I am distressed and amazed to find out some truths about what others have said about women who have been abused, either as children or as grown women. I am even more distressed to find out that what I have heard has actually come from women.
Someone has been reading this blog and though they have absolutely no idea who I am intimately they have chosen to make extreme comments to others that have caused much turmoil and greater distress to an already stressful situation.
Comments have been made regarding a woman claiming abuse as a child. The most distressful of these comments was a statement claiming that most women who claim abuse as a child are making it up for attention.
I want to say right here, right now, that I know of no woman who would claim sexual abuse as a child to gain attention. That sort of comment could only come from someone who has never met me, but has relied on an account of me from someone who needs to defend himself right now and has used my trust in him to attempt to defile me, my family and my name. Abuse in any form is destructive, and potentially crippling to its victims and anyone relying on second information regarding this to form an opinion of me is doing themselves and others an injustice.
I am a woman who unfortunately suffered abuse as a child for over eight years because my abuser convinced me that no one would ever believe me and that if I ever told my parents they would get rid of me, so I never told. Instead I found a way to survive, not as a victim but as someone who found a hope buried deep inside myself, in my darkness, where I couldn't be found, I dreamt of more, of better things, I found a place to live.
I believe that there in that dark place, where no one could touch me, I found God. I knew nothing of God of the bible back then, I knew nothing of guardian angels, I knew nothing of universal love, I knew nothing of positive thinking, I knew nothing of focus, I knew nothing of what could be, I just knew I could feel someone with their arms around me and in the darkness telling me ever so clearly...'I've got you, it's okay'! I have had God, this God with me every moment, every day ever since, loving me and helping me to live a better life.
In hindsight, I could have lain down and been a victim, I could have claimed the abuse I suffered to get attention, I could have spent my life escaping into a life where it was everyone else's fault, I could have spent my life creating havoc, I could have spent my life in self pity, I could have spent my life never ever taking responsibility for my actions... but I didn't. With my belief that God had held me and walked through every moment of my childhood with me, I got off my butt and determind that no child of mine would ever go through the same thing and that I would make sure that I provided for myself a real bricks and mortar place of comfort, peace and retreat, where if anyone dare come to abuse me again, I could kick them out and lock the door!
The bible says that satan comes to steal, rob and destroy. Maybe that's why I felt the presence of God so young in my life, my life, that could have turned out more bitter, more puposeless than it has. Maybe I am stronger than I give myself credit for. Maybe my trust in God has given me a lot more in life than I give credit for. Maybe my trust in God has protected me more than I realise.
I have brought up two wonderful children to be two amazing adults. Kyle, my son to my husband, Phillip Keogh who we lost so early, is an absolutely amazing guy. He has a winners heart and regardless of his loss as a child, he has conquered more than many young men I know. Chanelle, my daughter to my second husband Bruce who I am now divorced from, is a beautiful lady, who has grown up to be independent of the need to have a man provide for her.
My life has been surrounded by things that have come to steal, rob and destroy from me...childhood abuse, death, divorce, liars, racism, a car accident that broke every bone in the right side of my body, people who have tried to take advantage of what I have accomplished and claim it for themselves, and people who make statements about me based on information received from someone who needs a defence right now. But the truth is, you can't take what you didn't earn.
You can tell a tree by its fruit! If I am the tree and Kyle and Chanelle are the fruit, then I've done pretty darn well. The fruit of my love is them, what I have provided for them, the loving family they have been brought up in, the loving home they can always return to, the wonderful extended family they belong to, and the legacy of hope, power and love that they have inherited from me will sustain them a lot longer than the legacy to take no responsibility for your actions but blame others, and gather as many people as you can to agree!
Monday, November 9, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Do I choose abuse...?
Abuse is not new to me.
I was sexually abused by my father's adoptive father from when I was a child of four and he continued sexually, mentally and emotionally abusing me until he died eight years later. By the time he died, I had not known any other way of being. I had learnt how to keep secrets and how to hide my abused self from family and eventually from the world. He was manipulative and controlling, something he had to be to keep me from telling anyone what was really going on. To everyone else, he was a lovely, quiet but quite sickly man, who had the admiration of many, from his days playing in a band, for dances that were popular in the early seventies. But to me, while no one else was watching, he was cruel and took much pleasure in humiliating me, belittling me, abusing me and forcing me to participate in activities for his own sick pleasure.
I never ever experienced innocence. I know I must have had it once upon a time, but I was so young when the abuse began, that I believe I never truelly learnt how to be free to be myself. Hiding my abused self from the world was something I had to do every day of my childhood. Hiding from my parents, my brothers and anyone I ever came into contact with. I would watch how others acted with each other and I pretended to be the same. My first day at school was so traumatic... I screamed all morning for my mother and eventually she had to come back to the school and collect me. I have totally no recollection of this as I believe I was so terrified of being exposed that I shut myself down. I was used to shutting myself down, used to disconnecting from any emotion, used to disconnecting from all my five senses, just to stop anything from getting in and touching my soul. I spent the first two weeks of school at intervals in the classroom because I was terrified to be out in the open. Eventually I learnt from watching the other girls, and I learnt how to pretend to be normal. I never was.
As a child, I would hold my breath if anything frightened me. This is another thing I have no recollection of, but mum used to have to put ice on my back just to get me breathing again before I passed out. Ironically, since she told me that, I realise that I still do that to this very day. I feel like I can't breathe and my chest feels as though it is enclosed in a tight fist... and I realise that I have been holding my breath and that fear has set in.
To disconnect to the abuse I was experiencing as a child, I would let myself go into a darkness in my mind and in there I would feel nothing, hear nothing and smell nothing. There was just me. I was free from touch, smell, sight, hearing, and taste. The outer me did not exist and whatever she was touching, smelling, seeing, hearing or tasting, was left out there. I had to learn how to separate the abuser from the grandpa, how to separate the abused from the little girl, how to separate the inner world from the outer, how to separate the horror and torment from the normal every day family life, how to separate myself from the emotional pain I felt inside and give a show of childishness. I had to separate myself from my brothers. I had to separate myself from my mother. I had to separate myself from my father and being his only daughter, he couldn't understand why I would never let him anywhere near me...I was so ashamed that if he cuddled me, he would know what was happening to me. I had to deny myself every moment of every day anything that I felt would make me happy because the abuser would destroy it with his words and his actions. One time, when I was about seven, the abuser promised me that I could watch a family movie with my brothers, if I participated in one more act of filth. I was so elated that I was going to be able to experience something I'd truelly enjoy that I took him at his word and he locked his bedroom door. Later that day, everyone went into the lounge to watch the movie... just as it was starting and all us kids were getting somewhere to sit, the grandpa told me I was making too much noise, so I couldn't watch the movie and I had to go out into the hall and shut the door behind me. I started crying and saying..'you said I could watch it, you promised'...the abuser just smirked back at me and told me to get out in the hall and shut the door, now! I was absolutely devastated...I don't know what suicide feelings feel like as a child, but I know at that moment, I felt something inside me so void and empty and useless and worthless that I didn't even feel myself get up and walk into the hall and shut the door. I sat on the floor in that hall sobbing and feeling so much self-hatred, I was so angry at myself for making a noise, so angry at myself for thinking he was going to be kind to me, so angry at myself for being so filthy, so angry at myself for being so ugly, so angry at myself for being so unlovable, so angry at myself for being a girl, so angry at myself that I started pulling my hair out and scratching myself as hard as I could, so angry at myself for doing something wrong, that I couldn't watch the movie. I sat on the floor in the hall and tried to think of ways to make it up to the abuser, to ask for his forgiveness and to let me watch the movie, just this movie, I'd give up any other thoughts of any future happiness if I could just watch this movie... but it was never going to happen, even when he promised me that I could watch it, he knew then it was never going to happen, he just found a way to make me believe I was to blame for the way he treated me and for all the things he did to me. I tried to look through the key hole of the hall door at one stage, thinking I could almost see the tv, but I couldn't, all I could see was everyone having a lovely time and I was excluded. Eventually, I gave up, curled up on the hall floor and went to the darkness.
It was so unfair. I was a little girl. I didn't even know I was a little girl, but I know it now. I know now that I was just a little girl. Sometimes I still feel like that little girl locked in the hall watching everyone through the key hole. Sitting out there, excluded because I made too much noise. I feel like that little girl locked in the hall with no rights, so ugly and unlovable. I fight daily to keep my chin up. I fight daily to believe I can experience some happiness. I fight daily to tell myself that eventually someone will take responsibility and say it wasn't my fault. I fight daily to tell myself that I deserve to be vindicated from the abuse I have suffered. I fight daily to trust. I fight daily to believe in myself. I fight daily to tell myself that even though I've experienced so much bullshit in my life, that I can hope for better. I fight daily to trust that God loves me even if every body else doesn't. I fight daily to ignore all the horrible things people I have loved have ever said. I fight daily to see the good I have achieved even after all this. I fight daily to remind myself that I didn't give in or give up. I fight daily to understand how this could happen for eight years and who I became from it. I fight daily with the words the abuser gave me on his death bed...if you ever tell anyone I will take all the love from your world. I fight daily to see love in my world and I fight daily to tell the difference between love and that which is not!
I was sexually abused by my father's adoptive father from when I was a child of four and he continued sexually, mentally and emotionally abusing me until he died eight years later. By the time he died, I had not known any other way of being. I had learnt how to keep secrets and how to hide my abused self from family and eventually from the world. He was manipulative and controlling, something he had to be to keep me from telling anyone what was really going on. To everyone else, he was a lovely, quiet but quite sickly man, who had the admiration of many, from his days playing in a band, for dances that were popular in the early seventies. But to me, while no one else was watching, he was cruel and took much pleasure in humiliating me, belittling me, abusing me and forcing me to participate in activities for his own sick pleasure.
I never ever experienced innocence. I know I must have had it once upon a time, but I was so young when the abuse began, that I believe I never truelly learnt how to be free to be myself. Hiding my abused self from the world was something I had to do every day of my childhood. Hiding from my parents, my brothers and anyone I ever came into contact with. I would watch how others acted with each other and I pretended to be the same. My first day at school was so traumatic... I screamed all morning for my mother and eventually she had to come back to the school and collect me. I have totally no recollection of this as I believe I was so terrified of being exposed that I shut myself down. I was used to shutting myself down, used to disconnecting from any emotion, used to disconnecting from all my five senses, just to stop anything from getting in and touching my soul. I spent the first two weeks of school at intervals in the classroom because I was terrified to be out in the open. Eventually I learnt from watching the other girls, and I learnt how to pretend to be normal. I never was.
As a child, I would hold my breath if anything frightened me. This is another thing I have no recollection of, but mum used to have to put ice on my back just to get me breathing again before I passed out. Ironically, since she told me that, I realise that I still do that to this very day. I feel like I can't breathe and my chest feels as though it is enclosed in a tight fist... and I realise that I have been holding my breath and that fear has set in.
To disconnect to the abuse I was experiencing as a child, I would let myself go into a darkness in my mind and in there I would feel nothing, hear nothing and smell nothing. There was just me. I was free from touch, smell, sight, hearing, and taste. The outer me did not exist and whatever she was touching, smelling, seeing, hearing or tasting, was left out there. I had to learn how to separate the abuser from the grandpa, how to separate the abused from the little girl, how to separate the inner world from the outer, how to separate the horror and torment from the normal every day family life, how to separate myself from the emotional pain I felt inside and give a show of childishness. I had to separate myself from my brothers. I had to separate myself from my mother. I had to separate myself from my father and being his only daughter, he couldn't understand why I would never let him anywhere near me...I was so ashamed that if he cuddled me, he would know what was happening to me. I had to deny myself every moment of every day anything that I felt would make me happy because the abuser would destroy it with his words and his actions. One time, when I was about seven, the abuser promised me that I could watch a family movie with my brothers, if I participated in one more act of filth. I was so elated that I was going to be able to experience something I'd truelly enjoy that I took him at his word and he locked his bedroom door. Later that day, everyone went into the lounge to watch the movie... just as it was starting and all us kids were getting somewhere to sit, the grandpa told me I was making too much noise, so I couldn't watch the movie and I had to go out into the hall and shut the door behind me. I started crying and saying..'you said I could watch it, you promised'...the abuser just smirked back at me and told me to get out in the hall and shut the door, now! I was absolutely devastated...I don't know what suicide feelings feel like as a child, but I know at that moment, I felt something inside me so void and empty and useless and worthless that I didn't even feel myself get up and walk into the hall and shut the door. I sat on the floor in that hall sobbing and feeling so much self-hatred, I was so angry at myself for making a noise, so angry at myself for thinking he was going to be kind to me, so angry at myself for being so filthy, so angry at myself for being so ugly, so angry at myself for being so unlovable, so angry at myself for being a girl, so angry at myself that I started pulling my hair out and scratching myself as hard as I could, so angry at myself for doing something wrong, that I couldn't watch the movie. I sat on the floor in the hall and tried to think of ways to make it up to the abuser, to ask for his forgiveness and to let me watch the movie, just this movie, I'd give up any other thoughts of any future happiness if I could just watch this movie... but it was never going to happen, even when he promised me that I could watch it, he knew then it was never going to happen, he just found a way to make me believe I was to blame for the way he treated me and for all the things he did to me. I tried to look through the key hole of the hall door at one stage, thinking I could almost see the tv, but I couldn't, all I could see was everyone having a lovely time and I was excluded. Eventually, I gave up, curled up on the hall floor and went to the darkness.
It was so unfair. I was a little girl. I didn't even know I was a little girl, but I know it now. I know now that I was just a little girl. Sometimes I still feel like that little girl locked in the hall watching everyone through the key hole. Sitting out there, excluded because I made too much noise. I feel like that little girl locked in the hall with no rights, so ugly and unlovable. I fight daily to keep my chin up. I fight daily to believe I can experience some happiness. I fight daily to tell myself that eventually someone will take responsibility and say it wasn't my fault. I fight daily to tell myself that I deserve to be vindicated from the abuse I have suffered. I fight daily to trust. I fight daily to believe in myself. I fight daily to tell myself that even though I've experienced so much bullshit in my life, that I can hope for better. I fight daily to trust that God loves me even if every body else doesn't. I fight daily to ignore all the horrible things people I have loved have ever said. I fight daily to see the good I have achieved even after all this. I fight daily to remind myself that I didn't give in or give up. I fight daily to understand how this could happen for eight years and who I became from it. I fight daily with the words the abuser gave me on his death bed...if you ever tell anyone I will take all the love from your world. I fight daily to see love in my world and I fight daily to tell the difference between love and that which is not!
What a mess...
I wish I was a person who could stay angry and vindictive, instead of being a person who eventually calms down and begins to consider how the other person must feel.
I began my last post about ten minutes after I had heard that Brent had gone to court and plead not guilty. I know that there are two sides to every story, and I am without a doubt that Brent has his, but the true fact remains that Brent did assault me that night with the clothes airer. I believe that the way our justice system works leaves many woman feeling vulnerable and unworthy of true consideration. I believe everyone should be entitled to plead their case, but it seems to me that woman come at the bottom of the list when it comes to being protected and finding an arena to have a voice. No woman, no where, no how, should have to put up with being abused verbally or physically and while our society continues to make excuses for the abuser, many many more woman and children will be victimised. I am someones daughter, sister, and mother and I do have a right to say no, I'm not putting up with this. Brent also has this same right. I exercise this right by either asking Brent to leave my home, or if I have been at his place and the situation is getting out of hand, I will leave. If my character is in question, as an excuse to hit me with a clothes airer, then I need to ask...are we all able to attack anyone because we feel unfairly treated. Would I be able to walk into Brent's place today and attack him because I feel unfairly treated? Would it be acceptable for my brothers to attack Brent because they want to avenge their little sister? How would you feel if it was your daughter? How would you feel if it was your sister? How would you feel if it was your mother? Outraged, should be the answer! My family and friends are outraged at this act of violence against me... but did they go anywhere near Brent, either in person, or by phone, to avenge me? Absolutely not! Yes, they are upset and angry, but two things remain true. Firstly, they know Brent personally and understand that this act is something that Brent (and myself) have to deal with appropriately, so that Brent never deals with his frustration this way again, and that we individually seek to learn how to create healthy loving relationships. Secondly, they understand that there has to be a deeper reason why an adult man chooses to attack a woman rather than walk away and only he can be responsible for not choosing to do so, I am not responsible for what Brent chose to do that night, I am only responsible for choosing to accept that in the past, abusive behaviour towards me is acceptable and that is something I have to work through.
I honestly believe that we as a society, have to stop making excuses for bad behaviour. She made me do it, cause she made me angry, is bullshit! I have never been able to make Brent, or any man, do anything he does not want to do! I love quiz nights and the food channel, but if you think I can make Brent attend a quiz night or watch the food channel, twentyfour-seven, you're crazy. I could no sooner make him wear a dress, than he could make me be a lesbian. Its not in my makeup, what IS in my makeup is a desire for truth. So making excuses for bad behaviour is just another way of giving licence to everyone to just go about doing what the hell they want!
I believe that while Brent refuses to take responsibility for how he chooses to act, or react, he will lock himself into a pattern of behaviour that will eventually leave him outside of the loving relationship that I know he truelly wants for himself. I believe that while I refuse to take responsibility for allowing myself to be seen and treated as if I am not worthy of a truelly loving relationship then I too will lock myself into a pattern of behaviour that will eventually leave me outside.
Right from the start of this blog, I said, this was not an attempt to lay blame on anyone, but rather a way for me to share what I was going through. Blame is a way of not taking responsibility for ourselves. I could blame Brent for all the upsets we have had together and in hindsight when I look through some of my past posts, it appears that I have, but the truth is I do not blame Brent for everything. I accept that I have work to do for myself and on myself. I have mentioned things that have angered and upset me more so to expose them, for I believe that only that which is not exposed can continue to control you. Many people will be upset at things I have said and will continue to say, but the truth is, the situation between Brent and I is something we have to deal with and if either of us refuses to take responsibility for what we have both said and done, then that will be on us.
I began my last post about ten minutes after I had heard that Brent had gone to court and plead not guilty. I know that there are two sides to every story, and I am without a doubt that Brent has his, but the true fact remains that Brent did assault me that night with the clothes airer. I believe that the way our justice system works leaves many woman feeling vulnerable and unworthy of true consideration. I believe everyone should be entitled to plead their case, but it seems to me that woman come at the bottom of the list when it comes to being protected and finding an arena to have a voice. No woman, no where, no how, should have to put up with being abused verbally or physically and while our society continues to make excuses for the abuser, many many more woman and children will be victimised. I am someones daughter, sister, and mother and I do have a right to say no, I'm not putting up with this. Brent also has this same right. I exercise this right by either asking Brent to leave my home, or if I have been at his place and the situation is getting out of hand, I will leave. If my character is in question, as an excuse to hit me with a clothes airer, then I need to ask...are we all able to attack anyone because we feel unfairly treated. Would I be able to walk into Brent's place today and attack him because I feel unfairly treated? Would it be acceptable for my brothers to attack Brent because they want to avenge their little sister? How would you feel if it was your daughter? How would you feel if it was your sister? How would you feel if it was your mother? Outraged, should be the answer! My family and friends are outraged at this act of violence against me... but did they go anywhere near Brent, either in person, or by phone, to avenge me? Absolutely not! Yes, they are upset and angry, but two things remain true. Firstly, they know Brent personally and understand that this act is something that Brent (and myself) have to deal with appropriately, so that Brent never deals with his frustration this way again, and that we individually seek to learn how to create healthy loving relationships. Secondly, they understand that there has to be a deeper reason why an adult man chooses to attack a woman rather than walk away and only he can be responsible for not choosing to do so, I am not responsible for what Brent chose to do that night, I am only responsible for choosing to accept that in the past, abusive behaviour towards me is acceptable and that is something I have to work through.
I honestly believe that we as a society, have to stop making excuses for bad behaviour. She made me do it, cause she made me angry, is bullshit! I have never been able to make Brent, or any man, do anything he does not want to do! I love quiz nights and the food channel, but if you think I can make Brent attend a quiz night or watch the food channel, twentyfour-seven, you're crazy. I could no sooner make him wear a dress, than he could make me be a lesbian. Its not in my makeup, what IS in my makeup is a desire for truth. So making excuses for bad behaviour is just another way of giving licence to everyone to just go about doing what the hell they want!
I believe that while Brent refuses to take responsibility for how he chooses to act, or react, he will lock himself into a pattern of behaviour that will eventually leave him outside of the loving relationship that I know he truelly wants for himself. I believe that while I refuse to take responsibility for allowing myself to be seen and treated as if I am not worthy of a truelly loving relationship then I too will lock myself into a pattern of behaviour that will eventually leave me outside.
Right from the start of this blog, I said, this was not an attempt to lay blame on anyone, but rather a way for me to share what I was going through. Blame is a way of not taking responsibility for ourselves. I could blame Brent for all the upsets we have had together and in hindsight when I look through some of my past posts, it appears that I have, but the truth is I do not blame Brent for everything. I accept that I have work to do for myself and on myself. I have mentioned things that have angered and upset me more so to expose them, for I believe that only that which is not exposed can continue to control you. Many people will be upset at things I have said and will continue to say, but the truth is, the situation between Brent and I is something we have to deal with and if either of us refuses to take responsibility for what we have both said and done, then that will be on us.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Brent's defence
I'm going to say that I believe that Brent is a wonderful man, right now, right here, but there is a but! There has to come a time, in all people's lives, when you either stand up and take your medicine, face your reality, or you continue on the destructive course you are on, denying that you are in any way responsible for the consequences of your actions, or reactions. In making the choice to only react, you are sealing your fate to be brought to your knees by a power greater than yourself, or to die not knowing how joyful your life could have been, if you had just put your hands in the air, and let go!
Brent's first defence, as told to me by Helen, is that he had witnesses to the assault. As far as I can remember, there was no-one here but Brent and myself, and the only witnesses were my mum and Ian, whom I had called after the assault. There was no-one else here, but my cat, Fluffy, and my dog, Andre. My first question is: if there had been anyone else here, where was this person before the assault and who had this person come to visit? Secondly, at what time did this person realise that the situation before him/her, was getting out of control? Thirdly, once this person realised that the situation had led to assault, what did he/she do about it?
Brent was released on bail after his court appearance, Monday September 7, with the conditions, that he wasn't to contact me, that he wasn't to consume alcohol or drugs, and that he wasn't to come near my home, my work, or anywhere he knew I would be. I wasn't made aware of this until a further conversation with Helen. The courts did not inform me, but I am aware today, that every victim is entitled to this information, from the court. Brent did not contact me after his appearance, but I was informed, by Helen, that he intended to plead not guilty. His next court appearance was to be the Wednesday September 23 and if he pleaded not guilty, it would mean that it would go before a jury and it would be necessary for myself and my witnesses to go to court and prove my complaint.
I received four calls the following weekend from Brent. One on Friday night, one on Saturday, one on Sunday from his cell phone to mine, and a second on Sunday, from his motel line to my landline. As I have caller id, I was checking calls coming into my landline, and I recognised the motel number. On Friday night, I had called into my local bar to pick up a bottle of wine. As I was leaving, I saw Brent's car parked in the carpark. I know Brent well enough to know that he was at my local, a bar I worked for four years ago, to tell his story. I was totally unaware at the time, that Brent's bail conditions included that he could not consume alcohol, otherwise, I'd like to think, that I would have gone into the bar to check, but I am pretty sure, that I wouldn't have gone anywhere near him, as I didn't!
On Monday September 14, Helen rang me at work to tell me that she had all the details from my landline account and from both Brent's and my cellphones and that she wanted to see me so that I could delete any calls which were private and not relevant to the case. She then asked me if I had had any contact with Brent. I informed her, that he had called me numerous times, but I wasn't sure if he had been undeniebly bailed on the condition that he not contact me. Helen confirmed, that yes, he was aware that he could not contact me and therefore it was an arrestable offence. She asked me what I wanted to do, arrest him or she could call his lawyer and warn Brent once more that he was in breach of his bail conditions, if he contacted me again. I opted for the latter. I had to end this call as I had customers waiting to be served and I asked Helen to ring me back to make a time to meet with her to check the telephone details. Twenty minutes later, Helen called me to say that she had spoken to her supervisor and that because of the charge Brent was facing, that his trying to contact me, was arrestable, and that they were going to arrest him. Brent was arrested the following morning and his defence was... I wanted to get some things from the house because I am trying to set up a flat at the mount. Helen rang me and asked if there was anything here that belonged to Brent. I believed there wasn't, but told Helen that I would go through my home with a fine tooth comb and if I found anything, anything, belonging to Brent, I would box it up. Brent had told Helen, that he had arranged for his ex-flatmate Mark to make a time with me to get Brent's stuff. I told Helen, that this was inappropriate, as I knew Brent, I knew Mark and I felt this was intimidation, so I told Helen, seeing Brent was still in custody, that I would take anything I found, to Brent's motel and he could pick it up from there! I hung up and went on the search!
During my conversation with Helen, concerning Brent leaving things here, she said that Brent had mentioned being my defacto. I believed, and I still believe that at no time did I, or Brent, consider ourselves to be defacto. Brent did live with me with the intention of being in a live in relationship, but the truth is we never lived together as a couple for more than three to seven weeks at a time. I believe that defacto should be determind on more than sleeping in the same bed, which coincidentally, Brent and I hardly ever did, for the simple reason that I am a light sleeper and he snores! Defacto, should be based on committment to the relationship as a couple joined as if they were one, rather than the sleeping arrangements, or being under one roof!
Brent is not and never will be entitled to anything that I have acquired before I met him. During our relationship of seven years, Brent has bought a mower and a weed eater, nothing more, nothing less. This is Brent's total input into my home, and it is one which he has continually used to intimidate me, to control me or to ridicule me! All household bills were shared. Brent would give me one hundred and twenty dollars a week for his board, I would give him back forty to sixty dollars for food that he or his son mostly ate and to get some money for household utilities was like pulling teeth. Brent didn't/couldnit use imternet facilities in my home, therefore, he didn't see why he should help pay the phone bill. Brent didn't get as cold as I did, therefore, he didn't see why he should pay half the power bill, besides, my children came down and stayed with me, and my daughter used heaps of power, showering and drying her hair. Brent told me that if I ever sold my home, a home I owned and acquired by spending the money I received from a past dissolution from my ex-husband Bruce, that he would not get a penny from any equity I received, therefore he was in no way financially responsible for paying half the land rates! Brent had taken over my sky account during this last time with me...I admit that I had to give consent and trusting this man, once again, I allowed my sky account to go into his name, so that he wouldn't get billed for breaking a contract with sky, that he had made when he was living elsewhere! Brent never paid that bill. To cut a long story, short, I contacted sky, to have the account put back in my name. I thought it would be a case of, good customer, easy done. Not so! It cost me!
Tell me, what is Brent's defence of taking advantage of a situation that turned out to better him. I met this man, while he was unemployed, driving a car which was registered to Jill, his ex, as he told me, living in a caravan that did not belong to him, living on land that did not belong to him, and after me getting him two jobs, he ends up a hero?
This man slept on a bed he did not buy, lived in a home he did not buy or create, parked his car in a garage he did not build, watched a tv, he did not buy, eat off of plates he did not buy, stood on carpet, he did not lay, protected his food in cupboards and two fridges that he didn't own and washed the crap from his body with shower soap he did not buy and I accepted this over and over again. Brent gave me lots of things in return for my kindness...
He gave me insecurety, bills, things to clean up, walks beside him while he played golf, bills, shame, ridicule, bills, fear, the feeling that I am nothing without him... and he gave me a broken cheek! A few days after he gave me his last 'gift', he called me at work and asked me to go out for dinner with him for his birthday... luckily about that same time, I had come to the conclusion, I had given enough, I hung up!
Brent's first defence, as told to me by Helen, is that he had witnesses to the assault. As far as I can remember, there was no-one here but Brent and myself, and the only witnesses were my mum and Ian, whom I had called after the assault. There was no-one else here, but my cat, Fluffy, and my dog, Andre. My first question is: if there had been anyone else here, where was this person before the assault and who had this person come to visit? Secondly, at what time did this person realise that the situation before him/her, was getting out of control? Thirdly, once this person realised that the situation had led to assault, what did he/she do about it?
Brent was released on bail after his court appearance, Monday September 7, with the conditions, that he wasn't to contact me, that he wasn't to consume alcohol or drugs, and that he wasn't to come near my home, my work, or anywhere he knew I would be. I wasn't made aware of this until a further conversation with Helen. The courts did not inform me, but I am aware today, that every victim is entitled to this information, from the court. Brent did not contact me after his appearance, but I was informed, by Helen, that he intended to plead not guilty. His next court appearance was to be the Wednesday September 23 and if he pleaded not guilty, it would mean that it would go before a jury and it would be necessary for myself and my witnesses to go to court and prove my complaint.
I received four calls the following weekend from Brent. One on Friday night, one on Saturday, one on Sunday from his cell phone to mine, and a second on Sunday, from his motel line to my landline. As I have caller id, I was checking calls coming into my landline, and I recognised the motel number. On Friday night, I had called into my local bar to pick up a bottle of wine. As I was leaving, I saw Brent's car parked in the carpark. I know Brent well enough to know that he was at my local, a bar I worked for four years ago, to tell his story. I was totally unaware at the time, that Brent's bail conditions included that he could not consume alcohol, otherwise, I'd like to think, that I would have gone into the bar to check, but I am pretty sure, that I wouldn't have gone anywhere near him, as I didn't!
On Monday September 14, Helen rang me at work to tell me that she had all the details from my landline account and from both Brent's and my cellphones and that she wanted to see me so that I could delete any calls which were private and not relevant to the case. She then asked me if I had had any contact with Brent. I informed her, that he had called me numerous times, but I wasn't sure if he had been undeniebly bailed on the condition that he not contact me. Helen confirmed, that yes, he was aware that he could not contact me and therefore it was an arrestable offence. She asked me what I wanted to do, arrest him or she could call his lawyer and warn Brent once more that he was in breach of his bail conditions, if he contacted me again. I opted for the latter. I had to end this call as I had customers waiting to be served and I asked Helen to ring me back to make a time to meet with her to check the telephone details. Twenty minutes later, Helen called me to say that she had spoken to her supervisor and that because of the charge Brent was facing, that his trying to contact me, was arrestable, and that they were going to arrest him. Brent was arrested the following morning and his defence was... I wanted to get some things from the house because I am trying to set up a flat at the mount. Helen rang me and asked if there was anything here that belonged to Brent. I believed there wasn't, but told Helen that I would go through my home with a fine tooth comb and if I found anything, anything, belonging to Brent, I would box it up. Brent had told Helen, that he had arranged for his ex-flatmate Mark to make a time with me to get Brent's stuff. I told Helen, that this was inappropriate, as I knew Brent, I knew Mark and I felt this was intimidation, so I told Helen, seeing Brent was still in custody, that I would take anything I found, to Brent's motel and he could pick it up from there! I hung up and went on the search!
During my conversation with Helen, concerning Brent leaving things here, she said that Brent had mentioned being my defacto. I believed, and I still believe that at no time did I, or Brent, consider ourselves to be defacto. Brent did live with me with the intention of being in a live in relationship, but the truth is we never lived together as a couple for more than three to seven weeks at a time. I believe that defacto should be determind on more than sleeping in the same bed, which coincidentally, Brent and I hardly ever did, for the simple reason that I am a light sleeper and he snores! Defacto, should be based on committment to the relationship as a couple joined as if they were one, rather than the sleeping arrangements, or being under one roof!
Brent is not and never will be entitled to anything that I have acquired before I met him. During our relationship of seven years, Brent has bought a mower and a weed eater, nothing more, nothing less. This is Brent's total input into my home, and it is one which he has continually used to intimidate me, to control me or to ridicule me! All household bills were shared. Brent would give me one hundred and twenty dollars a week for his board, I would give him back forty to sixty dollars for food that he or his son mostly ate and to get some money for household utilities was like pulling teeth. Brent didn't/couldnit use imternet facilities in my home, therefore, he didn't see why he should help pay the phone bill. Brent didn't get as cold as I did, therefore, he didn't see why he should pay half the power bill, besides, my children came down and stayed with me, and my daughter used heaps of power, showering and drying her hair. Brent told me that if I ever sold my home, a home I owned and acquired by spending the money I received from a past dissolution from my ex-husband Bruce, that he would not get a penny from any equity I received, therefore he was in no way financially responsible for paying half the land rates! Brent had taken over my sky account during this last time with me...I admit that I had to give consent and trusting this man, once again, I allowed my sky account to go into his name, so that he wouldn't get billed for breaking a contract with sky, that he had made when he was living elsewhere! Brent never paid that bill. To cut a long story, short, I contacted sky, to have the account put back in my name. I thought it would be a case of, good customer, easy done. Not so! It cost me!
Tell me, what is Brent's defence of taking advantage of a situation that turned out to better him. I met this man, while he was unemployed, driving a car which was registered to Jill, his ex, as he told me, living in a caravan that did not belong to him, living on land that did not belong to him, and after me getting him two jobs, he ends up a hero?
This man slept on a bed he did not buy, lived in a home he did not buy or create, parked his car in a garage he did not build, watched a tv, he did not buy, eat off of plates he did not buy, stood on carpet, he did not lay, protected his food in cupboards and two fridges that he didn't own and washed the crap from his body with shower soap he did not buy and I accepted this over and over again. Brent gave me lots of things in return for my kindness...
He gave me insecurety, bills, things to clean up, walks beside him while he played golf, bills, shame, ridicule, bills, fear, the feeling that I am nothing without him... and he gave me a broken cheek! A few days after he gave me his last 'gift', he called me at work and asked me to go out for dinner with him for his birthday... luckily about that same time, I had come to the conclusion, I had given enough, I hung up!
Brent is arrested...
On Saturday, September 5, I received a phone call from Helen, the detective who was appointed to walk with me through this mess, to say that she had been to the motel that I had told her Brent was staying in and that he wasn't there. I informed Helen, that Brent usually works on a Saturday and that that is probably where he was, being that it was only about nine o'clock in the morning. I told her that though I knew who Brent worked for, I was unaware of exactly where he would be. Later that morning, I checked my cell phone and realised that Brent had tried to call me at about 11.00am. I am so glad that I hadn't heard it. I'm not sure whether I would have answered it, but just the thought of him ringing, with me knowing he was about to be arrested would have terrified me!
I am not totally sure exactly what time it was in the afternoon when Helen rang to say that Brent had been arrested, but rather than a sense of relief, I ended up crying my eyes out. Helen informed me, that Brent was being charged with assault with a weapon causing serious injury, and assault with intent to cause injury, both of which had jail terms.
Please take note of this, if anyone reading this is in a dangerous place, Brent was also kept incarcerated for the entire weekend, until he was to appear in court, because it happened in my home, by my 'partner', so it is considered, family violence!
I felt terrible so miserable. I hadn't wanted Brent to be in this position... I didn't want to be in it myself, but I have to honestly say, that I had no idea that this was going to happen, and on hearing that it had, I broke down and cried. I phoned my mum, and she couldn't believe that I was so upset. She had heard Brent abuse me, through the phone, on many occasions, she had heard him abusing me, after hitting me that night, and she had seen the results on my face, the next day. Mum, isn't what you would call the strongest of women, but if you truelly want to see her in full armour, attack one of her children! (I'm not really into the astrology thing, but Mum's a Leo, doesn't that say a lot!)
As the day wore on, I realised, that though my feelings betrayed me, that the law was put in place to stop abuse, and/or eventually the killing of people who can't defend themselves. I believe that until this, I had some belief that I could forgive him and everything would be all right again. My head knew I was wrong to feel this way, but nonetheless, I had developed a habit, a life long habit, of denying myself the right to be treated with love, real love, and to cover all abuses up, with my cheery attitude and with reasoning that I probably caused it and even if I didn't, how do I get anyone to believe me. Somehow, I had trained myself, to see the other persons point of view to the point that my point of view was invalid!
Helen came to see me the following day, to take notes of where the assault had happened and to get a picture of my home layout! I was shaking, not from fear, but I believe now, from my body, mind and soul, not being used to making a lawful stand against someone who had abused me. I felt that Helen thought I was full of shit. I walked out on to my deck and told Helen I was cold and needed to get in the sun! (Hey, aren't those words prophetic!) We both sat down, outside, in the sun, and after taking more details, Helen turned to me and said, are you going to put a stop to this now? I felt instantly, that I had a friend in this woman... not a 'gonna love you forever' friend, but a comrad, a woman who knew where I was at this moment and many moments to come, and a woman with strength, not because of outer muscles, but from inner muscles, born out of, been there.... done that!
I am not totally sure exactly what time it was in the afternoon when Helen rang to say that Brent had been arrested, but rather than a sense of relief, I ended up crying my eyes out. Helen informed me, that Brent was being charged with assault with a weapon causing serious injury, and assault with intent to cause injury, both of which had jail terms.
Please take note of this, if anyone reading this is in a dangerous place, Brent was also kept incarcerated for the entire weekend, until he was to appear in court, because it happened in my home, by my 'partner', so it is considered, family violence!
I felt terrible so miserable. I hadn't wanted Brent to be in this position... I didn't want to be in it myself, but I have to honestly say, that I had no idea that this was going to happen, and on hearing that it had, I broke down and cried. I phoned my mum, and she couldn't believe that I was so upset. She had heard Brent abuse me, through the phone, on many occasions, she had heard him abusing me, after hitting me that night, and she had seen the results on my face, the next day. Mum, isn't what you would call the strongest of women, but if you truelly want to see her in full armour, attack one of her children! (I'm not really into the astrology thing, but Mum's a Leo, doesn't that say a lot!)
As the day wore on, I realised, that though my feelings betrayed me, that the law was put in place to stop abuse, and/or eventually the killing of people who can't defend themselves. I believe that until this, I had some belief that I could forgive him and everything would be all right again. My head knew I was wrong to feel this way, but nonetheless, I had developed a habit, a life long habit, of denying myself the right to be treated with love, real love, and to cover all abuses up, with my cheery attitude and with reasoning that I probably caused it and even if I didn't, how do I get anyone to believe me. Somehow, I had trained myself, to see the other persons point of view to the point that my point of view was invalid!
Helen came to see me the following day, to take notes of where the assault had happened and to get a picture of my home layout! I was shaking, not from fear, but I believe now, from my body, mind and soul, not being used to making a lawful stand against someone who had abused me. I felt that Helen thought I was full of shit. I walked out on to my deck and told Helen I was cold and needed to get in the sun! (Hey, aren't those words prophetic!) We both sat down, outside, in the sun, and after taking more details, Helen turned to me and said, are you going to put a stop to this now? I felt instantly, that I had a friend in this woman... not a 'gonna love you forever' friend, but a comrad, a woman who knew where I was at this moment and many moments to come, and a woman with strength, not because of outer muscles, but from inner muscles, born out of, been there.... done that!
Time for the police to take notes...
Kyle and Chanelle arrived at home, Wednesday September 2. As you can imagine, they were both horrified to see the true state of my face. Chanelle was in tears, and Kyle was stunned into silence. I felt so guilty, that they had to witness something so unexplainable. How do you explain to anyone, how this could happen? Again, they both impressed on me, the need for me to go to the police and file a complaint.
In all honesty, I was fearful of doing this. I felt like a fraud. The words Brent had said to me over and over again, were being repeated in my head, and he wasn't even there! It's your own fault, you're such a fucking bitch, you made me do it, everyone thinks you're crazy, you're a filthy maori, I'm gonna tell everyone how fucked you are, who the fuck would want you, you're a dried up old bitch, I'm gonna tell the cops you kicked me out on the street, you treat me like a dog, no one knows why I stay with you, no wonder you had to go to a crazy doctor, you're fucked in the head! I was more frightened that this was all true, and that no one was going to believe me.
The next morning, Thursday August 3, before I was admitted into hospital to have my cheek bone 'fixed', I went to Tauranga Central Police station to file my complaint, with the much needed wall of support, my children! I have to say, the process almost feels, like you are on trial. I don't believe the police made me feel this way, it was more the words hammering in my head so loud, it was almost as if the detective who interviewed me could hear them. After he had taken my statement, I was taken to another room, to have my injuries photograghed. As I was due at the hospital at 12.00am, I was asked to return to the station on Friday, to sign my statement. A large part of me felt relieved that this part was over with, and yet I was still left with the feeling of worthlessness.
Kyle and Chanelle came with me to the hospital, and stayed with me until I was taken in for the operation. They were/and are, such a wonderful source of strength for me. They have always been a driving force for me. To have them grow up in as peaceful an environment as I could achieve, and to encourage them to be wholey who they were born to be, always motivated me to check and double check my beliefs and I always knew that they had come to teach me as much as they had come to learn from me.
When I awoke, there they were. I have to say, the pain in my face was incredible! It felt as though I had been literally hit by a truck! The nurses gave me as much pain relief as they could, but it made very little difference, if any. Apart from that, I felt well enough to go home, so they released me. On the way home, I began vomitting, so it was fortunate that Chanelle had never been a clean freak because the plastic shopping bag on her car floor really came in handy.
At home, Chanelle and Kyle, reassured me how much they loved me, and told me in no uncertain terms, that I had so much to be proud of myself for. I have never taken any credit for who these two beautiful people turned out to be, but they reassured me, that it had a lot to do with who I was and what I had achieved against many odds. They reassured me, that I was NOT responsible for who Brent chose to be, that I was not responsible for Brent's son going to jail, that I was not responsible for Brent having no where to live, that I was not responsible for Brent's anger, his ego, his behaviour, his past, his present, or his future, that there was only one person who put Brent on the police arrest list, and that was Brent! And I will tell you right now, that I have to tell myself that, over and over and over and over again, every moment, every day, just to be able to breathe! I have to tell myself, that I am worth loving, that I am worth what I have achieved, that I did it, I got off my arse and attempted to make good of the abuse I had suffered as a child. I have to tell myself, that I didn't take my abuse and make the world responsible for taking care of me. I have to tell myself that I didn't make Brent's life miserable, that Brent picked up a metal clothes airer and bashed me in the face with it because of who Brent is, not because of who I am. And I truelly pray, that one day, not too far from today, I am going to believe it!
In all honesty, I was fearful of doing this. I felt like a fraud. The words Brent had said to me over and over again, were being repeated in my head, and he wasn't even there! It's your own fault, you're such a fucking bitch, you made me do it, everyone thinks you're crazy, you're a filthy maori, I'm gonna tell everyone how fucked you are, who the fuck would want you, you're a dried up old bitch, I'm gonna tell the cops you kicked me out on the street, you treat me like a dog, no one knows why I stay with you, no wonder you had to go to a crazy doctor, you're fucked in the head! I was more frightened that this was all true, and that no one was going to believe me.
The next morning, Thursday August 3, before I was admitted into hospital to have my cheek bone 'fixed', I went to Tauranga Central Police station to file my complaint, with the much needed wall of support, my children! I have to say, the process almost feels, like you are on trial. I don't believe the police made me feel this way, it was more the words hammering in my head so loud, it was almost as if the detective who interviewed me could hear them. After he had taken my statement, I was taken to another room, to have my injuries photograghed. As I was due at the hospital at 12.00am, I was asked to return to the station on Friday, to sign my statement. A large part of me felt relieved that this part was over with, and yet I was still left with the feeling of worthlessness.
Kyle and Chanelle came with me to the hospital, and stayed with me until I was taken in for the operation. They were/and are, such a wonderful source of strength for me. They have always been a driving force for me. To have them grow up in as peaceful an environment as I could achieve, and to encourage them to be wholey who they were born to be, always motivated me to check and double check my beliefs and I always knew that they had come to teach me as much as they had come to learn from me.
When I awoke, there they were. I have to say, the pain in my face was incredible! It felt as though I had been literally hit by a truck! The nurses gave me as much pain relief as they could, but it made very little difference, if any. Apart from that, I felt well enough to go home, so they released me. On the way home, I began vomitting, so it was fortunate that Chanelle had never been a clean freak because the plastic shopping bag on her car floor really came in handy.
At home, Chanelle and Kyle, reassured me how much they loved me, and told me in no uncertain terms, that I had so much to be proud of myself for. I have never taken any credit for who these two beautiful people turned out to be, but they reassured me, that it had a lot to do with who I was and what I had achieved against many odds. They reassured me, that I was NOT responsible for who Brent chose to be, that I was not responsible for Brent's son going to jail, that I was not responsible for Brent having no where to live, that I was not responsible for Brent's anger, his ego, his behaviour, his past, his present, or his future, that there was only one person who put Brent on the police arrest list, and that was Brent! And I will tell you right now, that I have to tell myself that, over and over and over and over again, every moment, every day, just to be able to breathe! I have to tell myself, that I am worth loving, that I am worth what I have achieved, that I did it, I got off my arse and attempted to make good of the abuse I had suffered as a child. I have to tell myself, that I didn't take my abuse and make the world responsible for taking care of me. I have to tell myself that I didn't make Brent's life miserable, that Brent picked up a metal clothes airer and bashed me in the face with it because of who Brent is, not because of who I am. And I truelly pray, that one day, not too far from today, I am going to believe it!
Friday, September 18, 2009
Back to telling my children...
My son Kyle, now 25, married to a beautiful girl, Anna, was now living in Auckland. He married in June of this year and he and his new wife left my home in Tauranga in July. Kyle had previously expressed concern for me being on my own and how I would deal with my relationship with Brent, once he was gone. Kyle, like me, had experienced trauma as a young child, but in a very different way.
When Kyle was two and a half years old, his father, my husband of seven weeks, Phillip Andrew Keogh, was killed in a car accident, when two fifteen year old boys decided to drag each other down an on ramp, on to the motorway, in brand new 'd plated' cars. One of the boys lost control of the car he was driving and caused an accident that involved eight cars, one of which, my husband was driving. That day, both Kyle and I lost the most beautiful person we have ever known in our lives. It changed both of us entirely. Either out of a full sense of responsibility for me due to our loss, or because of the life Kyle experienced with me, growing up, or in the infinite wisdom of a power greater than myself, my son had an inbuilt knowing that he was here to protect and watch out for me... and for his sister, Chanelle, who came along later.
Thursday 27 August, the morning after I had been assaulted by Brent, Kyle rang me at home for a good old fashioned, 'hi, how ya doing?' (I wonder now, if there is a knowing connection from children to their parents, as there is, from parents to children?) If there is, then I am at fault for failing to tell Kyle what had happened to me the night before, therefore leaving him to second guess his inner instinct and knowing. I just put on my mum voice and chatted away, while covering the right side of my face with my right hand, as if he could see through the phone. (I've heard it said, that though the mouth may lie, the body can't!)
On Tuesday evening, September 1, back at Ian's, after my experience with the police, I gathered all the courage I had left and rang my son to tell him the truth. Right at this moment, as I write this, my eyes are full to the brim with tears. The silence I heard on the other end of the phone, from Kyle, said everything. Amazingly, right at the same time that I had rang Kyle, my daughter-in-law was on her phone, to my daughter, Chanelle. (Divine intervention again?) They were horrified and immediately made plans, unbeknown to me, to come to Tauranga to support me, be there through my operation to put my cheek bone back together, and to insist that I lay a complaint with the police.
Chanelle rang me that night and was, true to her nature, adamant, that with or without me, she was going to the cops and she was gonna make damn sure they listened! In my fear, I knew that there was absolutely no way that I could retreat from admitting the truth, that I was unable to remain in a place that abused me, ridiculed everything that I am, disregarded everything I loved, and left me emotionally devastated. That night, I realised, that my children had been like soldiers at the door of my life, determining who should be allowed in, and who shouldn't and that as I had protected and supported them as they were growing up, they were now going to be the strength that I needed. I realised that I had raised them to tell the truth, to stand in what they believed, to take responsibility for their actions, to walk away from what was harmful to who they were as people and to recognise that people always tell you who they are by their actions, not by their words.
These lessons were now on their way home to stand strong with me and to help undo all the lies that I had accepted while they weren't watching!
When Kyle was two and a half years old, his father, my husband of seven weeks, Phillip Andrew Keogh, was killed in a car accident, when two fifteen year old boys decided to drag each other down an on ramp, on to the motorway, in brand new 'd plated' cars. One of the boys lost control of the car he was driving and caused an accident that involved eight cars, one of which, my husband was driving. That day, both Kyle and I lost the most beautiful person we have ever known in our lives. It changed both of us entirely. Either out of a full sense of responsibility for me due to our loss, or because of the life Kyle experienced with me, growing up, or in the infinite wisdom of a power greater than myself, my son had an inbuilt knowing that he was here to protect and watch out for me... and for his sister, Chanelle, who came along later.
Thursday 27 August, the morning after I had been assaulted by Brent, Kyle rang me at home for a good old fashioned, 'hi, how ya doing?' (I wonder now, if there is a knowing connection from children to their parents, as there is, from parents to children?) If there is, then I am at fault for failing to tell Kyle what had happened to me the night before, therefore leaving him to second guess his inner instinct and knowing. I just put on my mum voice and chatted away, while covering the right side of my face with my right hand, as if he could see through the phone. (I've heard it said, that though the mouth may lie, the body can't!)
On Tuesday evening, September 1, back at Ian's, after my experience with the police, I gathered all the courage I had left and rang my son to tell him the truth. Right at this moment, as I write this, my eyes are full to the brim with tears. The silence I heard on the other end of the phone, from Kyle, said everything. Amazingly, right at the same time that I had rang Kyle, my daughter-in-law was on her phone, to my daughter, Chanelle. (Divine intervention again?) They were horrified and immediately made plans, unbeknown to me, to come to Tauranga to support me, be there through my operation to put my cheek bone back together, and to insist that I lay a complaint with the police.
Chanelle rang me that night and was, true to her nature, adamant, that with or without me, she was going to the cops and she was gonna make damn sure they listened! In my fear, I knew that there was absolutely no way that I could retreat from admitting the truth, that I was unable to remain in a place that abused me, ridiculed everything that I am, disregarded everything I loved, and left me emotionally devastated. That night, I realised, that my children had been like soldiers at the door of my life, determining who should be allowed in, and who shouldn't and that as I had protected and supported them as they were growing up, they were now going to be the strength that I needed. I realised that I had raised them to tell the truth, to stand in what they believed, to take responsibility for their actions, to walk away from what was harmful to who they were as people and to recognise that people always tell you who they are by their actions, not by their words.
These lessons were now on their way home to stand strong with me and to help undo all the lies that I had accepted while they weren't watching!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
My children
I was blessed to fall pregnant with my first child when I was 22 years old. I say, blessed, because at that time I had been severely annorexic for the past seven years. I wasn't menstruating and as far as the doctors were concerned, if I, or they, didn't find a way to help me, I would eventually succumb to this horrific disease. With only the intervention of a power and knowledge beyond my comprehension, I fell pregnant while I was only four and a half stone. It was the catalyst to get me literally off my own case and do something for myself, by doing something for my child. I started eating.
My son, Kyle, was born on August 9 1984, weighing a healthy six pound, and perfectly formed. My partner at the time, Kyle's father, Phillip Andrew Keogh, and I had been together from the moment we met, three and a half years earlier. Love at first sight is often talked about, but I knew that Phillip was the 'one' the moment I met him. When I was thirteen, I had had by that time, a very traumatic life and rather than just accepting whatever leftovers that fell my way, I challenged myself to dare to dream someone into my life who would love, support, understand and accept me as I was, with all that came behind me. In my moment of what I felt at the time, was perfect clarity, I wrote in my diary every detail about this man. His hair colour, his eye colour, his body shape, his job, his loves, his star sign, his dreams, his desires... anything I dared to dream. With every thing I wrote, or dared to imagine, my stomach lurched. I was exposing a want. I was challenging everything I had ever known, to dare to want something wonderful for me. I wasn't used to doing something like this, ever! My mind and my body were reacting fearfully. How dare I, who the hell did I think I was. But I pushed on, maybe to dare the universe, maybe to dare myself, maybe because, even though I knew too much for a child of thirteen, the thirteen year old child in me wanted to play, and in the end I pushed on because, what the hell, if it never came about, hey, I could handle it.
Once I had finished my exhaustive list, I ripped out the pages, put them in an envelope, sealed it and hid it in a shoebox at the bottom of my wardrobe, where no one would ever find it, so that my dreams would never be exposed and ridiculed. Eventually, I forgot about that list. I carried that box with me wherever I went, but I never dared to open it. I got older and wisened up to the fact that things never really change for some people, I just got good at pretending that it did. Then, I met a guy who was to become a really great mate, who happened to have a birthday one day before mine.
He was going to celebrate his 21st with his mate who happened to have the same birthday as mine. My ears pricked. What did he look like? Well come to the party and find out! It was two weeks away. I knew it at that moment, and my exhaustive list, compiled six years ago, sprung to life!
Maybe, it is my hope against hope, that saves me and maybe its that hope against hope that eventually kept me in relationships I had no right being in!
To be continued!
My son, Kyle, was born on August 9 1984, weighing a healthy six pound, and perfectly formed. My partner at the time, Kyle's father, Phillip Andrew Keogh, and I had been together from the moment we met, three and a half years earlier. Love at first sight is often talked about, but I knew that Phillip was the 'one' the moment I met him. When I was thirteen, I had had by that time, a very traumatic life and rather than just accepting whatever leftovers that fell my way, I challenged myself to dare to dream someone into my life who would love, support, understand and accept me as I was, with all that came behind me. In my moment of what I felt at the time, was perfect clarity, I wrote in my diary every detail about this man. His hair colour, his eye colour, his body shape, his job, his loves, his star sign, his dreams, his desires... anything I dared to dream. With every thing I wrote, or dared to imagine, my stomach lurched. I was exposing a want. I was challenging everything I had ever known, to dare to want something wonderful for me. I wasn't used to doing something like this, ever! My mind and my body were reacting fearfully. How dare I, who the hell did I think I was. But I pushed on, maybe to dare the universe, maybe to dare myself, maybe because, even though I knew too much for a child of thirteen, the thirteen year old child in me wanted to play, and in the end I pushed on because, what the hell, if it never came about, hey, I could handle it.
Once I had finished my exhaustive list, I ripped out the pages, put them in an envelope, sealed it and hid it in a shoebox at the bottom of my wardrobe, where no one would ever find it, so that my dreams would never be exposed and ridiculed. Eventually, I forgot about that list. I carried that box with me wherever I went, but I never dared to open it. I got older and wisened up to the fact that things never really change for some people, I just got good at pretending that it did. Then, I met a guy who was to become a really great mate, who happened to have a birthday one day before mine.
He was going to celebrate his 21st with his mate who happened to have the same birthday as mine. My ears pricked. What did he look like? Well come to the party and find out! It was two weeks away. I knew it at that moment, and my exhaustive list, compiled six years ago, sprung to life!
Maybe, it is my hope against hope, that saves me and maybe its that hope against hope that eventually kept me in relationships I had no right being in!
To be continued!
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The Police
Ian drove me down to the local police station. An officer was just turning off the station lights and we met him at the front door. I explained that I was there to make a complaint of assault. The officer continued out of the front door, locking it and stood on the deck and asked what it was about. I explained again, that I wanted to make a complaint of assault. I felt that the officer wasn't interested whatsoever. He explained that he was just about to go off duty and made no attempt to gather any details from me. To be honest, I wasn't suprised, not by his response in general, but more so, his response to me as a human being. My face was still very badly bruised and it was obvious that I had possibly been assaulted as I was claiming. Ian asked him, if it would be better if we went to the central station. The officer said that he would call them from his RT and see if anyone was available. Apparently, no one was. Neither Ian nor I moved. This experience had dumbfounded us both. I almost laughed, not at the situation, but at myself for thinking I had a right to stand up for myself. The officer sighed... then turned to me and said, I can smell alcohol! I explained that I had had two glasses of wine and that it was now at this moment that I felt the courage to come to the police.
The officer told me, that he wasn't all that interested in taking a statement from someone who had been drinking. I am not sure how many abused women this officer has ever had to deal with, but I was flabbergasted at his response. I am also amazed that he made no attempt to question Ian as to who he was, nor to ask me if I believed myself to be in further danger. When he realised that neither Ian nor I had moved, the officer sighed, took his pad from his back pocket and finally took my details and limited details of my complaint. He put the pad back in his pocket and said that he would let his supervisor know and that someone would contact me in the morning. He had also taken Ian's contact details. Then we left.
Ian's response, once we got back in the car was exact...'What the fuck'? I said, I told you! I have experienced this response by officers once before, when I tried to have my ex-husband up for assault, and that assault was nothing like this one. We both talked on the way back to his place about how anyone, especially abused women, get to be heard. The officer had at no time asked if I was safe, if I needed immediate help, if Ian was the perpertrator, if I had a safe place to go, had I sought medical help, or did I need him to do anything to help me at this time. My actual response to Ian was, no you know why women and children are being murdered!
The officer told me, that he wasn't all that interested in taking a statement from someone who had been drinking. I am not sure how many abused women this officer has ever had to deal with, but I was flabbergasted at his response. I am also amazed that he made no attempt to question Ian as to who he was, nor to ask me if I believed myself to be in further danger. When he realised that neither Ian nor I had moved, the officer sighed, took his pad from his back pocket and finally took my details and limited details of my complaint. He put the pad back in his pocket and said that he would let his supervisor know and that someone would contact me in the morning. He had also taken Ian's contact details. Then we left.
Ian's response, once we got back in the car was exact...'What the fuck'? I said, I told you! I have experienced this response by officers once before, when I tried to have my ex-husband up for assault, and that assault was nothing like this one. We both talked on the way back to his place about how anyone, especially abused women, get to be heard. The officer had at no time asked if I was safe, if I needed immediate help, if Ian was the perpertrator, if I had a safe place to go, had I sought medical help, or did I need him to do anything to help me at this time. My actual response to Ian was, no you know why women and children are being murdered!
To hospital
On Sunday August 30, I woke up to find that the right side of my face seemed to have 'fallen' down my head. It looked horrific. I had little feeling in my cheek and it appeared as if I had had a stroke. I was terrified and realised that I would have to go to the hospital and find out if anything was seriously wrong. I phoned my boss at work and asked if he could get one of the girls to work for me on the Monday so that I could go and have my face xrayed. Unfortunately, no one was able to work for me, so I did what was so normal for me. I woke up on Monday morning, covered my bruising as best I could with make-up and went to work. I worked through yet another day, telling everyone the 'door' story. Brent rang me at work and asked if I would like to go out with him that night for dinner. I actually laughed. It felt incredulous. A great joke being played on me by some greater power. I simply answered, I don't think so!
Brent rang again Monday night. I realised then that it was his birthday and he wanted me to play normal. When I said that there was no way I could go out with my face looking as it did, he simply replied, 'I'll get a bottle of wine and come over then'? For Brent, it was as if nothing had happened. He had simply no idea, or he was in such denial, or he knew that if he could get to me, he could rely on me to cover things over. He had no idea what I had said at work but as far as he was concerned, it seemed, he couldn't see what the fuss was all about. I told him that night, that I was going to the hospital to see if my face was broken. He replied, I'll ring you tomorrow.
On Tuesday, September 1, I sat in the emergency dpt of Tauranga hospital and waited three hours to be seen, and another two hours to be xrayed. Of all the people who came and went in that time, I was the only one who 'looked' as if I had been in a war zone. When my xrays finally came through, I was called to reception and told that they had made an appointment with a surgeon who I was to see immediately. My cheekbone was broken and I would need to have an operation. The doctor I saw at the hospital was horrified. She was adamant that I press charges and explained that my injury was quite serious. I left the hospital and went straight to the surgeon. Again, he was horrified at the sight of my face. Before he even began an examination, he sat me down and impressed on me the need to go to the police. He impacted his opinion by saying, if the clothes airer had hit my face, even a fraction higher up, he would never have heard of me, except maybe the front page of the paper.
I went home. I did not want to go to the police. I was frightened, ashamed, and felt that if I stood up and told the truth, no one would believe me. The only people I trusted to support me, love me and believe me were my mother, who witnessed Brent's verbal abuse that night, my friend, Ian who also heard Brent yelling at me that night, and my children, who had both witnessed Brent's abuse to me. I went to Ian's home and realised that I would have to tell my children, who both lived in Auckland, that I would be going to hospital for an operation. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to tell my children, as I had kept so much of Brent's abuse a secret from them. I was scared and wanted to retreat into myself and pretend it didn't happen. But it did!
I had two glasses of wine and out of the blue, I told Ian, I had to go to the police now! If I didn't go now, I knew I wouldn't.
Brent rang again Monday night. I realised then that it was his birthday and he wanted me to play normal. When I said that there was no way I could go out with my face looking as it did, he simply replied, 'I'll get a bottle of wine and come over then'? For Brent, it was as if nothing had happened. He had simply no idea, or he was in such denial, or he knew that if he could get to me, he could rely on me to cover things over. He had no idea what I had said at work but as far as he was concerned, it seemed, he couldn't see what the fuss was all about. I told him that night, that I was going to the hospital to see if my face was broken. He replied, I'll ring you tomorrow.
On Tuesday, September 1, I sat in the emergency dpt of Tauranga hospital and waited three hours to be seen, and another two hours to be xrayed. Of all the people who came and went in that time, I was the only one who 'looked' as if I had been in a war zone. When my xrays finally came through, I was called to reception and told that they had made an appointment with a surgeon who I was to see immediately. My cheekbone was broken and I would need to have an operation. The doctor I saw at the hospital was horrified. She was adamant that I press charges and explained that my injury was quite serious. I left the hospital and went straight to the surgeon. Again, he was horrified at the sight of my face. Before he even began an examination, he sat me down and impressed on me the need to go to the police. He impacted his opinion by saying, if the clothes airer had hit my face, even a fraction higher up, he would never have heard of me, except maybe the front page of the paper.
I went home. I did not want to go to the police. I was frightened, ashamed, and felt that if I stood up and told the truth, no one would believe me. The only people I trusted to support me, love me and believe me were my mother, who witnessed Brent's verbal abuse that night, my friend, Ian who also heard Brent yelling at me that night, and my children, who had both witnessed Brent's abuse to me. I went to Ian's home and realised that I would have to tell my children, who both lived in Auckland, that I would be going to hospital for an operation. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to tell my children, as I had kept so much of Brent's abuse a secret from them. I was scared and wanted to retreat into myself and pretend it didn't happen. But it did!
I had two glasses of wine and out of the blue, I told Ian, I had to go to the police now! If I didn't go now, I knew I wouldn't.
Broken face
I was glad to get through that first day back at work and funnily enough I felt a calm that I had got away with my door story. I think in hindsight that the calm I felt really came from not having to admit the fear and shame I had buried inside me, and yet another 'drama' had been covered over.
I was glad that it was the weekend and that I wouldn't have to face anyone I didn't want to see. Brent continued ringing me. In the past, he would ring, argue about who's fault everything was and try to get together to 'talk'. To talk, meant, let's just forget about it and get on with it. This time, I was more shaken up than ever before and I knew that if I let him near me for any length of time I would dismiss the assault on me. I knew that my face was injured a lot more than I was trying to make out and I also knew that Brent had crossed a line in his abuse of me. I knew in my heart that I had to stay out of his reach and out of this relationship. I truelly believed that the next time would not be so lucky. So I refused any contact with Brent in person. Answering his phone calls was bad enough, as he tried continually to convince me that it was my fault. That I had 'made' him reach that point and when I wouldn't accept that as an excuse, he said that he hadn't even hit me with the clothes airer, that he had just thrown it out of frustration and it had 'accidentally' hit me full force, not once but twice. I told Brent, that I thought my cheek was broken and that I am going to the police.
There was absolutely no remorse from Brent. Even if it had been an accident, as he was trying to say, then surely he would have been sorry that it had caused so much damage, especially as he had no intention to cause me harm. But, there was not one word of apology whatsoever. His only reply was, that if I go to the police, he was going to make sure that everyone knew what a fucking crazy bitch I am and that all my past would come out.
I was glad that it was the weekend and that I wouldn't have to face anyone I didn't want to see. Brent continued ringing me. In the past, he would ring, argue about who's fault everything was and try to get together to 'talk'. To talk, meant, let's just forget about it and get on with it. This time, I was more shaken up than ever before and I knew that if I let him near me for any length of time I would dismiss the assault on me. I knew that my face was injured a lot more than I was trying to make out and I also knew that Brent had crossed a line in his abuse of me. I knew in my heart that I had to stay out of his reach and out of this relationship. I truelly believed that the next time would not be so lucky. So I refused any contact with Brent in person. Answering his phone calls was bad enough, as he tried continually to convince me that it was my fault. That I had 'made' him reach that point and when I wouldn't accept that as an excuse, he said that he hadn't even hit me with the clothes airer, that he had just thrown it out of frustration and it had 'accidentally' hit me full force, not once but twice. I told Brent, that I thought my cheek was broken and that I am going to the police.
There was absolutely no remorse from Brent. Even if it had been an accident, as he was trying to say, then surely he would have been sorry that it had caused so much damage, especially as he had no intention to cause me harm. But, there was not one word of apology whatsoever. His only reply was, that if I go to the police, he was going to make sure that everyone knew what a fucking crazy bitch I am and that all my past would come out.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Today
On Friday August 28, I went to work. I work in a small bar where just about everybody knows everybody else. Of course they know me, I'm the barmaid but a lot of them also know Brent. Brent actually works for one of our patrons. I had conjured up a story to explain the massive bruising to my eye and face the day before. Thursday had been incredibly windy with strong westerlies. I decided to tell everyone that my car door had been caught by the wind and had smashed into my face as I was getting out of my car. I knew that many would suspect the truth, but I felt sure they wouldn't question me too intensely. And of course they didn't. After telling my story to everyone who walked in the door I think I almost began to believe it myself, until one guy, Brent's boss actually, said, "I would've hit you again!" I replied only that it wasn't funny, but inwardly I screamed and felt so awful about what I was actually doing to myself. I believe that Brent's boss was totally unaware of the situation but I felt abused once again.
I didn't realise it at the time, but today I can see that the little child in me must have been screaming to hear that once again I had taken the blame and had refused to stick up for myself. I imagined that it would have been like standing in front of my daughter and making her take the blame for someone abusing her so badly. I could and probably would kill anyone who did that to her and yet I was totally unaware of what I was and had been doing to myself for years.
I can see now that I have gone out of my way to make my inner self invisible, while at the same time screaming that I'm not!
I didn't realise it at the time, but today I can see that the little child in me must have been screaming to hear that once again I had taken the blame and had refused to stick up for myself. I imagined that it would have been like standing in front of my daughter and making her take the blame for someone abusing her so badly. I could and probably would kill anyone who did that to her and yet I was totally unaware of what I was and had been doing to myself for years.
I can see now that I have gone out of my way to make my inner self invisible, while at the same time screaming that I'm not!
Warning...
Please be warned. I am going to attempt to be as brutally honest in this blog. I am used to covering up all sorts of abuse since I was a young child but today I realise that doing this has just about killed me.
On August 26, 2009, I was attacked by my partner after asking him to leave my home. I don't know if the long and the short of it is important to anyone out there but I realise that if I don't explain in as much detail as I can, then someone else may stay in an abusive relationship one moment too long.
On Monday August 24, I told Brent that a friend from work had asked if I wanted to go to a quiz night on Wednesday August 26. Brent became angry, saying that he didn’t like drinking during the week and said that, that is what I always want to do. I became upset and said to Brent, that it wasn’t fair that we never did anything I enjoyed and that I had no problem going to golf, fishing, rugby or anything else he enjoys and asked why it was always a problem to do things that I enjoyed. After a lengthy argument, Brent said that he wouldn’t be going. I remained upset, but let it drop, deciding that it was better to just leave it.
The following evening, Tuesday August 25, when Brent arrived home from work, I brought it up once again, saying that I thought he was being truelly unfair. He then told me that he thought I was asking to stay at my work place, a bar, all night to drink. I explained that the quiz night was at another Bar, and that at the most it would be two/three hours long. Again, an argument started, with Brent saying he couldn’t see why he should spend a night out with some people (idiots) that he didn’t even know. After this, I became upset and started crying. I decided that it wasn’t worth the drama, and decided not to go myself.
Brent rang me the following day, Wednesday August 26, at work and said that he would drop me off, if I really wanted to go to the quiz night, but by this time just the thought of the evening upset me. I told Brent that it didn’t matter and that I wouldn’t be going. He then asked if I’d like to go out for a drink with him that night and I agreed, to keep the peace.
That evening, Brent and I went to another bar to have a drink and have a play on the pokie machines. After a while, I became bored and decided to go out into the bar to talk with a guy who Brent and I both knew. Brent remained in the pokie area. After some time Brent came out into the bar. He appeared upset to me. I believed that it was because I was talking to Mark and I felt that I had had enough of this sort of behaviour. On the way home from the bar, I told Brent that I didn’t want to be with him anymore and that I wanted him to move out.
Once we were home an argument started between us both. We had both been drinking and cruel words were exchanged between us both. I was extremely upset and just wanted Brent to leave my home. After some time, Brent started to gather his things together. In the past, Brent has taken things of mine, from my home to either upset me, or to use to bargain with me. I followed him into the spare room, which was my son’s room, before my son moved out. I was anxious that Brent may take something that didn’t belong to him. There was a lot of yelling between us both. A clothes airer was in this room. As we were arguing I pushed the clothes airer over. I once again told Brent to get out of my home. At this time, I didn’t want to argue any more. I felt exhausted and thought to myself, that all this ‘bullshit’ wasn’t worth it and I turned to leave the room.
As I went to leave, I felt an immense pain to my right cheek and eye. I then felt another pain to the right of my face, just in front of my ear. I realised that I had been hit with the clothes airer. I became terrified because the pain in my face was incredible. I believed that at this time, I was in danger of being seriously hurt. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the telephone to ring my mother. As I was talking to her, I realised that Brent had followed me into the kitchen so I stepped down into the lounge to put some distance between us. Brent remained in the kitchen, yelling abuse at me. I cannot remember the exact conversation I had with my mother as I was terrified and was trying to calm myself down.
I believed at this time, that Brent was going to hurt me further so I made a plan in my head to get myself into my room, where I had another phone, and to lock myself in my ensuite. I did not want to draw Brent’s attention to what I was doing so I just calmly walked up the steps and into my bedroom. I grabbed my other phone and locked myself in the ensuite. I could hear Brent moving about the house and into the garage. I believed at this time that he was trying to find something to hurt me with. I rang a close friend, who I trusted would be able to help me. Brent was still in the house. He was still yelling things at me. Ian said that he would come and get me, but I knew that that would make things worse with Brent and asked him to wait until Brent had left. I am not sure how long it was before I heard Brent’s car start and go up the driveway. Once it had gone, I locked my front door and locked the internal door from the garage as Brent wouldn’t allow me to get the garage opener from his car when we had been arguing earlier, and it meant he still had access. I then rang Ian and asked him to pick me up as I was terrified that Brent would return early in the morning as he has done before. I gathered some clothes and waited for Ian to ring me from his cell phone to say that he was here. When Ian arrived, I left my home.
The right side of my face was extremely swollen and I was bleeding from the right cheek, just in front of my ear. I did not seek medical help on this night. I did not seek police help while I was at home, as I have done this once before and it has only made Brent angrier. When I did ring the police that time, Brent continued abusing me and has only left when he realised that the police would be arriving soon.
I received abusive texts from Brent during the night, saying that I was just a fucking drunk, that I treated him like a dog, that I was manipulative and that I had pushed him to do what he had done. The right side of my face had swollen immediately after the impact of the clothes airer yet at no time did I receive an apology and at no time did Brent express horror, regret or dismay as if the state of my face was something that he wasn't expecting. The only comment he made at the time was, I suppose that's my fucking fault.
I realised, after receiving Brent's txts that he was trying to cover himself in case I either went to the police or tried to tell anyone of the abuse. Apart from my mother and Ian, I had already decided that I was going to cover this up. I realise now, that my reason for doing this was not to cover Brent but because I was and am so ashamed of myself.
The following morning, I picked my mother up and took her shopping as had been planned. I wore my sunglasses all day, in and out of shops, into the council building to pay my rates, and any where else I was in public. I felt ashamed, dirty and not worth being concerned about. My mother was adamant that I go to the police, but I couldn't do it. I was sure I would be treated with scorn and that they would think me a liar. I know how Brent works. He has constantly ranted about me to his mates and I think anyone who will listen. He has lied his way out and into situations that make him appear the victim and I, on the other hand have kept quiet and just covered things up. To come out now and tell the truth petrified me. I realise now, that I had come to believe that I was everything he had said I was. A terrible mother, a fucking drunk, a dirty filthy maori, a selfish manipulative bitch, that even my own family fucking hated me being around, that no one ever invites me anywhere because I can't keep my fucking mouth shut, that it was my fault that his son went to jail because I kicked him out, that I was old and drying up as a woman because I wouldn't have sex with him. (My periods had stopped over the last seven months and I thought that I had become menopausal. A week after Brent left my home, my period began!) He said that I was ugly, that no one would ever fucking want to be with me, that I was crazy, that I had been sexually abused as a child for eight years because I was a slut and that I had no idea how people that I considered friends and loved really felt about me behind my back. He said that they confided in him and trusted him to make sure I didn't cause trouble. I began not wanting to go out anywhere but only with him.
So to go to the police about this, was out of the question for me.
On August 26, 2009, I was attacked by my partner after asking him to leave my home. I don't know if the long and the short of it is important to anyone out there but I realise that if I don't explain in as much detail as I can, then someone else may stay in an abusive relationship one moment too long.
On Monday August 24, I told Brent that a friend from work had asked if I wanted to go to a quiz night on Wednesday August 26. Brent became angry, saying that he didn’t like drinking during the week and said that, that is what I always want to do. I became upset and said to Brent, that it wasn’t fair that we never did anything I enjoyed and that I had no problem going to golf, fishing, rugby or anything else he enjoys and asked why it was always a problem to do things that I enjoyed. After a lengthy argument, Brent said that he wouldn’t be going. I remained upset, but let it drop, deciding that it was better to just leave it.
The following evening, Tuesday August 25, when Brent arrived home from work, I brought it up once again, saying that I thought he was being truelly unfair. He then told me that he thought I was asking to stay at my work place, a bar, all night to drink. I explained that the quiz night was at another Bar, and that at the most it would be two/three hours long. Again, an argument started, with Brent saying he couldn’t see why he should spend a night out with some people (idiots) that he didn’t even know. After this, I became upset and started crying. I decided that it wasn’t worth the drama, and decided not to go myself.
Brent rang me the following day, Wednesday August 26, at work and said that he would drop me off, if I really wanted to go to the quiz night, but by this time just the thought of the evening upset me. I told Brent that it didn’t matter and that I wouldn’t be going. He then asked if I’d like to go out for a drink with him that night and I agreed, to keep the peace.
That evening, Brent and I went to another bar to have a drink and have a play on the pokie machines. After a while, I became bored and decided to go out into the bar to talk with a guy who Brent and I both knew. Brent remained in the pokie area. After some time Brent came out into the bar. He appeared upset to me. I believed that it was because I was talking to Mark and I felt that I had had enough of this sort of behaviour. On the way home from the bar, I told Brent that I didn’t want to be with him anymore and that I wanted him to move out.
Once we were home an argument started between us both. We had both been drinking and cruel words were exchanged between us both. I was extremely upset and just wanted Brent to leave my home. After some time, Brent started to gather his things together. In the past, Brent has taken things of mine, from my home to either upset me, or to use to bargain with me. I followed him into the spare room, which was my son’s room, before my son moved out. I was anxious that Brent may take something that didn’t belong to him. There was a lot of yelling between us both. A clothes airer was in this room. As we were arguing I pushed the clothes airer over. I once again told Brent to get out of my home. At this time, I didn’t want to argue any more. I felt exhausted and thought to myself, that all this ‘bullshit’ wasn’t worth it and I turned to leave the room.
As I went to leave, I felt an immense pain to my right cheek and eye. I then felt another pain to the right of my face, just in front of my ear. I realised that I had been hit with the clothes airer. I became terrified because the pain in my face was incredible. I believed that at this time, I was in danger of being seriously hurt. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the telephone to ring my mother. As I was talking to her, I realised that Brent had followed me into the kitchen so I stepped down into the lounge to put some distance between us. Brent remained in the kitchen, yelling abuse at me. I cannot remember the exact conversation I had with my mother as I was terrified and was trying to calm myself down.
I believed at this time, that Brent was going to hurt me further so I made a plan in my head to get myself into my room, where I had another phone, and to lock myself in my ensuite. I did not want to draw Brent’s attention to what I was doing so I just calmly walked up the steps and into my bedroom. I grabbed my other phone and locked myself in the ensuite. I could hear Brent moving about the house and into the garage. I believed at this time that he was trying to find something to hurt me with. I rang a close friend, who I trusted would be able to help me. Brent was still in the house. He was still yelling things at me. Ian said that he would come and get me, but I knew that that would make things worse with Brent and asked him to wait until Brent had left. I am not sure how long it was before I heard Brent’s car start and go up the driveway. Once it had gone, I locked my front door and locked the internal door from the garage as Brent wouldn’t allow me to get the garage opener from his car when we had been arguing earlier, and it meant he still had access. I then rang Ian and asked him to pick me up as I was terrified that Brent would return early in the morning as he has done before. I gathered some clothes and waited for Ian to ring me from his cell phone to say that he was here. When Ian arrived, I left my home.
The right side of my face was extremely swollen and I was bleeding from the right cheek, just in front of my ear. I did not seek medical help on this night. I did not seek police help while I was at home, as I have done this once before and it has only made Brent angrier. When I did ring the police that time, Brent continued abusing me and has only left when he realised that the police would be arriving soon.
I received abusive texts from Brent during the night, saying that I was just a fucking drunk, that I treated him like a dog, that I was manipulative and that I had pushed him to do what he had done. The right side of my face had swollen immediately after the impact of the clothes airer yet at no time did I receive an apology and at no time did Brent express horror, regret or dismay as if the state of my face was something that he wasn't expecting. The only comment he made at the time was, I suppose that's my fucking fault.
I realised, after receiving Brent's txts that he was trying to cover himself in case I either went to the police or tried to tell anyone of the abuse. Apart from my mother and Ian, I had already decided that I was going to cover this up. I realise now, that my reason for doing this was not to cover Brent but because I was and am so ashamed of myself.
The following morning, I picked my mother up and took her shopping as had been planned. I wore my sunglasses all day, in and out of shops, into the council building to pay my rates, and any where else I was in public. I felt ashamed, dirty and not worth being concerned about. My mother was adamant that I go to the police, but I couldn't do it. I was sure I would be treated with scorn and that they would think me a liar. I know how Brent works. He has constantly ranted about me to his mates and I think anyone who will listen. He has lied his way out and into situations that make him appear the victim and I, on the other hand have kept quiet and just covered things up. To come out now and tell the truth petrified me. I realise now, that I had come to believe that I was everything he had said I was. A terrible mother, a fucking drunk, a dirty filthy maori, a selfish manipulative bitch, that even my own family fucking hated me being around, that no one ever invites me anywhere because I can't keep my fucking mouth shut, that it was my fault that his son went to jail because I kicked him out, that I was old and drying up as a woman because I wouldn't have sex with him. (My periods had stopped over the last seven months and I thought that I had become menopausal. A week after Brent left my home, my period began!) He said that I was ugly, that no one would ever fucking want to be with me, that I was crazy, that I had been sexually abused as a child for eight years because I was a slut and that I had no idea how people that I considered friends and loved really felt about me behind my back. He said that they confided in him and trusted him to make sure I didn't cause trouble. I began not wanting to go out anywhere but only with him.
So to go to the police about this, was out of the question for me.
Friday, September 11, 2009
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