Posts filed under ‘Musings’

The cost of domestic violence

In 1999 I left a physically, emotionally and sexually violent relationship. In the years that followed, I continued to leave this relationship. Daily. Then weekly.   In fact, I still leave this relationship.

I leave it more frequently than anyone realizes or that I care to acknowledge.

The dark truth of domestic violence is that you can leave as frequently as you like, but it never leaves you.

It is a just a constant looming darkness and hidden charges on your life bill.

At best, the violence and the perpetrator lie dormant as a mere ongoing concern.  At worst, they leave you in a cold sweat of paranoia as you question their motives, your motives, your safety.

Don’t get me wrong, I have moved on. This isn’t a waxing lyrical about baggage unpacked.  I have let go of the demons of that relationship and neatly packed them into the suitcase.  I am no longer that woman.   I’ve built myself a highly functioning life that gives no indication of its past, bar the occasional item that falls loose of the baggage stack.

No matter my emotional resolve, domestic violence never leaves you.  Never.

It becomes a game – one that is so ingrained in my daily life that I forget it is there until such a point that I move to a new house and have relief so intense I feel I can breath properly for the first time in years. “Ahhhh safe again”.

And I do move house. Fairly often.  I move house anytime I feel a sense that he knows where I am.  It’s part of the DV game.

I choose houses that have bars on windows and have a preference for properties that aren’t near to public transport as a means to reduce the way he could commute to my home where he to find out my address.

Within my home, I create love hate relationships with safety. I sleep after midnight when I feel the risk of prowling has been reduced. I sleep with windows closed and ‘traps’ against easy access points.   I invest faith in my dogs to be my alarm.

Then, the most seemingly crazy of them all, I keep in touch with him. Just a little. Just enough to know where he is.

That is the game changer.  I sleep better knowing what suburb he is in.   It enables me to do the maths of how long would it take him to get to my house via public transport if he were to enter a blind rage.

I know what you are thinking. Insanity, right? Surely I could seek an intervention order.   I could.   But in the game of domestic violence, I, the victim, have an excellent understanding of my perpetrator. No intervention order will stop him from scaling the building, entering my bed room and choking me within an inch of my life.

The first I would even know of it would be when I was gasping for breath. It would be swift and deftly.

Living with domestic violence is to live with this knowledge;  the knowledge that there is a likelihood that my death could be encountered one night as I sleep.  I have accepted this as a plausible reality.

Whilst I have let go of my fear of death back in 1999, I have been driven to ‘survive’ by my children. My desire to see them safe and nurtured by me and not family members has been a driving agent in all of this.

I feel I have fulfilled this desire. Were I to become a mere domestic violence statistic now, I would do so happy in the knowledge that I raised two beautiful, loving children who will go on to do wonderful things in this world with or without me.

But it has come at a cost.

It has cost me little things like feeling a cool breeze on a summer’s night because I sleep with the windows shut.

It has cost me suburbs and places I can’t visit, songs and food I can’t consume.

It has cost me sleep. Deep, long, peaceful sleep.

It has cost me a place to call “home” permanently and a garden.

It has cost me a life of feeling ‘safe’.

That, my friends, is the price I pay.


White Ribbon Day 2014

1 woman is killed every week in Australia by her current or former intimate partner.

16% of all homicides in Australia involve a man killing his female partner.

Nearly two-thirds (57%) of Australian women report experiencing at least one incident of physical violence or sexual violence by a man over their lifetime. Just

under half (48%) have ever experienced physical violence, and one-third (34%) have experienced sexual violence.

Time for Action report estimates that if there is no reduction in current rates, violence against women and their children will cost the Australian economy an estimated $15.6 billion by 2021-22.

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November 25, 2014 at 6:54 am Leave a comment

Alone-ness

In my younger days, I used to boast that I was ok with being alone. A warrior spirit that could not be tamed. Too independent for couple-dom; too deliberate for shared chaos.

Continue Reading April 19, 2012 at 11:25 am Leave a comment

My Ginger date

It’s 2am. I’m in Melbourne laying beside my Ginger, listening to him breathe deeply as he snoozes. I can’t sleep. In fact I’m wired and emotional. I think it’s the knowing that this isn’t reality but a joyous 14hr high; a taste of what I actually want.

Continue Reading February 24, 2011 at 2:11 am Leave a comment

Occupy

My mind flickers back to the short lived moments together, in particular, that last night. I replay him flopping on the couch, hot and sweaty, and casually stating “I love Grand Designs”. I replay how my heart fluttered when I realised he wasn’t being sarcastic and notched it in my mind as another thing we had in common. Another parallel; symmetry.

Continue Reading November 27, 2010 at 12:51 pm Leave a comment

This mess I’m in

I didn’t mean to be in this situation. Had no plans to be expending my energy on a man. Too raw from the year past, I had the best intentions to be love free for a while. Honest. I did.

But he’s side swiped me.

Continue Reading April 12, 2009 at 8:45 am 1 comment

To the man I love so dearly

I love you so dearly. This distance breaks my heart. I miss you so.

Continue Reading February 10, 2009 at 12:00 am 1 comment

He who makes me smile

I chose his name from the Internet. Using a random name selector, I sat trying to find a name for my unborn boy that wasn’t ‘William’ or ‘Luke’ or ‘Lachlan’. On the sixth click, the random selector presented me with “Isaac: He who smiles or laughs.”

Continue Reading January 18, 2009 at 2:49 pm 3 comments

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