Vanessa de Largie was 22 in 2000 when she arrived in Melbourne to pursue her acting career. Her bright hopes were bruised at the hands of her partner — a violent and unstable man, whose weapons included his fists and psychological manipulation.

More than a decade on, de Largie is a successful actress and author, whose most recent book Don’t Hit Me! is an award-winning, #1 Amazon Best Seller, re-released this week by Booktrope.

In this Q&A de Largie explains how she used fragments from a journal she kept at the time to tell her story in the hope that it would help other women struggling with domestic violence.

Don’t Hit Me! contains vignettes and poetry drawn from your experience of domestic violence between 2001 and 2003. When and why did you decide this story needed to be told to a wider audience? What kind of courage did this take?

I found one of my journals from that timeframe and, as I skimmed through it, I realised I had captured domestic violence in real time. I decided to self-publish my raw journal as Don’t Hit Me with little changed and minimal editing — keeping it authentic. I thought perhaps if other women read about my journey it may give them hope.

In a piece called ‘Cruelty’, the man who becomes your abuser kicks an old and ill dog and you write, ‘The signs were there from day one but I was blinded.’ What were other signs you now know were there from the start but back then couldn’t see?

In retrospect he had classic abuser qualities. He was easily enraged and would fly off the handle over trivial things. Early on, I began to tone down or self-edit when I was talking in a bid not to upset him.

You were subjected to physical, psychological, manipulative and controlling behaviour for two years. Your violator repeatedly mocked you, called you a whore, slammed your head against the front door, shoved and punched you so your lips and nose bled and your cheeks and eyes were bruised. What made it so hard to leave?

After reading my book, one reviewer said, ‘Hit me once, shame on you. Hit me twice, shame on me.’ I shared an apartment with my abuser, I had no family in Melbourne and I had little money. How would I look at rentals or share houses when I was supervised 24/7? You spend your days in a mess, you are covered in bruises and your body aches. You feel such deep shame you don’t even want to deal with another human being. One needs energy to leave, one also needs assurance that they are able to escape safely. When you do get some respite at a woman’s refuge, hostel or friend’s house — it’s horrible. The majority of the time, you have escaped without your clothes, keys, phone, make-up and cards. As bizarre as it sounds, sometimes it’s a relief to go back to be around your comforts.

One scary piece called ‘Terrorist’ shows your abuser using reverse psychology. He asks you, ‘Can you not terrorise me anymore?’ You write, ‘I had read that reverse psychology can become part of the abuser’s toolkit and it was happening.’ How surreal did this feel?

It was very surreal. At that point in our relationship, I had left mentally. When someone checks out mentally, they no longer care what happens. That tweak in my attitude disempowered him and changed the way he abused me.

In ‘Manipulation’ your abuser has ‘his things’ and appropriates your things as ‘his’— so you buy your own toaster ‘even though he has three’. In ‘Prayer’ you make a pact with God that you will leave as soon as the bruises go. In ‘Defence’ you flinch when your lecturer reaches up beside you to switch on a light because you think he’s going to strike you. In ‘Hell’ you admit you are ‘cognitively broken’. You paint such a clear picture of the strange world of abuse. Was it clear at the time how bizarre it was? How did you pick the vignettes that so vividly paint this picture?

I wasn’t aware how bizarre it was while living it — I think I was too focused on surviving through each day. Only four entries were removed before publishing the journal. The vignettes are in the order they were written. There were also a lot of drawings in that journal that I may publish at a later date.

When you were growing up, your brother was violent to your mother. And in the piece ‘Jail’ you write, ‘Thoughts about childhood, the rape — my mother.’ What legacy did this aspect of your younger life leave?

I came from a middle-class family in Perth. My abusive brother was the only sibling that still lived at home. He struggled with alcohol and drug addiction that claimed his life at 35. In his drunk rages he would attack my mother. When you’re a child living among family violence, you take on adult roles. You worry about the safety of your parents. It definitely robs your childhood. Those events inform your entire life, I think. I am a positive and optimistic person but the traumas and triggers never really leave you. I am terribly insecure and ultra-sensitive.

You are now a successful actor whose early training in this craft came from attending drama, dancing and singing classes every week at the Johnny Young Talent School until age 14. In Don’t Hit Me! you hint that you deployed these acting skills to protect yourself from your abuser. Am I reading this correctly? If so, how did it — and how well did it — work?

Yes, that’s correct. As a kid I got lost in old movies to escape what was happening in my reality. Most of my life, I have existed on the borderline of fantasy and reality. As an adult from a dysfunctional family, I have learnt how to keep up appearances. Often, after a bashing the night before, I would turn up to an audition or an appointment, big smile on my face, lips painted red — I think it’s a way of coping. The show must go on!

Writing in your journal helped you to survive the violence. You say your abuser had his fists but your pen was your sword — and that writing was your ‘only witness and release’. Was writing also pivotal in helping you to seek safety or the support of courts and the police? Did it stop you from taking your life?

I am so glad I had my writing to turn to. I don’t think I realised it at the time but it was my witness, my saviour. It recorded how weird the situation had really become.

Yes, writing helped me to clarify things, it exposed the truth. It definitely assisted in getting me out of there. People have different mechanisms for coping — mine is art. Mostly it’s writing but sometimes its collage, drawing, painting or acting. I cannot imagine how I would have got through that without creative self expression.

‘One day I will not live in fear of others hitting me’— is a line from ‘Defence’. Has that fearless day come? If so, what did it take to get you to that point?

The fearless day is yet to arrive. To a certain degree I fear men and would be lying if I said I didn’t have resentment towards them as a whole. It’s probably one of the reasons I’ve never married. I do realise that not all men are abusive and that there are some great males out there. But all the pain I’ve experienced throughout my life has been at the hands of men.

Tell me more about the strength and will it takes to be a survivor. Is it a daily act? Can you do it alone? What support did you have to become a survivor? What support do you recommend other women who are subject to domestic violence seek?

It is most certainly a daily act. I published the book to send a message that women can get out and live fulfilling lives but it still requires effort when you’re out.  It’s a constant battle. You have to continually work on your self-esteem and banish negative thoughts. You also have to allow yourself to trust again and that’s  really difficult. You have to let people in. Don’t keep the secret, don’t let his shame be yours.

In the prologue to Don’t Hit Me! you say you speak for female victims of domestic violence and that you want to connect with other women so you can break free. Who do you most hope will read Don’t Hit Me! and what would you like them to get out of it?

I want them to know that I know the hopelessness they are feeling. I’ve been there and now I’m here. It makes me so sad. I just want to reach out to other women and writing seems like a good way to do that.

Thirteen Australian women were reportedly killed as a result of domestic violence in the first seven weeks of 2015. That’s almost two women per week. What is it about our culture and certain types of masculinity that produce such alarming statistics but mean this issue can still fly under the radar?

I think it starts with educating our sons to respect women, teaching young boys that any degradation of women is unacceptable. I believe domestic violence flies under the radar because people don’t want to get involved in other people’s drama. One opens the front door and sees their neighbours brawling, then closes the door and turns up the TV. Not their problem. It’s wrong but it’s true.

‘Perhaps in a body bag I’ll get published and get some attention shone on domestic violence. Finally.’ This angry line comes from your piece ‘Another Woman Killed by Her Partner’. With one woman in Australia hospitalised every three hours due to domestic violence, how angry should we be about it? How can we best direct our anger to create change?

The media is only interested in domestic violence that affects celebrities and famous people — then it’s a story!  They have no interest in the common person until they are killed — and, again, it’s another headline. Abused women are the only ones that can change it; they have to step out of the shadow and become vulnerably exposed. It could be the one defiant act of courage that kills them and that’s the tragedy.

The Sydney Morning Herald and Daily Life are currently running a campaign against domestic violence called Shine A Light. They say they will continue to publish stories that send the message that ‘Australian women have the right to be safe in their homes’ — until this message is heard. How necessary is this campaign? How likely is it to make a difference?

It’s certainly a good start. I have noticed that domestic violence is being talked about more in Australia in recent months and that’s positive progress but women are still being murdered every week — so we need to do more than talk. We need to implement laws and programs that keep women safe. That will take time and more women will die in the meantime.

You originally self-published Don’t Hit Me! as an eBook and it became a #1 Amazon Bestseller. In 2014, it won the Global eBook award (bronze) in the non-fiction/women’s studies category and received an ‘Honourable Mention’ at The London Book Festival. It has been released this week as an eBook and in print by Seattle publisher Booktrope. What is most surprising, exciting, affirming and reassuring about the book’s success and the readership it is reaching?

Don’t Hit Me!  was re-released this week by Booktrope with a brand new cover as an eBook and paperback. I am in awe at how successful this little book has been. It has exceeded all expectations. The accolades and awards are obviously pleasant for the ego. But the real reward is when I receive emails, Facebook messages and tweets from women who have been abused. To hear that my story has helped them in some small way is priceless.

Don’t Hit Me!
Booktrope
$9.95 PB, $4.99 eBook
It should also be in indie bookstores in the coming months.

www.dailylife.com.au/news-and-views/take-action
www.whiteribbon.org.au