Deciding to leave an abuser can be a long, hard road. For me, I had to reach the point of no return, where I knew it was no longer an option to stay – my children were in danger, and I was at extreme risk of being killed. I left after almost 18 years of pretending things would improve and that my then husband would realise he was hurting me and our children with his abuse.
After so many years I finally concluded that the abuse was not going away. If anything, it was increasing.
While deciding to leave, I was advised by social services to find outside support before the actual leaving. This is critical advice because women and children are most at risk of escalated violence, even homicide, at the abuser’s hands when that person senses they are losing control over their family. Support at this time can provide the safety of those getting out from under the control in the form of housing, emotional support, financial support and as a buffer between the victim and the abuser. Seeking help from people you feel safe with and trust, before, during and after leaving, can minimise the level of violence you may be subjected to when the abuser knows you are desperate to leave, and they are desperate to maintain control over you.
In my story, leaving involved the Department of Community Services taking my children and me to a women’s refuge. My family then came from interstate and took us back with them, removing us from a volatile situation with potentially disastrous repercussions (the perpetrator had easy access to guns and had threatened to kill me with a gun and these factors put my abuse in the high alert category). We were urged to put as great a distance between us and my husband as possible.
For me, leaving meant getting away to another state and finding a possible freedom for myself and the children, away from constant family violence and complete control over everything we said and did every day of our lives.
At this point, I’d like to say it is important to understand that it is virtually impossible in isolation to stop an abuser abusing you. As it is their choice to abuse another, so it is their choice to cease abusing. Seeking help is vital in reducing abuse and changing an abuser’s behaviour.
The need for support is critical
Without the initial support I received from the domestic violence refuge at the time of leaving, I may never have understood the true nature of family abuse and the real horror of what I was experiencing, nor that I was putting my children and myself at a greater risk of violence the longer we remained with the abuser. What we victims need more than anything is to be listened to, believed, and not judged, with the listener being guided by the victim rather than telling that person what they must do. In crisis situations, however, directives rather than suggestions for action are necessary.
In my Future Women There’s No Place Like Home podcast episode, Sally, general manager of the Illawarra Women’s Health Centre, talks about how important it is to have services that provide trauma and violence-informed support. The centre mentioned uses a new model of care they hope will be employed nationally, where the centre is a one-stop wraparound service providing mental, health, legal support, help with Centrelink and fast referral pathways. Their support is community-based and community-responsive. This is the sort of support victims need, and offers real and long-lasting solutions to real-world abuse issues.
Such a centre would be hugely welcome in Tasmania.
A victim, especially after long-term abuse such as I went through, expresses trauma physically and mentally and can often sound irrational or deeply upset. My mother saw that in me when I left the abuser, yet she saw beyond how I presented and provided her shoulder for me to cry on. She gave me support whenever I had to go to Centrelink, crisis housing, Family Court, Magistrates Court, the police, Legal Aid … the list went on. Often, she had to hold me upright when I’d collapse in an office crying in front of staff. She took us on outings mainly to entertain my children and visits to our relatives to reunite us to family members we hadn’t seen in 15 years.
My mother passed away last year. I will always acknowledge her invaluable strength and the help she gave us at a time of vulnerability.
In my mother’s words: “I was introduced into my daughter’s world by the most brutal of means. She had asked me to accompany her to Southport Police Station on Queensland’s Gold Coast so that she could take out an AVO against her husband. As I sat next to her, a police constable asked her a series of questions and it was only then that I found out that Deb had been subjected to 17 years of physical, mental, and verbal abuse. I had, unbelievably as it now seems, no idea what was occurring. Even more unbelievable was the fact that Deb seemed confused by the horrified reaction of the young constable and my own appalled disbelief. At one stage, she turned to me and the constable and asked, ‘Isn’t this what most marriages are like?’
“I discovered later that Deb’s ex-husband’s mother had told her often that all men beat their wives and that she shouldn’t aggravate him when he was tired from working hard. My daughter had spent many years with a man who could only be described as psychopathic. To be introduced in this manner to the realities of her life was horrendous.
“I had known (her husband) to be an arrogant, controlling, narcissistic individual and had often wondered why Deb gravitated to him, but she had assured me that he was a good husband and father and his bursts of temper when my own mother and I visited them were caused simply by the fact that he found our presence frustrating. We were only permitted to visit a couple of times a year, and even then were urged not to stay more than a few days. I had several clashes with him over the years, and mum and I were always relieved to be able to board the coach to return home.
“The courts and their so-called counsellors were very much against Deb and for her husband. He had managed to convince everyone that he was the aggrieved party, and that Deb was mentally unbalanced, and that I was some sort of domineering witch who led her astray. Deb was a beaten woman at that time, incapable of thinking clearly, terrified of every loud noise and suffering dreadful migraines that meant she was hospitalised on a regular basis. There seemed to be no-one who could provide the emotional support she needed. I only hope that this has changed for the better and that essential services for abused women are widely accessible. Without support so many women will suffer needlessly.
“I would like to make clear that there is not just one victim in these cases. Entire families are changed forever once it becomes known that a loved family member has been subjected to torment over many years. Because of my daughter’s enforced isolation and her denial that her environment was toxic, I had no way of knowing the extent of the brutality she faced almost daily. If only the person involved could find a means of communicating with those closest to them potentially so much agony could be spared.
“I now know there are various indications that things are perhaps not what they seem. Families must be vigilant. If there is suspicion, it must be followed up, regardless of denials from the person involved.
“My daughter is one of the lucky ones. She has survived and thrived. Many others are not so fortunate, and it is only by staying aware that we can help to prevent the continuation of violence against women in the one place that should be their sanctuary – their homes. I suffered under the misapprehension that women involved in domestic violence situations always had the option of leaving the partnership. I learnt from my daughter that this is a misconception. Deb kept up the pretence that her life with Wayne was in every way normal. Only when she finally realised life with him was untenable and escaped to a refuge did I learn something of what she had undergone. My introduction to the reality behind her denials to me came when I listened to her outpouring – to the police in Southport – of the most violent and emotional abuse imaginable.
“I think it is necessary for people to understand that any event of violence has far-reaching repercussions, not just to the unfortunate victim of the assaults but to her entire family. Since learning of the abuse, every one of us has undergone varying degrees of trauma. My brother and sister both became very depressed and my brother, particularly, was appalled that the perpetrator of all this torture remained completely unpunished and unremorseful. He was also amazed that Deb survived to tell her story. There were several occasions when she was lucky to have escaped alive.
“On many occasions over those years I asked Deb whether her husband was physically abusing her. I was always met with complete denial and, since no-one in my family had experienced any form of domestic violence, and since I trusted Deb to confide in me as she always had in the past, I believed my concerns must be incorrect. I now understand the reason for her denials: the shame she felt for staying with the abuser, the fear for her safety should she leave and the belief that his abuse was her fault and her responsibility to fix.”
I’d like to conclude with this:
If you are healing from an abusive relationship, know that the most important thing to do is to forgive yourself.
If you find yourself in this situation, please seek support. At the very least, disclose your abuse to trusted friends and/or family.
An extremely effective way to get out of the darkness of guilt and shame is by shining a light on it. Start talking about it, don’t keep the feelings inside. Shame and guilt can only survive in darkness.
There is hope. Abuse thrives only in silence.
Deborah Thomson moved to Tasmania with her daughter in 2010, and now lives with her partner of nine years and a parrot. She moved to escape domestic violence and, inspired by her new partner, wrote her first book, Whose Life Is It Anyway? Recognising and Surviving Domestic Violence, to help others recognise abuse (and in particular coercive control), in the home, and to increase their motivation to leave earlier. After publishing her first book, she became a trained advocate through Engender Equality, a non-government Tasmanian organisation working with people and communities impacted by family violence. Deborah Thomson advocates for survivors of family violence, speaking at domestic violence events across Tasmania, through media channels and podcasts. She recently completed a second book, detailing lived experience with domestic violence by her then husband, spanning 17 years from 1985 to 2003. This book is now used in Tasmania as an information resource for family violence counsellors and students on practicals.