Shedding light on domestic violence

By Elise Smith

Trigger warning

https://womensrefuge.org.nz/ Link to the website.

If your situation is urgent, please call 0800733843 or 111

The services are confidential and mostly free. The only charge is rent if you use a safe house, where you and your children can live if you need accommodation urgently. If you can’t afford this, don’t worry – the main concern is your safety.

Services

At Women’s Refuge, we are more than just Safe Houses

Our free confidential services include:

· Confidential, non-judgmental support

· 24 Hour crises line, 0800 REFUGE

· Home and community visits

· Support in isolated regions

· 24/7 access to our safe houses

· Advocacy when dealing with police, legal, court, WINZ, housing, doctors, schools, and Oranga Tamariki

· Referrals to counselors, doctors, lawyers, and other support services

· Education and support groups for women and children about living free from violence

WHAT IS DOMESTIC VIOLENCE?

Domestic violence is a pattern of power, control, and coercion. Abuse is not just physical, trust your intuition. If something does not feel right to you, then it’s not OK.

If you are being abused, remember it’s not your fault. Violence is never okay. No one deserves to be abused.

Below are different types of abusive behavior that can occur.

Psychological or Emotional Abuse

Threatening to harm you or the children, damaging belongings, stalking, isolating from friends and whānau, actions or threats, hurting animals or pets, constant put-downs and belittling, exposing children to trauma.

Economic Abuse

Withholding money, monitoring the finances, making all the financial decisions, demanding proof of all expenditures and checking receipts, and allocating an allowance.

Sexual Abuse

Forced to have sex, feeling sexually harassed, being made to engage in degrading or unsafe sexual behavior, being made to watch pornographic material.

Physical Abuse

Slapping, beating, punching, kicking, strangling, shaking, biting, or pinching. It may involve the use of weapons and can cause serious long-term injury or fatality.

Spiritual Abuse

Feeling as though your spirit/wairua is being attacked stops you from expressing your spiritual or religious beliefs, stops you from going to church/ temple, puts down your beliefs, and uses their/your religious beliefs to justify their behavior.

My Story

“You will never take my soul!”

I remember screaming these words as he threw me on the bed, his hands tightly gripped around my neck. My partner of eight years wanted me dead!

“Half of all homicides in New Zealand are committed by an offender who identifies as family.” “One women is killed every month by her partner or ex.” (www.areyouok.org.nz )

I meet Alister 18 years ago at a vulnerable time in my life. Alister was a student attending the same computing course I was on. He was very romantic and sweet at first, writing me poems and loving bombing me.

The name-calling started after our son was born. Alister’s drinking increased rapidly, and he turned to hard drugs.

He reached the bottom of his box this afternoon and wanted more fast. I refused to go to the bottle shop or give him money for more alcohol. This set him off. He shouted and yelled, throwing things around.

I needed to get away from him fast. I was scared. He caught onto my plan as I tried to leave. Alister jumped on top of the car, pounding his fists into the hood, and windshield I could not drive out of the driveway with him on top. His face was frightening. He looked like a demon from hell! Suddenly he rolled off the hood, grabbed the driver’s side car door where I was sitting, took hold of my arm, and yanked me out the door. It all happened so fast, I didn’t have time to think. He flung me onto the concrete like his strength was superhuman!

I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was pure rage! He picked up a huge rock from the garden, holding it above his head as he held over me, spitting as he cursed me more. I screamed as loud as I could,

He lost his balance; the rock hurled out of his grasp, flying through the air, I thought, this is it, he is going to kill me!! I tucked up in a ball in the nick of time as the bolder pounded to the dirt inches away from my head!

Everything slowed, like a slow-motion video, deathly silence filled the air, he had stopped yelling, all I could hear was the sound of birds chirping in the sky above, my breathing sounded louder than the birds now, my head was ringing, my heart pounding hard. I slowly sat up and looked around. Alister lay face down on the concrete. He must have passed out!

I needed to call the police and get this monster off my property fast. The kids and I snuck down the drive as quickly as my aching body would let me. I was desperately searching for someone who could help me. I needed to use a phone. Many people would have heard the yelling, they would have heard me scream, but no one helped me. They all disappeared, hiding away in their safe little worlds.

I approached a house where a large, jolly Maori lady let me use her telephone. I rang the police and explained the incident to them. Casually, they replied we will send a car your way within the next ten minutes. Ten minutes slowly crept past. We walked back to the house. The policemen stood around the deck area, wandering around aimlessly like they were lost.

“There is no one here.” They informed me.

I told them the whole story, and they took my statement before leaving. I ensured the house was locked in case he returned.

I began to hear a scratching noise coming from the roof. Looking up at the ceiling, the scratching continued. Small holes were in the ceiling from an old air conditioning system. My eyes opened wide, my heart thumped hard, and I could see a foot over one of the holes! I grabbed the phone to ring the police once again.

“Please, please, don’t ring the cops,” Alister begged.

“I’ve calmed. I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry, please!”

How the police missed he was hiding in the roof I’ll never know! Alister apologized profusely, nonstop, for the next hour. He proceeded to blame anything and everything he could for his behavior. His past, his upbringing, his brothers, hurts, alcohol, and even the heat. He claimed to be sincerely sorry and vowed to get the help he needs?

Alister did get some counseling, which he quit after a few weeks. He saw a doctor who prescribed anti-depressants, which he took for less than a month. Many more incidents happened. I tried to leave time and time again. I even left town. Somehow, he would worm his way back into my home.

I’d have to ring the police when he refused to leave, locking me in the bedroom till the police arrived. At times this took hours. The police would take notes of the events in their little notebooks, patronizing me with off-the-cuff comments such as,

“You two need to calm down, sit together, and have a cup of coffee.”

I was not informed of how I could protect myself, or given any helpful information, I was left in the dark.

The abuse continued for eight years. I got very sick diagnosed with a chronic pain condition and blood clots in my legs. This left me bedridden for months. Alister’s mother was at my home to help us with the children. An argument broke out. Both Alister and his mother began insulting me, calling me names, and putting down my dead mother. I kept on telling them to leave they refused. I grabbed the telephone.

“Get out or I’ll call the police!” I screamed at them.

Alister sped towards me. I dragged myself down the hall as fast as I could. I collapsed on my bed, my legs giving out with the intense pain. Like a flash, he was on me, holding me down. He dug his knee into my legs, pushing all his weight against me. I was alarmed and aware this could encourage the blood clots to move. I was in critical danger! He was still screaming at me. His mother was in the room watching him, egging him on, yelling abuse at me.

I tried with all my strength to push Alister off me, to get free. The pain increased, and tears streamed down my face, blinding my vision. He grabbed my throat with both hands, squeezing the life out of me. Holy shit! He is going to kill me! This was my defining moment. I wriggled under his weight. He held my arms above my head, pinning me with one arm while he continued to squeeze my neck, harder and harder. Fear filled me, the air in my lungs left my body, my eyes rolled back into my head, and all I could hear now was a sharp ringing noise in my head.

He was not about to stop until I was done. I stopped moving and became still. With the little air I had left in my lungs, I held my breath and closed my eyes. Yes, thank God it worked. He thought I was dead. He stopped, took his hands off my neck, and stood.

As soon as he did, I gathered all the strength I could muster and booted him hard in the knee. This threw him off balance, and he stumbled backward. I screamed as loud as I could, wanting the neighbors to call the police! I leaped to my feet, kneed him in the groan, and scrambled out of the room. Grabbing my son along the way, I stumbled outside to the letterbox. Hereunder the streetlights, in front of the whole street I knew he would not follow, anyone could be watching. I used the cordless telephone I’d snatched on the way out and rang the police.

The police arrived soon after, and they took statements. They did not ask me if I wanted to press charges, nor were they forthcoming with any information again as to how I could protect myself from Alister. They took Alister and his mother away in the police car, not to the police station to lock them away where they belonged, but for a free ride back to his mother’s house.

“50% of intimate partner violent deaths occurred at the time of an actual or intended separation.” (www.familyviolenceclearinghouse June 2017 snapshot.

I organized my son to go and stay with my brother. The bills piling up; I had no way to pay them and the stress grew heavier and heavier. I felt trapped, alone, isolated, and wanted to give up. I desperately needed help. I was to be taken to court, and the house was to be sold under me. I had no choice but to sell! This was the most difficult decision I had to make to take back charge of my life. I had invested my mother’s inheritance, my heart and soul, hours and years of hard work. I had sacrificed, fought, and fought. I wanted security and a solid future for my children. By holding on, I had neglected myself. This was the lesson that took me the longest to learn.

My healing journey began as I began to realize I was lost I did not even know who I was anymore. It felt like I was in a deep, dark pit. I would wake with a fright, shaking, panting, sweating, and scared out of my mind. All I remember seeing were big huge hands gripping my neck. I could smell his filthy bourbon breath and feel his heavyweight bearing on my chest, the insults screaming in my ears. I’d close my eyes and it would start all over again. This continued relentlessly, drowning me. The doctor had a name for it, Chronic post-traumatic Stress, CPTS.

Although I have not always walked the straight and narrow path in life, my belief and faith in God gave me hope. I slowly rebuilt my goals, I turned again to poetry; I visualized my happiness. I learned what self-care was and mindfulness. I started eating right to fuel my body. I exercised as my body was able; I used music as my therapy. I learned in order to receive the love, I must put out love and love myself first. It has been six years since leaving.

I want to encourage anyone who is afraid to be alone to take the courage to start again. Once I learned to love myself and be happy being by myself, I discovered I was much stronger than I thought. You can do it too. With support and education from organizations such as Women’s Refuge you are not alone.

The number to call in New Zealand is 0800456450, Women’s refuge.

Elise Smith

on 0800 REFUGE or 0800 733 843 OR Phone 11