Adapting to life in a refuge.

When I first arrived at the refuge I was pretty traumatised. I didn't know what to expect. Shabby surroundings, cramped and dirty rooms, deeply traumatised women, deprivation, anger, children running about clearly disturbed, these were some of the things I was dreading.

I arrived at a large Victorian detached house and my first impressions as I opened the front door were, clean, bright, spacious, light and airy and quiet!

The refuge was home for 6 women and their families. Boys over 14 were not allowed. No men must ever enter the premises unless they were workman vetted by the staff. We were to tell no-one the address and if we wanted to meet people it had to be away from the house and there was a specific dropping off place. This was for our own protection and of the others in the house. The idea was to prevent any of the perpetrators from finding out where we were living.

Believe me some of the perpetrators were so determined, they would use any method to find out the whereabouts of their victims. They would use private detectives, tap into bank accounts, ring social services or the job centre, they would contact inland revenue. They would pump and threaten friends and family, following them harassing them. It was vital that no information was leaked to anyone. We were not really supposed to tell anyone at all our whereabouts which was extremely difficult. We had to change our phone numbers and our mail was sent to a PO box address. The whole effect of this was disorientating, it was also one of isolation, loneliness and deceit.