Defining moments in my life and surviving abuse

I’m a middle school teacher. Before teaching in public school, I taught in a couple

different non-profit organizations teaching college courses exclusively to indigenous

women, and youth who were primarily refugee newcomers to Canada. Even in my time

at university, I knew that I always wanted to work with young people who carried

something a little extra with them. My first conventional public school teaching job was

just outside of the city, working with grades five and six. That’s where I started to realize

that I was a storyteller. I would tell stories to my students and they began to call it

“Madam’s storytime,” they really were the ones who taught me that I was a storyteller.

Now I tell stories to connect, to teach my students, and to share the joy with my students. I

felt like if I could make this connection with my students, I could be a better teacher and

I could better influence their learning. Sometimes we use more time in class than we

should, but I let them talk and tell their stories and I just listen. It has made my students

more willing to learn and has taught me about how important it is to make connections

with people. The youth are way smarter than adults. They have so much to say, so

much insight and they have so much natural knowledge. My own children and my

students have taught me about quality time, communication, patience, and resilience. I

love watching kids grow into who they're going to be and who they want to be. I love

watching them explore and find new things.

I had my oldest son when I was 17 years old. It was a big, huge, indescribable change. I

certainly felt a loss of self as a young person but also a gaining of a new self. It was a

time of mourning my childhood and adolescence and a time of growing. His father and I

were together for about 7 years and worked hard at parenting. I was never raised in a

nuclear family, but I’d always idolized it. When we decided it was best for us to

separate, I had to deal with the loss of that perceived Ideal and find my independence

as an adult. I went on to have two other children after that and ended up in a couple of

abusive relationships searching for a “family.” I just broke the cycle of abuse two years

ago and found happiness just for me and my kids. While I was in the last relationship

before I broke the cycle, I began to notice my kids having moments that I recognized it

as a trauma response. The world around me had become so chaotic that it almost

seemed natural to have chaos in my life. There was always something in the back of my

mind saying that this relationship was not okay. I told myself things were not getting

better but they were only getting worse, and I knew that my kids were being affected at

a time where their brain development and their attachment bonds were so critical. About

a month after my daughter was born, I was holding her, and he did not like something

that I said. He slapped me straight across the face. Another time, I came back home

late because one of the kids had a meltdown at the store. He yelled at me for being

home so late. At that moment I just said, ‘Get out of my house and don’t come back. It

wasn’t an easy transition after he left. Some people say getting out is the hard part, but

it’s staying out that’s the hardest. Because of the trauma response that has been going

on in the brain. When you’re in it, your brain is used to having this feeling of intense

cascades of dopamine, adrenaline and serotonin during the cycle that your brain starts

to crave the high that it gets like an adrenaline rush but not in a positive way. I’ve

learned that the response in the brain is very similar to addiction. You get low when

things are sort of calm and normal. It feels like a depressive state. I felt myself getting

sucked back in during these states and I can’t say I had only one braking point but

rather had a series of breaking points. Years of abuse can make you question your

sanity and question if it is really best to leave.

When we finally separated, I received a protect protection order against him. One day

we met up because he wanted to see our daughter and he had contacted me. I was at a

really low point so I went. When I got there, I was attacked. I asked myself why I put

myself in this situation. I knew that I needed help. I reported the attack to the police and

told them that the protection order was violated. At that point, I left home and I went to

Willow Place. Willow Place is a women’s shelter in the city that helps Women and

Children fleeing abuse. I went to the crisis unit a few days before and they suggested

that I check myself into the crisis stabilization unit. I just couldn’t go in and leave my

kids. The day I was attacked for the last time turned into two weeks at Willow place, with

my kids and other women who had also gone through domestic violence. I felt safe and

protected there, there was 24-hour counseling, and support and my kids could stay with

me. I knew I had to be there because I was not okay, and I couldn’t trust my own

judgment. Being placed in the shelter was a turning point. I met women who were in the

worst circumstances, some had come from poverty, some had been abused throughout

their entire lives, sexually abused from a young age, women with addiction, and just

women with all sorts of baggage. It was very humbling to be around these strong

resilient women. I felt like I wasn’t alone, although at first, I was in denial that I had to be

there. I was like; ‘I’m a feminist, I’m educated, and I’m strong. I handle my own money

and I know right from wrong and I support people with their struggles. I couldn’t possibly

be one of those women.’ Well, that was the sad stereotype I had in my head, it was

humbling to realize that, we are very much alike, we are very much the same,

regardless of where our roots started and grew. Some of us have deeper roots, and

we’re in more difficult situations than others. We’re all born children and we were all

born not knowing right from wrong, born without baggage, not knowing what would

come in the future.

I remember talking to a counselor at Willow Place and saying to her that I’ve heard from

so many women how difficult it is to get a protection order. I told her I walked in and I

filled out my paperwork and the judge granted my order right away. I felt guilty and

ashamed when there were so many people not granted on who needed one. She said

to me, it’s because I’m articulate, I can read and write, I can fill out those documents

and speak for myself and advocate for myself. She said it wasn’t easy for everybody.

That’s when dawned on me. I had this horrific, traumatizing experience just like many of

the other women I was with, but those things made me privileged in that situation. That

was extremely humbling dealing with a horrific situation and recognizing that I was

privileged within it. I went in without a bruise on my body and there were women in there

with stitches. I felt guilty for going there, I thought I was taking a place from somebody

who needed it. But I knew I needed psychological support. Some of the other women

were mentally tough as nails, but I was not. All of us carried a lot of guilt and shame

over being in these situations. We talked a lot, we asked each other; ‘Why shame?

What is it and where is the shame coming from?’ Because I don’t feel like other women

should be ashamed for having gone through domestic violence. Victims don’t ask to be

victimized. Society places a lot of blame on women who stay I think that is part of where

the shame comes from. People say; ‘Well why didn’t you just leave?’ I didn’t leave

because I was told by society to stick it out if you love somebody enough they will

change, love is all you need. I was told to support my partner and to be a loving mother.

Kids need their parents. It's even harder to stay out and break that cycle and shame

adds to that struggle.

It doesn’t matter what kind of abuse you're experiencing, there's always a psychological

component. The Psychology of abuse is what makes you start to question; ‘Did I

instigate it? Did I do something wrong?’ My ex-partner had his own trauma. I thought I

was being a supportive partner, being there while he was trying to deal with his trauma.

He went to counseling and everything for himself. I wanted to help him out, be there and

give him a chance because everybody had left him in his life. I didn’t want to contribute

to his trauma. But ultimately I had to that wasn’t my burden to bear and what’s more is

that it certainly wasn’t my children’s burden to bear.


As women, we take on an emotional role in our families and our societies. But we

cannot carry all of the emotional labor. From a young age, I was already taught to carry

other people's emotional burdens. I come from a single-parent home and I spent a lot

more time being my mother's friend than her daughter. She raised me the best way she

could, she was very loving. But my mother hadn’t done her work on herself. She

suffered abuse that she never dealt with. Instead of letting me have my own life, she

wanted me to relive her life in a way that she would have wanted to, I think. She came

from a very strict household. When it came to me, my mother wasn’t strict, I almost had

no rules. Sometimes it felt like she didn’t care. Kids need rules and boundaries. I did not

have a good role model to show me what boundaries look like and for a long time I did

not hold my own. I was never mad at her. It was only when I became a parent that I

realized that I wasn’t going to do it that way. There was certainly a lot of resentment for

several years between my mom and me. I just really wish she would work on herself I

think she would feel great if she did. I will always take care of her and I know she did the

best she could with me. 

There have been other instances of abuse that other family members have experienced

and I’m here to start breaking that cycle. I’m trying to teach my kids to have boundaries

and to respect other people’s boundaries. I tell my 17-year-old son to take a look at who

he is and just enjoy and love himself. We have had many conversations about healing. I

have pushed him to seek outside support it cannot only be me, I’m too close. It’s

important to have teachers, good friends, and mentors to teach him. I want him to feel

comfortable telling me things and that includes when I’m not doing something right. He’s

a great and loving kid who helps me out with his younger siblings. He’s gone through a

lot with me and I see struggles manifesting differently with the younger generation, so I

want him to have support. I’m just super proud of him. My second son has ADHD and

sensory issues. I’m blessed with a great team at his school and daycare, they’re just

phenomenal. They understand what we’ve been through. It makes a huge difference to

have a team helping with kids who have gone through trauma who don’t have a voice.

It’s important to make them comfortable and help them process things in their own way

in their own time.

Breaking intergenerational trauma has been the theme of my life. For me, it's been

through a lot of talking and storytelling. For me storytelling is healing, it can be any

story and as long as someone hears It feels healing because feeling unheard is a

difficult part of abuse. Being a teacher and having kids, I do my very best to make sure

my kids feel heard. I try to and support and understand them I love hearing their stories

and knowing them through their voices. I love when they learn the impact of their

voices, when to use them and how to use them. Recently, it was my second-year

anniversary from the day I went into Willow place. It sounds like a weird thing to

celebrate because it was such a traumatic day. But for me, it was the first day of

change. It was the last day and the first day.

The first year was so hard, it was excruciating sometimes. The second-year has been

awesome which is crazy because there's been a pandemic. I’ve made so much

progress, and for me holding shame was difficult. So finally, to shake away the guilt and

shame, I just let it go and I just told everybody my story. I had to own it and I had to live

it. I took my shame and turned it around to help myself. I’m proud that I trusted the

process. It took some time to find a counselor that understood me. I’m proud to have

spoken out about my situation because other women would have never reached out to

me. I’m proud that I finally like myself and love myself. I know myself better now than I

ever did in my entire life. That is a normal process for people growing up but I didn’t

know that I didn’t like myself or value myself until I began to heal. I had all the right

answers in my mind I knew what all the right things to say were and what all the right

answers were, but I wasn’t putting them into practice. Another thing I’m proud of is

learning how to set boundaries. I don’t think anybody gives boundaries the credit that

they’re due. It’s the ability to say yes and the ability to say no. It’s really important to be

able to ask people if they have the emotional space to hear what the you have to share

at the moment. We cannot always hold space for everyone every day. And we should

be able to say it’s yours to hold until I have the emotional space to hold some of it for

you and vice versa. You do not need to be everything to everybody all the time as I tried

to be.

To other women experiencing domestic violence, tears are going to come, loneliness

will come, but trust the process and get support. If you feel alone, don’t stay alone. If

you have to call a crisis line just to have someone to talk to, that’s what they’re there for.

Resources are available to put your safety first. Nothing can replace you as a human.

There may be people who will gaslight you into not advocating for yourself, but you can

be your own best friend or your own worst enemy. If you need help, do not take no for

an answer. Get it!