I didn’t find my old self again—I discovered a stronger woman within me.
My name is Tegan Picker, founder of Her Next Chapter. I am a mother of nine, a wife, an aspiring counsellor and a survivor of domestic abuse, marital rape and coercive control.
Her Next Chapter was born from lived experience. It grew from my belief that every woman deserves to feel heard, respected and supported—and that surviving one chapter does not mean it must define the rest of her story.
The Beginning of My Story
In 2014, I left the UK with my then-husband and our three children to live in Morocco, his family’s native country. Although he was British, Morocco was not my home country. I was a Muslim revert who did not speak the local language and had no established support network there.
My intentions for moving were sincere. I wanted to study and memorise the Quran, give my children the experience of living in a Muslim country and help them connect with their Moroccan heritage through their father.
However, the life that followed was very different from the one I had imagined.
While living in Morocco, I gave birth to my fourth child—a daughter born prematurely at just 31 weeks. During one of the most frightening and vulnerable periods of my life, I experienced an overwhelming lack of care, responsibility and concern from my husband.
My daughter survived neonatal care but later developed sepsis and MRSA, requiring life-saving treatment. While I was caring for our seriously ill baby and carrying the emotional and practical responsibilities of our family, my husband criticised me for no longer being my usual happy self or giving him enough attention as a wife.
He announced that he wanted to divorce me, but when I accepted that decision and expressed that I also wanted the marriage to end, everything changed.
Realising I Was Not the Problem
For years, I had carried responsibilities he repeatedly abandoned. I had become the person who ensured everything was handled because I knew that, if I did not do it, it might not get done.
When circumstances became difficult, I carried the family through them. Yet I was still made to feel that I was failing as a wife.
Eventually, I understood something that changed my life: I was not the problem.
No amount of patience, sacrifice or love could make another person choose kindness, accountability or consideration. I did not have the power—or the responsibility—to transform him into the husband and father he should have chosen to be.
I had to stop trying to fix him. I needed to protect myself and raise my children.
In 2015, I began consistently requesting a divorce. He refused. When he realised that I was serious, my desire to leave became an insult and a threat to his control.
Living Under Coercive Control
The abuse affected every area of my life. I experienced physical, verbal, emotional, sexual and financial abuse, alongside extreme isolation and coercive control.
My passport was taken from me. My children’s passports, birth certificates and other documents were withheld. My daughter, who had been born in Morocco, was not properly registered. Without identification or documentation, I felt as though neither I nor my children officially existed.
I did not have keys to my own home. At times, when my husband travelled to the UK for work, I could not safely leave the house with all my children because I would have no way to get back inside. We lived in an isolated village where I had limited access to transport, information, services or people who could help me.
My phone would be hidden or locked away. Numbers were deleted, and my mother was blocked from contacting me. My laptop was taken, and my friendships and Quran lessons were repeatedly disrupted. My children and I were locked inside the house.
At times, my breastfeeding baby was deliberately kept away from me while I could hear him crying. I was confined for hours while being shouted at, humiliated, threatened and pressured into sexual acts. Expressions of supposed love could be followed immediately by insults, degradation and claims that nobody else would ever want me.
This cycle was designed to exhaust, confuse and control me.
Motherhood, Survival and Marital Rape
My husband used pregnancy as another form of control. He said that if I had more children, no other man would want me and I would be unable to leave.
In 2016, I became pregnant through marital rape while already trying to escape the marriage. I felt physically and emotionally unable to face another pregnancy, but I discovered that abortion was illegal in Morocco. I had to come to terms with carrying the pregnancy and giving birth.
This happened twice more. Three of my children were conceived through marital rape during the years in which I was repeatedly asking to leave.
Pregnancy made me physically vulnerable and increasingly dependent in a country where I had no family, few friends and limited access to meaningful protection. Nevertheless, I continued caring for my children and searching for a way forward.
Leaving was not as simple as walking out of a door. I had no passport, no control over my children’s documents and no secure legal status for my marriage. Leaving without my children was never an option.
Trying to Find Help
Because our marriage had not been legally registered in Morocco, obtaining a divorce or Islamic annulment was extremely complicated. Marriages and divorces there had to pass through the courts, while local imams and mosques could not simply issue the form of annulment I needed.
I did not know where the relevant courts were or how to navigate the legal system. I could not easily communicate with local authorities, and English was not widely spoken in the area at that time. I also carried deep feelings of shame, fear and embarrassment.
For a long time, I hoped that if I asked enough, he would eventually agree to a peaceful separation. Instead, the abuse and control continued.
Through Quran lessons, often attended without his knowledge, I slowly formed friendships with local women. Moving from the isolated village into the city became an important turning point because it finally gave me greater access to the police and other services.
I called for help repeatedly. I screamed from windows and begged neighbours to contact the police, but people did not intervene. When the police became involved, I was repeatedly directed towards family-court arbitration rather than being given the protection I needed.
During arbitration, I listened as my husband portrayed himself as the responsible provider and described me as irrational, unstable and ungrateful for wanting a divorce after having so many children.
My experiences of the local system left me feeling that his voice was automatically treated as more rational and credible than mine. The pressure was always directed towards preserving the marriage, regardless of what was happening behind closed doors.
Even after he headbutted me in the stomach while I was heavily pregnant, causing me to bleed, meaningful protection did not follow.
Understanding What Was Happening
During this period, I secretly began counselling. Through that support, I learned about narcissistic patterns, coercive control and the cycle of abuse.
For the first time, I had language for what was happening to me.
Understanding the abuse did not immediately make escape possible, but it helped me hold on to my reality. It allowed me to recognise that the confusion I felt was not evidence that I was unstable—it was the result of prolonged manipulation, fear and trauma.
I began rebuilding my inner strength before I had the physical freedom to rebuild my life.
It took more than five years of asking, planning, surviving and refusing to surrender before I was finally able to leave, secure my divorce and bring my children safely to the UK. Some of my children were born in Britain and others were born during our years in Morocco, making the legal and practical journey home even more complex.
But we made it home.
Beginning My Next Chapter
Leaving did not mean that every difficulty disappeared. I returned carrying the effects of years of fear, control and trauma. I experienced post-traumatic stress reactions and had to learn how to feel safe, make independent decisions and trust myself again.
With counselling, reflection and practical tools, I gradually rebuilt my life. I learned about boundaries, values, self-respect, emotional triggers and the importance of recognising unhealthy patterns.
I did not simply return to the woman I had been before the abuse. I discovered a new version of myself—stronger, more aware and more capable than I had ever realised.
Today, I am remarried to the love of my life, raising my nine children and continuing my education towards becoming a counsellor supporting women affected by abuse and trauma.
I am not perfect, and healing has not always followed a straight line. Some experiences still leave traces, but the triggers have become less frequent and less powerful. Every day provides another opportunity to grow.
Why I Created Her Next Chapter
For more than a decade, I have informally supported women in my community by listening, encouraging and helping them make sense of difficult circumstances. After the birth of my ninth child, I decided to take this work seriously and dedicate my future to helping women rebuild their lives.
Her Next Chapter exists for the woman who feels lost inside her relationship.
It is for the woman who has spent so long meeting everyone else’s needs that she no longer recognises her own.
It is for the woman who questions her judgement, minimises what has happened or wonders whether she is somehow to blame.
It is also for the woman who has already left but does not know who she is now.
Through experience-led coaching, advocacy, educational resources and compassionate support, I help women:
- Recognise coercive control and unhealthy relationship patterns
- Understand different forms of domestic abuse
- Identify and communicate personal boundaries
- Rediscover their values, needs and identity
- Rebuild confidence and trust in their judgement
- Set manageable goals and practical next steps
- Move forward without shame or judgement
I cannot promise to erase someone’s past, and I will never tell a woman what decision she must make. What I can offer is a space where she can feel heard, begin understanding her experiences and remember that her voice matters.
Your Story Is Not Over
I know how it feels to believe that there is no way out. I also know that a woman can rebuild after circumstances that once seemed impossible.
You are not weak because someone exploited your patience, compassion or loyalty. You are not responsible for another person’s decision to abuse or control you. You are allowed to want safety, dignity, peace and a future that belongs to you.
What happened may always be part of your story—but it does not have to write the ending.
This can be the beginning of your next chapter.
Tegan Picker
Founder of Her Next Chapter
Mother • Survivor • Advocate • Aspiring Counsellor
Her Next Chapter provides experience-led coaching, education, resources and advocacy. It is not a substitute for counselling, psychotherapy, medical care, legal advice, specialist domestic-abuse services or emergency assistance.