One morning at the end of summer 2009, my parents were arguing about a phone bill, and things quickly escalated. I was in the living room and could hear their raised voices coming from upstairs. Soon, I sensed that my father was about to become physically abusive towards my mother, and I ran upstairs to interfere. He was very predictable; someone who thrived off chaos. Violence was always his response to the problems he deliberately caused. I was my mother’s protector, a key thing that my father hated about me. Like all abusers, he had a control complex. My method of attempting to defuse situations was always to stand next to my mum, thinking that would reduce the chances of physical abuse. How very wrong I was.
Within seconds of inserting myself between him and my mother that day, he grabbed me and threw me down the staircase. I managed to land safely and wasn’t injured, but a few minutes later, before I’d even showered that morning, my father kicked me out of the house. I was 17 years old.
Growing Up in a Dysfunctional Household
Growing up in a dysfunctional household was tough. From a very early age, I knew my parents weren’t compatible, and I fantasised about a life where they were apart. I was five when I saw the first fight. It was early in the morning, and my mum was heavily pregnant. My father pushed her with force onto the sofa and then proceeded to take my sister and me to school, acting as if nothing had happened.
I remember feeling unsafe around him from that day onwards and uncontrollably thinking about my mum. I found myself growing up really fast as a child because I was always in flight-or-fight mode. Whenever my father was present, I was on alert. My older sister never took action, and my younger sister was her shadow. They were really scared of our father and so never spoke up.
My parents would constantly fight, split up, and get back together. It was unsettling to see but equally a huge relief whenever my father was gone. I was 13 years old when they reconciled after yet another split in 2004, a split which had seen my father moving away. After several months apart, my father begged my mum to give him another chance and for us to move away with him, promising he had changed. Even though, in private, my sisters and I would tell our mother that she was making a huge mistake, that life was better without him, she took him back, assuring us that everything would work out.
A Cycle of Abuse Resurfaces
Things were fine for a while. It was surreal to see my parents actually getting along, but I was still on edge most days. And within a year, my father’s usual traits resurfaced, and the abuse came back stronger than ever. He went back to shouting all the time and raising his hands to my mum. My father was so tyrannical and territorial; in his mind, he was the sole owner of the family home and so decided who could live there and when. ‘If you make the slightest mistake, I will kick you out,’ he frequently reminded my sisters and me. So when my time came to actually experience his threat, when he threw me down the stairs that day in 2009 and kicked me out, I wasn’t shocked at all.
Homelessness and Survival
Thankfully, I had my phone and was able to call one of my sisters to meet me outside with my bag and money. After that, I walked to the train station and went to a friend’s house in London. That same day my mother called me. She apologised for what I had been made to face, sounding broken herself. She knew I was safe in London but that I couldn’t stay there long term. So she instructed me to return home by Monday, to visit the local council housed in the town hall, and to mention that I needed urgent accommodation. The call ended with my mum assuring me that she’d figure things out and get me back home.
I reluctantly followed her advice, and days later found myself in a long queue inside the town hall, waiting for my fate to be determined by a stranger. Luckily, I was still a minor and considered a priority. I spent the final days of my summer settling into a hostel with teenagers who abused substances; I felt utterly alone.
The hostel was fifteen minutes away from our home, but I lived in a cell-like room for months. Naturally, anyone’s first question would be: ‘How could your mum allow you to become homeless?’ But I can never be angry at her about how that situation played out because I know how helpless she felt. Thankfully, I was able to speak to her and my sisters every day; they kept me grounded. My sisters hated my father for what he did to me, but they could only offer emotional support.
During this whole experience, I still had to go to school. I attended sixth form, pretending that everything was okay. I was new to the school, so nobody actually knew who I was. I desperately wanted to confide in a friend, but I didn’t know anyone in my year group well enough.
Finding Strength and Forgiveness
True to her word, my mum showed up at the hostel weeks later, late at night, and took me home. My parents began divorce proceedings a few months after that. Now, on the days that my past does enter the forefront of my mind, I am reminded how far I’ve come in life and how strong I am. While I didn’t have a relationship with my father after that experience, and never will, I learned to forgive him. He used to share stories about his childhood, how messed up it was. I figured he was holding onto so much trauma that it manifested in his life decades later, forming into abusive behaviour.
I’m so grateful that I made it out of that nightmare with my mental health intact and to now have a family and home of my own. While my husband is aware of this sad story, our two daughters are not. It would crush them to hear that I was homeless as a child at the hands of my own father. I am very protective of my children and can never imagine destroying their childhood in the way that mine was. For them, I live every day as the best person I can be.
If You Are Experiencing Domestic Abuse
If you are experiencing domestic abuse, you are not alone. And whether you are currently coping with or have made the decision to leave, you do have options. If you are thinking about leaving, domestic abuse charity Refuge suggests starting a record of abusive incidents, which might include saving pictures or messages, or making notes of times, dates, and details of incidents. The next step is to make copies of important documents such as court orders, marriage certificates, National Insurance Numbers, and your driving licence. In the meantime, identify the safer areas of your home so that you know where to go if your abuser becomes aggravated. Ideally, this should be a room with a phone and a door or window to the outside. If you feel ready to leave, start by making a plan for a safe, reliable route out. If you feel safe to do so, pack an emergency bag so that you can leave in a hurry if needed. You can access a local refuge, either with or without children, for as long as you need to stay. The address is confidential. The National Domestic Abuse Helpline (0808 2000 247) is open 24 hours a day and has all the details of refuges in your area. In an emergency situation, ring 999 and ask for the police. If you aren’t able to talk, try the Silent Solution: after dialling 999, listen to the questions from the operator and respond by coughing or tapping your device, if possible. If prompted, press 55 to let the operator know it is an emergency, and you will be put through to the police.
How to Support a Loved One at Risk
If you feel that it is safe, approaching them gently and considerately may be enough to encourage someone to speak out. Otherwise, reminding them of charities like Women’s Aid and Refuge might help them seek advice. Ultimately, there are a multitude of ways you can help. Listen: Try active listening, where you really tune into what the other person is saying without bombarding them with questions. They may not feel comfortable talking about the abuse directly yet. Don’t judge: It is easy to fall into the trap of being critical, either towards the abuser or the victim for apparently ‘choosing’ to stay in the relationship. Avoid being negative about their partner; understand that your friend or relative may still love them, whatever your own point of view. Believe: Avoid phrases like ‘But they’ve always been so nice to me’ or ‘I can’t imagine them doing that’. Take in what your loved one is telling you with an open mind and reassure them that you are there for them. Support: Acknowledging domestic abuse is a process. Offering advice on what constitutes abuse or sharing details for helplines, as long as it is safe to do so, gives your friend or relative the time and space they need to come to terms with what is happening and decide what, if any, action they want to take. Plan: If your loved one feels ready to leave a domestically abusive situation, you can help. Research non-local taxi numbers and transport timetables, or provide items needed in an emergency bag. You might also consider creating a safe word between you and your loved one that signals they need help, and work out how you are going to call for support. Remember: Support is out there, however you are involved, and you are not alone.
