Trauma stole my joy

I have been working with a psychologist for sometime to work through some trauma from the abuse I suffered in my marriage. We have been using EMDR as a means to help me process through particularly painful episodes of abuse which have caused me to suffer from PTSD. Before we began the EMDR, the psychologist asked me questions about my childhood, my family, my upbringing, my friends. She was building a timeline, trying to pinpoint episodes of trauma which were still causing me pain. Trauma comes in many forms and there were episodes that I didn’t even remember until I began this therapy. The sessions are intense, emotional and painful. I leave the office feeling drained, exhausted and often need to go home and sleep.  I’ve  begun having vivid nightmares  and flashbacks. I have panic attacks and moments of fear and anxiety that are not related to the “now” but are somehow triggered by where I am and/or what I am doing. I also began remembering episodes of trauma that were “unlocked” by the EMDR. This is very common as our brains process events, and as we begin to heal, other painful events surface as we are able to cope with them. I have had to take breaks from the sessions to give myself time to heal; the memories of the trauma bring back the darkness and pain and sometimes have me feeling hopeless, worthless and unworthy.

I am 46 years old and still feeling the effects of childhood trauma. I have been divorced from my abuser for 14 years and I am still feeling the effects of the domestic violence I lived with in my marriage. The wounds are deep and lasting and leave me feeling defensive, protective and cautious. Trust does not come easy and I am prone to assuming that people do not value me because I am, of course, not worthy. I expect bad things to happen to me because, of course, I deserve it. When I encounter a situation that leaves me feeling unsure, I automatically assume the worst because, of course, good things don’t happen to people like me. This is what abandonment, sexual assault and abuse  do to a person’s psyche.

People think that because something happened “a long time ago” that it should not affect you anymore. They think that seeing a counsellor or psychologist means that you are healed and you should be “over it” by now. But that is not how it works. Science has proven that childhood trauma such as abuse, abandonment, divorce changes a child’s DNA; it changes who they are and who they could have been had the trauma not happened. When you experience multiple events of trauma in your lifetime, the effects cannot be erased, no matter how much therapy you get. You are now a product of the trauma. However, the brain can process the trauma and the messages received by the trauma can be changed. You can learn how to navigate the world with newly attained tools that help you to feel more secure and be productive and find happiness.

Trauma stole my ability to be happy, to see a future for myself and expect anything other hurt and disappointment. My psychologist showed me the timeline she constructed after our many sessions talking about my life; it was full of traumatic events. From the time I was a small child, I have experienced various traumatic events that shaped the person I was. It was very upsetting to realize that I had suffered so much; clearly I must somehow be deserving of pain if I have been subjected to so much of it. A year later, I know that this is not so. I know that I am a good person, I know I deserve to be treated with dignity and respect. I know that I am worthy of love. I am empowered and in charge of my life. And while my therapy is not yet finished, I no longer dread my sessions but attend with the knowledge that the pain is now temporary and I will get through it and I will be okay.

This is how I explain trauma to people: trauma causes a wound on our soul. If we cannot handle the pain, our brain hides the trauma from us and protects us from the pain. But, it is still there. It will cause us to be triggered, reactive and can cause mental illness such as depression or anxiety. Sometimes we will behave in ways that do not seem like ourselves, we act out by taking unhealthy risks, engaging in dangerous activities or having toxic relationships. This is the wound of the trauma festering, poisoning our lives and making it impossible to feel genuine joy. We do not feel we deserve happiness, we do not know what security and safety are so we do not seek it out. The festering wound continues to poison us until we finally break down. We may begin to feel physical symptoms such as chronic pain, fibromyalgia or autoimmune disorders. We may suffer from depression, anxiety disorders, PTSD. When we seek help, not just for the physical ailments, but also for the mental and emotional pain, we are able to find this festering wound and take care of it. We are able to peel off the scab that our brain used to hide the pain from us and allow the poison drain out. We can allow ourselves to feel the pain, the anger, the hurt and confusion and work through it. We are cleaning out the poison and allowing ourselves to heal. The wounds will close, but there will always be a scar. We will forever be marked by the trauma, but we are no longer being poisoned by it.

Scars remind us of what we suffered, but they also remind us what we have overcome. We learn to value ourselves and believe that we are important. We learn that we did not deserve what happened to us; we are not bad, we did not ask for it. We learn to empower ourselves and trust ourselves. We learn how to hope, see a future and create happiness for ourselves.

As a Survivor Advocate, I am able to use my experiences to educate others about the effects of sexual assault and domestic violence. I am able to be an ally to victims and other survivors and support them on their journey to healing and empowerment. Without support from my allies, I could not have made the journey and come out on the other side knowing that I am worthy, I am important, I am strong. And even when the darkness tries to creep in, I know how to face it and not be afraid. I reach for those who have always been there to hold me up and keep me from sliding down into that abyss of pain and fear. Survivors are the strongest people I know. And while most are women, I do know some male Survivors who may have a different experience, but the trauma still impacts us in the same way; it steals our joy. Together, we can hold on to our joy and continue on a path of healing. Together we continue to speak up for those who have not yet found their voice. We march and rally and protest to educate people with the purpose bringing understanding and of making change. We stand in solidarity to protect one another and be a visible reminder that there are too many of us and there will be more Survivors if we don’t all work together to change attitudes and social norms that allow assault and abuse to be normalized and accepted.

 

Keep Looking Forward

Breathe. You made it though the holidays, maybe in pieces, but here you are. So breathe, take a minute to give yourself kudos for making it through. You will work on picking up the little pieces of yourself that were chipped away with every disappointment, frustration, limitation and hardship that you faced and with each one tell yourself, ” I am doing best. My best is good enough.”

I have been in your shoes. Hell, I am in your shoes. Though I have been apart from my abuser for almost 14 years, I remember viscerally what it was like those first few years, facing the holidays with a knot in my stomach and my heart in my throat, close to tears daily… barely holding on. It was heart wrenching knowing that I could not give my children the kind of Christmas (or Easter or birthday or, or, or…) that they had when we lived in an upper middle class family. I felt so inadequate and impotent. I felt angry and desperate because we were now living in poverty, as so many women and children do after she leaves her abuser, and I could not provide for them the way he used to. I dreaded the holidays, and though I tried to hide this dread from my kids, I know they felt it. However, I showed them that we could make new traditions that were about us; safe and together. It was difficult to know that their faces would show disappointment rather than joy when they saw the meager gifts I was able to give them. Jason never offered to help with Santa gifts, never sent gifts to the children. But he did do everything he could to make the holidays scary and sad and difficult, particularly for me. He never missed an opportunity to tell me that I was lying in the bed I had made for us all and the fact that the children and I had next to nothing was my own fault. I left, so tough shit that the children and I are living poverty. He used to belittle the fact that we live in rent geared to income housing, snidely calling me a “welfare mom”. I was working at minimum wage job, full time when I could, to provide for my children. But we all know that is not enough. Jason never let an opportunity to remind me just how inadequate I was as a provider, as a mother because we were poor. Money was always his biggest motivator and he looked down on those who didn’t have it. Even his children and their mother.

My children took away some tough but valuable lessons from all of this; materialistic ideals are not important. They do not make you who you are or who you want to become; “stuff” is just stuff. What is important is family, love, laughter, kindness and compassion. My children are three of the most kind, empathetic, socially aware persons I know. They are resilient and tough and have hearts that are warm and giving. They are amazing people. I know that they became this way, in part, because of the battles they faced, the hardships they overcame. I also acknowledge that it is also in part because I am a good mother.

I am a good mother. It took a long time for me to be able to say this and believe it. And you will be able to say it, too, someday with conviction and confidence. Believe that, believe in yourself.

The path you are on right now is difficult to navigate, there are many bumps and potholes along the way. You will face hardships you never knew before and battles that feel hopeless. You are caught in the wheels of a broken and slow moving System that does not care about victims of domestic violence. In truth, it does not care about women at all. You will suffer injustices that will likely leave you reeling with incredulity and anger. This is the truth and it sounds insurmountable. However, you will get through it. None of this is as difficult as the battles you have already faced, surviving domestic violence and getting out. You are tough as nails, even if you don’t realize it yet. I’m telling you; you are!

So breathe. You made it through the holidays. Now, one foot in front of the other, looking forward. You got this.

The System is Broken

The SYSTEM is broken.

It is as broken as her wrist, her arm, her collarbone

Her Heart

Her Spirit.

Every 6 days in this country a woman is murdered by her abuser.

Tonight, more than 3400 women and over 2700 children will sleep in shelters

Because it is not safe at home.

300 more women will be turned away

Forced to roam the streets or worse

Go home.

The numbers do not lie. They tell us what we don’t want to see

With our eyes but know in our heart

How many more women must die?

The SYSTEM is chained

to a cinder block called tradition, formed by the philosophy

that comes from a history of misogyny that says,

All women are liars.

It is sinking in a pit of Patriarchy

Where every woman is scrutinized and scorned

Because she “asked for it”, she stayed, and she stayed silent.

The SYSTEM is ineffective in being protective

Of the women and children

Lost in the wasteland we call Family Law.

Ignoring the cries of the women who are only believed

To be crying wolf, we turn a blind eye while

Women are dying.

The SYSTEM knows no justice

Police don’t believe victims but blame them for their assault

Lawyers are cynical, judges are oblivious

About the realities of Domestic Violence;

In their cinderblock world Violence Against Women

Doesn’t exist.

The SYSTEM is obtuse

believing that if it is “so bad” she will leave.

But where can she go?

Shelters are few and far between,

Faced with poverty or violence

She will lie with the devil she knows even though

She owes him her life and any day now

He will collect.

The SYSTEM is bankrupt

Victim services and crisis workers make miracles happen every day

On a shoestring budget, they do more with less

While the number of deaths continues to rise

How many more women will die because

The man who loves her KILLS HER?

The SYSTEM is Capitalist

Seeing women only as consumable commodities

Valued only for the size of their tits

And their child bearing hips

Women and girls are not equal,

not seen as people

And so are not worthy of protection.

The SYSTEM is failing

When she stays she is blamed,

When she leaves she is shamed,

If she dares to take a risk

She is 6 times more likely to be killed by her abuser

Danger doesn’t end with a change of address.

The SYSTEM is sick

It’s time to burn it down to the ground

Fuel the fire with this oath:

Enough bruises and broken bones

Enough tears and trauma

Enough children left motherless.

From the ash we will rebuild with this promise:

I SEE you, I HEAR you

I BELIEVE you

The SYSTEM is broken

It is as broken as her wrist her arm her collarbone

Her heart

Her spirit

Why We Need Slut Walk

Three years ago I founded Slut Walk Lanark County. I created a Facebook page and started getting the word out. I formed a committee to help organize our first event and recruit supporters. Many people I spoke with in the field of  advocating for women supported me and were excited to finally have a Slut Walk in our County. In September 2014 was launched at a Take Back The Night event in Carleton Place. The local newspaper wrote about it, and there was a small buzz created. But when it came time to organize the inaugural march, the community was not supportive. Businesses refused to sponsor the March or put posters up, schools would not allow me to come speak to students and some of the organizations that supported SWLC were threatened with funding being pulled if they associated themselves with SWLC. Though the need for Slut Walk was glaringly apparent in Lanark County, it was not supported and so, the inaugural march was postponed. Public education was going to be the focus of the local chapter with a view to organizing a march in the future.

The progress of creating public awareness about what Slut walk is about and why we need it in our County has been  slow and uphill. At other events meant to educate people about rape culture, domestic violence and gender based violence, I would be there, talking about Slut Walk and handing out pamphlets and posters. People were not receptive and even refused my posters because the word “Slut” was on them. This word is so offensive to people that they cannot even touch a paper with the word printed on it. This made me frustrated, no, angry, because women and girls are called Sluts every day and we have to just live with it, accept it as normal, as okay. But, it’s not!

There have been many movements addressing rape culture and violence against women: #YesAllWomen, #TheGhomeshiEffect, #IBelieveVictims, Slut Walk, HollaBack, Take Back the Night, to name a few. These movements are necessary, unfortunately, but not overly effective, obviously. Women are still being assaulted and raped, women still feel unsafe walking alone at night (or in the daytime, in public, really), women and girls are sexualized and objectified, we are slut shamed and blamed, cat called and groped etc. We are told that “boys will be boys” and we shouldn’t take it so personally. We are told to dress in a way to not draw attention to ourselves, to our breasts or buttocks, our legs or tummies.  We are taught how to protect ourselves if we are attacked, to carry our keys between our fingers, to check under and inside our cars  before getting in them. We are accused of lying when we report assault or rape. Women are not valued, not protected, not believed. We are not equal; in 2017 women are not viewed as anything more than sex objects and body parts. This makes me furious.

A friend wrote on her Facebook timeline about her thirteen year old daughter and friend being cat called and verbally assaulted while walking home from the store. The girls were so shocked by what was being shouted across the road at them they could not react. When the men became more aggressive in their language, calling them sluts and whores, the girls became frightened and ran the rest of the way home. My friend had to console and reassure these frightened and confused girls, which was difficult. But, even more difficult, she had to speak to them about how to protect themselves next time this happens, because it will happen again. And again. And again. Reading her post, tears filled my eyes as I felt so sorry for these girls having to experience this. My tears burned my eyes and then anger, no rage, burned my heart, my gut. This should not be happening! Not just in our community, but anywhere. Girls should not be subjected to the whims of men who think they own girls’ bodies and have a right to leer at them and call out obscenities.

When I was promoting the inaugural march for Slut Walk Lanark County, many people, some of them friends, complained about the name. There was much debate about the name of Slut Walk and even with explanation and information, people, mostly women, expressed a strong dislike for the name. They were offended over the word “Slut” and wondered why this word had to be used; is repulsive and crude. And they are right about that, it is. And women know because we hear it thousands of times during our life as boys and men hurl it at us as an insult or threat, other girls and women use it accusingly to judge and belittle one another, police officers and lawyers and judges use it to diminish the claims of sexual assault and rape, making it the victim’s fault. Women hear the word Slut and worse so many times in our lives that we almost accept it as part of the landscape of womanhood. But, this apathy, this acceptance is dangerous. It allows men to continue to sexualize and objectify us, our daughters, our sisters, our mothers our friends… We must not tolerate this language, this behaviour any longer. We must stand in Solidarity and fight back.

Rural communities are less forward thinking than urban areas. The exposure to diversity and social justice is very limited. The moral codes and social norms are often carried over from the previous generations because things have “always been this way” and so they are accepted as correct. People don’t speak out against racism, homophobia, misogyny etc. because much of the time they don’t even recognize it for what it is. Slut shaming and victim blaming is what happens when a woman is assaulted; obviously she was asking for it. Look how she was dressed, where she was, how much she drank, her reputation, etc., etc., ad nauseam. Much of the time, girls and women don’t even realize they have been assaulted or raped, or if they do, they don’t report it because they either don’t think they have a right to protection or they don’t think they will be believed. Women live in domestic violence and don’t even realise that they do not have to live with violence because they witnessed it growing up or have been experiencing abuse most of their lives. Domestic violence is their normal. Girls are taught that their value weighs heavily on whether or not they have a boyfriend and, later on, a husband, because they are not valuable in their own right.

This is why I founded Slut walk Lanark County. This is why I sit on the Sexual Assault/Domestic Violence Committee, why I sit on the board for Peggy’s House, why I volunteer at Interval House. This is why I show up and speak out. I grew up in this community and I have raised my children here. I lived within the bubble filled with rape culture and homophobia and misogyny. But I did not teach my children to accept these things; I taught them to be different, to be advocates for themselves and others, to be feminists.

Feminism needs to be taught in schools, modelled and demonstrated. Parents need to teach their children that all people are equal and have a right to be treated with dignity and respect. Generational views that are patriarchal and misogynist must not be carried on, but called what they are and abandoned. The only way we are truly going to keep girls and women safe is to accept nothing less than absolute equality. I feel sick knowing that my girls have grown up in rape culture. I am disheartened that younger girls are still growing up in it and that adults are still allowing it to happen. However, I am also infuriated by this and so the fire in my gut burns strong and I will continue to stand in Solidarity with women and girls. I will keep marching, keep talking, keep advocating until there is no need for me to do so.

My motivation is this: wouldn’t it be amazing if my granddaughter didn’t know what rape culture was? Or my great-granddaughter only learned about it in her sociology class as part of the history of Feminism? Wouldn’t it be a dream come true to live in a world that is Feminist? “You may call me a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.” (John Lennon) So, this is a call to all the other Dreamers out there; raise your voice, move your feet and let’s smash the Patriarchy and end rape culture!

Money Talks

Divorce is a nasty experience for so many, but even more so for women who are leaving an abuser. Since leaving my abuser in 2004, after an 11 year court battle, I have become and advocate for women in my community. I have joined several advisory boards and activist groups who are striving to make changes to the way society views domestic violence and make changes to laws, the legal and justice systems. Having years of lived experience in the Family Court, Criminal Court, child protection and social service systems, I have made it my personal mission to advocate for women and empower them to rebuild their lives after they have left their abuser.

But, you, know, the battle has been uphill. Systems are slow to work and the powers that be are resistant to change. Voices fall on the deaf ears of politicians who pay lip service to the deadly problem of domestic violence, but do not put their money where their mouth is when it’s time to act. They show up for the photo opportunity, but when you call to be added to a Town Council agenda or to get a meeting with a Municipal Member of Parliament, their schedules are full and not flexible; essentially, you are ignored. Now that they have the media attention and the photo of them shaking your hand after making empty promises to pass a Bill that will make a real difference in the lives of women, you are no longer of interest to them.

In rural communities, sytems are so entrenched in tradition and conservatism that even speaking about change can cause outrage and stir up the pot of misogyny and Patriarchy so much that you are left feeling as though you are under threat. People get so angry and lash out so violently when you even suggest that the way things “have always been  done” no longer is a valid justification for allowing women and children to live in violent homes, afraid for their safety and their lives. Many still believe that what happens in a home is not anyone’s business but those that live within those walls, that it is a “family matter” and they will not step up and help. Many still live under the Patriarchal misconception that the man is the “head of the household” so he should have control, he should be obeyed and he has a right use his word, his hands or whatever other means he deems appropriate to maintain control in “his” home.

I’m stepping up, daily, to say, “No, it’s not okay.” This is not the way it should be. No, I won’t be quiet, mind my own business or look away. As a Survivor, I will use my voice and speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. I will show up at Town Council meetings, Committee meetings, Marches and Rallies. I will speak up at the grocery store, in a parking lot, at a bar, on the street; if I see violence, I am going to call it out and I am going to do what I can to stop it.

I wish more people would do this. I wish that when a woman is murdered, raped, abused, goes missing, that people would take to the streets in outrage and demand that the government take notice and changes the laws that do not protect women, but should. That the judicial systems and police services would take notice and do more to protect women, that they would listen to women and believe them. I wish that women were as valuable in our society as men, as money, as power. I wish women were viewed as equal, as important, as persons.

I’m tired of wishing. I’m sick to death of being shushed and patronized. I’m frustrated that friends and peers do not think that my advocacy is anything more than a way of keeping my past wounds open, that I am still bitter and angry. I’m dismayed that government representatives and Crowns and Police don’t show up to hear what victims, survivors and advocates are saying, are experiencing.   I’m tired of advocating and talking, of making speeches and blogging “in hopes” that people will listen, will think, will act. And I’m fucking furious that when we talk, when we march, when we show up and speak out we are called Feminazis, man-haters, extremists.

Too many women are still living in dangerous households. too many children are witnessing or suffering abuse. Too many women are being left destitute and living in poverty after divorce. Too many women are being murdered, too many are children left motherless. Too many women are disappearing, too many families are  left wondering, worrying. In rural communities, the rates of these occurrences are two to four times more than in urban areas. That is unacceptable!

More government funding needs to be directed to rural areas to build and improve infrastructure to allow efficient,  effective supports and services for women There is an overwhelming need for more affordable housing, transitional housing, transportation services, income supports, mental health providers and health care providers. Education programs need to be funded to enable advocates to get into schools and educate youth about healthy relationships. Public Education campaigns need to be funded to allow advocacy agencies to speak to the public about what they can do to facilitate change in their communities. Survivors need to be financially compensated for their invaluable role in these campaigns where they speak their lived experience and give credibility to these campaigns.

Money talks and put in the right places, it can speak loud and clear that women have a right to exist, free from fear of violence. Women have a right to live their lives, and navigate the world feeling safe.

 

No, I can’t “just get over it.”

I read It’s Time: Canada’s National Strategy to Prevent and Address Gender-based Violence today. I was part of the development of this Strategy, with a group of other strong and determined Survivors. We met over the course of a year to discuss our experiences in the Family Law, Criminal and Civil Court systems, as well as our experiences with social service agencies and child protection agencies. We culminated our accounts, thoughts and experiences, along with comprehensive recommendations, in to a report that was presented to the Minister of the Status of Women earlier this year. So, I was very curious and eager to read the report, particularly because our group, Believe/Croyez has been selected  from a National pool of other advocacy groups, who also provided reports of their own, with the hopes of being selected to work with the government in making this Strategy become a reality. Believe/Croyez will receive grant money to put our recommendations in to action and change the landscape of gender-based violence in this country, with a view to ending it.

So many parts of the report had me feeling hopeful and reassured; finally, it seems, the government is listening. Finally, we have a plan and that is a very good start. Something really struck me, though. A paragraph that says, “Violence can have life-long impacts on an individual’s physical, mental, sexual and reproductive health. Impacts can include physical injury and death, disabilities- including depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder- as well as sexually transmitted infections, unintended pregnancy, miscarriage, substance use, absence from school or work, job loss and social isolation.”  This is more true than anyone can know. I have often said, in an effort to lighten a very heavy mood when speaking about my own experiences, that domestic violence is the gift that keeps on giving. Just when a woman thinks she’s turned a corner, there seems to always be yet another road block for her to overcome. Being a victim is traumatizing , life threatening and life changing, but just because you’re “out” doesn’t mean it’s over.

Speaking for myself and, if I may, my children, we are still coping with the aftermath of my abusive marriage. I left my husband July 21, 2004, and still today, the shadows of Jason’s abuse hangs over us. We all have a degree of PTSD, depression and anxiety. We have all sustained physical, emotional and psychological injury from our abuser, causing us to miss work, school, become isolated from friends and family at times and, when we just couldn’t figure out a way to connect, from each other. I would often miss work in the early days of my separation due to lawyers’ meetings, court dates, doctor’s  and counselling appointments for my kids. But there were also times I missed work because the fear of leaving my house was so great, I couldn’t get myself through the door. The anxiety I felt being away from my children and not knowing for sure they were safe would have me keeping my children home from school for movie days, making ice cream sundaes while avoiding their questions about why they “got to” stay home today.

Often I would stay home rather than going out with friends because I just couldn’t handle their questions or worse, their lack of questions. They did not understand what I was experiencing and did not know how to support me. Seeing them living their “normal” lives was so painful for me; I felt like a failure in so many ways, it was just easier to make excuses and stay home. At times, friends just stopped inviting me, and I knew they were excluding me, but I didn’t blame them. I wasn’t much fun to be around with my anger and paranoia, my guilt and jealousy. Home with my babies was where I wanted to be and in spending so much time with my children, in keeping us all so close together, I created an isolation and a co-dependency that would later cause a rift in the family that I am not sure we (I) will ever be able to repair. My eldest daughter has left home, has stopped speaking to me and, while my heart is broken, I understand her motivation completely. She needs to separate herself from all that reminds her of the pain and hurt that was her childhood.

I suffer from PTSD, OCD, Anxiety and Depression… I never realized a person could have all of these diagnoses until I was awarded them, like a prize for “worst dressed” at a red carpet event. These are all badges I wear and the pin pricks in my skin where the various cocktails of medication do not numb their sharp points are reminders that while my marriage is long over, the effects of it are not. I am prone to self-medication with alcohol and, on occasion, recreational drugs. I have rituals that must be completed daily (hourly, minute-by-minute depending on my anxiety level)  some of which, my children can tell you,  are extreme and, for them, invasive. They have never enjoyed me vacuuming and mopping the floors and even less so when the vacuum is turned on while they are sleeping or trying to watch TV. I do both of these things daily, sometimes four or five times a day at my most anxious. There have been times where I have not slept for days and other times when its all I could do to get out of bed. Some say it is a testament to my strength that I always did get out of bed, but it was not so much my strength as my guilt, knowing I owed it to my kids to get out of bed and make the best effort I could to parent them. There were many days I went back to bed after I got the kids to school and stayed there until it was time to pick them up again.

I also have chronic pain in my back and chronic sciatica. I am told the injuries are those consistent with those a person would sustain from repeated hard falls to the floor on one’s bum. The vertebra in my back have been compressed to the point that I have bulging discs and deterioration, and the sacrum and pelvic bones have been damaged and this causes chronic sciatica. I was not a particularly clumsy child, according to my father, and I am 99% sure these injuries are from literally being knocked on my ass by my husband on many occasions. The pain is never completely fades, no matter how many pharmaceutical drugs my doctors prescribe, or how much alcohol I drink. The constant burning and ache are always there, reminding me of the trauma I survived. The pain keeps me prisoner in a cage of resentment, knowing that it will never get any better and I will never truly be free of “him”.

The choices I made, to leave twelve times and go back thirteen, were made in desperation and a will to protect my babies and try to make the best of a marriage doomed to fail. Even in leaving for the final time, I knew it would not be over just because I vowed to never go back, putting borders and country between us, to guarantee it. I knew he would come for me, and he did. Ten years of courts, lawyers, negotiations, left me bankrupt and living in a deeper poverty pit than I ever imagined. The stalking, threats, break and entering, dozens of daily emails kept me feeling afraid for my life and made it impossible for me to be completely present in any given moment. I lived in a state of hyper vigilance for so many years, that my body could not withstand the stress and so I now have fibromyalgia , a painful, difficult disorder that exacerbates the pain I already live with. I have  a sleep disorder that keeps me from falling in to R.E.M. which is required to repair and restore your body. I rarely wake up feeling refreshed.

Still when I go near the Perth Courthouse, I can feel the bile of fear rising in my throat. My hands get clammy, my stomach turns and tears well up in my eyes. When I receive an email from Jason, I still feel anxious and afraid, just seeing his name in my inbox. I received a note from my daughter’s orthodontist last week and it had a hand written note from Jason on it. Seeing his hand writing gave me such a jolt I dropped the paper. I put the letter away; I’ll come back to it when I feel I can. Isn’t that pathetic?

Strength, composure, competence is what people see when I meet them. I dress nicely, I do my hair and my make up daily. I present myself to the world as a Survivor who has overcome her demons and is moving forward in her life. And I am, moving forward. But the demons are at my back, talking in my ear, reminding me that I failed to protect my children, that their pain is my fault, that the future is non-existent.

I separated from my abuser July 21, 2004. I packed up my children and pugs and fled in the night, back to my hometowns to escape. We did not escape. And though court matters have been settled since August 5, 2015, the aftermath and the effects of my marriage are still with me. I will always be “surviving”. My children have a future ahead of them that sometimes seems out of reach, but I will always be there to encourage and support them. Their road is longer and perhaps more treacherous than most and I blame myself for much of that. So, when people say, “It’s been thirteen years. Can’t you just get over it?” I tell them, “No. I can’t.” I cannot just get over it because it’s not over for me. It never will be. That’s the reality of domestic violence. Leaving is not the end. It’s just the beginning of another journey filled with pain, fear and guilt. We Survivors are stronger than anyone, except another Survivor,  can ever really know. We put one foot in front of the other every single day, looking a head to a future we sometimes don’t even trust is there. We cannot get over it. It changed our lives, changed who we were and who we could have become. We wear the badge of Survivor without ever having had the choice to not. Our physical, mental, emotional and financial wellness is fleeting, inconsistent and unpredictable. So don’t ask me why I can’t “just get over it.” This is now my life. And the only way to “get over it” is to end it. That is the raw, unsugarcoated, truth. Society doesn’t want to hear this and for decades the trauma of domestic violence was ignored, swept under the rug. But, now we have a strategy, a plan. I was part of that and that is so empowering.

The path I’m on now is exactly where I want to be, speaking out and advocating to end violence against women. I will keep working toward this, keep fighting and keep lending my voice to those who don’t yet know they have their own. I Believe/Croyez we can end violence against women.

 

 

Family Law System Still Fails Women Everyday.

The Family Law system in Ontario is flawed. I mean, it is an absolute waste land of legal jargon, suppositions and red tape that makes it nearly impossible for people to navigate.  We have lawyers who are jaded, judges who are untrained and ignorant about the dynamics of domestic violence and abuse, and they are unsympathetic to victims of sexual assault, victim services workers who are underfunded and over worked, social workers who are indifferent. How are women supposed to navigate this system and protect themselves and their children?

I work with women who are victims of domestic violence and/or sexual assault daily. I collaborate with shelters, outreach services and advocates to support victims and survivors  and what I hear is a lot of anger that women and children are not being protected by the systems that are supposed to be the guard at the gate, keeping them safe from their abusers. Police are not believing victims, lawyers are not supporting their clients, judges have little or no understanding of the complexities of domestic violence and abuse and the prison and parole systems are just not effective. The system needs an overhaul and it needs it yesterday! Too many women and children are dying at the hands of their abusers and it has to stop. If the deaths of women and children is not enough to spur the government to make meaningful changes to policy and pass more comprehensive and effective laws, what will it take?

Domestic violence is a unique area and it requires specialization to effectively support victims and give them real justice. Judges, lawyers, police and social workers all should be required to have training that is specific to the complexities of domestic violence and the training should be mandatory and updated on a yearly schedule.

One of the biggest areas of concern is the court ordered Family Assessments. These assessments are invasive, lengthy and ineffective. They cost a lot of money and require a large time investment and the results are typically generic and unrealistic. There are limited psychologists in the province who provide this “service” and often times the assessments take much longer than expected. In my experience, the assessors are also misogynist hiding behind their Masters Degrees and they definitely don’t have training or knowledge of the dynamics of a DV situation.

When these assessments are ordered, there is little or no consideration given to how this will affect a child. The mental and emotional well-being of children is not considered; it is all about the rights and entitlements of the abuser (father). The mother is scrutinized and interrogated and made to feel as though she is the one who is in the wrong. Home visits and sessions in the office of the psychologist that are long and exhausting are mandatory. Children are not permitted to have their mother or another trusted adult  in the room and they are interviewed alone, with a stranger. It is frightening for these children and they often shut down and cannot provide clear or accurate answers to the questions being asked. Those children that are a bit older, teens perhaps, are often confrontational or defiant. These behaviours are all held against the mother, and indicator that she has somehow coached the children or spoken ill of her abuser (their father) and so they show an allegiance to their mother that can only indicate parental alienation. What is misunderstood here is that women and children become almost co-dependant when they have been victims of DV and they are fiercely protective of one another as a means of survival.

Recommendations made by the psychologists are often unrealistic, insensitive and even callous. The emotional and mental well-being of the children, and that of their mother, is ignored, not even accounted for. Supervised access and reintegration is most often recommended as a result of these assessments, sometimes with joint custody. This is appalling! Expecting a victim to share custody, decision-making and child rearing responsibilities with her abuser is just unacceptable.

Supervised access agencies are notorious for being biased in favour of the abuser (typically men). Their so-called impartial facilitators are anything but, writing comments in reports that reflect their biases and can cause judicial hardship to the woman and her children.

Mediation is often expected of the woman, sometimes her participation in a co-parenting training class is mandatory. This is a cruel and irresponsible expectation as it puts the woman in a position of being legally bullied by her abuser and keeps her feeling vulnerable and isolated. Women cannot be expected to sit across a table from her abuser and discuss parenting or anything else with her abuser. The imbalance of power is too great and the insensitivity of this being recommended and expected by assessors and judges is proof that these people do not have an understanding of DV, nor do they have any regard for a woman’s emotional and psychological safety.

Throughout these processes, women are often left waiting for a child support order. Abusers often do not submit their financial statements or tax returns in a timely manner, or they lie about their income, and they are given excessive amounts of time to withhold this information and delay the child support order. The courts enable the abuser to financially abuse their victim. The Family Responsibility Office is slow to process court orders and have support payments deducted from and abusers income, leaving women and children living in dire financial hardship while they wait for FRO to get their paper work done. FRO is not aggressive with penalties for men who do not pay. The case workers are not allowed to use their discretion or common sense when interpreting support orders as they actually “are” rather than what they “say” and this leads to further delays in processing. Wording of orders is often ambiguous and while clarification is awaited, women and children live in poverty and uncertainty.

All of this is why domestic violence training must be developed along-side survivors, advocates and front line workers to develop a comprehensive and meaningful training program. The training should be made mandatory for every service provider, agency, police officer, lawyer and judge who will be in contact with a victim/survivor of domestic violence and their children. This is the only way to ensure that women and children are not revictimized and are actually protected by the very systems they are relying on to do so. It’s time for people to demand this change and pressure their government representatives to pass meaningful legislation and make funding programs that support victims a priority. Talk is cheap, women and children are dying and now is the time for action. Let’s push our government to put its money where its mouth is!

We Are Human

She’s someone’s sister. Someone’s mother. Someone’s daughter. Someone’s wife.

“Men judge us by our broad hips and forget their birthplace.”

Women must be sheltered from the fierce storms of life.

In the male-dominated fields of literature and politics, women are spoken of as men’s family, or their childhood homes, or treasures for them to protect. All out value lies in that we have value to men. While they are indeed beautiful ideas, to love our mothers and our sisters, to associate the feminine with the divine cradle of life, and to want- to protect women, because the world is indeed full of fierce and destructive storms- none of these ideas make these storms stop, and none of them build a shelter big enough to house all women. We will not be safe until even women who are only children, who are childless, who are orphaned, who are alone, are not considered worthless. We will not be safe until we are not the birthplace of men, but bodies and minds capable of self-actualization. We will not be safe until we are not objects to be sheltered, but fellow builders,  participants in the creation of spaces in which to take refuge from the storm. We will not be safe until it is recognized that our value is not relational to men; we are men, men are us, and the discrepancy in the struggles we face is reflective of social injustice, not an inherent discrepancy in value.

We live in a world where fourteen women can be murdered for daring to pursue higher education. We live in a world where a teenage girl can be filmed being raped as she is vomiting, and the malicious spread of these images and the failure of the Canadian justice system will result in her suicide. We live in a world where more than one thousand Indigenous women and girls can be missing or murdered and this can be dismissed by the Canadian government. We live in a world where a woman who dares to pursue the most powerful political position in the world can be called a “nasty woman” and be judged on her looks and her demeanor rather than her qualifications for the job. We live in a world where women are not permitted to be outside unaccompanied by a man without risking being beaten and raped. We live in a world where girls are not permitted to go to school and if they defy their government and pursue an education they will be shot in the head and left to die, held as an example for other girls of what will happen if they, too, attempt to become educated. We live in a world where a woman can be beaten to death for speaking up for other women. Where a woman can receive death and rape threats for simply for speaking or creating art in a public space. We live in a world that still does not respect the dignity and importance- the value – of all women.

But we also live in a world where women can come together and lift our voices and our spirits together in hope. We live in a world where women are gathering, marching, protesting and these gatherings are getting bigger. We are getting louder. We are being heard.

The fight to have our value recognized is still being fought, and in spite of all the horrors we still face, and will face for years to come, we are winning. Those who stand against us, those who stand in our way, will not be able to stand there forever.We are many and we are powerful, and most importantly, we are human. Any arguments for continued violence against us, for our continued inequality, is an argument with that fundamental fact; We are human. As long as we know we are more than sisters, mothers, daughters and wives, more than the birthplace of men, more than treasures to be protected, that we are people in our own right, with independent an incontrovertible value, we cannot be silenced.

Note: This is an edited version of a speech written by my daughter, Em Kwissa, for the Dec. 6th vigil held in Lanark County in 2014. I have posted it with edits as I believe it is still relevant and still reflective of what women are facing today.

Standing in Solidarity

It’s no secret that misogyny and patriarchy have been forces at work in society for centuries. It’s no secret that women are treated as second class citizens around the world, objectified, discriminated against and denied equal rights and access to education, health care and protection under the law. Women have long been expected to “put up or shut up” and suffer in silence. The recent election campaign in the United States brought forward a lot of old wounds and shed light in the fact that the Women’s Movement still has so much work to do. Feminism is still not seen as equality for all, but the taking of rights from men to give women rights that many still believe they are not entitled to.Women are still not viewed as equals.

And while we can be incredulous and shout, “It’s 2016, people!” it does not seem to resonate with as many people as we thought it would. In truth, the politically correct climate we have been living in since the 90’s has really just pushed the truth of how so many people really think in to the darkest corners of their minds and hearts, leaving them feeling bitter. The Trump campaign which championed misogyny, patriarchy and white supremacy has allowed these stifled thoughts to bubble to the surface and has given people license to spew the hate that has been lying in wait in their hearts. Their words spur actions and we are seeing racist and misogynistic displays of hate across North America and around the world. We have been naive to think that the idea of “you can’t say that, you can’t think that way anymore” really changed what lies in people’s hearts and minds. Clearly we were deluded to think that the change we have been working to create was real and would continue to evolve for the good of humankind when a man like Donald Trump can be elected President of the United States of America.

Hate is taught and learned in families, generation by generation, a cycle as predominant and recognizable as the cycle of abuse, yet we have allowed ourselves to be wooed by this artificial safety net we call “politically correct”. Trump has pulled that safety net out from under us and we are witnessing  the beginning of a free fall in to a clash of ideologies and civil unrest. Rallies and protests in the streets are peaceful so far, but for how long?  I fear that the worst is yet to come and there will be violence in short order. While Trump has been back peddling on some of his campaign promises already and trying to tone down some of his campaign rhetoric, the damage has already been done. Those filled with hate, dissatisfied with their lives and looking for a scapegoat, have been given permission to act on their backwards ideologies.

Some may say I am being dramatic, but I don’t think I am. So many people are now living in fear, living with uncertainty and are trying to navigate a world that already looked down its proverbial nose at them, but they now have a target on their back. So many like me are sleepless at night with worry, anxiety heightened and feeling helpless to do anything to feel safe. I have been an advocate for women for years and I have always stood in Solidarity with any group who is disadvantaged or marginalized, however the situation that is unfolding seems overwhelming and impossible to process. There is so much that we were not prepared for; the election of Trump first and for most. All I can think to do is continue to speak out. But words seem so useless and wearing a safety pin on my clothing seems so minimal. Sharing posts on social media and signing petitions seems so trite and redundant.

I have long said that real action is what is needed to make change. Taking a real stand and, if need be, taking to the streets, is what will get people to take notice. Our complacency in how we deliver our message of what is acceptable, what we will tolerate and allow has come back to bite us in the ass. The protests and rallies that are happening right now in the USA are what should have been happening all along until we forced our politicians and world leaders to hear us and pass the laws that are need to protect the rights of all citizens.  We know that the Legal, Judicial and  Electoral Systems are broken and that at the very least change needs to take place, if not a complete overhaul. But we will never get this change to happen if we are not willing to put real pressure on our government. Women and LGBTQ persons and People of Colour are still dying daily and we can no longer afford to express our anger and sadness on Facebook and Twitter. Like the Water Protectors at Standing Rock, we need to be more visible and raise our voices higher than the din of hate that is now bubbling rapidly to the surface.

Civil unrest is evident and I do believe there will be a clash of ideologies, however history has taught us that the only real way to bring change is with force. The Suffragettes took to the streets to get the vote, the Women’s Movement took to the streets, burning their bras to get gender equality. People of Colour took to the streets in the Civil Rights Movement to get equal rights… When did we become so complacent as to think that social media was the answer? It is so easy to speak out from the comfort of our living room, sharing a post and then switching our focus to something less difficult for us to see. But not everyone has the privilege to tune out the hate, the pain that it causes and I believe we all have a duty to stand in Solidarity and participate in the Revolution that is coming if we truly want this world to be better for our children.

Call me an angry Feminist if you want, but I will be standing with my sisters and brothers in Solidarity and I will not be silenced.

“Imagine”

Imagine there’s no heaven
It’s easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today… Aha-ah…Imagine there’s no countries
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion, too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace… You…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world… You…

You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one

 

Drowning

My daughter is drowning. She has finally fallen in to the black hole created by the mental illness that has chased her for years, trying to swallow her whole.  This girl is angry and sad and overwhelmed by her anxiety and depression. The despair is winning and she is disappearing and I am impotent in my efforts to save her. After ten years of fighting to keep her safe from Jason, the man who groomed her and sexually abused her before she was even old enough to attend school, I am now losing the fight to keep her safe from a disease that is more cunning, more intelligent, more ruthless than Jason ever was.

My daughter is a fighter and I see her trying to hang on. She reaches for me and I have her hand, but it is slipping. She has tried to persevere and has been steadfast in her hopes and dreams of owning horses and running a stable. But, now, the horse she was once pining each day to see has become an annoyance; riding him has become frustrating and so she has been reluctant to go to the barn, the place she used to refer to as her second home. The horse she loves no longer brings her comfort and pride; when she is with him, she now feels nothing. She has told me she no longer wants to have him; they will not be ready for the next show season, so what is the point? This is not true, it is the depression manipulating her and this frightens me. My daughter once could not go a day without talking about the horse, watching videos of her riding him or badgering me to get her to the barn early for her lessons so she would have lots of time to groom and play with her horse. To hear her say “there is no point” tells me she is abandoning her dreams and the darkness that is stalking her is winning.

It has also become physically painful to ride as my daughter has been diagnosed with fibromyalgia.  This is caused from the intense depression and anxiety my daughter has been battling for several years, and it makes some days impossible to face as the pain throughout her body is excruciating and so, she retreats to her bed and sleeps and sleeps.

She intends to attend school and do well in her studies, but the disease is manipulative and tries to convinces her it is all a farce and there is no point because she will never be good enough. Still, she would go. She would attend her classes, hang out with her friends and do her homework. But these days became fewer and fewer and now, for weeks, she has been unable to fight off the despair. She has not been able to go to school and withstand the classes and the socializing and the homework. Instead, she succumbs to the despair and sleeps.  Knowing she is falling behind and at risk of losing her semester does not give her strength to go to school. Knowing she is losing touch with her friends does not inspire her to go to school or accept invitations for social activities. It does give the disease fodder to convince my daughter that there is nothing good in her life, nothing to look forward to and so she might as well give up. It drowns out every other voice, voices trying to encourage her. But the disease is louder and so she listens and wishes she could “just disappear”.  This terrifies my daughter and so she retreats to  bed where she falls into an exhausted sleep and does not have to listen to the voices in her head.  In her bed she feels safe.

Years ago, my daughter attended therapy with a psychologist, specializing in child sexual abuse. My daughter was still very young and did not understand what grooming and sexual abuse was. Her father had normalized what he was doing to her so well, that she believed this was how Daddy’s loved their daughters, how little girls were supposed to behave towards men and boys. As her therapy progressed she became very angry with her father for doing “bad things” that meant that he could not be trusted to be alone with her. She had a lot of guilt for “telling” because this now meant she could not be with her Daddy, whom she loved very much. Eventually, the therapy came to an end as the psychologist felt she had gone as far as she could go with my daughter for the time being, but she informed me that once my daughter was older, in her teens, she would need further therapy to help her understand, process and come to terms with what happened to her as a young child.

All of my children have been under the care of a psychiatrist since 2005 to treat them for the various mental and emotional ups and downs that they have faced in the aftermath of our escape from Jason. Now, the doctor believes, he too, has gone as far as he can go with my daughter and she needs more intensive treatment to help her address the repressed anger and hurt she has because of the sexual abuse she suffered at the hands of her father.

I have been asking for help for months, but there is always resistance to admitting a person in to hospital for mental illness unless it becomes a matter of life and death. Our health care system is overwhelmed with patients and there are not enough resources to help everyone, so they use the band-aid approach and hope things will get better. I had hope, too. Increased sessions with the psychiatrist, medical appointments, weekly counselling with a local agency, tweaking medications and adding new ones so that my daughter has been on more medications than I can count and  is now on three different medications. But none of this is working. She is drowning and I am losing the grip on her hand that she once reached out to me, but is pulling back.

My daughter sleeps. She does not eat unless I bring it to her. She does not shower or get dressed.  She has not been to school in weeks and is not even attempting to keep up with her studies as she was, working from home. She does not see friends. She is tired and pale and weak. She is riddled with anxiety if, when she wakes, I am not at home and when I am out, she calls or texts me many times asking when I will be home, demanding to know how much longer I will be away from the house. I am her security, but I cannot be home with her all the time. I must go to my job and work, to pay the bills. I have to go out to buy groceries and pick up her medications and sometimes I just need to get out of the house for my own sanity. She has become a recluse and wants me as her companion. The guilt I feel when leaving her, knowing she will retreat to her bed and sleep, not eating, not drinking, is immense and consuming. My own anxiety has become so intense some days that I, too, struggle to get out of bed.

Finally, my daughter’s condition has become so dire that her psychiatrist and counsellor have decided to support me in my endeavor to get my daughter the help she needs. She will be going into hospital to be treated for acute anxiety and major depression. Because she is not eating and unable to perform basic tasks of self-care, under the Mental Health Act, she can no longer be refused a place in the hospital. I am relieved that she will be in a safe place, but I am also angry.

I am furious that after ten years of fighting to keep my children safe from our abuser, he still has a hold over us. He is still in our lives and he still affects us everyday. What he did to my children was so devastating that they have been unable to completely overcome it. There has been no justice for them, no closure and now my daughter is drowning in the post-trauma sludge of his abuse. I want him to know the damage he has caused, the devastation that my marriage to him has wreaked on our lives. But he does not care. He pretends none of it happened, denies it to anyone who will listen and has cultivated himself a new garden of lies and deception, while we live with the thorns left in our bodies from the garden of lies that we narrowly escaped and are still trying to survive.

I will not let go of my daughter’s hand. I will not let her sink under the dark waters in her pool of despair. I will do whatever it takes to pull her out. She is strong and I know she can fight this, but I do not know how to convince her to fight. I have hope now, that she will learn to fight again, once she is in the hospital. I have hope that she will reach for me and find her way out of this  and come home.

 

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