From the outside, my life looked great. I had twin girls, owned a house, had a stable job, and a partner who loved me. Except, the way he loved me wasn’t great at all. My relationship – which looked so perfect from the outside – was emotionally, physically and financially abusive. And it took me over 16 years to leave.
I was 18 years old and three months into a new relationship when I fell pregnant with twins. It wasn’t long after this that my relationship started to turn sour. My partner would call me a bitch, call me fat, tell me no one else would ever love me. But this was my first ever relationship and as a first-generation Australian, I had already disappointed parents because I got pregnant young. I wanted to prove to them – and myself – that I could stay
We moved to the country and I became isolated from my family and friends. My life was work, him and the kids. Sounds okay, except it looked very different to what it was. My income went straight to funding his addictions and I was allowed only a small portion to live off and to let me pay for essentials for myself and the kids. We were living on the bare minimum.
This is financial abuse, though I didn’t recognise it at the time because I thought – if I’m allowed to work, then it’s OK.
The emotional and physical abuse was harder to ignore. My partner would stand over me and spit on me, or drop his cigarette ash onto my body while telling me I’m worthless, unlovable, ugly. A truth I know now, is that when you hear something often enough, you believe it. That mantra still goes through my mind today, more than 15 years later.
When someone in an abusive relationship reaches out for help, it could be the first, only, or last time they ever do.
I told some girlfriends what was happening and they told me to get out of the relationship. But I wasn’t ready – it’s not easy – and because I couldn’t (yet) leave, those friends abandoned me, refusing to continue our friendship because I stayed with my abuser. Their response taught me that if I asked for help, people would leave me. It felt unsafe for me to disclose what was happening, despite multiple people trying to intervene. And so it took me another 16 years to build up the courage to seek support and finally, leave.
When a person experiencing abuse starts to disclose to others what is happening, we don’t tell everything all at once – we’re first looking to see if there’s a safe space. It was because of some wonderful older women who listened to me as we worked in close quarters at a new job in the city – where I was now closer to family and friends – that I built up the courage to act. The key word being ‘listened’. They were unjudgmental and compassionate, and took tiny steps to remind me that I deserved better, that what I felt about myself because of what I had been told by my abuser was untrue, that I could be strong.
I escaped with the kids to live with my parents, but that’s when the stalking started. I feared for our safety, so went to the police with evidence of hundreds of abusive texts and calls I was receiving daily and was told, ‘Well, you’ve been together for over 16 years, of course he’s upset. Unless he threatens to kill you, there’s not much we can do’. That was the moment I lost faith in the systems and services.
And that’s the reason I work so hard to advocate for industry and peer education today.
It was when taking a years’ sabbatical from my career in the Clubs industry to work with Inside Exchange (an organisation that uses lived experience to inform and strengthen social, service and systemic response) that I recognised the power in change from within.
I recognised that with 13 million members and 170,000 full-time staff, the club industry has a huge scope to reach people, so when I returned to work at Mounties Group, we called together a Domestic Family and Sexualised Violence (DFSV) Action Committee, developed an Action Plan, and held an industry-wide round-table.
Attended by the Minister for the Prevention of Domestic Violence and Assault, The Hon Jodie Harrison and Women’s Safety Commissioner, Dr Hannah Tonkin, we aimed to educate as many people as possible how to act if they see or experience any form of abuse.
This industry approach is helping us to build new systems that work, and it’s my goal to support further industries using our efforts because the more we educate and talk about this insidious behaviour, the more people we will help.
You might have noticed I’ve used words in this article like ‘allowed to’ or ‘let me’. That coercive control is what makes abuse so hard to navigate. Some other examples of poor behaviour that are actually abuse include:
- Your abuser keeping you up late at night, refusing to pick up the kids on time, or calling you at work to sabotage your ability to hold down a job
- Your abuser blaming their negative behaviour on-you. Known as victim-blaming, examples include saying the reason they hit you is because you didn’t clean up, or the reason they talk down to you is because you don’t dress up for them.
- Your abuser only giving you enough money to live on so that you have no choice but to stay home or ask them for money when you need it.
- Your abuser isolating you from family and friends, physically or emotionally, such as not letting you have access to your phone or social media.
If you’re a person who suspects someone of experiencing any of the above or other forms of abuse, please be a safe space for them. Listen to your loved one, believe them, and follow their lead. It all helps to build up the courage so they can leave when the time is right, for them.
If you’re a person experiencing abuse, 1800 RESPECT is a fantastic service that directs you to local shelters and crisis centres where you can seek support.
The road ahead is really long and scary – which is why people stay for longer than may seem reasonable to those outside of your situation – but you can do it.
You can connect with Arely on LinkedIn.
If this article has raised any issues for you, or if you just feel like you need to speak to someone, please call 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732) – the national sexual assault, domestic and family violence counselling service.
This article originally appeared on Marie Claire Australia and is republished here with permission.
