By Sarah Jones
When I started work as an advocate at the Crisis Center in Manhattan, Kansas, I rationalized that while I had never experienced domestic violence, I knew what it was and still could make a difference. I look back at that version of myself and can only smile.
I am (thankfully) a child of divorce. I don’t remember a time when my parents were together. Growing up, I lived with my mother but saw my father almost daily. I knew something was not right about his behavior but never equated it to domestic violence. Yes, his throwing objects at the wall in a fit of rage was terrifying. When he charged at me while screaming, then chastised me for flinching, it left me on edge for days. His hitting me, then giving a lecture about how we should live in a world where people don’t hit each other, was confusing and hypocritical. Taking down the Christmas tree on Dec. 23 then hollering, “Christmas is cancelled now,” then calling the next day to schedule our family present exchange as if nothing had happened, was bananas — as was chucking my 21st birthday cake into the pool.
I could go on and on, but I never recognized any of those incidents, or the plethora of emotional and verbal torment that permeated my childhood and my early adulthood, for what it was. I lived with dysfunction — but who doesn’t? And nobody held my father accountable. He was sick. He needed help. Despite his behavior, he loved me. It was what it was. I had to live with it.
Then came new employee and volunteer training at The Crisis Center Inc. It was a revelation. All at once, I felt confused, awakened, vindicated, violated, relieved and so sad. My lifelong companion, anger, also was strongly represented. I felt the freedom and empowerment that comes with knowledge and nausea realizing what I needed to do with that knowledge. Most importantly, I felt hope and saw a path forward where I could understand my trauma and heal. Change was slow, and I backslid. It took time to set a boundary and fully remove an abusive person from my life. The relief was overwhelming. It took a few more years for me to seek mental health counseling; that was transformative.
I want to recognize that on my journey, I did not have the same safety concerns others face in getting away from an abusive environment. I was not financially or legally bound. I wasn’t socially pressured to maintain contact. My father has left me alone. I don’t know if that is out of respect or indignation, but It doesn’t really matter. I know I’m lucky. Others are not so fortunate and face a far more precarious path to survival. We must recognize the truth of this and respond accordingly. Start by believing. Stop victim blaming. Hold offenders accountable. Give hope.
Sarah Jones is the chief advocacy officer for the Gulf Coast Center for Nonviolence. Reach her at (228) 436-3809.