In July 1808, the Dublin Evening Post reported a short, startling case:

'A ruffian, named Patrick Curran, who split his wife’s ear, and cut her with a hammer, was sentenced to be imprisoned three months'.

Other papers repeated the story, adding that Mrs. Curran was a 'poor forgiving wretch'. She admitted her husband had 'often done so before'… but forgave him.

In this episode of The Forgotten, we delve into what that tiny article reveals: violence, law, silence, and survival in nineteenth-century Ireland. We’ll trace echoes into modern reporting, including a 2019 case where forgiveness again became the headline, and reflect on coercive control, forced resilience, and why so many court cases look like a Historical Hot Mess Express of injustice.

Because abuse is not new. But silence doesn’t have to continue.

Welcome to the very first episode of 'Abuse, Loosely Based on True Events' - a strand of 'Becca Does Things,' my project about reclaiming life after abuse.

This strand is where I share my own abuse stories, survival truths, and the messy ways I’m reclaiming joy… with sarcasm, dark humour, and probably too much honesty.

In this opening episode, I share my very first memory of abuse: being locked in a cupboard as a child while my mum and her partner laughed outside. I talk about silence, betrayal, the impact of domestic abuse on children, and the teenage boyfriend (and his mum) who gave me safety when I needed it most.

It’s not an easy story, but it’s where everything begins. Because yes, my first memory of abuse was the cupboard. But my first memory of healing was telling someone who loved me — and being believed.

Welcome to Becca Does Things - a podcast where history meets survival. I’m Becca, a historian and abuse survivor, reclaiming my life through joy and storytelling. Each week, I’ll share stories of domestic abuse across history alongside my own reflections as a survivor. From Tudor kings to ordinary families, from Victorian courtrooms to modern voices, this podcast explores how abuse was minimised, how survivors resisted, and how joy itself is resistance.