I want to share a bit about my own story, not because it’s extraordinary, but because it’s real. It’s a story of resilience, of pain, and ultimately, of hope.
When I was just five years old, I lost my dad. At that age, I idolised him. He was my hero, my everything. But after his death, my mum revealed truths that shattered the pedestal I had placed him on. She told me about the abuse she endured—how he would knock her about, how he spent every evening at the pub, and how he betrayed her trust by having an affair. As a child, I was in pieces. How could someone I loved so deeply cause so much pain?
For five years, my mum raised us on her own. Then she met someone new, and for a brief moment, it seemed like we might find happiness again. But that hope was short-lived. The man she allowed into our home turned out to be a nightmare. From the very beginning, he targeted me. He didn’t just dislike me—he made it his mission to break me. I’ll never forget the day he pinned me to the bed and held a carving knife to my throat. Or the lock he placed on the kitchen door to keep me from eating. My mates couldn’t believe it when I told them about being padlocked out of the kitchen. He was a cruel, nasty piece of work, and my mum regretted letting him into our lives for the rest of her days.
At school, I witnessed my brother being bullied regularly. He only had one close friend, while I was lucky to have a gang of really good mates who couldn’t stand bullying. We used to stick up for the bullied, and one of my mates even sorted out the person who had been bullying my brother. It was heart-breaking because my brother was older than me, and yet he endured so much. Even to this day, I cannot stand bullying in any form.
As I grew older, I found myself in four relationships that were violent towards me. I was the victim, controlled and knocked around, told what to wear, where I could go, and even denied money. One partner couldn’t stand how close I was to my mum. On two occasions, I reached out to the police for help, covered in scratches and bruises all over my arms and body. But instead of support, I was met with dismissive comments like, “You’re a big lad; get on with it.” Those moments left me feeling helpless and unseen. Thankfully, things are improving, but there’s still a long way to go.
Our children witnessed their mum doing cruel things to their dad, and the impact on them was profound. It broke my heart to see how it affected their sense of security and trust. Those experiences left scars on all of us, but they also strengthened my resolve to break the cycle of abuse.
After all of this, I was fortunate to meet my beautiful Trish. She was beyond words—the love she gave me was amazing. She was so kind and gentle, and she couldn’t believe how these women had hurt me so much. Trish brought light back into my life, and we shared 28 wonderful years together. She was taken from me by a truly cruel illness, dementia, which also claimed my mum. Losing them both to this devastating disease has been one of the hardest challenges of my life.
These experiences shaped me in ways I’m still discovering. They taught me about the devastating impact of domestic abuse, not just on the immediate victim but on the entire family. They also ignited a fire in me—a determination to make a difference. That’s why I volunteer with IDAS, an organisation dedicated to supporting victims of domestic abuse. Through my work with them, I’ve seen the transformative power of compassion, understanding, and justice.
Never underestimate the impact of a kind word, a listening ear, or a belief in someone’s story.
In an ideal world, I’d love to see an end to domestic violence altogether, but if I can make an impact—no matter how small—I’ll be pleased.
