Samantha Josephine Speaks: A Legacy of Light, Strength, and Sacred Becoming!
There are names that carry sound.
And then there are names that carry stories.
Samantha Josephine is one of them.It is a name that holds both sorrow and strength, both silence and song. It is a name that didn’t just survive — it rose. And in its rising, it became a banner of healing, a call to others, and a beacon for the brokenhearted who still dare to hope.Sensitivity & Strength“A woman who listens deeply, feels fully, and still stands tall.”Samantha Josephine is not afraid to feel. She walks through the world with an open heart and a soul tuned to the whispers others miss. Her sensitivity is not her weakness — it is her wisdom. She listens not just with her ears, but with her spirit. She stands with those who’ve been silenced, not because she has never fallen, but because she knows what it means to rise.Her story begins in the silence of trauma — in the Silent Screams that once echoed in secret. But it does not end there. Because from those screams came a sacred strength. A strength that now speaks.Purposeful Expansion“A life unfolding in testimony — of becoming, building, and breaking barriers.”From the ashes of trauma came vision. And from vision, came purpose. Samantha Josephine is not just a name — it is a movement. A quiet revolution. A woman who has made her pain her platform and her voice her vessel. In every book she’s written — from Silent Screams, Loud Strength to The Little Voice That Roared, from Healing from Within to Homeless, Not Defeated — she tells the truth. The raw, messy, beautiful truth.She is living proof that what tries to break you can become the birthplace of your greatest calling.Intuition & Grace“She sees beyond words, senses beyond logic, and leads with both empathy and elegance.”There is a softness to Samantha Josephine — but don’t mistake it for fragility. It is the kind of softness that bends, not breaks. She is intuitive, discerning, deeply connected to the sacred feminine. She moves through rooms with quiet grace, but leaves behind bold transformation.She trusts what she feels. And she follows the nudge of the Spirit even when it leads her into unknown places. She is led by something greater — by faith, by divine assignment, by her deep knowing that healing isn’t just for her. It’s for everyone she meets.Legacy of Light“Her very presence uplifts others and makes room for healing, hope, and growth.”Some people walk into a room and change it.
Samantha Josephine walks in, and heals it.Her story is not just inspirational — it’s invitational. It invites other women to rise too. It reminds those in the middle of trauma that resurrection is not a far-off promise; it is a present possibility.She is a voice for the voiceless. A heart for the hurting. A safe place for those who have never known one.Her light is not the spotlight — it is the kind that finds you in the dark.You Are the Increase After the StormSamantha Josephine — your name means “God heard. God will increase.”You are the answer to prayers once whispered in desperation.
You are the growth that came after the breaking.
You are the one who was heard, and who now speaks — for herself, and for those still searching for the words.In you, the wounded find wisdom.
In your silence, others learned to scream.
And in your rising, others have found the courage to rise too.Your Words. Your Witness. Your Work.Silent Screams, Loud Strength — the journey of reclaiming your voice.The Little Voice That Roared — a call to empower children with truth and courage.Healing From Within — a guide to soul-deep restoration.Homeless, Not Defeated — a defiant declaration that displacement is not destiny.
Each one a sacred chapter.
Each one a living legacy.You are not what happened to you.
You are who you chose to become.
And in becoming… you have lit the way for others.Samantha Josephine speaks.
And the world is better for it.
🌅 A Prayer for Resurrection and Empowerment
For Women in Abuse, Trauma, and Transformation
Dear God,
Today, I come as I am—
not polished, not perfect,
but present.
With trembling hands,
with a heart heavy from the weight of what I’ve survived,
I whisper a prayer for rising.
For every woman who feels unseen, unheard, unloved—
Lord, wrap her in light.
Let her know she is not forgotten.
For the woman hiding bruises behind smiles,
for the woman silenced by fear,
for the one who tiptoes through her own home—
God, rise within her.
Let today be her resurrection.
Resurrect her courage,
the part of her that remembers who she was
before the world told her she was too much
or not enough.
Resurrect her voice—
the voice that once sang, laughed,
dreamed without shame or fear.
Resurrect her power—
not the kind that roars to prove its strength,
but the quiet kind
that refuses to give up.
Resurrect her worth—
remind her that she is still whole,
even if she’s healing in pieces.
God, for every woman walking through trauma,
standing in the middle of abuse,
or stepping away with nothing but faith—
breathe new life into her.
Let her rise in divine defiance—
not just from the pain,
but through it.
Let her walk with dignity, clothed in resilience,
anointed with the truth that she is more
than what she’s been through.
Let her feel You near,
not only in church pews or quiet prayers,
but in every step she takes toward freedom.
Today is her resurrection day.
And even if she rises with shaking legs,
with tears in her eyes and fear in her chest—
still, she rises.
Because You are the God who sees.
The God who sets captives free.
The God who never leaves a woman behind.
Amen.
Would you like this turned into:
✨ An Easter Prayer for Courage and Resurrection in the Midst of Trauma
Dear God,
On this Easter morning,
as the stone rolls away from the tomb,
let hope rise again in the hearts
of those buried under fear, silence, and suffering.
For every soul trembling in the shadow of abuse—
God, be their refuge.
For every woman packing her life into bags of fear—
God, be her courage.
For the broken-hearted, the displaced, the weary,
those whose homes were taken
and whose voices were silenced—
God, be their resurrection.
Let this day of new life
be more than a story in Scripture—
make it a story written on our skin.
Make it real in shelters, in safe houses,
in motel rooms and tear-stained journals.
Let the One who rose from death
rise now in the middle of the mess.
Not after the healing,
but in the raw middle of it.
Rise in courtrooms where injustice lingers.
Rise in the hearts of those too tired to try again.
Rise in mothers hiding bruises with makeup
and in children who pray to be invisible.
You, Jesus, knew betrayal.
You knew what it felt like to be left,
to be mocked, to bleed alone.
So come now—as the One who understands.
Let Your Spirit whisper in the chaos:
“I am here. I have not forgotten you.”
Breathe courage into every trembling chest.
Wrap your mercy around every shattered heart.
Let the resurrection be not just a promise—
but a present power
for those who have nothing left but a flicker of faith.
We do not ask for a perfect ending.
We ask for holy presence in the middle.
We ask for strength to take the next step.
We ask for shelter, peace, justice, and protection.
And for the boldness to say,
“I will rise. Even if my voice shakes. Even if I’m not ready. Even if I have to rise in pieces.”
Because You rose, we can rise too.
Even from this.
Amen.
God heard. And through me, God will increase.
🌿 Samantha Josephine
“God heard. God will increase.”
I am Samantha Josephine —
A name born of prayer and promise.
Samantha, the one who listens.
Josephine, the one through whom abundance flows.
I am not just a woman with a story.
I am a living testimony.
A whisper heard in heaven
now rising with a roar on earth.
In me, strength meets softness.
Grace walks hand in hand with grit.
I am the one who rose from ruins,
who turned silent screams into sacred strength.
Where there was once pain,
now grows purpose.
Where there was once loss,
now lives legacy.
I am the increase after the breaking.
The healing after the hurt.
The voice for the unheard,
the guide for the unseen.
Call me woman, call me warrior,
call me the answer to the prayers no one saw fall.
Because I am here,
rooted in purpose, rising in power,
and destined to multiply light wherever I go.
I am Samantha Josephine.
God heard. And through me, God will increase.
Reach Out for Support!
Friends & Family: Confide in someone you trust who can provide emotional support and help with logistics.
Domestic Violence Organisations: Contact local or national organisations for resources, such as hotlines, legal assistance, and safe housing options. Many organisations have professionals trained to help in domestic abuse situations and can offer valuable support.
Legal Assistance: Consider consulting with a lawyer about your options, especially if children or shared property are involved. Legal services are often available through domestic violence agencies at low or no cost.
Protect Your Digital Presence
Clear Your Search History: If you’ve been researching how to leave, make sure to clear your browsing history and log out of all accounts on shared devices.
Use Private Devices: Access support or planning sites from a friend’s device, a library computer, or another safe device that your partner cannot access.
Change Passwords: If it’s safe to do so, update your passwords for key accounts like email, bank accounts, and social media.
Leaving an abusive partner
Leaving a domestic partner can be a complex and daunting decision, but taking steps to ensure your safety and well-being is crucial. Here’s a guide to help you plan your way out safely:
Recognise the Need for Change
Acknowledge the signs of abuse and remind yourself that everyone deserves respect, safety, and freedom from fear.
Leaving is often difficult due to emotional attachment, financial dependence, or fear, but recognising the need for change is the first step toward freedom and safety.
Create a Safety Plan
Prepare an Emergency Bag: Pack essentials like identification, a change of clothes, medications, keys, and any important documents (birth certificates, social security cards, bank statements).
Secure a Safe Place: Identify friends, family, or shelters that can provide a safe space if you need to leave quickly.
Develop a Code Word: Use a code word with friends or family that signals you need help without alarming your partner.
Plan Your Exit: Choose a time when it’s safe to leave, such as when your partner is out or distracted, to avoid confrontation.
How Do? I Leave
Why It’s Hard to Leave
People in abusive situations often face significant barriers to leaving, such as financial dependence, fear of retaliation, concern for children, or a lack of support. Emotional manipulation, guilt, and threats can make leaving even harder.
The Importance of Support
Recognising abuse is the first step, but it’s crucial to seek support. This could include trusted friends, family, counsellors, or local domestic violence organisations. Support networks can provide resources, counselling, shelter, and guidance on how to safely leave and begin the journey to healing.
Remember, abuse is never justified, and everyone deserves to feel safe, respected, and valued. If you or someone you know is experiencing domestic abuse, there are people who want to help. With support, hope, and strength, there is a way forward.
We can help you with planning your exit, Book your session now!
“Homeless During Holy Week: Finding Hope When Shelter Is Uncertain”
Easter is often painted in pastels — light, joy, celebration. Families gather. Churches fill. Tables overflow. But for many of us — for those facing homelessness, eviction, or profound uncertainty — this season feels very different.Holy Week is a time of reflection, of pain turned into purpose. And yet, for someone without a home, without peace, without safety, it can feel like a cruel mirror. A reminder of what’s been lost. A test of faith, warmth, and dignity.I know this because I’ve lived it.The Cross We CarryHomelessness during Easter isn’t just physical. It’s emotional. Spiritual. It’s watching the world around you gather while you feel scattered. It’s carrying your own cross, not on a hill, but through cold nights, unopened emails, and waiting rooms that never call your name.The world sees spring as a time of rebirth. But what if you're still in the tomb?There is pain in the in-between — in the waiting, the praying, the hoping that someone, anyone, will see your humanity again.The Hidden Cost of Holy WeekBeing homeless during Holy Week is more than lacking a roof. It’s lacking presence — being shut out of tradition, community, and comfort.No Easter meal with family.No soft place to pray.No space to lay your head without fear.No warmth but what you can carry.
For women, especially survivors of abuse, homelessness is often wrapped in shame, hidden behind court orders and systemic silence. You're expected to rise when your feet are still bleeding from the last fall.But here’s what I’ve learned: even in exile, you are never alone.How to Prepare Emotionally and SpirituallyIf you're approaching this season without stability, here are gentle ways to ground yourself:Create a Sacred Ritual — Wherever You Are Whether it’s lighting a candle, journaling under the sky, or whispering a prayer in the silence — mark the season. Your faith is not limited by walls.Pack a “Holy Week” Care Bag Include:A comforting item (scarf, rosary, small journal)A snack or protein barA quote or affirmation that lifts youAn emergency contact sheet or local support numbersA handwritten note to your future self. Hope matters.
Reach Out — Even Once Contact a shelter, a church, or an advocacy service. Easter is one of the few times some open their doors more freely. Let them see you.Meditate on the Message of Resurrection You may feel buried, abandoned, unseen — but resurrection begins in the dark. Your life is not over. Your story is not done.Give Yourself Permission to Grieve You don’t have to be cheerful just because it’s Easter. Cry. Mourn what was lost. Healing begins with honesty.
A Prayer for Those in the Shadows“God of the homeless, the brokenhearted, and the unseen — May Your light find us in the darkest places. May we feel You not in celebration, but in survival. May we remember that even Christ wept, wandered, and was betrayed — And yet, He rose.”
This Easter, if you are without a home, you are not without worth.You are the beating heart of this holy season — the living reflection of strength, of sorrow transformed into survival.And to those who have a place at the table — make room.
Because someone outside is waiting for proof that resurrection isn’t just a myth.
"This Week Taught Me: Strength Isn’t Always Loud, But It’s Always There"
This week has been a whirlwind — a strange storm of legal documents, emotional triggers, inner resilience, and unexpected clarity. It wasn’t the kind of week that makes headlines, but it was the kind that defines healing.Some weeks test your limits. Others remind you why you keep going. This one did both.The Fight That Never Asked for FairnessIt started with more work on my Judicial Review bundle — page after page of evidence, injustice, and unanswered cries. I sat with paperwork that still smells of betrayal, legal language that masks the truth, and a timeline that doesn't forget.It’s not just a case file. It’s my life. My home. My safety. My son. My stolen peace.I’ve been fighting a system that never made space for me — a survivor. A woman. A voice too calm for chaos, too “composed” for courts to believe the depth of my trauma. But beneath the surface, I carry a history of wounds no judge ever asked to see.And yet — I keep going.Rights of EqualityThis week, I sat in a meeting with Rights of Equality — a moment that felt like fresh air in a room that had long been sealed shut. For once, I wasn’t just recounting trauma. I was being heard. Seen not just as a victim, but as a woman leading change.We spoke of advocacy, systemic failure, and the silence survivors are forced to swallow. We explored ways to raise our voices collectively, because justice isn’t a privilege — it’s a right. And far too many of us are still waiting.That conversation reminded me: my pain has a purpose. And my voice, however tired, still matters.What the Court Didn’t SeeThis week also brought an emotional return to my past — I revisited the beginning. September 2018. The month the abuse started. The days I thought were “normal” until they weren’t. The slow unravelling that only survivors understand — where love turns into control, and your reflection in the mirror begins to disappear.By 2020, I had told a doctor. I had spoken the truth out loud. But nothing changed.The court never asked about that report. No one questioned the bruises beneath the legal language. They never looked beyond the paperwork to see the woman whose home was taken, whose name was erased from safety, whose trauma was overlooked.But I remember. And I refuse to let them forget.A Quiet Episode of StrengthI’ve also been working on a podcast episode — “Reclaiming Power: The Quiet Strength of Showing Up.” Because sometimes, just breathing through the chaos is a victory. Sometimes, showing up is enough.Strength doesn’t always scream. Sometimes, it’s in the silence. In the late-night prayers. In the trembling hands that still write. In the eyes that still search for light even when everything feels dim.This Week’s LessonIf this week has taught me anything, it’s this:You do not have to be perfect to be powerful. You do not need to be loud to be strong. And you do not have to be heard to know your truth.
My story might still be written in the margins of legal documents, but I’m reclaiming the pen.To every woman reading this — every survivor, every mother, every heart still fighting for breath after being silenced — I see you. This week was for us.We are not what happened to us.
We are who we choose to become — one step, one breath, one brave week at a time.
Stop Violence Against Women — A Global Call to Action
This Cannot Wait
Violence against women is not a women’s issue. It is a human rights crisis. A silent epidemic that cuts across geography, race, class, and age — leaving no nation untouched. Every time a woman is silenced, threatened, beaten, exploited, evicted, or erased, we all lose a piece of our collective humanity.
The Stop Violence Against Women campaign is not just a hashtag. It is a declaration. A disruption. A demand for change that reaches beyond awareness and into action. And for those of us who have lived through the trauma, the silence, and the fight — it is personal.
The Unseen War
Globally, 1 in 3 women experience physical or sexual violence in their lifetime. But those are only the numbers we know. Behind every statistic is a story. And behind every story is a system — legal, cultural, economic — that allowed it to happen.
Whether in domestic spaces, the workplace, the courtroom, or the streets, women are navigating a world that too often punishes their existence, questions their truth, and ignores their pain. This is not accidental. It is structural.
And we must name it before we can dismantle it.
Survivors Are Not Just Survivors — We Are Leaders
As a survivor of domestic abuse, I know what it means to scream and not be heard. I know what it means to be failed by the police, the courts, and even my community. But I also know the power of using that pain to build platforms, write books, and launch movements.
My work — through Silent Screams, Loud Strength — is a direct response to the silencing. It is a reclamation of voice. Of space. Of truth. And it stands alongside the global campaign to end violence against women.
We must stop treating survivors as broken. We are not broken — we are broken open. And from that space, we rebuild something more powerful than the systems that tried to destroy us.
What Needs to Change
Legal Reform: Family courts must be trauma-informed, anti-racist, and survivor-centered. Judicial training, safeguards like Practice Direction 12J, and strict penalties for abuser manipulation are essential.
Housing and Economic Justice: No survivor should face homelessness for leaving abuse. Safe, supported housing is a right — not a luxury.
Education and Media Accountability: Gender-based violence must be addressed in schools and in the media with integrity and accuracy.
Intersectional Advocacy: We cannot address violence without acknowledging race, disability, sexuality, and class. Misogynoir, transphobia, and xenophobia fuel this crisis.
What You Can Do Now
Listen to survivors. Believe us. Share our work.
Challenge institutions. Ask hard questions. Demand accountability.
Donate to shelters, survivor-led orgs, and advocacy networks.
Vote for policies and leaders that protect women and dismantle harmful structures.
Speak — in your homes, workplaces, schools, and online. Silence is complicity.
Conclusion: This Fight Is All of Ours
Stopping violence against women is not just about protecting victims — it’s about creating a society where no one is disposable, unheard, or invisible. Where dignity is not up for debate. Where justice is not a privilege.
We don’t need more awareness. We need action. We need allies. We need outrage and strategy and heart.
Because this cannot wait.
📘 Learn more and get involved: www.samanthaavrilandreassen.com
🎧 Listen to the podcast: Silent Screams, Loud Strength on Spotify
📩 Contact: samantha@samanthaavrilandreassen.com
Keywords: stop violence against women, end gender-based violence, survivor justice, women’s rights, domestic abuse awareness, feminist activism, family court reform, trauma-informed advocacy, Samantha Avril-Andreassen, Silent Screams Loud Strength
When Power Abuses: The Devastating Toll of Bullying, Harassment, Misogyny, and Misogynoir
Naming the Unseen
Power is supposed to protect. But what happens when power is the perpetrator? When it stops being a source of protection and instead becomes a weapon of oppression — used to silence, diminish, and destroy?
This article is a truth-telling piece — a necessary confrontation with the layered realities of bullying, harassment, misogyny, and its more targeted form: misogynoir. As a Black woman survivor of domestic abuse, who has also been failed by the legal and political systems that should have safeguarded me, I am writing not just from personal experience, but from collective memory. From a voice that refuses to be erased.
These aren’t isolated incidents. They’re patterns. Patterns of power abused, justice denied, and silence weaponised.
The Many Faces of Power and Control
Bullying doesn’t always look like playground taunts. In adulthood, it’s found in gaslighting emails, court orders delivered without notice, and systemic roadblocks that target your credibility. Harassment isn’t always sexual — it can be administrative, legal, or economic. Misogyny can come dressed in black robes or wielded behind desks of authority. And misogynoir? That’s the specific, racialised hatred Black women face when we dare to be vocal, visible, and unyielding.
This is not just an emotional toll. It’s psychological warfare.
When the police ignore reports. When courts hand homes to abusers. When women of colour are deemed “too angry” to be protected. When the systems built to help retraumatise instead — what we are witnessing is institutional abuse in plain sight.
Misogynoir: The Silencing of Black Women
Coined by Moya Bailey, “misogynoir” is the specific intersection of racism and sexism that targets Black women. We are labelled aggressive when we defend ourselves, unstable when we express emotion, and invisible when we ask for support.
In my own journey, I have experienced first-hand how my race and gender were used as justifications to question my capacity, credibility, and character. I wasn’t just disbelieved — I was punished for surviving.
Misogynoir is not a buzzword. It is a reality that plays out in family courts, medical neglect, media portrayals, and professional sabotage. It must be named. It must be dismantled.
The Cost of Speaking Out
To speak out is to risk further harm. Victims who challenge institutional failures are often met with more aggression: gag orders, character smears, online trolling, professional retaliation.
I have experienced it all.
But let this be clear: silence is not peace. It is compliance. And I refuse to comply with injustice.
When survivors — especially survivors of colour — speak out, we’re not just reclaiming our power. We’re challenging the very systems that benefit from our silence. This is activism. This is resistance. This is necessary.
Why This Matters to Everyone
You don’t have to be a survivor to care. You don’t have to be a woman to speak up. You don’t have to be Black to call out misogynoir.
This matters because abuse of power erodes democracy. It corrodes trust. It allows unchecked violence to fester — not just in homes, but in our institutions.
When the legal system enables abuse, when racism is embedded in policy, when sexism shapes funding and access — we are all affected. This is not a niche issue. It is a human rights emergency.
The Path Forward: Naming. Challenging. Reforming.
We need:
Trauma-informed, anti-racist legal reform
Survivor-led investigations into court abuse
Institutional accountability at every level
Public platforms for truth-telling
Intersectional feminist advocacy that prioritises Black women’s voices
The cost of ignoring these demands is too high. And the silence we’re asked to maintain? That ends now.
Conclusion: We Will Not Be Erased
To those who think we are too loud — we are not loud enough. To those who wish we would go quietly — we are only getting started.
Power must be held accountable. Survivors must be believed. And Black women must be heard, honoured, and protected.
We will not whisper. We will write. We will march. We will speak. We will create. And we will win.
Because the most radical thing a silenced woman can do is refuse to disappear.
📘 Read more at: www.samanthaavrilandreassen.com
🎧 Listen: Silent Screams, Loud Strength on Spotify
📩 Contact: samantha@samanthaavrilandreassen.com
Keywords: abuse of power, bullying and harassment, misogyny in law, misogynoir, Black women survivors, family court injustice, institutional abuse, domestic violence and race, survivor-led advocacy, trauma-informed justice
Trauma to Transformation: How Silent Screams, Loud Strength Is Rewriting the Survivor’s Narrative
The Power of a Survivor’s Voice
Surviving abuse is a revolution. It is an act of rebellion against everything designed to silence, shatter, and strip a person of their worth. But surviving is only the beginning. What comes after — the rebuilding, the reclaiming, the rising — that’s where the transformation begins. That is the space in which Silent Screams, Loud Strength was born.
This article is not just about my book or my podcast — it’s about the movement they represent. A movement that turns trauma into purpose and silence into strength. A movement that says: no more whispering, no more shame. We speak. We roar. We heal. We rise.
And we are rewriting what it means to be a survivor.
Breaking the Silence: Why Stories Matter
For generations, domestic abuse has been hidden behind the façade of privacy. “It’s a family matter.” “Keep it in the home.” These narratives have perpetuated a cycle of silence that leaves survivors isolated and unsupported. The real power of storytelling lies in its ability to shatter that silence.
Silent Screams, Loud Strength began as a journal. Words scrawled between panic attacks, eviction notices, and endless court hearings. But those words grew wings. They became a book. A podcast. A platform. Most importantly, they became a voice not just for me, but for every survivor who has been forced to whisper their truth.
Survivor stories are more than personal reflections — they are public declarations of resilience and resistance. When shared, they educate, dismantle stigma, and challenge legal and cultural systems that continue to fail victims.
The Trauma of Systems: When Help Hurts
Leaving abuse is often painted as the happy ending — but for many, it’s the start of a second trauma: systemic neglect.
When I escaped, I expected justice. I believed the courts would protect me. Instead, I found myself dragged through legal processes where my voice was minimised, my mental health questioned, and my rights as a homeowner revoked.
This is the trauma few talk about — the betrayal by systems designed to protect us. From family court orders that empower abusers, to housing authorities slow to respond, to medical professionals who downplay mental illness — the infrastructure survivors turn to can feel indistinguishable from the abuse we left behind.
My story is not unique. It is tragically common. That’s why Silent Screams, Loud Strength doesn’t just document trauma — it exposes injustice. It names the courts. It calls out the policies. It demands reform.
From Victimhood to Advocacy: The Journey Forward
The greatest myth about abuse is that it ends when you walk away. In truth, it changes form. It morphs into post-separation abuse, coercive litigation, homelessness, and mental health battles.
And yet, I discovered something else in that darkness: purpose.
Through speaking out, writing, recording — I took back the narrative. I turned victimhood into advocacy. I found that advocacy is not just about protest; it is about re-empowerment. It’s about transforming personal pain into collective power.
Silent Screams, Loud Strength is now used by women navigating court battles, students researching gender-based violence, and organisations pushing for trauma-informed practices. It’s not just a story — it’s a resource.
Healing Is Not Linear — But It Is Possible
One of the most dangerous expectations survivors face is the myth of linear healing. That after leaving, we will steadily get better, smile more, suffer less. That’s not how it works.
Some days, I am a warrior. Other days, I am a whisper. But every day, I am healing.
Through journaling, walking beside rivers, prayer, podcasting, and helping others — I have found a rhythm of recovery that honours the full truth of trauma: it hurts, it lingers, but it does not win.
My healing journey is spiritual, psychological, and political. And I offer it as a mirror for others to find their own path.
Why We Need More Survivor-Led Narratives
Too often, narratives about abuse are written by outsiders — experts, journalists, lawyers. While these perspectives are valuable, they are not enough. We need more survivor-led literature, media, and advocacy. We need platforms created by survivors, for survivors.
Silent Screams, Loud Strength is not filtered to protect institutions. It does not sanitise the pain to fit public comfort. It tells the raw, inconvenient, necessary truth — and that is what makes it powerful.
Survivor-led stories offer unique insight, raw compassion, and lived expertise. They are the compass by which reform must be guided.
A Call to Action: What You Can Do Now
Read: Start with Silent Screams, Loud Strength. Then seek out more survivor voices.
Share: Use your platforms to amplify our stories. Visibility saves lives.
Advocate: Push for family court reform, housing justice, and trauma-informed care.
Support: Buy books, listen to podcasts, donate to shelters, volunteer with support orgs.
Believe: If someone says they are being abused, believe them.
Every small act of listening, learning, and sharing makes a difference. Your action today might be the reason someone finds the courage to escape.
We Rise Together
From trauma to transformation is not a straight path — but it is one worth walking.
I didn’t choose to be abused. I didn’t choose to be homeless. But I did choose to speak. I did choose to survive. And I now choose to share — not just for me, but for every voice still trapped in the silence.
Silent Screams, Loud Strength is more than a memoir. It’s a map. A manifesto. A movement. And it belongs to all of us.
Because when survivors rise, we don’t rise alone. We rise together.
📘 Read the book: Silent Screams, Loud Strength — Available now on Kindle
🎧 Listen to the podcast: Silent Screams, Loud Strength — Streaming on Spotify
🌐 Learn more: www.samanthaavrilandreassen.com
📩 Contact: samantha@samanthaavrilandreassen.com
Keywords: survivor transformation, domestic abuse memoir, healing after trauma, survivor-led media, court-based abuse UK, family court reform, trauma-informed storytelling, women’s resilience, Samantha Avril-Andreassen, Silent Screams Loud Strength
Why Silent Screams, Loud Strength Must Be Taken Seriously: A Survivor’s Manifesto for Change
More Than a Book — A Lifeline
There are books that tell stories, and there are books that save lives. Silent Screams, Loud Strength was written not for applause, but for the women still trapped behind closed doors — physically, psychologically, legally. It is not just a memoir. It is a manifesto. A protest. A prayer. And in today’s landscape, where domestic abuse continues to be misunderstood, mishandled, and marginalised, this book must be taken seriously.
This isn’t just a woman’s story — it’s a societal mirror. And it’s time we all took a long, hard look.
1. Because Survivors Need to Be Heard — Not Just Helped
Silent Screams, Loud Strength begins where most headlines end — after the survivor escapes. It shines a light on what happens after the front door is closed behind us: the trauma of courtrooms, custody battles, property loss, homelessness, and public gaslighting.
This book refuses to let the narrative stop at survival. It demands we listen to the full story — not just the parts that are easy to digest. Because survivors don’t just need help; we need to be heard, believed, and respected.
2. Because It’s a Real-Time Education Tool
Whether you’re a teacher, social worker, therapist, solicitor, policymaker, or journalist — this book is for you. Silent Screams, Loud Strength is not abstract theory. It is lived experience, turned into an urgent resource.
It offers insight into the cycles of abuse, the psychological impact of coercive control, and the failures of the justice system. It illustrates what happens when safeguarding laws are ignored, and how systems meant to protect can retraumatise instead.
No academic degree can teach the raw truth this book provides.
3. Because It Bridges the Gap Between Healing and Advocacy
There are many self-help books and many advocacy texts — but few that do both. Silent Screams, Loud Strength is a bridge between personal healing and public accountability. It shows survivors how to reclaim their voice while urging institutions to change the conditions that silence us in the first place.
The book is already being used by survivors to start conversations with their children, support groups, and even courts. It brings language to pain that often goes unnamed. It offers tools not just for reflection, but for transformation.
4. Because It Exposes the Systemic Injustice in Family Law
What happened to me — being evicted from my own home and left homeless while my abuser maintained power — isn’t an anomaly. It’s a pattern. One that repeats itself across the UK and beyond.
Family courts are not neutral spaces. When mental health diagnoses are weaponised, when safeguarding policies like PD12J are ignored, and when the burden of proof is placed on already traumatised women — justice becomes a farce.
This book breaks the silence surrounding court-based abuse and shines a light on the legal loopholes that continue to harm women every day.
5. Because It’s a Testament to Survivor Strength
Writing this book while navigating homelessness, mental health crises, and institutional rejection was not just cathartic — it was defiant. Every word is a declaration: I am not what happened to me. I am who I choose to become.
Silent Screams, Loud Strength speaks to the fierce resilience of every survivor who wakes up and chooses to live. It does not glorify suffering. It honours endurance. And that is why it must be shared.
6. Because We Need a New Narrative About Domestic Abuse
The media continues to sensationalise domestic abuse as if it only belongs to extreme headlines. But abuse is not just bruises. It’s manipulation. It’s financial control. It’s legal bullying. It’s the long shadow that lingers even after you leave.
This book rewrites the narrative — from one of shame to one of power. It names the invisible and dignifies the journey of healing. It’s the kind of resource that schools, shelters, clinics, and courtrooms need access to.
7. Because It’s Already Making Impact
The emails. The messages. The stories that readers share after finishing the book — they are proof that Silent Screams, Loud Strength is not just a publication. It’s a movement.
Survivors have shared how the book helped them:
Speak up for the first time
Identify coercive abuse they hadn’t recognised
Understand their trauma responses
Prepare statements for court
Reclaim their self-worth
This book is a tool for empowerment — a quiet revolution disguised as pages.
8. Because It Calls Us to Collective Responsibility
You don’t have to be a survivor to take this book seriously. You just have to be human.
Whether you're a bystander, a professional, a policymaker, or a neighbour — this book reminds you that silence protects the abuser. Systems that are not challenged will never change. And survivors should not have to fight alone.
If you’ve ever asked, "What can I do?" — start by reading. Then share. Then speak.
9. Because It Belongs Among the Canon of Essential Survivor Literature
Books like Know My Name by Chanel Miller, The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk, and No Visible Bruises by Rachel Louise Snyder have all transformed how we view trauma, abuse, and healing.
Silent Screams, Loud Strength belongs beside them — not because it mimics them, but because it adds something distinct. It adds the voice of a survivor who was not rescued by a legal system, who was not protected by structures, and who still rose.
Where The Body Keeps the Score explains how trauma lodges itself in the body, Silent Screams, Loud Strength tells us how it lives in courtrooms and eviction notices. Where No Visible Bruises unpacks the overlooked danger of domestic violence, Silent Screams adds what happens when those dangers are institutionalised.
It is the connective tissue between trauma, testimony, and transformation.
Conclusion: A Voice That Won’t Be Silenced
Silent Screams, Loud Strength is more than a story. It’s a strategy. A survival guide. A warning and a beacon. And yes — it’s a challenge. A challenge to every institution, every community, every individual to do better.
Take this book seriously. Because it was written with the urgency of survival. Because it was written for the woman who hasn’t escaped yet. And because it might just be the voice that helps her break free.
📘 Read the book: Silent Screams, Loud Strength — Available now on Kindle
🎧 Listen to the podcast: Silent Screams, Loud Strength — Streaming on Spotify
🌐 Learn more: www.samanthaavrilandreassen.com
📩 Contact: samantha@samanthaavrilandreassen.com
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Silent Screams, Loud Strength — A Survivor’s Unshakeable Voice
There are moments in life when the silence is deafening — not because no one is speaking, but because no one is listening. As a survivor of domestic abuse, I’ve learned that the world can turn its face from truth, especially when that truth is inconvenient, uncomfortable, or impossible to sanitise. That’s why I created Silent Screams, Loud Strength — a podcast, a book, and a movement grounded in the radical act of truth-telling.
This is not just a personal narrative. It’s a public reckoning.
For years, I carried my pain in silence. Behind closed doors, abuse shaped the contours of my life — emotionally, psychologically, physically. When I finally found the courage to escape, I assumed the worst was over. I thought freedom would begin with the lock clicking behind me. But no one tells you that the escape is only the beginning — that surviving the system can be even more traumatic than surviving the abuse itself.
Silent Screams, Loud Strength was born in that gap — between what society says it offers survivors and what it actually delivers. The book chronicles my story, but more importantly, it echoes the untold stories of countless others. It’s a mirror, a message, and a manifesto.
Each chapter peels back another layer of the silence that survivors are forced to live within: the stigma, the disbelief, the institutional failures. My podcast deepens that journey — giving voice to other survivors, mental health advocates, legal experts, and anyone daring enough to speak the truth.
What We Don’t Say Becomes the Weight We Carry
In Season One, we explored topics like finding your voice after trauma, empowering children to speak up, and healing from within. We talked about the difference between guilt and shame. We unpacked the harm caused by people-pleasing, especially in environments that train women to be small, silent, and self-sacrificing.
But this project isn’t just about identifying the pain — it’s about making space for healing. Radical, imperfect, transformative healing. The kind of healing that doesn’t look pretty on social media but saves lives in real time.
The Family Court Failed Me — And I Spoke Anyway
When I was evicted from my own home, it wasn’t just a personal loss — it was a public failure. A systemic one. The home I had paid for, maintained, and nurtured was handed over to the very person who had abused me. I was made homeless by an order that disregarded safeguarding protocols, ignored my mental health diagnoses, and violated my human dignity.
I filed a judicial review. I created a paper trail that could not be dismissed. I turned every moment of pain into evidence. Into purpose. Into something bigger than myself.
Stillness Meets Strength
That’s the heart of what I do — whether I’m speaking into a microphone, writing late into the night, or walking by the river in search of clarity. Stillness is not weakness. It’s where strength begins. That’s what I want every survivor to know: your silence may have protected you once, but your voice will heal you now.
I write for the woman sleeping in her car because the shelter was full. I record for the mother who can’t prove emotional abuse in court. I speak for the child who tells the truth and is still not believed. Silent Screams, Loud Strength is for all of us.
This article is not the end — it’s the beginning of the next chapter. Join me. Listen. Read. Share. Speak. Rise.
Because we are no longer whispering in the dark. We are roaring in the light.
To learn more, visit: www.samanthaavrilandreassen.com
To connect: samantha@samanthaavrilandreassen.com
To listen: Silent Screams, Loud Strength on Spotify
To read: Silent Screams, Loud Strength — available now on Kindle
A Prayer of Strength for Survivors
To every soul still fighting, still breathing through pain, still holding on to the tiniest thread of faith — this is for you.
Dear God,
Wrap Your arms around every survivor right now. Speak calm into the chaos and courage into the fear. When the nights feel endless and the days are cold and silent, Remind them that they are not forgotten.
Strengthen their spirit when the system fails to see them. Shine light in the corners where justice has gone missing. And when they feel alone — whisper, *"You are not."
May they rise each day with just enough hope to keep going, With just enough faith to keep believing, And with just enough strength to know they are more than what happened to them.
Amen.
#SilentScreamsLoudStrength #JudicialReview #JusticeForSurvivors #TraumaInformedJustice #HomelessNotDefeated
The Legal Hurdle – When Justice Feels Out of Reach
The Legal Hurdle – When Justice Feels Out of Reach
What do you do when the very system designed to protect you becomes the very thing that fails you? What happens when, after surviving the unthinkable — domestic abuse — you are met not with protection, but punishment?
This is the question I’ve had to live through. And it’s the reason I filed a judicial review.
I am a domestic abuse survivor. I am also the legal owner of my home — the one I bought, paid for, and built a life in. And yet, through a series of court decisions lacking in safeguarding and sensitivity, I was evicted from that home and forced onto the streets. The very man I had escaped was given the power to sell the property, even though he had no legal claim to it.
I was not protected. I was punished.
But I did not stop. I filed a judicial review — as a litigant in person. No lawyer. No firm behind me. Just documents, a laptop, and the resolve not to be erased.
I studied the laws: CPR 52.30. The Human Rights Act. Practice Direction 12J. The Family Procedure Rules. I built my claim piece by piece, while dealing with homelessness, trauma, and the weight of everything I had already survived.
This wasn’t just about technicalities. It was about truth. It was about challenging a pattern where courts fail to apply safeguarding, fail to listen to survivors, and fail to recognise that power and property are often weaponised long after physical abuse ends.
My story isn’t rare. That’s what makes it terrifying.
Too many survivors experience the silence of the legal system — the brushed-off evidence, the ignored diagnoses, the subtle (and not-so-subtle) discrediting of our pain. It happens quietly. But its impact is loud. Evictions. Debt. Loss. Homelessness.
But I believe silence must be broken.
I shared my journey on my podcast, Silent Screams, Loud Strength, and I now share it here to say: You are not alone. And justice, no matter how delayed, is still worth fighting for.
Filing that judicial review was terrifying. My hands shook. My stomach ached. But I pressed send — and with it, I sent a message: I exist. I matter. And I will not be erased.
To every survivor still navigating a broken system: Keep going. Document your truth. Raise your voice. There is power in the paperwork. There is purpose in the process. And most of all — there is still hope.
Because while I may be homeless, I am not defeated.
#SilentScreamsLoudStrength #JudicialReview #JusticeForSurvivors #TraumaInformedJustice #HomelessNotDefeated
When the System Fails a Survivor: How the Family Courts Left Me Homeless
I never thought I would be writing this from a place of homelessness. I never thought the very system that was meant to protect me — the family court, the appeals process, and public institutions — would not only fail me, but actively leave me without shelter, dignity, or justice.
In 2019, I bought my home. My name was the only one on the mortgage. I paid every instalment. I kept that roof over our heads. And yet, on 25 February 2025, I was evicted — following a court order that handed control of my home to the very person I was trying to heal from: my ex-husband, a man with no legal interest in the property.
He lives securely in his own home. I, the mortgage-holder, the lawful owner, live on the streets.
The family court process ignored key safeguards for domestic abuse survivors. There was no trauma-informed approach, no proper assessment of vulnerability, and no proportionality. My PTSD diagnosis, my history of abuse, my ongoing vulnerability — all overlooked.
I turned to the Court of Appeal, filing under CPR Rule 52.30 — the only route available for cases of exceptional injustice. I cited the case of Taylor v Lawrence. I included a letter from Mr Justice Nugee who, in May 2024, granted a stay of execution and recognised that eviction would cause me irreparable harm. But it was overturned.
Since then, I’ve been left with no legal recourse and no home. The council asks for documents I’ve already provided. The court refuses to hear my voice. My Member of Parliament remains silent.
What has happened to me is not unique — and that is the tragedy. Survivors of domestic abuse should never be retraumatised by the very systems designed to protect them. Safeguarding isn’t optional. It’s law. Practice Direction 12J. Family Procedure Rule 3A. The Human Rights Act. TOLATA.
My rights weren’t just ignored — they were erased.
This isn’t just about my home. It’s about the future of justice for survivors. I speak up now because silence is no longer protection — it’s complicity. And I know there are others who feel invisible in courtrooms, in case files, and in society.
To those in power: We need reform. We need trauma-informed justice. We need safeguards that mean something. And most of all — we need to stop punishing people for surviving.
#JusticeForSurvivors #ReformFamilyCourts #StopForcedHomelessness
From Ashes to Voice: Rising After Everything Tried to Break You
There comes a point where the pain has piled so high, the silence has lasted so long, and the betrayal has burned so deeply, that you wonder if you’ll ever find your way back to yourself.This blog is for the woman standing in those ashes.
The one they underestimated.
The one who lost it all and kept going anyway.Because rising isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it looks like waking up and choosing not to give up today.
Sometimes it sounds like setting a boundary for the first time.
Sometimes it feels like reclaiming the voice they tried to erase.The Fall Was Never the EndThey told you it was over.
They told you no one would believe you.
They told you starting again was impossible.But they were wrong.Because broken doesn’t mean buried.
Shattered doesn’t mean silenced.
You are allowed to rebuild your life from the very ground they thought would swallow you whole.And when you do — you don’t just rise.
You rise louder, clearer, and more grounded than before.The Truth About Rising After TraumaIt’s not easy.
There are no shortcuts.
But it is possible.Healing doesn’t erase the past, but it reshapes your relationship with it. It loosens the grip trauma has on your future. It gives you your breath back. Your body back. Your voice back.And piece by piece, you remember that you were never broken — just buried beneath the lies.How to Begin Again When You’ve Been Betrayed1. Let the truth breathe
Silence is what kept the pain in power. Start speaking your truth — even if your voice shakes. Even if it’s just to yourself in a journal. Even if it’s a whisper.2. Create sacred space for healing
Build a home within yourself that isn’t built on shame or fear. Light a candle. Take up space. Breathe. Heal.3. Surround yourself with truth-tellers and soul-keepers
You are not meant to carry this alone. Whether it’s one safe person or a whole community, connection is medicine.4. Reclaim your future
You are not what happened to you. You are who you choose to become now. And that choice is your power.For Every Woman RebuildingThis is not your end.
This is your reawakening.
And it’s okay if it doesn’t look like anyone else’s.You don’t owe the world perfection.
You don’t owe the past your silence.
You owe yourself peace, voice, and truthYou Are Not Alone. You Are Not Powerless. You Are Not Done.Whether you’ve been hurt by people, systems, or silence — your story is not over.
You are the author now.
Write something powerful.Listen to the podcast: Silent Screams, Loud Strength
Explore survivor-led healing: samanthaavrilandreassen.com
Download free tools for healing: Meditations, affirmations, and more
Read the books: Healing Within, Homeless, Not Defeated, The Little Voice That Roared
🌷 A Mother’s Day Message from My Heart to Yours 🌷
To my beautiful mother,
To my incredible sisters,
To every woman who mothers with her heart, her hands, her prayers, or her presence —
Happy Mother’s Day.
Today, I honor the women who gave us life, shaped our lives, or held us when we felt like life was too much. I honor the mothers who raised us, the sisters who stood by us, and the women who mother others in ways unseen — through love, sacrifice, and silent strength.
To my own mother — thank you for your resilience, your lessons, your love.
To my sisters — your unwavering support is a light in my life.
To the women I’ve never met but feel deeply connected to — I see your quiet courage, your soft sacrifices, your radiant grace.
You are the breath between generations.
The voice that says, “You’ve got this” when no one else does.
The strength behind every comeback.
The stillness that holds brokenness, and the power that rises anyway.
Whether you’re a biological mother, a spiritual guide, a sister, a teacher, a warrior, or a woman simply doing her best each day — you matter.
You are loved.
You are essential.
Today, we honour you.
Every day, we need you.
Happy Mother’s Day — to every kind of mother.
You are what love looks like in motion. 💐
With deepest love and gratitude,
Samantha
Silent Screams, Loud Strength: A Podcast for Healing, Hope, and Reclaiming Your Voice
Silent Screams, Loud Strength: A Podcast for Healing, Hope, and Reclaiming Your VoiceBy Samantha Avril-Andreassen | Host of Silent Screams, Loud StrengthIn a world where survivors are often silenced, Silent Screams, Loud Strength is my answer — a trauma-informed podcast that amplifies the voices of those who’ve endured abuse, lost their homes, battled shame, and are now rising with truth and power.This podcast isn’t just a platform — it’s a lifeline.🔥 Why I Created Silent Screams, Loud StrengthAs a survivor of domestic abuse and systemic injustice, I know how it feels to be stripped of your safety, your home, your voice. I created this podcast to offer what I once needed most: a safe space to be heard, healed, and seen.Every episode is crafted with care, honesty, and a deep commitment to help you move from survival to self-worth.🎧 What You’ll Find InsideReal stories, real healing: I share raw personal experiences and tools for emotional recovery.Guided meditations: Including the Stillness Meets Strength healing series.Survivor empowerment: We dive into how to reclaim your voice, rebuild your life, and heal generational trauma.Children’s advocacy: Episodes inspired by The Little Voice That Roared, my children’s book empowering kids to speak up.Spiritual reflections: For those on a faith-based healing journey, rooted in prayer, journaling, and forgiveness.
🧠 Who It’s ForSurvivors of domestic abuseWomen rebuilding after traumaAdvocates and support workersListeners seeking mental health-friendly contentAnyone learning to reclaim self-respect and identity
Whether you’ve been silenced by shame or dismissed by the systems meant to protect you, this podcast is here to remind you: you are not what happened to you — you are who you choose to become.📱 Where to ListenSilent Screams, Loud Strength is available on:🎧 Spotify🍎 Apple Podcasts🌐 samanthaavrilandreassen.com
💬 What Listeners Are Saying“This podcast saved me from feeling invisible. Samantha speaks the truth we’re too often told to hide.” – Listener, UK
“Every episode is like a breath of truth. Raw, real, and empowering.” – Survivor Advocate, US
📢 Join the MovementIf you're ready to step into your truth, reclaim your power, and rise from the silence, I invite you to join me.
Subscribe. Share. Speak. Heal.Because your story matters.
Because stillness and strength can exist in the same breath.
Because silence is no longer the final word.🌐 Visit samanthaavrilandreassen.com
📖 Read my books: Silent Screams, Loud Strength, Healing Within, The Little Voice That Roared
🎙 Podcast IG: @sammyjoaa