90 lives were lost in Australia last year due to Domestic Violence... 90, that's an insane amount. Why is this still happening? Why does anyone feel it's perfectly fine to lay a hand on another person, let alone their own partner?
I was reading about hotlines being flooded already this year with reports of Domestic Violence, WE'VE JUST FINISHED THE FIRST WEEK OF THE NEW YEAR!
Throughout 2016 my intention is to talk about my experience, to talk about all the different organisations that assisted me (I came upon their existence only because of the specific situation I was in, but now I know of them I'm sharing them), the impact DV has on children and what every single one of us can do to help. Days ago I received a text message from a beautiful friend. Carmen is at the helm of Viva La Vintage (www.vivalavintage.com.au) and she is launching a Pin Up program designed to empower women whilst raising awareness and much needed funds for victims of domestic violence. The first time Carmen mentioned this was two years ago, she's put in the hard yards and done the research into what is needed to help women take control of their own lives. I'm so incredibly excited to watch this baby grow and flourish and so very, very proud of my friend.
To kick this off I would like to ask you when the last time you thought about women's refuges was? What do you imagine they look like? Have you put thought into this subject, ever? I hadn't. I had put zero consideration into what exactly the purpose of a refuge was before I needed to be in one.
Women's Refuges (all for that matter but for the sake of this I'm using women as the example) are for all intents and purposes are an invisible entity. Wait, huh?
You know they exist but do you know where they are? There are no signs out the front that say 'Blah-Di-Blah Women's Refuge', you can't look in the phone box and find one nor can you google. You've probably walked past one and have had absolutely no clue what it was. Refuges blend in. They look like every other house on the street, there are no defining features.
What do they look like on the inside? I can only tell you about the one I was in. To get through the front door, there was a keypad. Can't enter the correct pin, can't get in. Inside there was a collection of offices, those offices contained an amazing collection of women (the majority of whom had their own domestic violence experiences). The manager; a kind woman who was more than happy for any of her charge to pop into her office just to have a chat. She made a point of acknowledging all the children and remembering little tidbits about them so she could engage them in conversation and make them feel like she was there just for them. A collection of caseworkers; there to support and encourage their individual families. My caseworker ran the gamut for me. She spent time with my toddler, she helped me with Centrelink and the Police and at one point she helped me fix my car. She also helped me with housing. Childcare workers were available to any worried mother. I had difficulty with The Slayer and how he dealt with men. I was pregnant and in need of medical attention so I regularly crossed paths with people of the male persuasion. My boy would get angry and become hysterical if I was touched by a man. The childcare worker would attend my appointments and help wrangle my feisty boy. She answered questions and gave me advice on how best to help my son and she took us to playgroup so we could socialise. Social workers ran groups that educated and empowered the women, helped them understand that what happened to them was not their fault. They are not useless and all the things they'd been believing of themselves. These groups showed the participants that they weren't alone, that what they were experiencing wasn't uncommon and that they could survive.
Past the offices was another door, this door was heavier than the front door. It also had a keypad and that pin was different to the previous one. Inside the "house" were a collection of rooms, again each room had it's own keypad and differing pins. There was bathrooms and a large kitchen with a separate large dining room. A large loungeroom and a large kids room with toys and crafts and a tv with kiddies movies. An enclosed patio where kids could ride bikes and play with more toys and eat outside was completely safe from any intruder and again keypads to enter and exit. The first thing I felt when I was being shown through my new home was the that I was breathing properly. I felt safe. I felt like my husband could absolutely not get to me or my child whilst I was in here. I had been holding my breath wondering if I'd turn a corner and there he was, found us but in this place I had found a sanctuary.
I was shown my room and I remember standing there, pregnant. My little guy was playing with his new loot (he'd been given a basket of toys and books) and two caseworkers were by my side. I was 33 and at no point had I ever imagined for one second that I would be in a place like this, frightened for my life and my children, homeless with nothing at all. I'd had a home, I'd had a business, I'd had everything I could possibly want and now I thought I had nothing (in fact I didn't have nothing, I had everything because I had my life). I couldn't stop the tears from escaping my eyes and when the caseworkers realised I was crying the wrapped me in their arms and let me sob. I have never in my life felt more safe than when I entered that women's refuge.
I felt helpless when I arrived. I got abusive phonecalls, my caseworker helped me change my phone number. I had a house full of furniture (well, not really full you see my husband had cleared it out of all the things that he could sell) and my caseworker (with the help of the Samaritans) organised for everything to be packed up and moved into storage so that I didn't have to deal with it nor risk my safety by being in a place that made me vulnerable.
Now... ready for the kicker? Our Australian Government has dropped the ball BIG TIME when it comes to women's refuges. With a lack of funding these places are at crisis point. There are not enough beds, no rooms at the inn. This is not ok, it's just not acceptable. Women are dying because they feel like they have no where to go, no one to turn to and our government are saying, that's right.
Businesses like Viva La Vintage are very much needed, their support necessary. I say it again, I am so proud that Carmen is my friend.
I was reading about hotlines being flooded already this year with reports of Domestic Violence, WE'VE JUST FINISHED THE FIRST WEEK OF THE NEW YEAR!
Throughout 2016 my intention is to talk about my experience, to talk about all the different organisations that assisted me (I came upon their existence only because of the specific situation I was in, but now I know of them I'm sharing them), the impact DV has on children and what every single one of us can do to help. Days ago I received a text message from a beautiful friend. Carmen is at the helm of Viva La Vintage (www.vivalavintage.com.au) and she is launching a Pin Up program designed to empower women whilst raising awareness and much needed funds for victims of domestic violence. The first time Carmen mentioned this was two years ago, she's put in the hard yards and done the research into what is needed to help women take control of their own lives. I'm so incredibly excited to watch this baby grow and flourish and so very, very proud of my friend.
To kick this off I would like to ask you when the last time you thought about women's refuges was? What do you imagine they look like? Have you put thought into this subject, ever? I hadn't. I had put zero consideration into what exactly the purpose of a refuge was before I needed to be in one.
Women's Refuges (all for that matter but for the sake of this I'm using women as the example) are for all intents and purposes are an invisible entity. Wait, huh?
You know they exist but do you know where they are? There are no signs out the front that say 'Blah-Di-Blah Women's Refuge', you can't look in the phone box and find one nor can you google. You've probably walked past one and have had absolutely no clue what it was. Refuges blend in. They look like every other house on the street, there are no defining features.
What do they look like on the inside? I can only tell you about the one I was in. To get through the front door, there was a keypad. Can't enter the correct pin, can't get in. Inside there was a collection of offices, those offices contained an amazing collection of women (the majority of whom had their own domestic violence experiences). The manager; a kind woman who was more than happy for any of her charge to pop into her office just to have a chat. She made a point of acknowledging all the children and remembering little tidbits about them so she could engage them in conversation and make them feel like she was there just for them. A collection of caseworkers; there to support and encourage their individual families. My caseworker ran the gamut for me. She spent time with my toddler, she helped me with Centrelink and the Police and at one point she helped me fix my car. She also helped me with housing. Childcare workers were available to any worried mother. I had difficulty with The Slayer and how he dealt with men. I was pregnant and in need of medical attention so I regularly crossed paths with people of the male persuasion. My boy would get angry and become hysterical if I was touched by a man. The childcare worker would attend my appointments and help wrangle my feisty boy. She answered questions and gave me advice on how best to help my son and she took us to playgroup so we could socialise. Social workers ran groups that educated and empowered the women, helped them understand that what happened to them was not their fault. They are not useless and all the things they'd been believing of themselves. These groups showed the participants that they weren't alone, that what they were experiencing wasn't uncommon and that they could survive.
Past the offices was another door, this door was heavier than the front door. It also had a keypad and that pin was different to the previous one. Inside the "house" were a collection of rooms, again each room had it's own keypad and differing pins. There was bathrooms and a large kitchen with a separate large dining room. A large loungeroom and a large kids room with toys and crafts and a tv with kiddies movies. An enclosed patio where kids could ride bikes and play with more toys and eat outside was completely safe from any intruder and again keypads to enter and exit. The first thing I felt when I was being shown through my new home was the that I was breathing properly. I felt safe. I felt like my husband could absolutely not get to me or my child whilst I was in here. I had been holding my breath wondering if I'd turn a corner and there he was, found us but in this place I had found a sanctuary.
I was shown my room and I remember standing there, pregnant. My little guy was playing with his new loot (he'd been given a basket of toys and books) and two caseworkers were by my side. I was 33 and at no point had I ever imagined for one second that I would be in a place like this, frightened for my life and my children, homeless with nothing at all. I'd had a home, I'd had a business, I'd had everything I could possibly want and now I thought I had nothing (in fact I didn't have nothing, I had everything because I had my life). I couldn't stop the tears from escaping my eyes and when the caseworkers realised I was crying the wrapped me in their arms and let me sob. I have never in my life felt more safe than when I entered that women's refuge.
I felt helpless when I arrived. I got abusive phonecalls, my caseworker helped me change my phone number. I had a house full of furniture (well, not really full you see my husband had cleared it out of all the things that he could sell) and my caseworker (with the help of the Samaritans) organised for everything to be packed up and moved into storage so that I didn't have to deal with it nor risk my safety by being in a place that made me vulnerable.
Now... ready for the kicker? Our Australian Government has dropped the ball BIG TIME when it comes to women's refuges. With a lack of funding these places are at crisis point. There are not enough beds, no rooms at the inn. This is not ok, it's just not acceptable. Women are dying because they feel like they have no where to go, no one to turn to and our government are saying, that's right.
Businesses like Viva La Vintage are very much needed, their support necessary. I say it again, I am so proud that Carmen is my friend.