Women Against Abuse

I went with my mom and my younger brother. I don’t recall a sense of urgency. As a child I didn’t pick up on the danger we were in. I was just like “Ok, my mom is moving us here. And we’re gonna be away from our family.”

In my head it felt like we were going so far away, but we were probably only like five miles away from home. I remember my mom taking courses and meeting with her case manager. And the shelter had group activities for the kids. We played games together, they read books to us, and they took us to the park.

There was a lot of structure, the women had chores. I remember my mom cooking in the kitchen with other women - it was a village type of situation. I didn’t feel scared. I remember going in a van to get a Christmas tree with other residents. It was very diverse, and we had to learn to interact and share space with other people on a daily basis.

It was like we were on an adventure as a kid because we couldn’t tell anyone where we were staying. We had to transition to a new school, even though we were just a bus ride away from home. We changed schools so our location couldn’t be found. That is one of the things I feel like I missed out on the most, was my primary education. Instead of multiplication, I was learning how to keep myself and my brother safe. I developed what, at the time we would call worry, but is now known as anxiety. At the time, I couldn’t worry about homework, or do what kids normally do because we had to keep our location a secret. I wondered about our safety because some residents’ partners did locate them, so we knew something big was happening.

It was strange to be away from our family and home. We all had to share one room with my brother and my mom, but it didn’t feel like a bad situation. It almost felt like a little vacation or journey. The shelter felt like a home, and the women and children felt like an extended family – everyone was loving, gentle and patient. It was my favorite of the shelters we stayed at. I remember the house being big, with bookshelves, a yard space and porch. We couldn’t be in the front with our moms, and I thought that was strange, but you learn early on the cues of safety.

Today looking at it through a mother’s eyes, though, I realize how difficult it must have been for my mom.

These early experiences became a catalyst for how my life went forward. I saw firsthand that receiving help is not a bad thing. I saw how the resources helped my mom keep us safe and change her life. The women at the shelter would have sessions, and I remember listening and hearing them talking with my mom, and giving support and advice. I thought, “This is what adults do.” And now, as an adult, I realize it was because they were survivors with a shared experience.

I met so many nice women like Ms. Yvonne, who was another client staying at the WAA shelter. We stayed in touch for a while, and her favorite color was red – she always had her lipstick or red nail polish. So I always have something red in my kitchen for Ms. Yvonne.

The transitions I experienced as a child helped me to make friends easily and learn to mingle. I learned to be friendly and connect with other people. It taught me how to navigate new places and make friends everywhere I go. In fact, I am so used to adapting to change that even today, I must remind myself that it’s ok to stay in one place. I am still learning to create new norms.

Those childhood experiences shape your adult life. It doesn’t matter if it’s just a few days stay, it shapes your adult life, whether good or bad.

I definitely experience lingering, residual effects. Like if I see two people arguing, I get into “fight or flight” mode. I do worry a lot. That’s something I remember as a child, worrying when I would come back from school, “Are we gonna stay here. Is my mom going to be ok?” That feeling of not being able to control anything as a little girl has followed me, and I’m still learning to manage it as an adult. I feel like the shelter experience made me realize that a support system is necessary in life, so I have a therapist. It’s something I’m working through with therapy and meditating to try to let that go.

When I had my own children, my husband understood that I didn’t want my childhood norms to be their norms. I am grateful for his gentle love and support, as it allowed me to see love in a different light.

Witnessing my kids grow up with stability and structure is oddly contrasting to my own upbringing. To ensure they feel supported, I encourage open communication about any experiences that may bother them, so they don’t feel alone or burdened with adult problems. My children are now grown, and witnessing all that they accomplish fills me with joy.

I am fortunate that I was able to break the cycle of domestic violence for my kids, knowing that not everyone has the same outcome. Thanks to my experiences, my children have developed compassion and a strong sense of boundaries about love and life.