When I entered the living room of the Armidale Womens Shelter I was greeted by a room full of ladies laughing like school girls.

I wasn’t expecting anyone to agree to speak with me about their trauma, but I was led to a room outside where a brave young woman sat among toys for the children that had escaped violent relationships.

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I didn’t know her name and I still don’t, but this woman began to recall the details of the most horrific moments of her life – stopping every few minutes to ask me to repeat the question.

As she spoke her head was downcast, rarely would she make eye contact and she spoke with distinct trepidation, as if at any moment I might lash out and hit her.

She explained to me that, much like a child, she would have to learn how to communicate again.

She apologised over and over for the strange staccato she spoke with, but there was a strength there too – the strength of a survivor. 

Each day she would be accompanied on menial tasks by one of the staff at the shelter and I wondered what kind of life that was.

It struck me that despite escaping their abusive relationships these women, whether they realised it or not, had been forced to revoke their basic freedoms for safety.

It seemed to me an unusual existence and served to reinforce how difficult it was for these women to leave the relationships that caused them so much harm.

Each time society questions the actions of these women a myth about domestic violence is perpetuated.

After the interview I received an email from the shelter, the woman I spoke with felt empowered by telling her story. In a strange way I felt empowered too.

Each time a story of domestic violence is shared a little more light is shed on the violence of epidemic proportions that women in Australia face every day. 

Through these women we begin to understand the horrors in homes across Australia, through these women who are prepared to break the silence we can start to stop the violence.