Tuesday 26 October 2010

Siobhan's story:

You might say that my abuser isn’t a typical abuser. What I mean is he doesn’t fit the stereotype society holds about domestic violence. In reality there is no “typical abuser” nor is there a “typical victim”. Abusers come from all walks of life, ages, socio-economic classes, races, religions. My abuser was educated and had a wealthy position in society. He wasn’t a yob or a football hooligan. He was a person. Just like you and me.

I met my abuser eight years ago, far away from home and in an extremely vulnerable position. I was an easy target. The mental and emotional manipulation began at once. I was groomed for the role my abuser expected me to fulfil – a subordinate, subservient woman. The web of manipulation is so complex that very few who are not specialised in the field struggle to understand the concept. In my case emotional abuse slowly developed into a chokehold of control. He began so slowly I almost didn’t notice it. I had been taught to ignore my instincts and defer all decisions, opinions, thoughts and feelings to him. I was not even allowed friends.

The degradation is something that haunts me still, even after achieving my freedom. Having food spat all over my face and shirt, being defecated upon, being forced to perform sex acts against my will, being beaten into believing that all I am good for is to service the needs of my abuser . . . the list goes on. The mental scars are hardest to heal. It is difficult to believe that I am a worthwhile person, that I deserve to be treated well. I still find myself fighting inner demons when faced with a £4 t-shirt from Primark or a haircut or a hot bubble bath. My abuser leaves these inner demons with me. He is preying on his next victim while I am left worrying that I do not deserve to treat myself like a human being.

The physical abuse began within a year of the relationship starting. It was so small at first I hardly noticed it. A push turned into a slap, a slap turned into a punch. A punch turned into being dragged down a flight of stairs during pregnancy. That attack turned into chasing me through the house with a knife while my two-week-old baby slept. The intensity of the attacks increased until my abuser raped me and attempted to murder me.

The violence never happened in isolation, it was always followed immediately by emotional manipulation – excuses, blaming me, promises to change, buying me gifts, persuading me to take him back and even convincing me that I had imagined the entire thing. I remember vividly after he tried to kill me he lay stroking my hand and tried to kiss me. He told me he loved me. Then he rolled over and went to sleep almost immediately. I lay there beside him, covered in bruises and tears, listening to his contented snores. In the days that followed he pretended everything was normal, he bought me gifts, he promised to change, he got everyone he knew involved in trying to persuade me he was an amazing husband. But I remember looking into the mirror and seeing myself covered in bruises. I wanted to believe him when he told me I was imagining the bruises. But then other people saw them too: I knew they were really there and no excuses could hide them. At last I knew this relationship wasn’t normal. I knew what I had to do. I was terrified of going into a refuge, but I was far more terrified of staying. I knew that next time he attacked me I may not survive and my child would be left at his mercy, without me there for protection.

Life in a refuge was something I had to take one day at a time. The time it takes to begin recovering from abuse is massive and in most cases takes a lifetime. In refuge I shared a room with my young child and shared the communal living area, kitchen, bathroom and laundry facilities with the other residents. Refuges are charities and funding is not equal for all of the ones that exist. I have positive memories of some refuge staff and friends made there. But I also remember members of staff and residents who made life exceptionally difficult for me. Physically, it was a very old building with an archaic central heating system, which was so expensive to run that residents were only allowed 2 hours a day of hot water and central heating. The walls and windows were paper-thin. I arrived in winter and my child and I spent most of our time freezing cold. My first night I slept fully clothed and in my coat. Every night after that I put 3 blankets over the curtains to try and keep the warmth in. I had no dressing gown or jumpers and spent all of my £75 per week on rent, food and buying warm clothes for my child.

Most refuges are only staffed 9am - 5pm Monday to Friday. I had been in such a place before and knew that I needed far more support than that; otherwise I would go back to my abuser as I had done many times before. If I had not been able to go down to the refuge office in the middle of the night and talk to staff I am certain I would have seriously considered returning to my abuser.

Of all the refuges in my area, the only two offering 24-hour support were 100 miles away. Although I had no idea where I was going I relaxed a little in the knowledge that my abuser would never look in my hiding place. Little did I know that he had already begun court proceedings in an attempt to find and further abuse us.

I was almost immediately thrown into the legal arena with no knowledge of how the legal system worked. Very few solicitors have knowledge of how domestic violence operates, especially from a victim’s perspective. Whilst I was still in refuge I was ordered by a court to travel 3 hours to hearings and the same to facilitate child contact, all funded out of my own money – of which I had very little. Our abuser employed the same manipulation and lies to the court that he had used with me – and they believed his every word. So much so that they refused to even investigate the Domestic Violence, let alone the impact it had had upon my child. The legal system and all those professionals around me were dancing to the abuser’s tune. Nothing I could do or say would convince them otherwise. I looked to MPs and organisations for support and found none. Fewer people understood Domestic Violence and Abuse than I realised. I felt like an ant trying to climb Mount Everest. Why did no-one understand what was going on or think about the effects of this upon my child?

My life progressed as the legal situation intensified. I left refuge and rented a new house, my child began school, my recovery progressed, and I met a new partner. My child experienced, and still does to this day, massive behavioural issues. They range from tantrums, nightmares, night–waking, early rising, sleep disruption and toilet issues to violent episodes and controlling behaviour. These behaviours are a constant challenge to this day and are always considerably worse after contact with our abuser.

In the legal arena I was awarded residency, yet our abuser continued to abuse my child at contact, something that intensified massively. Abuse ranged from neglect, emotional, mental, and physical abuse or a combination of all of them at any given time. It was obvious to me that my child was suffering immensely. I was constantly worried about the effect of contact upon my child yet a court never took me seriously. I raised the issue many times. My abuser's opinion was always the one that took precedence over mine in the legal setting.

I eventually chose to rent a home with my new partner and child. This meant that I was no longer entitled to Legal Aid. Our joint income was judged to be above the stringent allowances set out by the awarding body. This is a heartbreaking paradox as paying for our own legal representation means that we are living in poverty. My partner and I lie awake every night worrying about where we will find the money for school meals, school uniform, birthdays and Christmas presents. The legal bill for the past 3 months alone is something we will be paying off for the next 12 months. A terrifying thought indeed when we have more court appearances scheduled. It frustrates us that a court cannot see that a man who loves his child would not put his child through this.

After one year of fighting for the impact of Domestic Abuse on my child to be investigated I am only now beginning to have the existence of the abuse acknowledged.

Wednesday 20 October 2010

Claire's story:

In June 1998 I met the most wonderful man of my life. I already had 3 children, 2 to my first relationship and 1 to a man that didn’t hang around to see his child grow up. I had been sterilized as I didn’t want any more children.

My husband to be, who I married in 1999, was a kind caring considerate gentleman. He adopted my 3rd child, loved and cared for him like a Daddy does. It was the sense of security he gave me and my 3 children that made us talk of having my sterilization reversed.

In October 2001 my husband kept coming home from work with talk of a female colleague. I trusted him and never thought anything of it, until a month later he came home acting strange, was very quiet and I found evidence on his underwear that something had happened. I questioned my husband, who denied anything and said he could not explain what I had found. I found myself believing him as he was a wonderful husband.

In February 2002 I had my reversal and fell pregnant straight away. In January 2003 I gave birth to a boy. We were very happy and content and my husband treated his first born no different to my third child whom he had adopted. In September 2003 I gave birth to a girl and life was amazing.

I was a stay-at-home mummy and wife. I did everything: looked after all 5 of the children, school run, homework, cooking, cleaning and shopping. My husband worked full-time and played with the children, took them to the park played football with the older ones while I had the 2 younger ones at home.

In 2006 I wanted to work a few hours a week and put in for my driving test. My husband’s attitude started changing a little. I felt I no longer had a say. I wanted to work 12 hours a week and he wanted me to work 8 hours a week. The company I wanted to take my driving lessons with was not the company my husband chose for me.

After passing my test in April 2006 I applied for a job in caring in the community. My employer came to my home and interviewed me, while my husband was present. My husband stressed at my interview he only wanted me to work 8 hours a week as I had children to look after. I knew I could do more hours and still keep up with the upbringing of the children, cook, clean and do shopping.

In August 2007 my husband became controlling over the way the children should be raised to the point he was getting over-strict with my 3rd child. This was becoming a strain on the marriage and also the fact I was working and had taken more hours on. I was now working 12 hours a week, not letting anything slip at home. I was coping very well with work; doing a NVQ2 in health and social care; caring for the children, the home and my husband. I was very proud of my achievements. My husband was showing different signs. He wasn’t proud of me, hardly ever said I was doing well as he used to say; the cuddles became less and the I love you on a daily basis had disappeared.

In October 2007 I decided it was time to learn how to use a computer as this is how I got notification of my shifts. My employer had been emailing them to me since I started work and my husband printed them off for me.

My husband always said he was too busy to teach me the basics from our home computer which by this time my husband spent all his spare time on. He had stopped playing with the children.

My sister who lived down the road helped me instead. She was on a lot of sites and introduced me to a site called netlog, where you chat to other people and I made my own profile. It was great. Before I hadn’t even known how to turn a computer on and off. I was asked to put my email address in to set this site up. I didn’t know my password. I didn’t even know I had to have a password.

That night I asked for my email details from my husband and told him I could now turn the computer on and off and I could look at my shifts when they came through. He gave me the details.

When the children were in bed and my husband was working a late shift I used the computer. This was the only time I could because as soon as my husband came home he would be on the computer.
I started chatting to family members on msn and found this a whole new way of communicating.

I found some of my friends were on netlog and chatted to them, adding people I didn’t know as well, just for the chat as I didn’t get much chat from my husband.

In January 2008 my husband went onto my emails and found I was on the site and started to accuse me. I was annoyed as he was on Facebook, which I had never seen and knew nothing about. I didn’t accuse him of anything even though he too was on social networking sites.

I didn’t realize until later that my husband had set up an account online with my mobile phone which I used for work - which showed all phone calls I was making - and he rang one of my work colleagues because it was a number he didn’t recognize.

My husband decided to come clean about the colleague several years before and told me something had happened. I was distraught and took an overdose. Realising how stupid and foolish I had been, I decided to put it all behind me and concentrate on my marriage; forget what had happened several years before; my marriage was more important. I came off the netlog site. My husband carried on with Facebook.

Somehow I ended up under his spell again and he invited another woman into the bedroom. I could not go through with it and left him to it. This was in March 2008. The act carried on for 2 hours and I didn’t bat an eyelid. I was unsure whether I loved him or not.

By this time my husband had become emotionally abusive to my 3rd child. I decided to have a solicitor’s letter sent to him to the matrimonial home that was in joint names, for him to move out for 6 months to see if we could reconcile the marriage after we’d had some space.

He went for 6 weeks and then moved back in; sleeping in the bed while I slept on the sofa. The arguments were too intense however, affecting all the children. We both decided to have a chat to work out what would be best for the children, and it was agreed I would move to my sister’s. The older two children were living with their dad at this point, and it was agreed I would take my 3rd child with me and the youngest two children would stay at home in their familiar surroundings, with me visiting daily.

I thought that whatever happened between me and my husband I would end up back in my home, this is what we spoke of; and I was told by my solicitor that it was my house also and he couldn’t stop me moving back, since my husband had been able to do this after our earlier 6 weeks’ separation.

After a couple of weeks this plan was not working. My husband was very secretive and always had his mother there. His mother became verbally abusive to me. I decided to move back. I was faced with blackmail from my husband - this was in regard to things from my past I had confided in him because I had trusted him; and there were things that could have destroyed family members whom I loved.

My husband and his mother called the police and said I was abusing them on the doorstep. This was untrue. The police turned up and turned me away, even though it was equally my house! Now I felt helpless and hopeless and had no help from the law. I tried three times in the space of 3 months to gain entry to my home, still to be faced with the same.

All confidence had been knocked out of me. After settling for contact for 18 months and having counselling for 6 months, I finally have courage and confidence to fight for residency.

Now I have applied for residency, my husband is saying I am mentally insane and is making me have supervised contact with my two youngest children until I have been assessed, even though I have brought up two grown up children successfully with no questions about my parenting.

This is how it has been for 2 years: obstacles and barriers continually put in the way of seeing my children, to make me do what he wants.