The DV Health Nook is Gray’s Trauma-Informed Care Services Corp’s Blog Corner. Here, there will be series dedicated to the stories of victims and survivors of trauma and domestic violence. We will provide analysis of systems at work within the stories. Finally, we will offer an aspirational look at the social change we want to see in the world.
Stories from the Field
“Stories from the Field” is a collection of real-life accounts shared by victim advocates, detailing journeys of domestic violence survivors—from their struggles to their paths toward safety and recovery. Each story offers insight into the systems survivors navigate and the resilience they embody. Please note: Some content may be disturbing, so viewer discretion is advised—but we encourage you to engage with these powerful narratives.
by
Dr. Amber D. Gray, DBH & Tabitha M. Chapman, MFT
Fall 2022: INSPIRING JANE DOE (Part of Shifting the Focus 2022 in Collaboration With the California Partnership to End Domestic Violence)
by Dr. Amber D. Gray, DBH
In 2007, I facilitated an empowerment group for women who were victims of domestic violence, sexual abuse, and early childhood trauma. This group was not to provide therapy for the women. It was an adjunctive to assist them in expressing their thoughts and feelings about themselves, their skills, and their future. Each morning, I brought the women coffee and donuts, a bit of caffeine and sugar rushes, to kick start the day. We’d gather the chairs into a circle as if they were in a share and tell.
During one morning’s facilitation, a woman I shall identify as Jane Doe was scheduled to read her paragraph about herself, her skills, and her potential future. Jane was a rough woman who had a difficult life. She rarely came to the group and did not like to talk in the group facilitation. Frankly, she rarely came to the facility at all. The day of her reading was surprisingly one of the days she did.
She scoffed at the idea of the assignment. She looked around the room, shaking her head. She gave me a look that let me know she was irritated with me. I smiled at Jane. “Whenever you are ready, Jane,” I said, encouraging her to speak. She rolled her eyes hard but stood up. She reached into her pocket, taking out a folded piece of paper. She unfolded it. She rubbed her face nervously and began to read from the paper.
“There is not much to say about me. My life was hard. It still is hard. Each morning, it’s the same old thing… how am I going to pay the bills? I hear my son crying from his bedroom. I want to scream. I don’t. I’m his mother. He didn’t ask to be here. I have to help him. I have no skills. Not sure that I do have a future. What gets me through my day is my boy. Cold, heat, snow, it doesn’t matter; I’m always here for my boy. I come to this group because there are things I learn sometimes. Not all the time. Some. It helps me get things done so that I can help my son. There is nothing else to say about me.”
After reading, Jane folded the paper and jammed it into her pocket. She sat down. A few women snickered at Jane’s reading, but most clapped. Jane muttered under her breath, “stupid ass assignment.” Other women had gotten up and read their paragraphs. When the group was over, I asked Jane to stay after. She slammed her fist against her thigh. It reminded me of a teenager in high school who was upset that they may have gotten in trouble. When the room cleared, I asked Jane to sit. She did. Before I could say anything, Jane started defending herself.
“This is a dumb assignment. I did my best. I have no skills. I have nothing. Don’t get me in trouble with the program. This is all I got. I’m learning to do stuff here. I told you I didn’t want to do this.”
I reassured Jane that she was not in trouble. I discussed her aptitude for tenacity and perseverance. I explained that she could be in a position of leadership if she shifted her focus a bit. I had Jane’s attention. I pointed out that in so few words, she had told a story that most women could relate to. Jane rubbed her brow with the sleeve of her sweater. The room we were in was stuffy and a little warm but tolerable. Jane smiled at me.
“You think I am a leader,” she asked.
“Jane, I think you have untapped talent. Could you work on a project with me? It’s a paid position, not much money, but it’s in our budget. I want to start helping the women by teaching them how to get through each day, one day at a time. We can create a little bulletin board with ways to take that step when we don’t feel like it,” I said.
At first, Jane’s face beamed with light. I had never seen that look on her face before. The complex and angry woman was gone. In her place sat a woman with so much promise and potential. Jane looked like a woman ready to take on the world. Then, in an instant, the smile left her face. Her radiance was gone. Jane stood up.
“Counselor, thank you for the offer. I have no time; I don’t have the time to create a happy bulletin board or empower these other women,” she said as she stood up and left the room.
Victims and survivors of domestic violence may feel like they are everything their abuser(s) said to them. They may not feel like they are enough.
Gray & Nadeau, 2020
I got up and ran after her a bit. “If you change your mind. Just come in one hour earlier next group.” Jane never turned around. She exited the building. I left the office a bit deflated that day. I hoped Jane would have taken up the charge.
A month later, I arrived at the office for the subsequent group facilitation to open up our meeting room. Jane was standing outside of the building. Her hands were in her pocket. She looked over at me.
“What if I am not good enough? What if you are wrong about me? I may disappoint you,” said Jane.
I patted her on the back and let her inside the building. I gave her a big smile. She looked, awaiting my response.
“I’m fascinated right now. I can’t wait to learn how you do what you do. I hardly wanted to come to work today. Let’s see what we can learn from each other and teach the women.”
Jane gave a proud nod. We went into our meeting room and got right to work. Through the years, Jane continued to help facilitate empowerment groups. She eventually went to school, earned her bachelor’s degree, and became a victim advocate. She began to run her own groups, reminding other women of their skills and potential. Was it my group or teaching that motivated Jane? After all, I gave her the nudge. No. It wasn’t the group or me. Jane’s accomplishments were due to her tenacity. All she needed was a bit of inspiration from outside the world that held her captive for so long.
What are the issues at play here?
When working with victims of domestic violence, there are a few things we, as advocates, medical and mental health providers, counselors, and peer support, must remember. Victims of domestic violence are tired. They have been worn out by their abuser(s). They may not have the best attitude. They may not always be ready to take charge. Victims and survivors of domestic violence may feel like they are everything their abuser(s) said to them. They may not feel like they are enough. They might not believe they have the energy to keep going. They may think other people will be disappointed in them. Most importantly, they may not trust themselves. This can cause them to miss out on a lot of great opportunities.
What Can We Do?
Inspire them. There is often some quality in them that needs nurturing or inspiration. In Jane’s case, she was strong and had a motivation, her son. Many of the other women may be the same way. Sometimes, they need to be inspired and shown how it is done. Remember, they have been in their domestic violence bubble, surviving. When working with victims of domestic violence, we always have to shift their focus away from the narrative their abuser used against them. We can hone their best qualities and skills by shifting the focus. We, as practitioners and providers, can illuminate that spark. We don’t cause the light within them. It is there already. We remind them to shine and use their light to guide others.
SPRING 2026: A VOICE ON THE STAIRWAY
by Dr. Amber D. Chapman-Gray, PhD, DBH
Working in domestic violence prevention and intervention, an advocate can tell you countless stories about victims who impacted their lives. Some stories are so harrowing they leave a permanent imprint on the soul. Some are so disheartening they push providers out of the field forever. Professionals who work in victim services and advocacy hear and see a great deal of human suffering. Sometimes, however, you hear a story that reminds you exactly why you entered violence prevention and intervention in the first place.
One such story is the story of a woman named Edna.
(Note: Names, locations, and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy and safety of all parties involved.)
Edna was a mother of two living in New Mexico. Every morning at 5:00 a.m., she woke up to prepare breakfast for her husband, Harry. She ironed his work clothes, filled a thermos with hot coffee, and kissed him on the cheek before sending him off to work. By 6:30 a.m., she was waking up her children, Lisa and Mark, laying out their clothes, preparing breakfast, and getting them ready for school.
The rest of her day revolved around maintaining the household. Cleaning. Running errands. Preparing dinner. Keeping everything in order before Harry returned home.
Edna did not want Harry to become angry.
If Harry had a bad day at work, the violence at home often followed. Something as small as an unwashed dish, dust on a television stand, shoes left out of place, or any perceived imperfection could trigger an explosive outburst. Over the years, Edna became hypervigilant, doing everything she could to prevent his violent flare-ups.
When she was younger, Edna tolerated the abuse more quietly. But as Lisa and Mark grew older, she became increasingly intolerant of the violence. Every incident deepened her resentment toward Harry, even when he apologized profusely afterward.
One evening, Harry came home furious.
He noticed the house was not clean. Dinner was unfinished. Edna looked exhausted and disheveled.
Harry stared at her with visible disgust before grabbing her arm.
“I work every day to come home to your lazy ass. Clean this pig pen up,” Harry snapped.
Edna looked back at him with tired eyes. She had been fighting off the flu for days.
“Harry, I’m sick. Give me a break,” she replied weakly.
Harry struck her hard across the face.
“CLEAN IT UP, PIG!”
In that moment, Edna decided she was leaving him.
It took several months to safely prepare. Eventually, she contacted a local domestic violence shelter and worked with a victim advocate to create a safety plan for herself and her children. Arrangements were made for emergency housing and transitional support.
When the time finally came, Edna left.
For a short time, she stayed with a friend while waiting for placement in a transitional living facility. For the first time in years, her routine had changed. She no longer woke up before dawn to prepare Harry for work. Her mornings were quieter now.
That morning, she focused only on getting the children ready for school.
After breakfast, Edna drove Lisa and Mark to school herself. She smiled and waved as they walked toward the building.
Under her breath, she whispered:
“I promise, Mommy will make it right. Next time, it will be better.”
Edna drove back toward her friend’s apartment. Following the advice of her advocate, she parked farther away from the residence to remain cautious and less visible.
She remembered something the advocate had told her:
“The first two years after leaving an abuser are often the most dangerous.”
Edna looked around carefully before walking toward the apartment stairs.
Then she heard it.
A faint child’s voice.
“Mommy.”
Edna froze in place midway up the staircase and looked around. No one was there.
She continued climbing the stairs.
Again, the voice came.
More urgent this time.
“MOMMY! MOMMY!”
A wave of panic swept through her body.
The voice sounded exactly like her son, Mark.
Edna gripped her chest and scanned the area frantically, but she saw nothing.
Then again:
“MOMMY!”
Edna turned and ran down the stairs toward her car.
“Mommy is coming, Mark! I’m coming!” she screamed.
As she reached her vehicle and turned toward the apartment building, she looked up.
Standing naked in the doorway of her friend’s apartment was Harry.
He was completely out of place.
He should not have been there.
Edna immediately grabbed her phone and called 911. The mysterious voice faded from her mind as terror consumed her thoughts. Why was Harry there? Where was her friend?
Law enforcement arrived quickly and arrested Harry at the scene.
Inside the apartment, officers found Edna’s friend, Gracie, bound and gagged inside a closet.
Police later informed Edna and Gracie that Harry had allegedly planned to murder them both and dismember Edna afterward. Investigators explained that Harry had removed his clothing to reduce forensic evidence and make cleanup easier after the crime.
Edna had survived.
But the trauma work ahead of her would be long and difficult.
As Edna sat across from me during intake, sharing her story through exhaustion and tears, I remember thinking:
This is why I do this work.
This is why advocates stay in violence prevention and intervention despite the emotional toll.
To be there for survivors.
To help pick up the pieces when someone’s world collapses.
To remind victims they are not alone.
No person should ever have to live in fear inside their own home.
As for the voice on the stairway, no one truly knows what it was.
Lisa and Mark were safe at school.
Perhaps it was intuition. Perhaps survival instinct. Perhaps fear manifesting into a familiar voice. Perhaps something spiritual. Whatever it was, it interrupted Edna’s routine long enough to save her life and bring her safely to our facility.
And sometimes, in this field, survival itself is the miracle.
Key Takeaways for Survivors, Advocates, and Providers
1. Leaving an abusive relationship can be the most dangerous period.
Many acts of stalking, severe violence, and intimate partner homicide occur after separation. Safety planning with trained advocates, shelters, and support systems is critical.
2. Coercive control often exists long before severe physical violence.
Domestic violence is not always visible bruises or injuries. Fear, intimidation, hypervigilance, degradation, and behavioral control are forms of abuse that deeply impact survivors and children.
3. Trauma changes the way survivors experience danger.
Survivors may experience heightened intuition, panic responses, dissociation, or overwhelming feelings that something is wrong. These responses are often connected to prolonged exposure to danger and survival conditioning.
4. Advocates and providers carry secondary trauma.
Professionals in victim services often absorb emotionally devastating stories. Support systems, supervision, peer support, and self-care are essential for sustaining long-term advocacy work.
5. Survivors deserve more than survival.
Every survivor deserves safety, dignity, stability, healing, and the opportunity to rebuild a life free from fear and coercive control.