Redefining Domestic Violence (my secret six months)

Several years ago I travelled Australia researching domestic violence for a Canberra Government Department. The aim was  to identify strategies that had been empirically proven to work. Little did I know that years later I’d have my own experience, nowhere near that of the victims, survivors and perpetrators I’d interviewed, but an experience that upended my life and forced me to live with a secret for six months.  

Camp bed © The Ponder Room

 
Six months ago on a Thursday night all hell broke loose at the front door of my sleepy suburban home. What followed was a totally unprovoked, brief, but terrifying, experience that would have made Quinten Tarantino or an SAS drill sergeant proud. The noise, the screaming, the threats to kill, all designed with one aim … to get you to open the front door.

Being a relatively sane person (although perhaps not at that particular moment), I fled the house at the first opportunity and landed on the doorstep of my safe haven. There I found open arms, caring souls, a soothing cup of tea and this bed (quickly erected under the family’s computer table).

That night, unable to sleep, I lay awake pondering what had happened. As the shock wore off the realisation came … this had happened before.

About a year prior the same thing, slightly muted but still impactful. As the fog lifted the human figures began to take form, thankfully not their faces just their frames, but they were the same frames I’d seen earlier. The same frames and the same modus operandi. A middle aged man and woman at the door, plus four more in a car waiting outside.

I’ve managed to return to the house a few times. Always in daylight, always with a friend in tow, and always for no more than an hour before the desire to flee takes hold again.

For six months I’ve been living out of a hastily packed suitcase. Consequently I’ve had limited possibility of finding matching socks let alone a matching trendy outfit. Strike that, even with all the time in the world my close friends know a trendy outfit is unlikely … so too matching socks for that matter, but you get the idea. Still I’ve attempted to keep up appearances, tried to look respectable, tried to not let on.

For six months I’ve managed to answer phone calls, emails, facebook messages and reach project deadlines, hopefully without raising suspicions.

For six months I’ve slept in this bed, cocooned in a warmth that reflected the love and support lavished on me by its owners.

Last night marked the final sleep in my glorious blue camper bed … it’s time to move on. But somehow this morning I couldn’t get up. I lay there until 10am pondering:

1. What kind of human beings get their thrills, or their income, from scaring innocent people? And how much would it take to tip them over the edge into actions that resulted in far more disastrous consequences?
2. My experience was extremely minor, I arrived in tact. I cannot fathom going through such an upheaval with accompanying cuts, abrasions, and children in tow. My heart goes out to all those currently in this situation. I urge you to make use of the services on offer.
3. To drop into friends lives, to linger for six months disrupting their life balance and only receive love in return, is a wonderful side of humanity, a true gift. Where would we all be without those safe havens, those places and people we can turn to in need? I cannot express how immense my gratitude is, and always will be, to them.
4. Perhaps, although not on the same scale, the definition of Domestic Violence should be extended to include home invasions.

Would love to hear your views.

Domestic Violence resources in WA:
www.health.wa.gov.au
www.victimsofcrime.wa.gov.au
www.dcp.wa.gov.au
www.courts.dotag.wa.gov.au
www.womenscouncil.com.au
www.ncsmc.org.au
www.1800respect.org.au