Scottish Women’s Aid’s campaign for 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence 2022 is looking at the impact that the cost of living crisis is having on women and children experiencing domestic abuse and the many costs that women face – financial, emotional and otherwise – if they leave abusers. This blog post is by an anonymous member of our Survivor Group who has contributed as part of that campaign. We thank her for sharing her thoughts and experiences here.
Content warning: Domestic abuse, poverty, family court, post-separation abuse. Read with care.
The Cost of Leaving
Why didn’t you leave, they say. Why didn’t you tell us, they say. If only we had known, they say. He was always so lovely to us, they say.
While our abuser does not have to justify any action. While our abuser throws grenades from afar. We deal with the cost of leaving.
The cost of leaving is the foodbanks I use to feed my family.
The cost of leaving is the Universal Credit I now use to survive.
The cost of leaving is the home that we are imminently going to lose.
The cost of leaving is the look in my children’s eyes when I say I don’t know where we will be living at Christmas.
The cost of leaving is the car I can no longer afford to run.
The cost of leaving is the career that I gave up.
The cost of leaving is a non-existent credit score because he had full financial control.
The cost of leaving is sorting through every item of my life and deciding what I am able to keep.
The cost of leaving is the excuses I make to my children as to why they have food but I only have a drink.
The cost of leaving is not being able to replace shoes and clothes with holes in them.
The cost of leaving is selling anything, for less than it’s worth, so I can ensure my children continue with all of the activities they had when he was here.
The cost of leaving is the heating not being turned on.
The cost of leaving is the multiple phone calls I make to utilities. And. Being. On. Hold.
The cost of leaving is the humiliation every time I must disclose abuse to a faceless call handler.
The cost of leaving is the unfairness that I alone must justify every move that I have made.
The cost of leaving is the friends who will no longer speak to me.
The cost of leaving is the day spent trying to find a solicitor…”We’re sorry, we don’t do Legal Aid anymore.”
The cost of leaving is the blank eyes of a Sheriff in a family court who rules in favour of a convicted abuser.
The cost of leaving is the respite that never comes.
The cost of leaving is 3am, alone, hyper-vigilant in the silence.
Post-separation abuse is horrific but in a different way. I was always on my own even when he was here. I was always as lonely as I am now. But there was someone physically there. The finances were more stable even though they were controlled.
We are not strong. We have to be strong. We have no choice. We are broken. We are exhausted. We stretch ourselves beyond our means to be safe. But we tell our stories in the hope that it plants a seed with just one woman. We seek out our tribe. We find our voice with other survivors.
Despite all the challenges I face (of which there are many more which could be added to this list), the ultimate cost of leaving is danger and death. The hope of things being better one day is not a comfort until the fight of post-separation abuse is over.
We are resourceful and creative and no matter the financial hardships, we make it work.
If anything mentioned in this blog post resonates with you, Scotland’s Domestic Abuse and Forced Marriage Helpline is available 24/7 for support and advice. You can call free on 0800 027 1234 or email and web chat at www.sdafmh.org.uk. The Helpline is for anyone, of any gender or sexuality, who wants to discuss their experiences – even if it’s something that happened in the past. People who are worried about someone else can also call for confidential advice and support. You can also find your local Women’s Aid service here.
