my accountancy skills to governance, financial management, planning, risk, monitoring and evaluation. Passion and good intentions matter, but so do responsible management, sustainability and knowing whether we’re achieving what we set out to do.

What this award means to me

Receiving recognition for my work, including the EVAS Inspirational Woman of the Year Award in October and now the AAT Community Impact Award, is something I’m incredibly grateful for. But awards only show a small part of anyone’s journey.

The effects of childhood adversity don’t disappear because someone becomes professionally successful, establishes a charity or receives recognition. I’ve also had to learn that determination and commitment need to be balanced with looking after my own health and wellbeing. I don’t have a particularly effective off switch, and I’m still learning that I can’t do everything!

Nor do I believe that people who have experienced abuse should be expected to achieve extraordinary things to demonstrate resilience or worth. Everyone deserves safety, dignity, support, opportunities and the chance to enjoy their life, regardless of what they achieve.

When I look at this award, I see the little girl who failed Maths, the unexpected opportunity that introduced me to accountancy, and the financial independence and professional knowledge that followed.

I see my breakdown in 2001 and the breakthrough that began there. I see everything I’ve built in the 25 years since, and the people who’ve shared knowledge, opened doors, challenged my thinking and worked alongside me.

Most of all, I wish that little girl could have known that the world was much bigger than the one she was living in. That struggling at school didn’t mean she lacked intelligence or potential, and that what was happening to her wasn’t a measure of her worth.

There were opportunities and possibilities she couldn’t yet imagine.

Help us shape the next decade

As Survivors Of aBuse enters its second decade, we’re looking for people who share our vision and can help us grow our impact.

We’re seeking:

• A Chair of Trustees to provide strategic leadership.
• New trustees to strengthen our Board.
• Philanthropists and ambassadors to help raise our profile, build partnerships and secure our future.

My journey changed because someone opened a door I didn’t know existed. Now I’d love your help opening more doors for others.

Could you be the key?

Contact Survivors Of aBuse to start a conversation.