A Frog in Boiling Water

By Jessica

I honestly thought that I had met the man of my dreams. He was talented, generous, kind, intelligent, charming, well presented and very handsome. He opened doors, he wrote me beautiful messages, he bought me lovely gifts of jewellery and clothing and shoes. I had known him as a friend for over four years and when we started dating, I quickly fell very in love and things moved quickly. It wasn't until after he moved into my home and I fell pregnant that things drastically changed. Having the knowledge that I do now, the signs started much earlier and even being a well educated, confident and intelligent woman. I did not see it coming. In hindsight, reading what I write about what happened, makes me feel quite silly. Even I ask myself, why I stayed so long but it was like the old saying about a frog in boiling water, it happened so gradually that i didn't realise just how hot the water was and over time he had worn me down so much that I didn't know that I could ever leave, that I would ever be safe again or that I was worth more.

It started with my dog. Simon didn't like dogs and wanted me to get rid of her. I relented, at the time she was my baby. He went to kick her and pulled out a gun threatening to shoot her. in hindsight, it was pretty silly but I stood between them. He threw things around the room, smashing my things, threw my mattress, broke my bed, screamed at me and stormed out. It's the dog or me he said, if she's not gone in three days, I will be. Just newly pregnant, I made the silly decision to compromise and re-homed my dog. As I was to learn, it wasn't just my dog that bothered him and over time it became all of my friends and family each with whom he found some fault with. He told me that if my Dad were to come around he would bash him.

He found a lot of fault with me too. If I locked the door when he came home, he would either scream at me about how stupid I was or give me the silent treatment until he exploded. I was expected to wear my hair down, to lose weight and to wear what he wanted me too. I kept telling myself that it was okay, he just wanted me to be my best but it wore me down. I was a model when we started dating and by the second year in, I found myself hiding away when he slept so I could finish my dinner without the glares and lectures about how I should watch my figure. He wanted certain dinners and would throw plates if something was wrong, if I forgot his drink or he ran out of deodorant without me noticing. It happened so gradually, I didn't notice just how many eggshells he had me walking on, until of course I left. He told me his best friend was a detective and made it like he was above the law and had connections. I didn't think there was a way out.

Simon was a ladies man, we fought about the fact that my friends were alerting me to his online dating habits and he liked to visit his ex-girlfriend a lot. He told me that she would perform a medical procedure on him that only she knew how to do and had to visit her twice a week. I wasn't allowed to ask more about it but I knew that something wasn't right and one night, when our baby was 8 weeks old and I was home with mastitis he came home from his ex's, sat down on the couch and started watching TV. Our baby was hungry and I was expressing milk but unfortunately not quick enough and asked him to get me a bottle. He exploded. I apparently looked at him the wrong way when he walked in which made him think I was accusing him of cheating. The next thing I knew he was pushing me up against the wall, he grabbed my throat and pulled me down the hallway yelling that this was what a man should be and that he would hit me next time. Our baby was lying on the couch and crying. He saw me go to use my phone and threw it so hard it smashed into pieces. When he walked away I quickly grabbed my laptop and called for help but he caught me. He brought in a gun and was pacing screaming about what he would do to whoever walked in that door. I was so scared, in my pyjamas, when he paced away, I quickly grabbed our baby and ran out of the house. I hid in the neighbours yard as he came looking for me down the street and had to try to stop our baby from crying. I sought refuge in a neighbours house until the police came quite some time later and arrested him. It turned out, the gun was fake but a very good fake.

When he went to Court, I became aware of his extensive violent history that I had no idea about. He had changed his name and there was 10 years between his last known offence. Stupidly, I listened to his apology, his pleads and thought that with the pressure of a new baby, losing his job and hurting his back that he was having a break down. He had started counselling and was so convinced that it wouldn't happen again. After some time and against advice, I returned. I also at the time was on maternity leave, had no income, thought I had no where to go. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know the system, I was overwhelmed and exhausted and not in a place to make sound judgment. Looking back, it looks like a no-brainer but to me at the time, he had me so convinced that he was sorry and loved me that I wanted to give it one last chance before I gave up, for the sake of our baby. He briefly did some time in prison for the assault and had to complete community service. Over time, he tried to convince me that I should never have called the police, it was my fault for being so jealous and now he had to do community service. He used it as an excuse to be too tired to help at all around the house and would tell me off if I even suggested getting some help and it did not get better.

The outbursts continued, mostly pushing, smashing my belongings and threats. He would play games, pick on me, my appearance, even on social media and I slowly became more submissive and a shell of who I once was. He would tell me I was stupid, lazy, fat, a bitch, hopeless. He even did it at shopping centres. He told me that he would leave me if I didn't lose weight, dress how he wanted and attend swingers parties I told him I couldn't do that and he refused to leave. He expected me to service him sexually nightly and that I should be thankful for that, because other women were and one night when I refused, he came home the next night, smirked at me and said "I wen't to a rub and tug today, because you didn't do your job! I knew I wanted to leave but I was so scared. I didn't feel like I would be safe anywhere. I didn't have any money and felt helpless. I didn't want our baby growing up around these outbursts and seeing their Mum being put down all the time and thinking that was okay.

Things gradually got worse and he became more and more confident as he got away with things. I was being alerted to more dating profiles, if I ever mentioned it, he would blow up about how retarded my friends are and scream me down and threaten to leave with our baby and that I would only see our baby when he decided I could. I brought home the wrong mop once and he smashed it and screamed at me. I was constantly on eggshells, avoiding drama. One night was the straw that broke the camels back. He decided it would be funny to stir everyone on social media by posting a 'morning after' photo with another woman. I commented on it and he blew up, he threw my stuff, was pushing me and screaming insults. Our baby woke up screaming and crying and he kept going, I begged for him to stop because our baby was terrified and he didn't. I honestly thought that one day, he would just lose control and kill me. He told me our baby wouldn't know what was going on. I knew I had to leave and I spoke to a Women's Domestic Violence Service and planned my way out.

One weekend, after a few more incidences when he went to work, I packed up and left. It took the greatest amount of strength to do it. I felt terrified, miserable and so confused. I kept thinking that maybe I was the problem, maybe I could just be better. He isn't really hitting me so it's not that bad right? It wasn't until weeks later that I realised just how much stress I was under. Over time, I had developed anxiety, my hair was falling out, I had nightmares and I was so used to it that I had stopped noticing.

When I left, he tried everything to get me back. He left a puppy at the house, tried to lure me with cruises, papers to cars, threats of suicide, stories of dying of a disease and he even left blood all over a pillow to support his claims. It was at that point, when I was in a safe place, had time to think and was on the outside looking in, that I realised what I had been dealing with.

Legally and financially, it was a nightmare. The Police weren't helpful the second time because they didn't have enough 'physical evidence'. Centrelink was a pain and even with half a law degree under my belt I had nothing but problems. When I approached the Court for a 'Family Violence Intervention Order', the Police hadn't sent through the brief and the defence had me looking like a bitter monster just trying to get custody of my daughter. I was even told by the negotiator "He has witnesses he says you know?". I questioned my judgment, my diary notes, had this really happened? Maybe I was losing my mind? Fortunately my sister had witnessed most of it because she was living with us and assured me that it wasn't the case. The tables turned when the information finally reached the Court and I was granted a full no contact intervention order for myself and my baby with the full support of the Police. Leaving was the hardest but best thing I ever did for myself and my baby. There is a lot of victim blaming and not a lot of people take psychological or emotional abuse seriously but it effected me to the point that I was petrified, broken and just a shell of a human being. Sometimes I wish that he had just hit me instead because I felt like I could have recovered from that fear and a bruise much easier than having to find who I am again and at least the bruise would have been some evidence I could show someone. Though the physical bruises were minimal the scars are very real, but things are better and months on I am finally starting to feel a bit closer to that person that I once was. I will never be the same again but being how I am now, sure beats being stuck with that man for the rest of my life or worse, not being here at all because of him and now my little one gets to grow up without that environment. My baby still sees her Dad, under supervision, at a contact centre but now gets to see just the best side of Dad without the rest.

Please use the name 'Jessica' instead of my sign on name. Thank you.