As part of the 16 Days of Action Against Domestic Abuse we are putting a spotlight on the dramatic toll of domestic abuse in the family home by helping to give a voice to those who have been ignored and silenced for too long.

 

In this extraordinary first-hand account from a young participant who has been supported by our Steps to Change hub, you’ll hear testimony of how lost chances resulted in an endless cycle of abuse, and how intervention and being believed, turned helplessness into hope.

 

Childhood abuse

 

“I am a 21-year-old male child survivor of domestic abuse.  I was abused at the hands of my father, then by the system that is supposed to protect children like myself.  Instead of being visible and supported, I was invisible for years and suffered severe psychological distress due to the impact that my experience of domestic abuse had on me.

 

I was abused in the home until we fled when I was 6.  I can still remember from an early age hearing my mother being abused, seeing her being abused, and being on the receiving end of emotional and physical abuse.  My mother was powerless to stop me from being hurt.  My perpetrator was bigger and stronger than she was, and a lot of the abuse took place whilst she was at work.

 

“Protective” court order

 

When we fled my mother went to court and got a protective court order which said that my perpetrator could only see me at a supported contact centre where staff would be present to keep me safe.  I am on the autistic spectrum and I have learned since that that was considered an extra vulnerability.  I went to two different contact centres whilst we were in the family court.  At one centre I was taken into a room by my perpetrator and threatened on more than one occasion.

 

This affected my behaviour at home and school – I was 7.  My mother told the court, but it was 6 months before I was interviewed, and someone believed me.  We were in the family court for two years and in that time I was interviewed by three different officers of the court.  Every time I said I didn’t feel safe, I didn’t want to go to contact, and what had happened to me.  I was even watched at contact to see how I interacted with my perpetrator.  I smiled at that session and I was told that they didn’t understand why if I didn’t feel safe I smiled.  A psychologist I was seeing at the time told the court that I would smile because I wouldn’t want to make my perpetrator angry.  Instead of listening to this, the court officers said that my autism would affect how I reported what had happened to me.  It was decided that contact could continue long term, but due to safety concerns, it had to stay at a contact centre.

 

For 7 years I went to contact twice a month.  I hated it.  It made me very anxious beforehand which affected my behaviour at home and school, and also after because I would get nightmares and flashbacks with the PTSD.  It affected my ability to make friends.  People didn’t like my behaviour, but I couldn’t help or control it.  I now know that I was hypervigilant all the time but I didn’t understand that back then.

 

I used to write letters to my teachers saying I didn’t want to go.  I was constantly worried my perpetrator would turn up at school as he was still threatening me.  I was referred to the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service for my behaviour and my severe separation anxiety.  I didn’t want to be away from my mum because I only felt safe with her and I also wanted to protect her.  I told CAMHS how I felt.  I wasn’t believed.  They felt that my mum was making it all up.  They told others this and it blocked me from getting the help I needed.  I was still going to contact.  I knew I was unsafe but no one listened.  Then my perpetrator sexually assaulted me at contact.

 

The chaos continues

 

The onslaught of my PTSD from this was catastrophic.  It brought up memories and flashbacks I couldn’t handle.  My perpetrator had sexually assaulted me before, when we lived with him, when my mum was at work.  I had been silenced in the worst way and I had never felt able to tell anyone, but it all came tumbling out at school.  I was at secondary by now and I had a brilliant support worker who listened to me, believed me and tried her best to support my distress.  The police and social services got involved but they said it was my word against my perpetrator so they couldn’t take it any further.  I was then told that I still had to see my perpetrator.  No-one took my feelings into account and no-one other than my mum and school support worker was willing to help me with my feelings.  I started to spiral and I refused to go to school, I was terrified of what was going to happen to me and I was terrified of the thoughts in my head.

 

I had one more visit with my perpetrator just before my 13th birthday.  I had to pretend I was okay.  The staff at the centre kept saying how my perpetrator was suffering.  There was little thought for me.  I may be autistic but I am hyper aware of what is going on around me and there was no support or safety.  From the ages of 13-20 I hated my birthday and I never wanted to celebrate it.  He took everything from me.

 

The next few years I just spent getting more volatile at home.  I couldn’t cope with my feelings, and flashbacks.  I needed help but there was no-one other than my mum.  She has always been my safe and trusted place and my behaviour, including physical violence was all directed at her.

 

Recognising children as victims

 

During lockdown I worked with Jess Philips to try and get children seen as victims in their own right in the Domestic Abuse Act.  It was the first time I felt remotely visible.  The rest of the time I just felt like I was an exhibit behind a glass window.  People don’t stop to look at a dusty, slightly broken exhibit behind a piece of glass, but I was there in plain sight.  Plenty of people looked at me, but no one had ever really wanted to see me and what had happened to me.

 

At the age of 17 I couldn’t cope any longer.  I was triggered at college and I ended up standing on a motorway bridge.  I needed the constant noise in my head to stop.  But again, rather than be supported, I was told by a college counsellor that my experience seemed a bit far-fetched.  They wanted me to see an NHS mental health service but the children’s service rejected my referral, as did the adult team.  The adult team said they were so stretched that I only would have fit the criteria if I had jumped…

 

Turning point

 

The turning point was a violent outburst at home when I fractured my hand. Technically I was perpetrating domestic abuse at home, but my mum never saw it like that, she saw a very troubled young person living in a traumatic state 24/7 who needed supporting.

 

The local domestic abuse outreach service she volunteers for stepped in when they realised what was happening.  They sourced support for me through an organisation called Interventions Alliance.  By this point I had no trust in professionals and was highly sceptical.

 

I had 8 months of therapy with them.  I was never judged, just supported in whatever feelings I had.  They helped me understand my responses in the context of trauma and helped me find different non-violent ways of understanding my pain and expressing myself.

 

No-one has lived my life but me.  Therefore, the only person who can say what I saw, what I heard and what I directly experienced is me.  Children and young people who have suffered harm are so invisible it worries me.  I am lucky that I am living my best life now, but if someone hadn’t have stepped in when they did, I might not be here, or I might have been behind bars by now.  I deserved to be heard a lot earlier.”

 

 

Find out more about how the Steps to Change hub is offering whole-family support to victims and perpetrators of domestic abuse and stalking, including young people and those involved in retaliatory violence.