For many the church is seen as a safe haven - but it offered Laura no refuge from her horrific physical abuse. Photo / 123rf
For many the church is seen as a safe haven - but it offered Laura no refuge from her horrific physical abuse. Photo / 123rf
Laura and Amy's stories of surviving and thriving after domestic violence are two of 10 inspiring memoirs to be featured in Jas Rawlinson's internationally-renowned series: 'Reasons to Live One More Day, Every Day — remarkable stories of hope, resilience, and triumph over adversity.' Grab a copy of the book here, or follow 'Reasons to Live One More Day, Every Day' on Facebook.
WARNING: Distressing content
Laura was in her early 20s when she met Damien, a man regarded far and wide as a real catch.
"Damien was tall, dark and handsome, he played the drums and was the son of a high profile pastor," Laura tells news.com.au.
"Everyone kept telling me how lucky I was to be dating him. I remember my dad telling me, 'Wow Laura, you've really hit the jackpot'."
But before long, red flags began to appear — though Laura, who had never been in a serious relationship before, says she was "naive" to see them.
"Yes, we clashed a bit when it came to our personalities, but I didn't think there was anything to worry about," she says.
When Damien proposed 18 months later, Laura says she truly believed she was "the luckiest girl in the world". But soon after the two young Christians tied the knot, Laura says Damien's mood swings began to grow more noticeable, news.com.au reported.
"I soon realised that everything, even the most basic and everyday things, seemed to agitate or set him off," she says. "Even the sound of the vacuum or my cutlery as I ate dinner. I felt like I was constantly walking on eggshells.
"I quickly learned to become terrified of that look in his eye."
THE DAY EVERYTHING CHANGED
Soon after returning from their honeymoon, Damien's mood swings escalated to physical violence.
"I remember the day everything changed," she says. "All I was doing was cooking dinner, when Damien started complaining about me 'making too much noise'. He yelled at me to be quiet, and I remember being so terrified of the look on his face. I backed away from him, but he lashed out and hit me.
"I was so shocked I could barely move. The next day he sent me a big bouquet of flowers, saying how sorry he was. And because I'd never experienced domestic violence before, I guess it was easy to believe him."
This was the beginning of Laura's descent into two decades of abuse and violence at the hands of her then-husband; years filled with crippling fear, intimidation, holes in walls, and at times, constant surveillance of her every move.
And although she tried many times to reach out to the church for help, Laura's pleas fell on deaf ears.
Laura went to the church for help repeatedly, only to be told to 'submit' to her husband. Photo / 123rf
SILENCED BY THE CHURCH
While comprehensive, independent research into domestic violence within Australian churches is still lacking, several national surveys and one analysis discovered that at least one in five males who abuse their Christian wives attend church regularly.
Women's Legal Service QLD Principal Solicitor, Ms Rachel Neil, says she has had many clients who, like Laura, have experienced violence from partners of religious faith.
"I have had clients who talk about their perpetrators — who are members or leaders of religious groups — presenting a stable, 'good guy' front to the rest of the world, but then turning into controlling violent monsters behind closed doors," she explains.
"This is of course not confined to men who are religious, but is common across many domestic and family violence relationships."
Laura, who is now in her 50s, says it was the complicity of Damien's father and their church that remained one of the most traumatic parts of her 20 years as a domestic violence victim.
"There were so many times that Damien's parents dropped in to visit us and experienced his anger first hand," she says.
"But they never helped. Instead, his mum would just quote scriptures about the need for a woman to have a 'gentle and kind spirit,' or tell me that I needed to keep my voice down.
"One time I tried to reach out to the church for support, but the person — who I am too scared to name — told me to 'submit to my husband and forgive him'."
On another occasion, Laura fled the house and ran to a nearby train station in an attempt to escape Damien's abuse. Her plan was to try and make her way back to her family's hometown, but without enough money for the train fare, she instead decided to reach out to a couple from her church.
Begging for help, Laura says she received only platitudes, and an offer of "prayer".
The couple then drove her home to Damien, who had already liaised with his father to make sure Laura was taken "straight down to the church for counselling".
Although terrified, Laura says what shocked her most, were the words spoken by Damien's father.
"He looked me straight in the eye and said, 'If you ever tell a single Pastor about this, or anyone else, that will be it for you,'" she says.
Over the next several years, Laura became increasingly isolated, depressed, and suicidal. During this time she desperately sought help from her church, but was again turned away.
"After hearing my side they said that they knew who Damien's father was, and that it must be me who was the problem. Once again all roads lead back to 'who' he was," she says.
Convinced that there was no other way out, Laura made a decision to end her life. When she woke in hospital, she says she was "once again threatened and sworn to secrecy," by Damien's father.
"I was told not to speak to anyone about what had happened, not even my family," she says. "He told me to say that I'd fallen down the stairs.
"Whenever my family called to ask about my 'accident', all I could do was sob. I was just so full of heartache and grief at what my life had become."
On her wedding day, Laura felt like the luckiest woman alive. Days later, her husband turned into a monster. Photo / 123rf
BREAKING FREE
Throughout the many years of abuse, Laura was fortunate to have a close friend who understood and empathised with what she was experiencing. Amy, too, was trapped in a mentally abusive relationship — one which, she says, was also "excused" by her church.
Together, the two friends relied on each other for strength, with Amy taking a stand against Damien's behaviour on several occasions and helping Laura — who at this stage was a mother — to hold her head above water through the dark times.
Eventually, Laura felt strong enough to ask for help, and made the decision to reach out to a registered psychologist. It was the call that saved her life, she says.
"Over the next six months, I worked in secret with this psychologist on a weekly basis, and after several months of using cognitive behavioural therapy, I was able to rebuild my core beliefs to a level where, for the first time in decades, I could finally see who I was," she says.
Now strong enough to begin planning her escape, Laura worked with her psychologist to develop a "safe exit" strategy. With the help of a friend, she packed three suitcases and took her children to a safe location while Damien was at work.
The next day, she went with a friend to a local police station, where she says she "wrote a 10-page Domestic Violence Order of Abuse from 1984 to 2003".
"While I was writing, the female police officer kept asking me, 'Why did you keep going back?' All I could really say was, 'Well, the church counsellors said I had to stay and work on my marriage.' To say she was dumbfounded would be an understatement."
Ms Neil says it can be difficult for many friends and family to understand the barriers experienced by religious victims and survivors of domestic violence when trying to leave.
"Some clients are afraid to leave because a divorced woman in their culture and religion will be cast out and ignored by the community," she says. "Some are afraid to go home to their country of origin as a divorced woman, as they may be hurt or killed because of their divorced status.
"There is also a fear (regardless of religion), that if she leaves, the violent partner may hurt the children as a way of getting back at her … As a result, many women decide to stay in these relationships so that they are present at all times to protect the children."
Although it would take several more attempts, Laura eventually found the strength to leave Damien for good and begin a new life. One of the things that helped most, she says, was finding a counsellor who understood the intrinsic nature of domestic violence.
"Instead of asking me to 'submit to my husband', she referred me to a Domestic Violence service. Instead of justifying the abuse, she validated what I was saying. Imagine what this was like, after 20 years of not having one single counsellor or person in my church recommend me to an actual DV service," Laura says.
"Comprehensive education of what domestic violence truly is, is desperately needed in our communities — particularly schools and churches. There are a lot of people out there who need a safe haven to escape to, and often that's a church.
"I am not saying all churches are bad, and my faith in God has helped me through so many hard times, but religious leaders need to be professionally educated on domestic violence and mental illness, and to stop being complicit in a victim's continued abuse."
Likewise, Laura's friend Amy strongly echoes this sentiment.
"During my abusive marriage, I tried to tell my church what was happening but they didn't want to 'see' the truth. It made me want to scream," she says.
"And the excuses people made for his abuse were unbelievable: 'It's not like he hit you Amy, it was just a shove …' 'Amy, he said he's sorry, just forgive him.'"
Incredibly, both Amy and Laura have since found supportive church networks, and say they are committed to using their experiences to continue shining a light on domestic violence within the church, as well as the many forms that abuse can take.
"Domestic violence is not only physical," shares Laura. "Intimidation, isolation, minimising and denying feelings, use of blame, emotional/spiritual/economic abuse, withholding children as a form of power, and coercion and threats, are all forms of domestic abuse.
"It may take a long time to grow strong enough to leave, but with professional help, your journey can be so much shorter than mine. I am forever indebted to my family and friends who have been a rock throughout my hard times, and who I partly owe my life to," she says.
"Yes, I am still healing, but I know how far I've come; I am strong, and I have a voice now."
