
When a man is abused by his partner, he often suffers twice: first at home, then in silence.
He calls it stress. A bad patch.
He stays for his children, keeps going, keeps hoping.
Meanwhile, coercive control tightens, fear deepens, and one question grows impossible to ignore: where do I even start?
Frank knows that question well.
He was still paying the mortgage the night she slapped him in front of his children.
He slept on the couch of his own home for months, broke, in debt, and paralysed by the fear of losing his kids.
If any part of Frank's story sounds familiar, this guide was written for you.
Breaking Free - A Guide to Navigating Divorce for Men in Abusive Relationships, written by family law solicitor Oluseye Oyediran, is a plain English legal guide for men in England and Wales navigating divorce and domestic abuse.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Breaking-Free-Navigating-Divorce-Relationships-ebook/dp/B0GHZGFNVX/
It puts the law firmly in your corner: legal protections for male victims, safe evidence documentation, what to expect from family court, and how child arrangements and financial settlements are resolved.
Frank's journey takes him from that couch to freedom, secured shared custody, and a fair financial settlement.
This guide is not about revenge.
It is about legal clarity, practical protection, and a credible path forward to a fresh and fair start.
You should not, and do not, stand alone in the pursuit of fairness.
The law is on your side.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Breaking-Free-Navigating-Divorce-Relationships-ebook/dp/B0GHZGFNVX/
Early in his career, Mr Oyediran believed male victimisation by partners was heartbreakingly rare.
As his reputation for handling these matters with dignity and discretion spread through word of mouth, the trickle became a current, and the current became a revelation.
It became devastatingly clear that the real issue was not the frequency of the abuse; it was the weight of silence.
A silence most profound in communities with strong patriarchal traditions.
Traditions where admitting to being beaten or controlled by a wife or partner is not just a personal failure; it is a betrayal of a cultural script.
Exacerbated by the lack of targeted legal support, leaving survivors profoundly isolated and underserved.
This guide is his way of reaching through the isolation and placing a steady hand on a stooped shoulder.
It is the result of conversations he has had in the quiet of his office, now written for the man who cannot make the call or cannot sit across the desk from him.
It is his quiet, unwavering promise that the silence ends here.
You are not alone. There is a way out.
This guide is a practical, plain-English roadmap for men navigating divorce while experiencing domestic abuse in
England and Wales.
It explains what the family law process looks like in real life, for example, working with solicitors, protections, important
evidence, key stages, and forms.
The goal is simple: help you make safer choices and avoid mistakes.
This guide is not anti-women.
It does not encourage retaliation, harassment, or breaches of court orders.
It is not a promise of a particular outcome, a shortcut through the courts, or a ‘win at all costs’ playbook.
It is not legal advice and cannot replace a solicitor who knows your facts.
And if you are in immediate danger, this guide is not your emergency response. Call 999 (or 101 for non-emergencies)
and get urgent help.
Use this guide to get informed and prepared.
Then get tailored advice for your specific case.
This guide uses the journey of a client avatar named Frank, from hopelessness to breaking free.
It is written in plain English and divided into 3 sections, that cover 13 chapters.
I have provided a brief overview of the first six chapter of the guide.
Here's a snippet of Frank's story:
The rain hammered against my office windows that November evening.
I heard the front door open downstairs. Heavy footsteps climbed slowly, pausing on each step.
A man appeared in my doorway, soaked through.
Water dripped from his jacket onto the carpet.
His shoulders hunched forward as if he were bracing for impact.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly in weeks.
“Mr Oyediran?” “Jon said… he said you might be able to help.”
“Please,” I said. “Call me Olu. Come in. Sit down.”
He lowered himself into the chair across my desk.
His hands trembled slightly.
He pressed them flat against his thighs to steady them.
For a long moment, he stared at the floor.
“I don’t know where to start,” he said finally.
I’ve heard those words many times.
Men come to my office broken.
They come confused, ashamed, terrified.
They’ve been told their experiences don’t count.
Society tells them men cannot be victims.
But they are. And they deserve help.
“Start wherever feels right,” I told him. “We have time.”
His name was Frank. He was forty-two years old.
Once, he managed travel services for a large corporation.
Now he drove for Uber.
He had three children: Emma, 11; Jake, 9; and Tom, 7.
He was soaking wet because he’d walked here.
His car had broken down months ago.
His wife controlled the family finances.
He couldn’t afford the bus fare, let alone a taxi.
“I need to know,” he said, looking up at me finally.
“Is what’s happening to me… abuse?”...