Many adults grew up with
abuse or domestic violence. And the trauma never seems to erase after years of
experience. When asked what domestic violence, they prefer not to talk about it
to avoid opening a fresh wound. This is a story of an adult who tells his story
with tears.
While growing up, as
soon as my dad came back drunk yelling at my mum, I would be locked in my
bedroom in the dark, crying while my dad beat the hell out of my mum. I could
hear her yelling and crying. As I grew older I would get my little brother and
sister, hide them in my room, then run out to help my mum. Sometimes I would
get hurt trying to protect her.
I couldn’t concentrate
in school because I think of my mum’s helpless situation. Who couldn’t be
bothered with it sometimes I had to pretend I wasn't worried about going home
to protect my mum and siblings again.
On a fateful day my mum
arrived at school to pick me up in a strange car with my little brother and
sister with all our luggage. Mum said we were going to stay at a different
house for a while and that was all I was told. I was scared. We all slept in
one room that had three sets of bunks. I was scared and I wished things could
change for good. How I wish my dad would be the best dad I always wanted him to
be, when my mum would look at us in the face and smile in fulfilment, but that was
not forthcoming; rather, it got worse every day. My mum would walk around the
house crying and watching out the window. She was scared that dad would find
us. I just wanted to go home. I loved dad and hated him at the same time.
I felt heaps of different
emotions. I was scared, angry, guilty, shameful and jealous of everyone I knew
that didn’t have to go through this, but at the same time I loved both my
parents and wasn’t aware of how wrong our lives were. I took to drugs and I got
drunk every chance I could. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop my dad
from hitting us. I was too scared to leave home and too scared to stay. I kept
all friends at a distance, and I avoided having anyone over to my house.
I left school at the age
of 11, got a job and moved out of home to live with my friend. Dad's control
over mum happened more often but the hitting was less. I just wanted them to
get divorced so that all these abuse could stop. It wasn’t until I left home
that I realized how wrong my dad was and that what he was doing had a name: domestic violence.
One night my dad went
right off as usual. He beat my mum so hard, ripped the phone off the wall so we
couldn’t ring anyone. My brother witnessed this and came to call me. I went
looking for mum and told her, ‘I can’t do this anymore, it’s time to leave’. I
made her stay at my house and I told my father he had to leave, this was wrong.
Nobody cared how we felt.
I avoided questions from
people because I felt so ashamed to tell what had been going on in my family
for years until I felt safe enough to say what had been happening, but then
they supported me to seek help. It was the hardest but best thing that I could
have done. To talk and read about people going through what I was going through
was a great help for me. To know I was not alone anymore and realizing that it
wasn’t my fault made me good.
I'm now 25 years old and
I am working in a women's refuge for domestic violence. I work with the
children who come in to the refuge. It’s a rewarding job, being able to assist
the children in living with and leaving domestic violence. I love life; I have
a gorgeous husband and son, with another baby on the way.
I believe if I can come
from the lowest place possible to achieving my goals and believing life really
is a good thing, and then it is possible for other young people too. Seek help
from someone you trust or a professional. There are people out there who care
even if it doesn't feel like it right now. It's okay to feel the way you feel
because of the situation you are in.
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