From The Shadows, Strength Is Found

Yesterday was another first for me. It took just over a year for everything to come together, but last evening I read out loud, to an audience of gathered guests and advocates, a one-page story I wrote for a particular event. I suppose it could be considered an inaugural public speaking address.

Shortly after arriving in Kelowna about a year and half ago, I started following Kelowna Women's Shelter's Instagram page. At some point, a post appeared asking for abuse survivors to submit a story, sharing a bit about their lived experience. I commented on the post, saying I was keen, and met with one of the organization's amazing ladies for coffee. After a couple more conversations and back and forth emails, I was asked if I would be interested in reading my story out loud. Without hesitation, I said Yes!

The event was titled Stories and Art: No Longer Hidden. Each submitted story (twenty-one in total, all sent in anonymously) was then paired with a local artist who created a piece of art, in their chosen form, based on the words of that one particular woman's story. The planned event would showcase the art and the stories, with a small handful of people performing or reading.

For the past couple of weeks, as the event date approached, I diligently practiced reciting my story out loud, in front of the mirror, getting comfortable with the sentences and figuring out what words to emphasize. It was like being back in school and prepping over and over again the words for a presentation or speech. I even practiced out loud while walking in the forest ('cuz trees are always such good listeners!).

And then, yesterday arrived. Friday, March 8, 2024 (which just happened to also be International Women's Day). I had been sent the agenda earlier in the month and was excited (and relieved) to know I was to be the first person to come up to the microphone. When I was introduced and my name called, I walked confidently to the front (despite my shaking legs), with my reading glasses and a single piece of paper in my hand.

I took a deep breath, looked out at the crowd and started speaking.

"My name is Deborah, and I am a survivor of domestic abuse."

At specific times throughout the reading, the audience laughed, or nodded their heads, or even cheered out loud. I most definitely had their attention! They were listening closely and my words resonated. At the end, after wrapping up with the final sentence, there was an eruption of applause. I'd obviously made a strong positive impression. A couple of people even said Thank you and patted my shoulder as I walked back to where my girlfriends stood.

Today, looking back on last evening, I feel incredibly proud for standing up in front of others and offering my personal spin on what was most definitely a devastating experience. It's been a long road of healing, and taken me ten years to get to this point, but I did get to my intended destination. Even more importantly, I know deep down that my words can offer support and comfort and hope to other women in a similar circumstance. I also feel, not surprisingly, a bit wiped and emotionally drained. Kind of numb, in fact. It's time to go for a walk in the forest and hug a tree.

Below is the story that I wrote for the event, followed by the stunning artwork created by the amazing Michele Rule.


From The Shadows, Strength Is Found
​By Deborah L. Wade

Who ever thought anything good could come from being a victim of abuse? Or that possibly there was a silver lining for those of us who lived through such a devastating experience? Well, I am definitely not grateful for the bumps, bruises and black eyes my abuser inflicted upon me, not to mention the lifelong psychological scarring, but every single day I stand proudly in front of the mirror, in front of my children, my parents, sister and girlfriends, in front of the whole wide world, and acknowledge the amazingly resilient and strong woman I am because I survived abuse.

Over the years, bit by bit, my abuser tried to strip away everything that made me the unique individual I am. He tried for thirteen of our twenty-year marriage to banish me of Me. That’s what abusers do. They chip away at their victim’s self-image, at her self-confidence, at her sense of pride until almost nothing is left. All I had to hold onto in my darkest days was a single thread of self-identity. Delicate and fragile, yet strong enough not to break, this thread provided unwavering fortitude and reassurance that I was the good person I always knew myself to be. From this thread came the strength to endure.

Each and every victim of abuse possesses this same strength because, deep down, with fierce determination, we refuse to sacrifice ourselves completely. Even though I had to take again and again what he dished out (‘cuz it never turned out well when I tried to fight back), the fact is I did take it. But, and here’s the beauty of it, I never gave up. I refused to drown in the watery abyss of oblivion. Yes, I was up against a force much more powerful than me, but I am who I am and no one, NO ONE, can take that away from me.

Today, besides being happily divorced, I am a woman who knows herself inside and out and is laser-focused on what she wants (and doesn’t want) in her life. I value my self-worth and can handle just about anything life throws my way. Besides being a loving, supportive and always-available mother to my three adult children, I hope my future includes becoming a best-selling author once my memoir is published. Oh, and I don’t take anything from anyone, anymore. I am done with that.

Growing up, years before the abuse, I was strong (as my high school girlfriends remind me). Today, after a lot of reflection and a lot of healing, I am stronger than ever before. I share this strength with every other woman in the world who is a victim and survivor of abuse. Let’s stand up together ladies, and give ourselves a round of applause, because we are a remarkable collection of women.

Art created by Michele Rule