I have recently celebrated my 69th birthday. I have three adult sons, six grand children and one great grandchild, all of whom I love dearly. Last December marked 51 years since I was married and next month will be 30 years since I finally left the marriage.
Despite the research I have done, together with almost five years of counselling, I still suffer from the impact of 20 years of domestic violence. I have been diagnosed as suffering from a form of post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
I am aware of the triggers that cause me anxiety, sadness, insecurity and vulnerability. I find myself crying during news items and documentaries about violence to women and children.
Recent murders of five women reduced me to tears, particularly the one that occurred in front of one woman’s child. I make angry retorts when I hear judges make stupid and ill informed comments from the Bench; I cringe at angry voices and jump at crimes of violence on TV.
My hands still shake when I’m being treated with disrespect or angry outbursts, and not a day goes by when I’m not forced to recall some event in my past. I’m reminded at these times how destructive and permanent the acts of violence and denigration can be to the human psyche. Bruises heal in time; the impact of denigration and demeaning language and verbal abuse take much longer and may never really recede.
Sometimes I think that having your car stolen outside your home brings forth more sympathy than being violated inside by the father of your children who had always purported to love you.
He was a sane, rational, logical person outside the home, but a cruel dictator inside it. Thankfully, my counsellor believed me from the outset and has validated my insights and feelings.
COURAGE TO SPEAK OUT
So what changed to lift the “veil of silence” about this man? A couple of months ago a man with an alleged mental illness brutally murdered his son, Luke Batty, in front of his mother in Victoria. This boy was only 11 years old — just a couple of years younger than my much-loved youngest grandson.
Like most people I was outraged, horrified and saddened by the death of this young boy. What also got to me was the courage of his bereaved mother. In the midst of her enormous shock, pain and grief, she spoke out on behalf of all brutalised women. I thought, “If she can do that, why am I still silent?”
Her courage was empowering. I’m only too aware of the possible negative outcomes of my speaking out by some who know me and also from strangers. I do know that for every one who criticises me there’ll be many women who’ll applaud my speaking out at last, and hopefully others who’ll feel enabled to leave their abuser and fight for the future we all deserve — free from violence. I realise that the only way to “stop the violence” is to “end the silence”.
I want my grand children, indeed all young people to know that abuse in any relationship is not to be tolerated; that people who really love you don’t use their power to be cruel, vicious and demeaning. I want them to know that speaking out is a human right; that it’s not “airing my dirty linen”; that survivors are not the people who should feel shame and blame.
By speaking out I hand back the responsibility for his behaviour to him — because that’s where it belongs.
The years of denigration and verbal abuse are often more dangerous and disabling than the physical violence. You end up believing that your life is meaningless; you’re a “non person” and voiceless.
If, in spite of this, you seek help only to be ridiculed or ignored, it can take many years before you have the courage to risk telling someone again. Every attempt to silence you, every doubtful glance, and every negative word adds another layer to the pain and anguish you already feel.
In the early 1960s, a Chamber Magistrate’s “concern” for me and my then two toddlers was to tell me to “go home, be a good wife and cook his favourite meal”. There was no concern for my welfare and not one word about any damage to my children. This only reinforced what my then husband had been saying for years, that I was a useless, worthless person who deserved all his abuse. There was nowhere else to go. I just had to get on with it.
My husband always physically assaulted me in private. He usually whacked me around the head and upper part of my body, so there’d be no bruises or scars for others to see. After all, he had to protect his standing in his community?
I could fit under his arm. Even when pregnant he was at least 20 kilograms heavier than me.
It is ludicrous to even hint that the blame should be equally shared. I recall one occasion when I knew I was going to be hit around the head again. I lifted my foot to get him first; he grabbed my foot and flipped me onto the floor on my back. It hurt like hell and almost winded me.
An x-ray many years later (for a different condition) showed an old fracture of my spine. My left knee will probably have to be repaired or replaced eventually, again due to his violence. I learnt that self-defence was not a sensible option.
PSYCHOLOGICAL TERROR
During the latter years of the marriage he tried other forms of psychological terror. He hid my keys and I did not notice until I was ready to walk out the door to work. The three children had already gone to school by this time. Finally I rang him just to ask if he’d seen them, and after hearing that particular laugh I knew what he’d done.
He kept on goading, tormenting and abusing me for some time for not being smart enough to know they’d gone. He enjoyed the fear and anxiety I’d feel, as well as the knowledge that I’d have to rely on his “good side” to put an end to it. He’d only relent after I’d break down, crying and insistent that I’d be late for work. By this time he knew that I’d have had to ring work and tell them I’d be late — again.
He tried several other methods of this type of harassment. First he removed the rotor button out of my car; then on at least three occasions he took my car out of the garage and hid it one or two streets over on the opposite side of the street without my knowledge. I had to walk to the beginning of those streets before I could see it. Again, I’d be reduced to tears, with body shaking and not knowing what to expect next.
After these types of occurrences I’d be waiting for the next event. Would he tamper with my car and make it unsafe? Who could I tell? Who’d believe me? The logical answer is to call the police, but after past experiences I had no faith in them. Also, every event just adds another layer to your lack of self worth.
If the police weren’t interested in my being assaulted, they’d hardly care about these “harmless” events? It might even amuse them. What if they laughed too?
He took great delight in locking me out of the house. On occasions my children would have been aware of me being locked out, but at other times he did it quietly without any witnesses. This was a consistent form of punishment over most of our marriage. I felt impotent and alone — too ashamed and embarrassed to tell anyone. What would they think of me?
I even recall thinking that the people I worked with respected my abilities; would they still have that view once they learned that I was being abused? People need to realise the power that this type of abuse holds over you. His violence, his acts of bastardry, his pleasure in my pain made me feel guilty and ashamed.
Your self worth is ground down each day. Each day brings reinforcement of your lack of importance almost to the point of not being acknowledged as a person.
He constantly told me I was useless, an emotional wreck who needed to see a psychiatrist and a bad mother. It is just awful to realise that the man you love, the father of your children has such a low opinion of you, that abusive language is all you deserve.
I’d almost physically shrink, but the hurtful impact is still with me now, and probably always will be. When this happens day in and day out for 20 years, it’s layer upon layer of abuse — and this is what causes the destruction of self worth resulting in future trauma — and why it’s a recognised form of PTSD. Even after 50 years.
LOOKING AFTER THE CHILDREN
I was the primary care giver for almost all of the children’s needs; which also included their illnesses or life’s situations that made them unhappy or distressed. His comment was usually, “Well you can sit up all night, but I have to go to work in the morning?”
Well for the last 10 years of our marriage — so did I. Caring for children was obviously not considered work, even when I suffered from lack of sleep, which was often. But I couldn’t leave a sad or sick child alone.
After almost 10 years of constant arguing over money — usually for the needs of the children not mine, from clothes to school needs, even groceries. I started to look for work outside the home.
I had to constantly justify the need, or explain what I spent and why. Even though I made clothes for the boys and myself, made curtains and other essentials for the home, the constant conflict was wearing.
I was ecstatic when I got a job, and I know that over the years it did help restore some self respect and self awareness. Being acknowledged for my contributions was something new for me, and it caused me much pleasure and fulfilment. He was alright while I only worked part time, but when full time work was offered his comment was "well, you’ll just have to work twice as hard at home".
Throughout my sons’ development I was determined that they would not be sexist and abusive to women or other loved ones. I challenged news items to promote discussions about work values, sexist attitudes, homophobia, the great evil of racism and other areas of injustice and hate.
I did not want them to cause misery to the beloved people in their lives, and just as important I strove to instil an attitude of respect and inclusiveness in all areas of life. I was most passionate about injustices, human rights, anti-war and the threat of nuclear weapons and got involved against the hideous slaughter of whales and other creatures.
In short, I wanted them to be compassionate and just human beings with a sense of their own worth and ideas; to follow their own dreams but never at the expense of “leaving footprints in other peoples’ shoulders”. I’m very proud to say that I achieved those goals.
It’s ironic that during this time I did not promote my right to be treated with dignity and respect from their father. Parenting is often difficult, a huge responsibility, but parenting under oppressive conditions is frequently lonely and tiring too.
DECIDING TO LEAVE
So what made me decide to leave? I’d been to see a doctor who’d advised me to leave. She warned me of the danger I was in. In her view my life was in danger.
She said that if the types of violence escalated or changed in some way, it would be a warning, that he’d stepped up to a more dangerous level, and I should not hesitate to leave.
When he assaulted me for the first time in front of my kids — he poured a bottle of cold beer over my head while I had my hands in the sink washing the dishes — I remembered her words, and knew I had to leave for my safety, and I had to do it now. I left the next morning.
The trauma of leaving my kids, my home and all my hopes and dreams for the future overwhelmed me. I was suffering grief, sadness, anxiety and loss of faith in my own abilities.
I’m still amazed to recall how making simple decisions, like what road to take to drive to work was almost impossible to do. For many months I chose the longest route as there were traffic lights to make decisions for me, rather than have to cross a busy intersection without lights and take the shortest route.
Sometimes I would not remember where I lived and would be on the wrong road home. Early in the separation and living alone, I’d find myself shopping for five people with a full trolley which I’d then leave in the middle of the supermarket and tearfully run out of the store.
A friend made me realise that I had to do my shopping in a different place as the memories were too traumatic for me — just constant reminders that my family were fragmented. Mixed with this trauma was guilt and shame. I felt like a failure.
It is a very scary thing to not remember how to get somewhere you have been to many times before. To know you’re a competent and capable person who has been calm and rational when others are experiencing trauma only to have no faith in or memory of your past capabilities.
I went back to him in early 1984. For the first time in our marriage, my leaving was my decision. He was not in control and I believe that he wanted to change that, so he led me to believe that he’d realised the errors of his past behaviours, that he really loved me and wanted me back.
I realised very early that it was a lie. I left permanently in May 1985. Another indication of his nastiness, pettiness and lack of respect was the fact that I was not offered anything from the home. So much for my input of over 20 years. To add to this, women my age did not have the opportunity of superannuation like men did.
WOMEN LIVING IN POVERTY
There have been recent investigations into the poverty levels in Australia, and women of my age were found to be among the highest category of Australian poor — in fact, single female pensioners are the largest group in receipt of a total aged pension. That means we rely totally on the aged pension for all of life’s essentials.
If my ex-husband had consistently assaulted women on the street, the workplace or indeed anywhere else but our home, he would have almost certainly gone to jail, lost his home and his job. He’d be thought of as a criminal and a bully, preying on people who could not fight back.
The attitude to the role of women in marriage was most oppressive in those days. Sadly, too many people today still believe that it’s acceptable for men to commit crimes of violence against the women they purport to love. While there are many programs and policies to assist victims of these horrific abuses, more work has to be done to educate men that such behaviour is not OK. The best people to do this are other men.
Organisations such as White Ribbon have made inroads into changing community attitudes which now include courses conducted in schools about positive non violent relationships.
A program called “Love Bites” teaches school students about non-violent relationships and how to treat each other, particularly girls and young women. This is a great step forward.
At best it’s an act of cowardice for a man to raise his hand to a woman in anger. There is no equality in that; there is no contest. Very few women can defend themselves from the physicality of an angry man.
What is happening in Australian homes that make boys and men believe that they have any right to use their physical size to bash, violate, insult and demean any other human being?
What makes men use their fists and loud abusive language to intimate and violate those they purport to love? This sort of destruction covers all ages, professions, incomes and cultures — from the very rich to the very poor and in all countries of the world.
INTERNATIONAL CAMPAIGN
One in three women is either physically or verbally abused and one in four will experience sexual assault or violence in their lives. The United Nations has set aside 16 days each year worldwide — from White Ribbon Day on November 25 until Humans Rights Day on December 10 Human Rights Day — to focus on this issue.
I constantly hear people blaming women who are victims of domestic violence by asking, “If it was so bad, why didn’t she leave?”
The fact is that most women are murdered after they inform their husband or partner of their intention to leave, or after they’ve actually left.
The recent murders of five women in one week only reinforced this reality. While emotions can inhibit women taking action earlier in the relationship it should be noted that a major emotion is fear — fear about the lives of their children, their pets and themselves.
Also, by the time a woman realises how damaging the relationship is, she is probably isolated, financially dependent and traumatised. Also she may have no family or close friends in this country.
Another common response is to point out that men are also victims of abuse. This is true, and people in same-sex relationships are also victims. But, over 80% of victims of domestic violence are women in heterosexual relationships.
Also, the physical injuries experienced by women are usually far more serious than those of men. National crime statistics show that men are more likely to be murdered by men outside the home, for example in clubs and pubs or on the street. The greatest threat to the health and safety of women aged 18-45 is from their husbands or partners.
I hope that this has given some insight into the complexities and damage inflicted by daily abuse.
If by revealing my personal experiences I can help just one woman find that extra bit of strength and energy to remove herself and her children from an abusive environment, then I’ll feel invigorated by that knowledge.
I implore everyone who reads this to research just some of the factual information about domestic violence. Arm yourself with knowledge and then take a stand. We can put an end to this together.
[The author can be contacted by emailing cartledgenaomi@gmail.com. The National Sexual Assault, Family and Domestic Violence helpline is 1800 737 732.]