There was a time before social media, before public discourse opened doors that were once bolted shut when the mere mention of social services carried a weight heavier than most could understand. If they were involved in your life, people didn’t ask why. They assumed. You were labelled. Judged. Cast as a “bad parent” before your story was even heard.
Back then, it was shameful to admit you were struggling. Mental health was something to be hidden. Silence was the rule, and the only story that was allowed to be told… was theirs.
That’s how it was. I remember it clearly. There was no space to speak, no platform to challenge. If social services said it, it must be true and that was that.
But the world is shifting. Slowly. The internet, for all its flaws, has cracked open the walls they built. Stories are surfacing. Mistakes once buried are being exposed. The quiet truth — the parent’s truth — is beginning to echo in places it was never allowed before.
And yet… the stigma still lingers.
Even today, when I say my children are in foster care, the judgment in the room is immediate. People make assumptions. They see my history and decide who I am without ever asking. I’ve lost friends because of it. I’ve felt eyes watching me like I was dangerous like I was broken.
Even my husband’s own family, for a long time, believed the worst of me. They didn’t know the truth, not really. But when reality touched their own doorstep, when they saw how flawed the system can be, everything changed. “I never knew,” they said. “I wish I didn’t… but I’m glad I do. Because now I see it’s not always the parent’s fault.”
Sometimes, it’s just a lack of support. Sometimes, it’s pain no one took the time to understand. Sometimes, the system fails the very people it claims to help.
And so I speak. I speak without shame. About my mental health. About my children. About the system that made things harder when we needed help the most. Not because I want pity but because I want change.
Because stigma thrives in silence.
And I refuse to be silent anymore.
There is nothing to be ashamed of. Fear is human but silence keeps the stigma alive.
Mental health was once hidden, whispered about behind closed doors. Now it’s spoken of openly, and rightly so. It’s becoming normalised, understood, accepted.
The same must happen for families like mine. For those caught in systems that judge before they listen. For parents who needed support, not suspicion. For children whose stories were only half told.
This is why I speak. Not because it’s easy , but because it matters.
thegirlspeaks.uk 