SURVIVOR STORIES

In the beginning, everything was blissful, and it was all that I could ask for, like an exciting adventure ahead of me. I was a newlywed, and my new husband was taking me away to his beautiful city home in Singapore. It was daunting to leave my country, after all, my English was poor, and I knew no one in this foreign land. But I was certain that my husband and my in-laws would take care of me. I was certain that life would be filled with love.

As time passed, most of my time was spent on my own. The husband who I thought would be by my side every morning and every night, would leave me for days on end. He had decided to work overseas, ironically, in my homeland, splitting his days between here and there. And my in-laws were not as welcoming as I had hoped. But it was bearable.

Years passed, and soon, I became a mother of two beautiful children. I cared and loved them in the confinements of my room and with the occasional interactions from my in-laws. My children became my world. Nothing else mattered. But with the passing of time, I realised that my once loving husband was slowly becoming a man I did not recognise.

He was quick-tempered. It started with derogatory remarks about how I was useless. How I shame him. His thoughts somehow became my own. Soon, I was isolated, not just restricted to the walls of my room, but even from communications with my family back home in my country. I was isolated from the world.

As a housewife and a young mother in a foreign land and no one to turn to, my only resource was my husband. I didn’t notice how things were changing, from my once exciting adventure to this horrible nightmare, because everything happened so gradually, just like how the sun sets every day. Even the screaming, arguing and beatings seem to fall into place. It just seemed so natural.

I had no control over the clothes I wear, the food I eat or the things I could buy. But what could I buy? I had no money of my own. My once loving husband had a control over me that I could not tear away from. He was my husband. I had vowed to love him and to care for him, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, until death do us part. I was his wife. He was a part of my family. It was all I had.

My children were not spared of his physical and verbal abuse. Still, I was hopeful that things could change for the better. All we needed was a little bit more time and patience for my husband to become the same loving man he once was. What I didn’t know then was that he was giving his love to someone else. He was going back to my homeland, and promising someone else the same vows he promised me.

One fateful day, an argument started like any other, in clear view of my seven-year-old son. I remember my husband’s voice filled with anger and turmoil as he pushed me down a flight of stairs. I remember the screaming of my son’s voice as I hit the bottom, slamming hard against the ground. I remember laying on the floor, filled with my own rage. How could I have allowed my children to endure this pain and suffering? How could I have been so forgiving to the abuse that kept going on and on with not even an inkling that it would end? He wasn’t going to change. I needed to protect my children. I couldn’t allow the abuse anymore. I needed to leave.

It's funny how help is always around if you only look for it. I was blind for a very long time. When I began searching for ways out, all I needed was the courage to reach out to someone who could help me and my children. I eventually reached out to a neighbourhood Family Service Centre, who then referred me to the Singapore Council of Women’s Organisations Star Shelter. In no time, my children and I were placed in a room we would call home for the next three years. We were safe.

It was at the shelter that I started on my road to recovery. I was also newly independent. Without my husband as the sole bread winner for me in a foreign land, there was so much that I needed to do and keep doing to protect my family. The shelter enrolled me into English language courses and basic computer skills workshops. I was also given therapy and counselling. Eventually, with the help of Maintenance Support Central, I filed for divorce. I was free.

Who would have thought that I would one day be a manager in a prestigious retail store in Singapore? Not me. I could barely speak English, and I hardly had any social interactions. But here I am, today, providing for my two children, as the sole breadwinner of our family. We have since moved out of the Star Shelter and into a two-room rented HDB unit. It’s small, but it’s home.

I dream to one day be able to purchase a bigger home, for my children to grow up comfortably and for us all to live our best lives. Years ago, I never would have thought that this dream would be possible. But now, the possibilities are endless.

I’ve put the past behind me. My now ex-husband does not see my children anymore, but that’s okay. My children and I are healing beautifully, and the stories of our past will only make us more resilient, steadfast, and strong.

This is our lives worth living.

I have always thought of myself as a strong and independent woman. I had a wonderful job that took me to different cities from time to time and strong foundational values.

Some time ago, I was relocated to Singapore. It was easy to fit in, having friends and colleagues in the community. I was very active in volunteering and church activities and my then husband was also passionate about the same causes. We bonded over our shared interests and eventually, I fell in love with his friendliness and charisma.  It wasn’t long until we were married. It also wasn’t long until the abuse began.

Just two weeks after saying “I do”, my husband and I were home alone when we had an argument. We’ve argued before, but this time, it was so fiery and severe. Within a split second, my husband had charged at me and slammed my head against the wall.

I couldn’t think. What had just happened? Who was this man? It was so surreal, like a scene from a movie. The thing is, I am not an actress, so how could this be happening to me?

At that point, I decided that this was a unique situation. I had made him really angry, and it was only in the spur of the moment that he had let his fury overtake him and I was, unfortunately, collateral damage. I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Days turned into months and months turned into years. I hadn’t noticed the time sweeping by, but what once was a unique situation had somehow become a regular conformity that I had allowed.

Then, one day, the physical abuse I had suffered was too much to take and I sought treatment from a doctor. After examining my body and providing some treatment to my wounds, the doctor looked me in the eyes and told me that I should leave my husband. It was only then that I realised that I was a victim of domestic violence.

But how could I leave? I did not believe in divorce. I believed that marriage is a lifelong commitment. I believe in forgiveness. I believe in second chances. There was no option but to stay.

Many doctor visits and interventions by the police later, I persistently refused to leave my husband. The Police had urged me to file a Personal Protection Order (PPO), but I refused. I was ashamed and embarrassed and each time they tried to encourage me only made me retreat deeper into isolation. I couldn’t imagine what our mutual friends and relatives would say if they only knew what was happening. So, I kept myself away.

I kept mum for as long as I could until one day that turned my entire life into perspective. It was the eve of my 4-year-old daughter’s birthday.

My husband was in one of his usual tempers. I knew that it would lead to me curled up on our bedroom floor covered in bruises and scars. Through his harsh words that cut deeper than the lashes on my skin, I watched has he inched closer to me, backing me up into a corner. As I prepared myself for the pain that he would inflict on me, my daughter suddenly rushed pass him. She sheltered me with her small body, spreading her arms as wide as they could go.

My daughter, my 4-year-old daughter, had placed herself between me and her father. She was protecting me when I should have been the one to protect her.

She made me realise the severity of his abuse. She made me realise that enough was enough.

It was like a light bulb went off in my head. I thought about how much he had made me suffer physically, mentally, and emotionally, from the very beginning of our marriage. The person I had fallen in love with never existed. It was simply a disguise he had put on during our courtship. The difference is, now, I could see clearly.

Leaving was difficult. My daughter and I jumped from rented apartments, to staying with friends or relatives, sometimes going back again, but never staying put. As devout Christians, our mutual friends took the side of my husband, even after they learnt about the abuse I have suffered. Divorce was out of the question for them. I didn’t have a support system to help me through this difficult time, but I was determined to never look back.

It took us multiple attempts to leave before finally landing in the Star Shelter, who welcomed us with open arms. The refreshing change of environment gave me the confidence to pull through. The women in the shelter had stories like mine. We bonded and built a community of our own. I found a support system of my own.

And I pulled through.

Today, I am happily married to my new husband, and once again thriving at work. Inspired by the support given to me by SCWO and the Star Shelter, I am passionate about advocating against domestic violence. While my story is personal and painful to remember, I believe that women need to know that there is help, if only they decide they want it. That is why I share my story, so that those who are suffering in silence will know.

The more I talk, the more people will listen, the more women can understand that there is a way out.

In the shadows of a decade-long nightmare, I found myself ensnared in a harrowing tale of abuse at the merciless hands of my ex-husband. His violent outbursts, both physical and mental, became the grim routine of my daily existence. Constantly belittled, degraded, and threatened, I endured the excruciating weight of his control while living in perpetual fear of losing the two lights of my life—my precious daughters.

Even after our formal separation, the psychological and physical torture persisted, as we inexplicably continued to share the same living space. Each day became a relentless assault on my already fractured confidence. Stripped of friends, isolated from family, and left with scant savings, I found myself carrying the heavy cloak of shame. The fear of judgment and societal stigma silenced me, preventing me from reaching out to anyone for help. I became adept at concealing the bruises, both physical and emotional, behind a facade of normalcy, terrified that exposing the truth might result in losing my children or facing even more severe consequences.

It wasn't until a fateful day at work that the threads of my meticulously constructed facade began to unravel. My manager noticed the visible toll on my body. I was struggling to walk; the signs of my internal turmoil were laid bare for the world to see, no matter how hard I tried to conceal it. Confronted with the undeniable evidence of my suffering, I had no choice but to confide in my manager about the relentless attacks inflicted by my ex-husband.

In an act of kindness that would alter the course of my life, my manager swiftly intervened. She escorted me to the hospital for immediate medical attention. The physical wounds, though visible, were but a fraction of the scars that marred my spirit.

When I was discharge, it was the beginning of a new chapter that would lead me to the Star Shelter under the Singapore Council of Women’s Organisations (SCWO). Here, within the protective walls of the shelter, I found not only refuge but a sisterhood of resilient women, each carrying their own tales of survival.

As I began to rebuild my life within the confines of the shelter, I found myself deeply passionate about a therapeutic programme the shelter enrolled me in —baking. The shelter, recognising the therapeutic potential of such activities, provided an outlet for us to channel my emotions. The kitchen became my sanctuary, a place where I could transmute my anguish into artistry. With each knead of the dough and whisk of the batter, I felt a cathartic release, a respite from the haunting memories that had plagued me for far too long.

The simple act of baking became my lifeline. It not only filled the shelter with the comforting aroma of freshly baked goods but also provided me with a newfound sense of purpose. In the moments of despair, when the weight of my past threatened to pull me under, the creation of something beautiful and delicious became a powerful affirmation of my resilience. I began to wonder if this humble therapeutic outlet could be more—a means to support myself and my children, a glimmer of hope amid the darkness.

Although my heart swarmed with doubt, the desire for a better future for my children propelled me forward. With the support and encouragement of the SCWO, I ventured into the realm of entrepreneurship. The journey was challenging, especially since I was still healing from the lingering shadows of my past.

However, with each small triumph as I navigated through the intricacies of an entrepreneur, my confidence grew, and so did my humble baking enterprise. I persevered, carefully spending the limited savings I had to grow my business, and soon, it flourished. The sales of my treats not only provided a steady source of income but also served as a testament to my strength and resilience.

The journey from a place of darkness to the creation of something sweet and nourishing mirrored my own transformation.

Today, my baking business is more than a means of financial sustenance—it is my pride and joy. It has become a tangible representation of my ability to overcome adversity, a beacon of hope that guided me through the darkest nights. The once-muted dream of supporting my children through my passion has materialized into a reality, a source of inspiration for both myself and others who may find solace in their own pursuits.

As I reflect on the path that led me from the depths of despair to the triumphant heights of self-discovery, I am reminded of the unwavering strength that resides within us, waiting to be unearthed even in the bleakest moments. My journey, though marked by pain and struggle, is a testament to the transformative power of resilience, community, and the pursuit of one's dreams. Through my story, I hope to inspire others to persevere, to believe in the possibility of a brighter tomorrow, and to find strength in the most unexpected places.

My life took an unexpected turn as my new husband and in-laws transformed into the architects of domestic chaos. I was away from home and my family, having moved to Singapore to be with my husband. Stranded without the support of my loved ones, I found myself forcefully confined to the walls of a room, where I survived on meager portions of bread and the daily solace found in a single cup of coffee.

Nothing would have changed if not for the dire state my health was in. I was malnourished and grappling with severe underweight. It was only then that I left my confinements and was taken to the hospital for treatment.

Because of the severe state that I was in, social workers and the police stepped in, concerned for my safety. They referred me to the Singapore Council of Women’s Organisations (SCWO) and the Star Shelter, preventing me from ever returning home again.

At first, I didn’t agree. It was not within my culture to leave my husband and in-laws, ever. I was inflicted with internal conflict and guilt. This was a deviation from the expectations of me, handed down from generations before me. The shelter, however, became a beacon of encouragement, urging me to embark on a journey of healing and self-discovery.

In this tumultuous journey, art therapy emerged as an outlet. It was a form of expression that transcended the limitations of the language barrier I had. On top of art therapy, counselling sessions provided a safe space for me to unravel the complexities of my experiences. Soon, I was able to embrace the changes and I started to heal.

While I was comfortable with expressing myself through art, I welcomed more learning opportunities the shelter provided. The English classes and communication coaching became tools for breaking the barriers, transforming me from a silent victim who was once confined to a room into someone capable of articulating the nuances of my journey.

My stay at the shelter had transformed me completely. My physically well-being had improved significantly, but what changed the most was my self-esteem. I was no longer a timid and frail lady who stood in the shadows of an abusive husband. I had become my own woman, someone capable of facing the world outside the confines of a room.

The workshops and language classes gave me the confidence to step towards my independence by going through job interviews. In no time, I had a job, and I had transitioned from surviving to thriving.

With a job secured, I had a sense of a new-found purpose in life. I was not just surviving, I was progressing. It wasn’t just about escaping the clutches of abuse, which I didn’t even try to escape. it was about discovering that I am worthy of a life worth living.

The path to healing was not without its challenges. There were many times where I would disappear into my thoughts and the internal conflicts within my mind would resurface. I was going against culture norms and the societal expectations of my home community.

But the encouragement from this new community of women in the shelter encouraged me to live the way I choose. They taught me that healing required embracing discomfort and that I should rewrite the narratives that no longer served me.

The guilt and fear of disappointing others gradually gave way to the understanding that my well-being mattered. That I matter.

As I found stability and independence, I became happier, with more room (no pun intended) to dream. Through resilience, a rekindled appreciation for art and education, and the unwavering support from my counsellors, and sisters in the shelter, I have ventured beyond the four walls that had once defined my world.

For the longest time, I existed within the confines of that room, unaware of the possibilities that lay beyond its borders. My journey is an invitation, a beacon for other women caught in similar predicaments. The world, I discovered, is vast and waiting to be explored whenever you are ready. Life isn’t just about surviving; it’s about thriving, about venturing beyond the familiar, about embracing the myriad possibilities that await. You are worthy.

Once upon a time, I was married to a Singaporean man, and my main job was taking care of our home and our children. Life seemed normal at first, but things started to change.

My husband wasn't kind to me. He would yell at me, and sometimes he would hurt me. It made me feel small and worthless. The worst part was when he humiliated me in front of our children. I felt like I had no escape.

He was very clever. He turned our children against me, making them think I was the bad one. I felt so alone and trapped in that house.

But one day, I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I knew I had to leave to protect myself. So, I gathered up all my courage to leave, and I was eventually referred to SCWO's Star Shelter.

At first, it was scary being in a new place without my husband and children. But the people at the shelter were kind and understanding. They helped me feel safe and gave me hope for the future.

I knew I couldn't stay stuck in that situation forever. So, with the support of the shelter’s counsellors and staff, I filed for divorce. It wasn't easy, but I knew it was the right thing to do for myself and my children.

After leaving my husband, I focused on improving myself. I wanted to be strong and independent so I would never have to rely on anyone who would hurt me again.

Being at the shelter opened a whole new world for me. I met other women who had been through similar experiences, and we supported each other. It felt good to know I wasn't alone.

I even learned how to drive, something I had always wanted to do but never had the chance. It was a big accomplishment for me, and it made me feel proud of myself.

Life didn't turn out the way I had planned when I got married. But despite everything I went through, I'm happier now. I have hope for a bright future filled with possibilities.

I may not have everything figured out yet, but I know I'm on the right path. I am slowly understanding who I am as a person, building an identity of my own. With the support of my new community and my own strength, I believe I can overcome any challenge that comes my way.

Leaving my husband was the hardest thing I ever did, but it was also the best thing for me. I'm free now, and I'm determined to make the most of my life.

My husband and I shared a love that felt like warm sunshine on a cool day. Our home was a haven of laughter and comfort, where our daughter's giggles filled the air and our hearts swelled with contentment. Despite the occasional challenges, we lived comfortably, cherishing each other's presence and the life we built together.

But then came a storm, fierce and unforgiving, threatening to shatter the tranquillity we held dear. We found ourselves navigating treacherous waters, both within our lives and our marriage. It seemed like every day brought a new wave of worry and despair, slowly eroding the foundation of our once-strong bond.

As I wrestled with my own fears and uncertainties, my husband sought solace in alcohol, a fleeting refuge from his inner turmoil. Yet, with each sip, he drifted further from us, his laughter replaced by the haunting echoes of silence.

His descent was swift and merciless, his once gentle spirit consumed by the demons of addiction. The man I loved became a stranger, his touch tainted by the poison that coursed through his veins. I watched in helpless agony as his rage spilled over, leaving scars both seen and unseen.

But I refused to surrender to the darkness that threatened to engulf us. In that moment of despair, I knew I could no longer bear the weight of his pain.

I gathered myself and sought refuge from the Star Shelter, leaving behind everything we shared as husband and wife. In the moment, I believed that my safety was priority, and no one had the right to threaten my well-being.

Leaving him was not easy, after all the years we had shared together. But I knew that I deserved more than the pain and suffering he inflicted upon me. And so, with a heavy heart and tears in my eyes, I took the first step towards a new beginning.

In the safety of the shelter's embrace, I found the courage to confront the demons that haunted our marriage. Together, we embarked on a journey of healing, unravelling the tangled knots of our past and laying bare the wounds that festered beneath the surface.

Through countless hours of counselling, both as individuals and as a couple, we began to rebuild what was broken. It was not a quick or easy process, but with each passing day, I could see the glimmer of hope shining brighter in my husband's eyes.

Slowly but surely, he found the strength to confront his addiction, to cast aside the crutch that had held him captive for so long. And as the shadows of his past faded into memory, a new light emerged from within him – a light of renewal and redemption.

With newfound clarity, we faced our demons head-on, refusing to let them hold us prisoner any longer. And in the warmth of our shared resolve, the bonds of our love were forged anew, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

And so, against all odds, we emerged from the darkness hand in hand, ready to embrace the future that lay before us. Today, I stand before you not as a victim, but as a survivor – a testament to the power of love and resilience in the face of adversity.

Our journey is far from over, and there will undoubtedly be challenges ahead. But as long as we walk this path together, I know that we can overcome anything that stands in our way. With hearts full of gratitude and hope, we look to the horizon, ready to write the next chapter of our story – a story of redemption, forgiveness, and the enduring power of love.

As our story unfolds and the pages turn, let it serve as a reminder – not all situations are alike, but it's important to know your worth and to leave when you need to. For in the darkest of nights, when all hope seems lost, it is the courage to take that first step towards a brighter tomorrow that truly sets us free.

For sixteen long years, I've been trapped in a marriage that brought me more pain than joy. It's not easy to admit, but the truth is my husband hasn't been the partner I hoped for. When we first got married, we promised to love and cherish each other. But as the years went by, those promises seemed to fade away, replaced by a darkness I never imagined. Instead of love and support, I've endured years of abuse and heartache.

Before the abuse began, our relationship seemed normal. We had our ups and downs like any couple, but I never expected things to spiral out of control the way they did. Whenever I tried to talk to him, to express my feelings or concerns, he would explode with anger, his voice echoing like thunder in my ears. It was like walking on eggshells, never knowing when the next storm would hit.

To make matters worse, our parents blamed me for the downfall of our marriage. This only made me hang on tighter, because I wanted to prove that I was not a failure. By then, I was already reliant on my husband for money, as I was not employed. I would tolerate it for as long as I could, but even with my frugal habits and isolating myself from my friends because I didn’t have the means to spend, I still had to beg for money, just so I could buy groceries for the family. Just so we could eat.

While the abuse had been going on for some time, the first time I realised I was experiencing abuse was after our second child was born. It was supposed to be a joyous time, but instead, it became a waking nightmare. His outbursts became more frequent, more violent, leaving me feeling like I was walking on a tightrope with no safety net below. Once, he had even slapped our helper, putting us on the blacklist. This only made my life harder. I had to take care of the family, the household chores, and I could do nothing to earn an income of my own.

I wanted to reach out for help, to seek support from friends or family, but I felt trapped. I felt like no one could understand what I was going through like I was all alone in this nightmare. It was a friend who is a lawyer who encouraged me to seek help from Maintenance Support Central, and file for wife maintenance. It was a bonus to receive emotional support from their counselling services because finally, I was able to manage my emotions and slowly accept the circumstances.

Despite everything, I tried to make it work. I went to counselling with him, hoping to mend the cracks in our relationship. I knew that he would frequent the red-light districts and he had many other partners apart from me. With each betrayal, the pain cut deeper, leaving scars that may never fully heal. But I still forgave him.

There came a point when I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't bear the thought of another sixteen years trapped in this cycle of abuse. So, I made the hardest decision of my life – I left.

Leaving wasn't easy. I had to face the judgment of others, the whispers behind my back. But deep down, I knew it was the right choice. I deserved better than the life I was living, better than the pain and suffering he inflicted upon me.

In the aftermath of leaving, I focused on rebuilding my life. I surrounded myself with friends who lifted me up, who reminded me of my worth. And in the midst of my darkest days, I found someone who showed me what true love looked like, who stood by me through thick and thin.

With their support, I began to heal. I started to believe in myself again, to see the light at the end of the tunnel. And as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I found the strength to start anew.

I learned that divorce isn't the end of the world. It's a chance for a fresh start, a blank canvas upon which to paint the life I've always dreamed of. And though the road ahead may be long and uncertain, I walk it with my head held high, knowing that I am worthy of love and happiness.

To anyone going through a similar experience, I would say this – don't be afraid to ask for help. Surround yourself with people who support and uplift you, who remind you of your strength. And above all else, never forget that you deserve to be loved, to be cherished, to be treated with kindness and respect.

As I look to the future, I see a world of possibilities stretching out before me. I have dreams and goals that I'm determined to achieve, and nothing – not even the scars of my past – can hold me back.

So, here's to new beginnings, to second chances, and to the unshakeable belief that no matter what life throws our way, we have the power to rise above it. After all, as my ex-boss's wife once told me, happiness is the key to positivity, and I refuse to let anyone, or anything steal my joy ever again.

I would say I am a hopeless romantic. Growing up, my first exposure to true love was my parents. They seemed to be perennially in a honeymoon phase, with the way their eyes sparkled when in the mere presence of one another. They really set the bar for me. Over time, I’ve had some relationships, from the sweet childhood memories of puppy love, to budding teenage romances. I didn’t think I’d be single in my twenties, but I soon joined in the contemporary world of dating through technology and signed up for a profile on OkCupid.

I had my doubts when I first filled up my profile, but the bulk of my friends had already found their better halves, all of which were from dating apps. This fueled me to try my luck in the same way.

Unfortunately, I did not have a lot of matches to begin with and most of the conversations would go nowhere. I was beginning to feel despondent and started to look inward: Was there something wrong with me? Was I not as attractive as the other men on this app? Was my biography not that interesting?

But my sorrows were short-lived, for a week after the dry spell, I met someone, and we hit it off. Her profile was interesting, and she seemed so full of life. She worked and lived overseas but would visit Singapore regularly. I was intrigued and soon, our small talk progressed.

On the first day, the conversation lasted from dawn to dusk. She was chatty, her replies were prompt and most importantly, we had the same interests. We spent days rambling about our favourite shows and musical artists. We both worked in the same industry, and she too was looking for something serious. The icing on the cake was that she was beautiful. On the second day, we exchanged Instagram handles. It seemed like things were looking up for me and my interest in her grew intense as we talked more. On the third day, we took our conversations to Telegram.

In no time, I had developed romantic feelings for her. It all happened so naturally, like a calming routine. We texted every day and whenever she suggested video calling, I did not hesitate. Her beauty and friendly demeanor were only reaffirmed during the video call. The best part of it all is that she had feelings for me too. Our relationship progressed and I felt as if I was soaring on cloud nine. Everything was falling into place.

Soon, she suggested that we take our relationship to the next level. It was only natural to want intimacy in a relationship. I was in love and excited, and with our circumstances of distance, it just felt right. We decided the time and date for our first intimate video call.   

I was still walking on air when I received a text from her after the video call. I thought she wanted to tell me how the evening made her feel, because I wanted to do just that. But what I received instead was a rude awakening that turned my entire life upside down. It was a simple text accompanied by a video of me from our video call. She had recorded me. I was being blackmailed.

She was threatening to leak the videos to my friends and family on Instagram if I didn’t send her money. What was originally a sweet dream had turned into a waking nightmare. I was still reeling in from the shock when my phone continued to vibrate with more threats from her, each one deadlier than the last.

Incredibly distressed, I was clueless on who to turn to. I imagined my family and friends would chide me for being foolish enough to fall for a love scam, but I needed help. Her texts grew lengthier as she pressured me to pay up. I had some savings, but my gut told me that giving in to her demands would only fuel her threats further. But not having a solution only made me more paranoid with each passing day.

Every time I ventured out of the house to run errands, or exercise or grab a bite, my heart would pulsate out of my chest. I felt like all eyes were on me. Paranoia engulfed all rationality, and I began to fear that she had leaked the videos online and that strangers around me had recognised me for the guy in the video.

My work life was in shambles, I started to avoid my family for fear they would be disgusted with me, and social media only served as a reminder of what I had done; the potential threat looming over my head. It felt like I had ruined my life. If the video leaked, it would tarnish my reputation, everyone would recognise me, and I would be a laughingstock. I felt like I had nothing and nobody to turn to; that ending it all was the only option I had left.   

In my lowest moments, despite how suicidal I felt, I knew that this was not the way to go. I needed help. I reached out to a close friend who suggested I seek counselling from SHECARES@SCWO. Under their guidance, I was advised to lodge a police report. I was unsure if it would help, but it didn’t matter. I needed to seize control over my life again.

My counsellor helped me through my thoughts and the self-harm I was inflicting on myself. I let everything out, all the paranoia, my panic attacks, feelings of shame and guilt. I realised that blaming myself for being too naive and trusting would only drive me to rock bottom.  

With my counsellor’s help, I was able to move past the situation. I accepted what happened and validated the lasting impact of the trauma. But I also moved pass that by focusing on the important parts of my life. Slowly but surely, I was able to be myself again.

I started spending more time with my family and friends. I eased myself back into the world, walking freely without paranoia nagging at the back of my mind. The panic attacks dwindled but on occasion, when my mind would wander back to her threats, I would seek reprieve in the washroom – but I was better this time, I knew how to calm myself down in the face of yet another panic attack. 

I stopped responding to her, and soon, she stopped sending me her lengthy threads too. There was no concrete legal repercussion that came out of the police report, and sometimes, the threat of the videos leaking worries me into another panic attack, but I have made my peace with it. Despite it all, this incident did not sully my faith in love. This is just a blip in my quest to find true love.

When I was growing up, my parents taught me to abide by strong morals and justice. My family was tight knit, loving and respectable upstanding citizens. With such positive influences in my life, it was no question to pursue law when I graduated high school. I had high hopes for my future career in the legal field: advocating for the marginalised and combatting the errors in a compromised world. I flitted around the world, working with different legal fields in my mission to make the world a better place, before settling in Singapore to pursue a fulfilling career in an industry I had yet to tackle: Maritime.

As a woman, I was a stark contrast in a sea of stocky men. I knew it would be intimidating, working in a male-dominated industry but I was confident in my skills and myself. I had years of legal expertise under my belt; I was unshakeable. I was unfazed that I was one of the few women in my entire company, but I retained some prudence.

I was very aware of the underlying presence that came with being a woman in a male-dominated industry. I had heard stories through the grapevine - of women being approached unprofessionally by their colleagues – but it never occurred to me that it would happen to me too.

It was customary to receive invitations to attend various corporate events within the Maritime industry from colleagues of other companies and it was nothing out of the ordinary when I received an invitation myself. I considered it a great way to meet new faces and expand my ever-growing network. The invitation seemed harmless, starting out with cursory pleasantries and a brief overview of what the event was about. After some thought, I agreed to it and thought that one of my trusted female colleagues would benefit from this event too. I sent him a quick text, asking if it would be alright to bring a companion. A short 15 minutes later, my phone pinged with his response: ‘Is she as pretty as you?’

I was taken aback. The tone and content of his text were a far-cry from the courteous man I had just texted mere seconds ago, much less the man I had met in a professional work setting. As I sat staring at my phone, my thoughts spiralled all over the place: What did he mean by that? Why did he say that? Did I read this right? Maybe he meant something else? Or maybe this text was meant for somebody else?  

I waited for a flurry of apologies, for him to explain that it was meant for someone else, that he had been texting someone in his personal life and had sent it to me by accident. But after a long pause, nothing came. The text bubble stared back at me as the pool of confusion that settled in my stomach slowly distilled into discomfort. Initially, I was too stunned to form coherent thoughts. I just knew that I was brimming with cold, hard discomfort.  

The next day, I contemplated my next course of action at my work desk. I had left the message on read, unsure on what to respond to a text so crude. But the words were imprinted on my mind; I could not shake this off. The night before, I went to bed perturbed which naturally attracted the attention of my worried husband. For once in my entire working life, I did not have a solution to this. Additionally, I was not entirely sure if the queasiness I had been feeling was justified. What it I was overthinking things? I did not want to instigate any bilateral workplace drama.  

The matter captured my undivided attention and I struggled to focus on my work. As I spent more wasted hours on the text, my work laid neglected and soon it was lunch time. I knew I could not waste a day’s worth over this; I needed clarity now. After much deliberation, I approached my manager with my phone in hand. I felt unsure, scared and lost but my manager was an amicable boss and that was enough reassurance.  

My manager read through our conversation and reassured me that I did the right thing. I felt an intense wave of relief sweep over me: I wasn’t overthinking, I was right. I was right to feel disturbed. It was fair of me to feel uncomfortable. I felt my emotions and reaction validated. He expressed his disappointment at his behaviour and encouraged me to reach out to SHECARES@SCWO for support. My discussion with SHECARES@SCWO only further validated my feelings and experience. I understood that it was valid for me to feel like I had been objectified and singled out. I was right in feeling blindsided by the lack of professionalism from him. My counselling sessions only cemented everything I felt. It felt relieving to know that I was not making a mountain out of a molehill; that I had robust support systems in my professional life.  

As I weighed out the recourse there was for me in tackling this incident, I decided to ignore his invitation and not escalate the issue. My manager supported me in that decision as well. Even though I believe that our actions have consequences, and in certain instances such as this, the law is there to protect us, I valued a peace of mind. I’m grateful that my manager supported me every step of the way.

My time in counselling has only left my empowered, knowing that there are options I can rely on to protect myself. My conviction in law and justice remained steadfast. However, following this, I still am wary of my colleague. 

Months have passed and my conviction in the legal system and justice has never once wavered. To stay loyal to conviction is a feat not many possess, and I am proud of myself for staying true to who I am. Workplace harassment will always linger in the shadows, nonetheless, I know better; I know there are legal options I can pursue, I know that the law is there to protect me too.

I am Sandy and I am 45 years old. I have three children. My husband and I met when we were both in our 20s. He was my first boyfriend and I fell in love with him quickly. He was very charming and always spoke to me respectfully. He wanted to be intimate with me soon after we started dating but I was not comfortable. Eventually, he forced himself on me and I became pregnant. We decided to get married, I was happy that he was willing to take responsibility. However, after our daughter was born, he started to change and resented that he had to help take care of the baby. He started coming home late from work saying that he had to work overtime.

After our daughter was born, he started to change and resented that he had to help take care of the baby.

Soon he would travel overseas regularly for work. On a few occasions, he came home, he was often in a bad mood. We often quarreled about money and about the fact that he was not around most of the time. During a heated quarrel, he slapped me for the first time. After that, he apologized and said he would not do it again. Little did I know at that time that it would be the first of many physical beatings throughout our 18 years of marriage.

The physical abuse did not hurt as much as the emotional distress he caused me and our 3 children. He wanted to control me and the children in every way possible. He did not allow me to work, have friends or visit my side of the family. He was overly strict with our children, often shouting at them and caning them for the smallest mistake. Our second and third child grew up in fear and hatred of their father. They were highly anxious all the time and needed to distract themselves from their pain by indulging in computer games which eventually became an addiction.

People asked me why did not leave my husband much earlier, there were many reasons, the 3 main ones were – love, hope, and fear. Despite the abuse, I still loved him and wanted him to change. He always gave me false hopes that he would change. Also, he would threaten me that if I were to leave him, he would make my life hell. On the practical side, I was afraid I would not be able to provide for my children as I did not have high education or much work experience.

Despite the abuse, I still loved him and wanted him to change. He always gave me false hopes that he would change.

The last straw came when I found out that he had a mistress overseas and they had two children. However, he would not let me leave him, threatening that he would kill himself, but this time I was determined. I went to seek help from a social worker at the Family Service Centre, who referred my children and me to Star Shelter, a refuge for women and children who are victims of violence. I am so grateful to be staying in a shelter now. My children and I feel safe and protected. I am working in a bakery now and enjoy what I do, I have always been a good baker and cook. My children no longer live in fear; they are able to enjoy life as children.

My children no longer live in fear; they are able to enjoy life as children.

Looking back, I think I was too soft-hearted, I kept giving him chances. No one should raise a hand to anyone, why should anyone be beaten? I regret that my children have suffered because I was too weak to stand up for myself and for them. I hope my story will encourage women who are in abusive relationships to seek help. No woman should be beaten by the man that she loves. I hope they will learn from my mistakes and find help sooner. There are shelters available for them and their children, there is always a way out. The shelter has helped me in so many ways, I can finally rebuild a life without violence.

*Note: Some information may be changed to protect the identity of the victim and her children.

I am Donna and I am 35 years old. I have a 10-year-old daughter. At first the abuse was just verbal and psychological. The physical violence began 5 years into our marriage. I applied for a PPO (Personal Protection Order). Every time he got abusive, he would apologise after and promise me that he would change, and I would forgive him.

After so many years of living under that abuse, my self-confidence and self-esteem diminished so much that I didn’t trust myself anymore. My husband had convinced me to take my daughter back to my home country. When I was back home, I could not get a job, so I was reliant on my husband to send money back to us. I had to beg him all the time for money. I felt quite alone and helpless. As months went by, I sensed that something was not right back in Singapore. I sensed that my husband was cheating on me though he denied it. I wanted to believe him.

My self-confidence and self-esteem diminished so much that I didn’t trust myself anymore

After 9 months, I decided to come back to Singapore. When I got to our flat and found her things there, he could not deny the affair. He told me that he had broken up with his mistress and that he wanted us to try again. A few months later, I realised the affair had started again – or maybe it never ended. Maybe I drove him to it again because I had turned into this person who could not believe anything he said, and I’d question his every move.

One night, my husband came home drunk, and I pretended to be asleep. He slammed the door shut and tried to pull the blanket off me. I was really scared. He headbutt me, insulted me, spat on me… and then he took out a swiss pocket knife and held it to my neck. I shouted for help, but the other tenants in the flat did not offer help. I called the police but before the police arrived, he had already fled the house.

A week later, he came back at night and was drunk. Again. I was very frightened, I was scared for my life. But this time he just came to me and hugged me. He kept hugging me and saying he was sorry! He was arrested 2 days later – despite the lack of valid PPO, the matter had become a criminal case because he had threatened me with a knife. He was incarcerated for 6 months at Changi prison.

He just came to me and hugged me.
He kept hugging me and saying he was sorry!

Thankfully, I moved to a shelter and I managed to get my daughter back to Singapore on basis of neglect. I would like to say to women everywhere: the first time you face violence of any form – be it physical, verbal, emotional or psychological – you have to put a stop to it. Don’t think of anything else besides your personal safety. Nobody has the right to hurt another human being.

The first time you face violence of any form – be it physical, verbal, emotional or psychological – you have to put a stop to it.

*Note: Some information may be changed to protect the identity of the victim and her children.

I am Alice and I am 39 years old with a 7-year-old daughter. I walked out of my marriage of 9 nine years. After several attempts, I finally had the courage to do so. I took comfort in the company of a family friend for several days before getting in touch with a social worker, whom later recommended me to Star Shelter (SS). My mind then was cluttered with uncertainties. “How could I manage to be solely caring for my daughter and working at the same time?” Job opportunities were scarce as I only had LTVP and not to mention, my limited stay here in Singapore. Considering the amount, I am earning, “how long could we survive?” Society would take me as a failure and the idea of a shelter here in Singapore did not even at once occur to me as existing.

My mind then was cluttered with uncertainties: “How could I manage to be solely caring for my daughter and working at the same time?”

SS with its management and staff, along with the services they have extended myself and my daughter has been greatly instrumental in our recovery. I am amazed to see the number of volunteers I have met, who painstakingly devote their time and effort to help us in the simplest of ways such as baby sitting and conducting tuitions, among others.

Waking up each day was a fresh start to make things right and better. As I persistently pursued for a PPO, SS arranged a slot at a legal clinic for me to clear my doubts and informed me of the options available. The 30-minute session with the volunteer lawyer gave me a fresh perspective of my rights for the care and custody of my daughter should the worst case happen. Eventually, my husband stopped contesting and the PPO was granted in my favour.

I find the activities for the kids most beneficial to myself and my daughter. At such a young age, I feel sad that she had to go through a rough time such as this. The piano lessons, Itchy Fingers classes, and music therapy helped her positively cope with the changes and is feeling more emotionally sound. She developed camaraderie among other kids, which made her look forward to getting home early every day.

The upskilling workshop series came in handy when I needed the boost and guidance while applying for a full-time position in my present company. As the HR staff was present during the first workshop, I was able to gather tips on how to build an effective resume and how to prepare for interviews. The second workshop, which dealt with mindfulness and resilience, reminded me that there are forces and circumstances beyond my control. How I respond to that situation sets the difference.

Participating in the art therapy sessions has led me to experience a creative form of expressing art to improve my physical, mental and emotional well-being. The sessions aided in my healing process as each week, I gained a deeper understanding of my inner self and thought process. My art works serve as a reminder of my identity. I forgave myself in the process, let go of the bitter chapter, and had a more optimistic view moving forward.

I forgave myself in the process, let go of the bitter chapter, and had a more optimistic view moving forward.

Lastly, my recovery wouldn’t be as effective if not for my weekly face-to-face counselling sessions. My circumstance had overwhelmed me at first that I fail to know where to start. My counsellor facilitated a safe and confidential environment for me to discuss my issues. I was able to explore my own thoughts freely with an unbiased party.

I could never thank the staff enough for welcoming us at SS with such warmth and hospitality. We could never have overcome our struggles if not for their genuine support. They made us feel that we could belong and that in due time, we could put back all the pieces of our broken lives in place. I felt the relief that on the day I moved in, the security on duty welcomed me by asking to see husband’s photo. I knew and felt I am right where I am supposed to be and had the soundest sleep that night. I am grateful for all the assistance extended to me and my daughter by SS. I know that I am in a safe and secured place whereby I could objectively evaluate and make rational judgement calls. I am positive that I could come out as a more empowered woman, able to support others in the future.

I knew and felt I am right where I am supposed to be and had the soundest sleep that night.

*Note: Some information may be changed to protect the identity of the victim and her children.