Telling Their Stories

I could tell you about why this little piece of home is called Red Shoe...

I could tell you about the moment I knew I was in love with female portraiture...

I could tell you of the beauty and wonder I see in each and every woman I photograph......

I could tell you the moment I found joy in ‪#tellingtheirstories‬

I could tell you that this Red Shoe girl is more fearless than she will ever know.

But what I want the most?

Is to hear you….just you.

I want to feature more voices on my blog…I want to be the platform for your voice. You can talk about anything you wish, in your own words, you can have your name printed or be anonymous.

Inspired by you my beautiful Red Shoe Girls, inspired by you telling it all and accepting yourself for who you are right now, I am now accepting written submissions for #TellingTheirStories at Red Shoe

Sarah xx


Who am I? That’s a good question, I am so many things that my head spins and my mind reels

Who am I? I don’t really know....

I loved a man that hurt me in so many ways, broke me, beat me down, crushed my dreams, my hopes, and shattered my confidence, yet I stayed....

Am I a fool or brainwashed?

I went back time and time again, after visits to a&e and when he was let out of the cells and I refused to press charges.
I lost all my friends and hurt my family, broke their hearts. I then isolated myself to save everyone from more hurt, lied, hid myself away, they couldn’t see I deserved it so I wanted to protect them.

Am I selfish or selfless?

I finally cracked after waking up on the floor in a pool of my own blood, I climbed out of a window and fled, but for how long?

Long enough to break the hold... To rebuild what I had broken?

No, I was close, closer than I had ever been before but the pull of a love so strong, an obsession with the man that hurt me drew me back in.

He wanted a baby... I couldn’t bring a new life into this madness, could I? It might fix everything; he wouldn’t hurt me and a baby?

Delusional or hopeful?

I felt different, I was sick, drained I knew I was pregnant but to scared to confirm it, what was I doing?

I took the test, a baby, my baby, an innocent life that needed love and protection….

Who am I… a protector or enabler?

I ran…. Escaped, the love for the unborn baby spurring me on. I had found something worth fighting for, I wasn’t worth it but this child was.

Who am I?

Am I broken, damaged, defined by the scares on my body and mind or am I a survivor, strong and determined pushing forward out of the fire that almost engulfed me?

I still don’t know, but I do know I am a single mother with a love so fierce it roars in my mind.

6 years on and free.