When Is It Time to Stop, and Save Yourself?

Over the past 25 years, there have been moments in my work when I’ve had to ask clients a question they least want to hear, but often most need to consider:

Is it time to bring these proceedings to an end, even without the outcome you hoped for, and walk away?

On several occasions, I have raised this question myself. On others, clients have found the strength to say it first and asked me to help them take the difficult step of closing their case and writing to the court.

Both situations are painful. Yet in every instance, judges have recognised the finality and seriousness of those decisions. They have seen no benefit in forcing people back into court one last time. Quietly, and without further trauma, those cases were brought to a close.

The wrong reasons to go to court

If you enter the family court seeking a fight, revenge, or a sense of victory, you are there for the wrong reasons.

If you pursue your own objectives blindly, without regard for professional advice, evidence, or, most importantly, what the children themselves have expressed, you are also there for the wrong reasons.

And in some cases, court proceedings are used as an extension of domestic abuse: repeated allegations, excessive applications, and deliberate attempts to prolong litigation in order to cause financial or emotional harm to an ex-partner.

Those people exist, and they must be recognised. But they are not who I am talking about here.

I am talking about those who entered the process honestly and naively, believing the court would help them and deliver the contact or outcomes they hoped for.

When the process takes over

It is not unusual for even the simplest case to spiral.
A single comment, a forgotten incident, or a disclosure from the past can trigger expert assessments, additional reports, further statements, lengthy fact-finding hearings, altered welfare recommendations, multiple hearings, and even appeals. Before you know it, you are two or three years in, tens of thousands of pounds poorer, emotionally exhausted, and far from where you began.

There are, of course, legitimate welfare reasons for this. But even where concerns are genuine, the legal process can become disproportionate to the original goal. Solicitors, particularly in publicly funded cases, can sometimes encourage clients to pursue ever-expanding litigation without fully appreciating the toll it takes.

The impact is devastating: mentally, emotionally, and financially, even for the very clients Solicitors claim to be “winning” for.

A case driven by anger or revenge, rather than child welfare, almost always becomes unsustainable.

Why I see this differently

I do not work like that.

For 10 years, I was trapped in the family court while my ex-husband used it as a tool of ongoing abuse. I should have walked away long before I did.

I spent over £150,000 in the first three years, which 25 years ago was a lot of money. My life became consumed by applications, statements, reports and hearings. I experienced severe PTSD and, on one occasion, was subjected to nearly five days of personal cross-examination by my abuser during a fact-finding hearing.

Much of that would not be allowed today, but I can still see, very early on, when a case is heading off the rails and when the person in front of me would be better off saving themselves.

When should you consider walking away?

A party should consider stepping back when the emotional, financial and psychological costs outweigh any realistic benefit, especially when litigation itself becomes the driving force.

Children must always remain the priority. But if a parent is no longer mentally strong enough to continue, or their financial stability is at risk, an honest question must be asked:

Should you carry on?

I often compare it to the airline safety briefing: you must put on your own oxygen mask before helping others. If the court process destroys your health or financial security, you will not be able to care for your children, now or in the future.

Key warning signs include:

·    Emotional and mental harm: ongoing stress that seriously affects your wellbeing.

·    Emotion-driven litigation: where personal grievances overshadow children’s welfare.

·    Unsustainable costs: legal fees that threaten your financial survival.

·    Lack of progress: years of litigation with no meaningful improvement or realistic prospect of success.

How do you walk away?

Walking away is not as simple as stopping attendance or ignoring correspondence. That can make matters worse and expose you to cost consequences.

Every client I have supported through this process has wanted to tell the court exactly how they feel. That is entirely natural, but rarely helpful in its raw form.

So I ask them to write a letter to me, as if I were the judge. No filters. No restraint. Complete with swearing and spelling mistakes. Everything they have ever wanted to say.

I never send that letter.

But I read it carefully and extract the truth within it: the struggle, the fear, the exhaustion, and, above all, the love for their children. I then weave those elements into a carefully structured statement and formal application to withdraw from proceedings.

This ensures clients feel heard, while the court receives a measured, dignified explanation of an extraordinarily difficult decision, but my clients true feelings cannot go unheard by anyone reading that letter at court.

That statement becomes part of the court file.

And that matters.

Because one day, when the children involved are adults, they may request access to the court file. They may discover, perhaps for the first time, their parent’s real voice, explaining why they chose to step away before losing themselves.

That letter could be the difference between lifelong silence and a future reconnection.

Sometimes, walking away is not giving up.

Sometimes, it is the bravest way to protect yourself, and your children.