Not all abuse is physical

by Tabitha Wells

Julie Thurgood-Burnett is well-known in the Dufferin community as an entrepreneur and supporter of many local initiatives and organizations, including being a longtime supporter of Family Transition Place (FTP). She is fiercely independent, bold, passionate, ambitious, kind, supportive—a powerhouse of a person.

What is less well-known, in fact, not known by many at all, is that many years ago, Julie experienced domestic violence. In the hopes of helping other women recognize if they are in similar situations, she decided to speak up and share her story.

Julie didn’t recognize, or want to admit, her relationship was abusive. After all, she had always been independent, strong, someone who got through things and was level-headed.

Often, when people think of domestic violence and intimate partner violence (IPV), it’s the most physical examples that come to mind. The ones that leave physical bruises, scars, and broken bones.

But in many instances, domestic violence is invisible, veiled, and happening without being realized. People tend to overlook the mental and emotional elements of abuse if they themselves have no experience with domestic violence or IPV scenarios.

For Julie, the lack of physical abuse played a part in why she didn’t fully accept or recognize it for so long.

“I was young, and I was brought up in a very happy household—I was surprised I allowed myself to be in that situation,” Julie explained. “But it never starts out like that. My relationship started out good; he was a drinker, but at that age, most people are. It wasn’t something anyone saw as a problem. Everyone is partying and doing whatever.”

The earliest red flags in the relationship came from her partner cheating.

“I got out, and then, for some reason, I took him back,” said Julie. “It all went downhill from there.”

He never physically hurt Julie. It was the mental abuse, the drinking and the drugs, and everything was always in constant upheaval around her. Things escalated until one night, in a drunken stupor, he came close to killing her. Julie had awoken him in the middle of the night after he wet the bed, passed out drunk, and as she describes it, madness ensued.

“We lived in one of those 1970s style houses, where you can enter the room from one door, and go out the other, and there’s this little alcove,” Julie explained. “I stood there, and he went around me eight times with a knife in his hand.”

Her partner’s sister lived upstairs and called their father to come for help—when the father arrived, Julie’s partner tried to stab his dad through the window.

“When he was circling me, he didn’t see me standing there—I don’t know how he didn’t. I have absolutely no doubt if he had, he would have killed me,” said Julie. “I remember feeling the breeze of him moving past me.”

It took four years before Julie was able to get the courage to leave. With $25 in her pocket, she packed her stuff and told him she was moving in with her brother.

“I am and always have been very strong, very determined, and I don’t take a lot of bullshit from anyone,” said Julie. “So when I look back at who I was back then, I don’t understand it. But it was all mental abuse—and it was mental abuse in the next relationship.”

Julie has said she often wonders how she ended up in those situations, and a lot of it, she feels, comes back to a combination of not knowing what to watch for with mental abuse and a trap that many women fall into—a lack of self-value.

“As women, I think we sometimes don’t see our worth; when we end up in a place where someone is constantly putting us down, we think we belong there, or that it will eventually get better,” shared Julie. “We get raised as women to make things better, so we think magically it’s going to get better, but it really isn’t.”

Everything was a fight in the next relationship, a manipulation, control, combined with narcissism and alcoholism. Julie shared how often her partner would put her down or work to make her feel guilty for achieving success.

“He never touched me—mental abuse, it’s a different kind of war. I didn’t walk around with bruises or anything, but it was the mentality,” said Julie. “It was the constant fights, constantly being put down, the cheating, being made to feel like you don’t matter.”

She added that in her situation, she often came up with reasons why it wasn’t as bad, but when it comes to it, everything came back to a common thread in many domestic violence scenarios—finances, a fear of being alone, and a place to live.

At the time, she didn’t know about FTP and other organizations like it. Despite having nowhere to go, like the first time, she got the courage and strength to leave.

“Things have come a long way since then,” Julie shared, “and if you’re in that scenario, there is a way out.”

As Julie reflected on her experience, she shared that it has encouraged her over the years to make sure her kids are prepared for feeling strong enough and supported enough—she’s taught them about strong boundaries, being able to say no, and being able to change one’s mind.

“My daughter, I love how strong her boundaries are,” said Julie. “I think about how, if these are her boundaries already at 15, they’re going to take her so far. And I don’t think we were taught boundaries like that growing up, and they’re needed.”

For any who may resonate with Julie’s story, or find themselves in a similar position, Julie hopes they find the strength to leave and find help and support.

“There’s going to be moments when you’re halfway out and you’re like ‘holy shit, I don’t think I can do this.’ But it does get better—there is a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Tabitha Wells is a writer, wife and mom based out of Dufferin County. A former journalist, she enjoys writing about social issues and challenging people to inspire and work towards change. Tabitha also contributed the story about Sandy Proudfoot and her powerful artwork on page 16.