21st of January, 2025
When Catherine* first arrived at Aviva she was reserved and guarded, shaped by years of invisibility in a marriage that had stifled her spirit. Finding her voice, and speaking her truth has been part of Catherine's healing journey, as she now begins to build a life defined by her own choices. Her story begins as she walks through the doors to Aviva.
“I never thought I’d be walking through the doors of an organisation like Aviva. I thought family violence was defined by a cut lip and a bruised eye. You couldn’t see my wounds. From the outside my life was idyllic - my husband and I had been married for nearly three decades, we had two beautiful children, a cat and a dog. We had a home and holidays, and he’d always surprised me with expensive gifts; it was picture-perfect from the outside. But behind the scenes, life was not what it seemed.
“I’d grown up in a home where my father was very disrespectful of my mother, verbally and mentally abusing her. I guess I thought that was just normal behaviour in relationships, so it’s not surprising I married someone similar.
“Dave* took control of the marriage from the start; he was in charge of finances, he made all the calls on what we did, and he chose to do whatever he wanted without any discussion with me. His sense of entitlement about being ‘the man of the house’ meant he could do whatever he wanted, and my needs didn’t factor into the equation
“He fell out with my family early on and seemed to have run-ins with neighbours wherever we went, citing them as the problem, and isolating me from potential support networks. Dave was very derogatory about my appearance, saying I was fat and ugly, yet he’d often turn up unexpectedly, to check I was where I said, accusing me of affairs. He made me account for where I was and what I spent each day. His mood swings affected us all, to the point where I put our son into martial arts classes; it was the only way I could think of to help him deal with his father’s moods.
“I liken my situation to the story of the frog put into a pot of water and slowly heated. Even when it’s uncomfortable the frog is unaware and gets used to it. It stays in the pot, unable to get out. I knew things weren’t right like they were, but I couldn’t make sense of what was going on.
“When Dave had complications after a major surgery, things were touch and go for him. Being the dutiful wife, I supported him, and we rallied around as a family. As Dave recovered, I was shocked when the doctor disclosed the reason for his complications – Dave had a very serious sexually transmitted disease.
Suddenly things started to make more sense, as the revelation of Dave’s double life became apparent. All the nights he’d claimed to be ‘out with his colleagues,’ the stories that simply didn’t make sense, the large sums of money that went missing; they were cover-ups for his sexual encounters. The expensive gifts he gave me were his guilt-ridden way of keeping me off-course. In more recent years, Dave’s work associates have told me how he’d brag about his sexual liaisons, laughing at my blind acceptance of his ‘stories’.
“I began seeing a counsellor, who suggested I do a course for family violence support at Aviva. There I met an amazing social worker. Through one-on-one sessions with her and a series of women’s groups run by Aviva, I began to recognise what I had been experiencing all these years was a form of emotional, psychological and economic abuse. I could finally name it for what it was.
“My support worker has been a rock for me throughout the separation, the subsequent threats to my life, finding myself homeless, navigating WINZ, and the legal process that goes along with a messy divorce. She was a voice that stood up for me until I found my own. She role-modelled it for me, and I will be forever grateful to her for that.
“The meek and mild person I was for years, has gone, and in her stead, I find a completely different version of myself. I have confidence now and dare to be myself. I have found my voice, at last.
“There’s a saying on my wall – LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE – and that’s what I’m choosing now. My advice to anyone going through family violence of any sort is – don’t be ashamed, it’s not your fault, and you’re not alone. There is help
“My biggest hope for the future is that my now grown children will one day understand what I’ve been through as a person, not as their mum, but as me. This has been a rough ride, but it’s a journey I will continue as the new Catherine. She’s got the courage and the spunk to be heard. That’s me!”
*Names and some details have been changed for privacy and safety.