My experiences.

My name is Neil. I am 49 years of age. I am educated, intelligent, and capable, always rising to a challenge that any employer, situation or life circumstance throws at me. With relish. This story glosses over my experience as a man suffering domestic abuse. It summarises four lost years of my life; one year trying to understand a situation that was well beyond my realms of experience, of the most horrific and systematic abuse from my spouse, and three years spent recovering from that abuse. It is a story of a situation that is ignored by society, but that I have discovered is more common than I ever imagined. I offer this account as a means that others who find themselves in a similar situation may understand what is happening, and may understand that they are not alone, or necessarily to blame.

I spent some 21 years of my life with my first wife, Lynne, and I loved her dearly - in retrospect almost obsessively. We had three wonderful children, all now even more wonderful young adults. I separated due to my assessment of the situation that we were not really adding to each other's lives, and that we were not well matched as husband and wife. I have to admit that I never felt the love I craved, and eventually found the seemingly one-way nature of the love, or even commitment to the marriage, impossible to maintain. Lynne has blossomed since, and has a lovely and deserving new man in her life, and she and I enjoy a closeness and friendship - indeed a love - that is beautiful, timeless, and most definitely of no threat to Lynne's relationship with her new partner, John.

At about the same time I decided to leave my senior management position where I had earned, in some 15 challenging and productive years with the one employer, a good reputation for my skills, my toughness, and my fairness.

Life was great. Unchartered, yes, but I had many irons in the fire, and was looking forward to enjoying more passion for life.

In that period I met a woman, whom I will call "Jackson" (obviously not her real name, but it has a very definite relevance, as 'Jackson Jones' was the chosen 'nom-de-plume' she chose to send me abusive emails from a Yahoo email address after she was restricted from contacting me by the Family Court). At the time Jackson inspired me with what I saw as her inner strength. She had her problems (who doesn't?!), but I felt priveleged to be of use, to make a difference. To help.

Somewhere along the way, I thought I had fallen in love, and finally caved in to what can only be described as substantial pressure, and asked Jackson to marry me.

Just three years later, I wrote the following;

Due to psychological breakdown as the result of a short but abusive marriage I have not been able to work full-time since mid 2003. Since early 2004 I have found myself incapable of even casual work, even in areas in which I would formerly excel or have extreme passion for, which is extremely frustrating.

When this has been dealt with (including the related matter of financial devastation - I tried for two-and-a-half years to sustain myself on Government payments while on a healing/rehabilitation program, and am now existing on a mix of my wits and my assets), and considerable healing has taken place, I hope one day to once again carry on with a life that was productive, creative, fruitful and satisfying. But I also intend to put my efforts into helping to ensure that more recognition is given by society to the hidden problem of men affected by domestic violence. At the same time I will keep the feminist philosophies I have always argued for in my life; the key is balance, fairness, honesty and recognition. Just as not all men are violent, neither are all women. But some are, and society simply does not recognise that.

No peace-loving man deserves to be forced into homelessness by violence, nor indeed to face a system that tends to assume that only women are affected in this way. Victims of violence should be seen as just that, not as female victims, or male. Violence, sustained abuse, affects us all equally. But the cold fact is that for men (and I know I am not the only one) there is almost nothing out there to help us, to support us.

Due to the abuse and threats from Jackson, I often slept in my car, and on the floors of friends' houses. Outdoors. No observer, including her family, thought anything of it. After all, I was a man. I could look after myself. The threats of murder I endured, the constant theats to my property, were all probably 'deserved'. She obviously had a reason to smash a treasured classic car of mine with a hammer, to smash my mobile phone on the floor, to smash my wedding ring in the same way, to smash framed photographs I had taken (I had at the time long been passionately involved in creative and competition photography), and smash and steal many other items that were of special value to me. She obviously had well-founded 'fear' when she would lock me out of my own home time and time again, change the locks, steal my computer so I could not even maintain my own fledgling business, my own life. She even stole my wallet, so I could not even prove who I was, or pay for items so I could continue life, but I am sure that was seen as reasonable. After all, if she was doing that, just imagine how bad I must have been! Just imagine how much poor Jackson had to put up with if she was pushed to those limits!

I left my home on six occasions during our one year of marriage, generally when my safety or that of my belongings were seriously under threat (and on the advice of Police who attended when I called the emergency number). The episodes of violence grew more and more intense, and became more and more forecastable. We sought marriage counselling, as I thought it must have been a problem with 'the marriage', and was frustrated that no amount of reason, understanding, discussion or anything else seemed to help. We attended a local branch of Relationships Australia and it was there that the behaviour I was at such a loss to understand was explained as being Domestic Violence. As a male I had not even considered the possibility that I could have even be subjected to Domestic Violence. Only males were guilty of that, weren't they? The counsellor delved into what violence really was, and how the violence follows a cycle - the cycle of violence.

It was a groundbreaking moment. Jackson had some difficulty coming to terms with the 'diagnosis' of our 'marriage problems', and stormed out of the counselling sessions a couple of times, but overall took on board that there was a problem. I was elated, as I thought we could finally move forward, that we could finally work with honesty and love towards a good future.

But the elation was short-lived. Jackson moved from counsellor to counsellor, from medical practitioner to practioner, from book to book, but there was always a common thread. Lack of honesty. Jackson simply was not being honest with herself, and always looked to outside influences to explain her behaviour. First it was the 'violent ex-husband'. Then it was the 'medication'. Then it was the 'alcohol'. Then something else again. The problem was, with the deletion of each of these 'causes', Jackson continued to get worse. The problem then became 'me'. I was branded untrustworthy untrustworthy. Violent. Sexually unfaithful. I belittled her. I was insincere. I was not entitled to a home. I was sponging off her, and using her financially. I turned other people against her. All I did was try to send her insane. I was a runner, not a stayer. I was hopeless as a man, as a lover, and as a step-parent. I was crazy.

And on, and on, and on...all of it untrue, and increasingly fanciful and surreal.

On one occasion (when being threatened by Jackson with a large kitchen knife, and then having my much-loved classic car and computer smashed) I had had enough, and thought that seeking Police assistance and an Intervention Order might bring matters to head for the good of all concerned. Forced honesty, if you like. I elected not to have Jackson charged with the damage to the car, despite the difficulties I then faced with insurance (and subsequent costs in losing my no-claim bonus), as I still loved her, and wished her no harm or compromising of her future (a conviction would have had a negative effect on her vocation). I also accepted her giving an "undertaking" in the state's Magistrates Court rather than taking out a full Intervention Order. Both these decisions I now regret, as they were worthless in practice, and therefore simply reinforced Jackson's behaviour - there was no consequence to her actions, so no reason to change.

Things became steadily worse.

I applied for two more Intervention Orders, but in the end revoked them both for different reasons. The first was my clutching to hope for the future of our marriage, and my determination not to put anything in the way of that hope. The second was that I realised it was finally time to leave for good, and never to believe the manipulative pleas to return, the promises that things would change.

Jackson's abusiveness escalated in my absence. How dare I move out of her control? She would make it her life goal, until she drew her last breath, that I would never see a cent of the money I had put into the marital home, which she continued, with her teenage children, to enjoy, while I spent some months homeless before finally finding a very cheap room, and then a rental bungalow in which I could live with my faithful dog, Leo. Jackson denied me the right to retrieve my items, even my camping gear (which was under my home) so I could at least camp for a while and have a place to call 'home'. Leo and I spent countless nights in the back of my station wagon - his companionship and indeed body warmth were both life savers.

The dishonesty continued to escalate, but I looked forward to getting matters underway to seek an end to the relationship in the Family Court, and assumed that in a Court situation, where any statements were made under oath, I would at least be free of the lies and baseless accusations. However, this was not to be. The affidavits that accompanied the response to my application for property settlement quite clearly entered the realms of perjury, so breathtaking were the lies. I will always wonder whether she actually talked herself into believing such monstrous fiction, or whether it really did show just how malicious and unethical she really was.

I at first felt defeated, powerless, and wondered how I could ever hope to successfully bring my case, which I was doing unrepresented due to my dire financial situation (she, on the other hand, hired the most expensive lawyers she could find as she had threatened in a telephone call to me, something she could afford for a variety of reasons that I can't reveal here to protect her identity). But I persisted, telling myself that I would do my best, that I could do nothing but my best, and that I would accept the outcome, whatever it was. Most importantly, I remained true to myself, true to my values. I remained totally honest. In hindsight, probably stupidly so.

I think all this was made all the more difficult because I found it very difficult to let go of my love for Jackson. To the end I was concerned for her welfare, her happiness, her rights, her future. To the end I used to hang on the memories of the many wonderful times we spent together, the silly little things in life that were so enjoyable to share, right up to memories of proposing at Heidelberg Castle. The simple fact was that we did enjoy sharing a lot of times together, and it is a tragedy that such things fall to pieces for whatever reason, especially when they degenerate into such violent, bitter and senseless black holes.

However, with much help from counsellors and a psychiatrist, I was able to realise that clinging on to hopes, on to memories of a 'part' of Jackson, were doomed to failure. I had to accept the whole, the bad with the good, and come to terms with the fact that Jackson was the total, including the breathtaking nastiness and vitriol that resulted in so much abuse. It was then easier for me to give up my 'hopes' for an unrealistic future, and indeed my concern for her wellbeing and happiness, a concern which was making me ignore my own needs which were, quite simply, more pressing (I was the one suffering homelessness and financial devastation, not her!) and more in my control.

These days, quite frankly, I am starting to wonder why I ever tolerated what I did. Why I ever stayed for as long as I did. Why I returned as many times as I did. Love, it is true, is blind. One thing I know for certain; I will never again let myself be subjected to such abuse. I have learned to recognise manipulation and abuse for what it is, and more importantly learned to realise that I do not have to tolerate such behaviour. In other words, I am worthy of better than that!

But there are certainly many other people out there who live the same hell. We try to carry on our lives as normal despite such setbacks as threats of murder, constant baseless accusations, constant threat of attacks on our personal property, actual damage to our personal property (always targeted to things most precious to us), the theft of targeted items to prevent us from carrying on our lives, denial of access to our own homes, belittlement of ourselves and the philosophies that are important to us, and denial of access to our own belongings, even those as basic as bedding or kitchenware, when finally forced to leave.

Even after we finally escape we wake crying in the middle of the night, having just awoken from flashback dreams of the verbal abuse, of the constant tension and fear we used to live in. We sometimes avoid going to sleep, in the knowledge that the dreams will only haunt us again. We suffer severe distress at the slightest reminders of the abuse; raised voices on the radio or TV can make us simply have to get out of the room, to enter a quiet space. We find the joy in much that used to enliven us, our passions, aspirations, simply numbed. We retract from our friends, from life, indeed from ourselves. We retract from intimacy.

It is not self pity we feel. Far from it. We simply want to heal. Find peace. Rebuild. Rediscover ourselves. Alone.

One thing we almost certainly have to face at some stage in order to seek justice, closure, and the ability to move on (even if only financial) is the legal system. With an abusive partner, we can not expect co-operation or fairness in this arena. In my case this was most definitely the case, but I hope my experiences outlined here help those in a similar position to understand, or at least come to terms with, what they are facing.

Although the legal system is tough and impersonal, don't despair. Be honest with yourself, be honest with the Court. What is honest, what is good, wins the bigger picture. You may or not win on the money front, but more importantly you will at least be able to stand proud for WHO you are. You can respect WHO you see in the mirror (especially if you're like me and don't have the luxury of being able to like WHAT you see in the mirror!).

Nevertheless, my own experience of the overall tone of Court proceedings showed that the system-wide preconceptions and lack of understanding of what constitutes emotional or psychological wounding extends to that profession as much as any other. Judgements are made on the external signs. If you present as intelligent, well-dressed, articulate, if we are not intimidated or present ourselves as a 'victim' (the drugs my Psychiatrist recommended worked a treat!), and you are male, there is no way you can be suffering the effects of abuse! The fact that we live in poverty, the fact that we have lost our livelihood, our home, even our passion for life, is put down to a "lifestyle choice" (yes the quote is as genuine as it is abhorrent).

For financial reasons I represented myself, something I would now never recommend to anyone, even in the Family Court or Federal Magistrate's Court which like to portray themselves now as being user-friendly and streamlined. You may find yourself being treated with a level of contempt that you might find intimidating and deflating. Get yourself a good lawyer to do the tactical work for you in the courtroom, even if you choose to do the preparatory work yourself. It's a dog-eat-dog world in there. As I read once after all this had finished - the legal system is about law, not justice.

I now jealously guard the peace I knew in my previous 44 years, years that were always challenging in their own way through the various stages of life, but filled and enriched with the basic premise of the right of us all to have an opinion, a passion, to be ourselves, to have the positive, the good in all of us recognised and cherished. When we are abused, whether physically or even more particularly psychologically, we find those basic rights, indeed our own sense of self, simply disappearing beneath us.

I have learned the true value of that peace, and enjoy that peace and sense of purpose again within life, rather than craving peace at any price, even if that means relinquishing life. My wedding vows on that fateful day in 2002 were (with the name replaced);

Jackson, with free and unconstrained soul,
I give you all I am and all I am to become.
Take this ring, and with it my promise of faith, patience, and love,
for the rest of my life.

It's the free and unconstrained soul that Jackson, in the end, was unable to accept, to trust, and which she had to 'control'. The free and unconstrained soul was almost destroyed by the abuse, but has finally once again become the basis of that peace.

Thanks to those who have blessed my life to date with their friendship and understanding. You know who you are. Your love will overshadow the effects of abuse.

And thanks to my psychiatrist. Without his guidance, wisdom and understanding, I hate to think where I might be now. I am happy to recommend him to anyone in Melbourne, Australia who may care to contact me

I only hope I can continue to enrich all your lives and the lives of others in the same way. That satisfaction, that peace, I can take to my grave. There's not much else I can take there!

Cheers,

Neil.

For all others who find themselves in an abusive relationship, whether you are the victim or the perpetrator, love does not conquer all.

Abuse eventually will, and devastatingly so. Recognise the signs. Seek professional help.

And don't be like me and think you know better than the professionals, and that you can help your partner through it, and that you'll survive. When they say "get out for your own safety", do just that. Your life is too precious to waste. It is to be enjoyed, lived with passion and joy, not in fear. Life is a precious gift, not a prison sentence.

Realise that there are many others out there who can help you with their shared experiences; reach out and let them help. I will admit that I personally can not feel comfortable with most of the so-called Men's Movement organisations (I'm a feminist lefty after all!), but you may or may not find your help in such organisations. In my own case, it was simply the understanding, the true love, shown to me by the friends I am so humbled by and fortunate to have, and by family; both my family of origin, and my children and first wife, who will always be 'my family'.

I also must mention the very valuable assistance and guidance I personally found at Relationships Australia, both during the marriage and after (it was there, after all, when attending with my partner that I finally learned that this confusing and debilitating experience that I was finding impossible to understand was Domestic Abuse). I cannot recommend this organisation highly enough.

And remember thatyour abusive partner may make changes around the edges, they may learn to control themselves, but the chances are that they probably will not.

The leopard cannot change his spots. (Dictionary definition and origin)

feel free to contact me

PS - thanks to Leo. You have saved me from the precipice more than you will ever know.

Here are some other links you may find useful;

Now in 2007 I have largely reclaimed my life. On the surface at least.

I run an online business that uses my skills, my knowledge and my passions to best effect, and which has enabled me to take myself off the Government handouts I came to hate so much, and to live a humble but completely independent life.

I live in a run-down rental property in a cheap rental suburb, but enjoy it immensely, as it is my own space, my own 'cave' to which I can (and often do!) retreat.

While I was on medication (about two-and-a-half years) I was able to enter and maintain a few relationships with women, but I have found that since coming off the medication I have not been able to maintain any relationships. I have found that I am, frankly, fearful of emotional intimacy, and unable to cope with the most basic forms of conflict. On the other hand, I have been able to more fully appreciate the wonderful friendships I have in my life, and also the relationships, flawed as they are due to my own shortcomings, with both my family of origin and my first wife and my children.

A very frustrating aspect of my life at present is the fact that I still find myself hypersensitive to any form of human conflict, of violence, and even more so the fact that any social contact, no matter how enjoyable or non-threatening, drains me so much emotionally that I suffer a day or two of distinct (and often debillitating) depression after most such occasions.

These days I can find a peace and sad acceptance of these facts in my life, and can appreciate the subtle yet important things my much-loved dog and cat (Leo and Orville), my friends and families, my old motorbikes, my music, my humble rented home, and my web-based business give me.

Despite being a deeply political person with a strong social conscience, I still keep myself off the electoral roll, as this was the means by which 'Jackson' was able to trace me and continue her abuse in the past. Eventually I wish to fully re-enter the society of which I once felt an integral part, but for some time yet I will need to remain in the fringes, both for my own safety (I am not exaggerating the dangers posed by an obsessed and violent ex-partner by any means), and to enable my own emotional healing to continue and hopefully complete.

I continue my life with an acceptance (and some frustration) of the damage that has been inflicted, and a recognition of what is required to enable healing to take place. While in mid 2007 I still find myself thinking often about suicide (more as a way to finally achieve lasting peace more than anything else), I think I am much less in danger than at most times in the past few years. I am able to maintain a useful 'facade' of happiness and 'normaility' to enable me to carry on with my life, while also giving myself the huge doses of solitude I find I need to cope and to move forward.

I'm sure I'll get there. But I'm almost equally sure that no-one will ever be able to get around the emotional shields, or barriers, that I know I have in place regarding sexually intimate relationships. I am comfortable with the feeling that my life now will be filled with wonderful, indeed quite remarkable, friendships and partnerships of a different kind. That my life will never again involve the fear, the feelings of disconnection and powerlessness, and the absolute emotional destruction that domestic violence can cause.

The remainder of my life, no matter how long it may be, will be wonderful in its moments of peace, in its acceptance of the unknown, in the magic of musical connection, the enjoyment of the occasional warm embrace, loving and feeling loved by those who truly know me, and the feeling of cold air on the face while feeling a classic motorbike running perfectly underneath me...