Donna Lyon

An image of Donna Lyon sparring in a gym. She has short bleached blonde hair and is wearing a sage green tank with black shorts. She has pink cloth wrapped around her hands and wrists and is looking off to the side with a focused gaze. Her left arm is up and her right arm is guarding her body, as if she is going to punch.

Interview by Jen, August 2026

Donna Lyon is a co-founder of GrassRoots, under the pseudonym Leni. She’s also an Associate Professor in the Faculty of Fine Arts and Music at the University of Melbourne, Australia, a RAMCOA survivor, and the founder and CEO of the survivor led non-profit, Left Write Hook.

Through a number of synchronistic events and opportunities, and sheer determination, Donna’s healing journey has impacted many survivors of abuse. Currently, her non-profit, Left Write Hook, helps people heal through a unique combination of journaling and boxing. It’s been featured in an award winning documentary and is a research trial with the University of Melbourne, where the University is measuring the program’s effectiveness. There is also a book of survivors’ stories from the program.

In this interview, Donna speaks about her healing journey that led to working at the university and founding Left Write Hook. We at GrassRoots are so grateful for all her talents and time that she contributed to GrassRoots, and we wish her every success with her endeavours.

Documentary: www.leftwritehook.film
Charity: www.leftwritehook.org
Book: https://www.lhpress.com/store/Left-Write-Hook-p385466559
(Also available on Amazon.)
Research: https://leftwritehook.org/research

1. You started remembering your abuse when you were about 25 years old. What impact did that have on your life at the time, and could you share a little about those early stages of your healing journey?

Life changed overnight when I remembered my abuse, but it took years to get there. This sudden change shattered my foundation; it took even more years to find new anchors. I had no language or understanding for what was going on.

It took six years to learn I had dissociation (a common amount of time, according to research). So for years I felt alone, crazy, depressed, and suicidal. Drinking became my crutch. I hit rock bottom at 32 years old, walked into a twelve step recovery room and began to rebuild my life. 

Healing was hard and I went “all guns blazing” to survive. From prayer ministry to twelve step programs, to therapy, to exercise, to recovery podcasts. You name it, I was doing it. I wanted to die so badly, but held on tight. As I continued to take action and show up to do the work, things began to get better.

2. What inspired you to start working with Jean and Rivers, and to become an activist in the survivor community, including starting GrassRoots with them? 

I felt very alone for many years. I was a big fan of Jean’s blog and sometimes commented on her posts. She always responded to her readers. I blogged, too, under the pseudonym Leni, because I wanted to develop a language to express my inner system and record my feelings, memories, and daily life with parts. I began to connect with other survivors like me and felt a little less alone. 

One day, Jean put a call out to other survivors who identified as polyfragmented. Even though I didn’t fully understand what being polyfragmented meant, I joined the group. My mind had split into what felt like hundreds or even thousands of parts. No one/nothing fully formed, just feeling states/senses, impressions, and a mash up of thoughts. I felt split by design and Jean and the group seemed to understand.

The group became my safe haven. It felt like the first time I could truly be myself. Despite the horrendous abuse and memory fragmentation we had all experienced, people in the group continued to demonstrate how resilient and creative they were in daily life. That gave me hope and courage. We called our group “Fragments” and it was the only place I could freely talk about programming and SRA/RAMCOA. 

Forming GrassRoots was Jean’s idea and Jean is so charming and convincing (in a good way), it was hard to say no when she asked me. However, I don’t feel like an activist. I see myself more as someone who creates spaces for conversation and change.

3. What was it like in the early days of GrassRoots and being a part of getting this organization going?

I loved collaborating with Rivers and Jean. We held a few poetry events and I led a writing group. The experience was truly grassroots and we built things from the ground up. After about a year, I began to further develop my own project, Left Write Hook—a writing and boxing project that turned into a feature documentary. Life started to become very busy and so I needed to step down from Grassroots. I felt sad and it was very hard to let go.

4. Yes, in 2019, you started a small boxing program at your local gym. Now, some years later, it has morphed into a national movement across Australia, the non-profit, Left Write Hook. Writing and boxing is an unusual combination. Could you share a bit about your journey with Left Write Hook?

I started boxing in my mid 30s as a way to release anger. I quickly realised boxing was much more than anger and aggression; it became a form of mindfulness that I otherwise struggled to achieve. I wanted desperately to beat my dissociation, to “beat my abusers,” but really I was just boxing with myself to find a way back into my body. At the same time, I was writing and the process felt hard and draining. Inner voices would often berate me and the writing left me sleepy and depressed. 

After a couple of years of an amateur fighting journey where I clocked up more losses than wins, I decided to hang up my boots. But I desired to meet other survivors like me and I thought maybe I could teach boxing. I decided to combine writing and boxing as a way to creatively connect and share, and then express emotions on a boxing bag. I guess I started the program for me, but it became something else and forever changed my life. Left Write Hook is now a multi award winning feature documentary, a book of survivor stories (also on Amazon), a survivor led charity, and a research trial with the University of Melbourne, which is helping to inform Left Write Hook’s evidence base.

My current vision for Left Write Hook is to get government support for the program, and to license it so that it can reach more people around the world. 

5. On Left Write Hook’s website, you wrote about how your love of art, film, and education lent themselves perfectly to your starting this organization. What parts of starting (and running) this organization have been easy for you? Where have you had to stretch, grow, and learn new skills?

I’m a trained producer. This means I know how to take an idea from concept to market. So in many ways, developing the overall project, including a film, a book, and then an organisation, has been a natural fit. But it’s pushed me into new territory and, at times, been overwhelming! Every day I have to stretch, grow, and learn new skills. Whether it’s finding money, pitching, developing policies, managing a small team, or writing grant applications, it’s been a massive learning curve. 

I think my biggest learning has been how to lead authentically and from my adult self. I’ve had to learn how to identify what I want and need, how to imagine, how to prioritise self care, how to advocate for what I believe, and how to set boundaries. I’m still learning every day and sometimes it’s very hard, but I have a strong faith and conviction and keep focused on that. 

6. You’re also an Associate Professor at the University of Melbourne, in the Faculty of Fine Arts and Music. How has your past trauma and your healing informed how you approach your role as an associate professor? And how has being an associate professor in the arts impacted your healing?

I’ve mostly kept the details of my abuse background private from my work. I am just an “out” survivor of childhood sexual abuse (and sometimes I say ritual abuse, incest, or organised abuse). I talk about the impacts the abuse had on my life and a bit about my dissociation, but I like to focus on recovery.

My healing happened alongside me re-building my career at the university. I explored some of my memories and trauma awakening during my PhD—a digital archive project—and then in my work of Left Write Hook. The digital archive project was founded because of my lived/living experience, and I think because I grounded my experiences in creative practice research, it became less about my story and more about me being a story amongst other stories (given the prevalence of abuse).

I’m grateful for being part of an institution that has valued and, in many ways, celebrated my lived experience. 

7. How do you balance your work and many projects with your healing and finding enough time for yourself? What brings you joy?

Balance is hard for me. Workaholism has been a great self soother for me, alongside creative projects. Despite being busy, though, life is quite simple. I live with three dogs, my girlfriend, and sometimes her son. I love boxing and going to the gym. 

At times, I feel joy has been stripped from me and find myself often returning to a deep sadness and tiredness. So I see joy as a practice. I find joy in teaching and leading workshops and writing. I find joy in the feeling of love when I can access it, and letting myself be silly, which is not that often. And I find joy in boxing and moving my body through punching and lifting heavy weights. 

8.  What legacy would you like to leave behind for survivors and the world in general? 

I’d like to leave behind a legacy that says: “Even though you tried to stop me, I still got up and I did it. I produced films, wrote books, and founded a charity. I continued to show up, even when it was hard. And I built myself from the ground up with very few role models other than my sister, which is incredible because she didn’t have anyone to inspire her. I watered a small seed of hope inside of myself and eventually it grew and grew and grew.” 

9. What message would you like to give to other survivors and/or their allies?

It sounds cliché, but hang in there. Life can be incredibly hard, but there are also moments of real joy, connection, and freedom. Recovery isn’t linear, and healing doesn’t mean everything suddenly becomes easy. But those moments where you feel present, connected, and fully yourself can make the fight worth it. I hope other survivors can find the fighter within them, keep backing themselves, and keep moving towards a life that feels more like their own.