Domestic Violence Survivors’ Group:

Room 404

 by Courtney Meadows

For confidentiality, all names and identifying information of group members in this story have been changed.

On Monday nights, I arranged floor cushions, chairs, and scarves, turned on the sound of a running stream, and sprayed smokeless sage in a prayer for all who entered. When group began, I entered another reality. And I entered barefoot. Because it was sacred ground.

I met with a group of survivors who were called “crazy”, “bad moms”; suffered concussions, gunshot wounds; and held hostage by partners claiming to “love” them and a court system declaring them “negligent”.

According to a 2023 study by the World Population Review, Oklahoma reports more cases of domestic violence than any other state and ranks third where women are killed by men. Victims ranged from 2 months to 86 years old.

Violent partners isolate their victims. With limited contact to family and friends, the women in this Monday night group sought community. Raven shared, “this is the only time of the week I get to be with other adults. I feel loved here, and I found sisterhood.”

The group began with two women. Three. Six. Twelve. Each time a woman joined the group, they asked a question and discovered they weren’t alone. “Who, like me, is a mother?”. Several women stepped inside a circle and shared the names and ages of their children. “How long have you been separated from your abusive partner?”. Group members lined up in a spectrum with some on one end sharing, “we’re still together”, and at the other end, “it’s been ten years”. Those at the ends traded places, some remembering the stuckness of being controlled, and others feeling steps into freedom.

Connections continued forming as women warmed up to sharing their individual stories. Some weeks, we shared stories through art. Others, through writing. Mostly, we shared through psychodrama (learn more about psychodrama here).

One week, I passed around a blank notebook and said, “This book is your memoir. What image is on the cover? Feel the pages. See the words. Take a moment, and find a chapter about a turning point in your life…remember a conflict or difficult decision where everything changed.”

Many shared about the moment they heard a judge order them to co-parent with their violent partner. They expressed fear for their child’s safety, potential removal by child protective services, and being found in contempt of court. Jasmine shared a situation before court involvement- when she saved her son. The group chose Jasmine to process her story that evening.

We created safety first. Jasmine invited a group member to play her mentor and friend, Keith. Introducing Keith, Jasmine stepped into his role, “I’ve known Jasmine for a long time. She’s so brave. And I’ll remind her to breathe.” Together, they draped a scarf over two chairs, making a tent for Jasmine’s safe place, where she could observe the drama with less intensity.

From the tent, Jasmine directed, “My son’s room is over there. He and I sat on the bed with the door locked, waiting for the police and EMTs. I was bleeding.” Jessica volunteered to sit in the scene as Jasmine and Raven volunteered to play Jasmine’s six-year-old son, Oliver. “I called 911. My husband banged on the bedroom door. I held Oliver’s face and told him, ‘look at me. I got you’.” Jasmine watched the scene replay.

She held her shoulders, looking down. I imagined what Jasmine felt and reflected, “I’m just trying to hold myself together”. Jasmine said, “I feel numb.” Keith held her hand, reminding her to breathe. Several moments passed, and I asked her, “are you able to enter the scene to speak to Oliver?” Jasmine nodded. Keith whispered, “You’re so brave.”

Jasmine sat next to Oliver, “I know this is scary. Keep looking at me, baby. I got you.” I asked Jasmine to step into the role of Oliver to hear those words, feeling how she protected him. They held each other. As Oliver, Jasmine cried, “this is taking too long. I want to go.” I asked Oliver, “Who do you want to save you and your mommy?” Oliver shouted, “Miss Suzy! She’s my babysitter!”

Jessica and Raven resumed their roles as Jasmine and Oliver. Elle volunteered to play Miss Suzy. I asked Jasmine to demonstrate the role, “how would Miss Suzy save you and Oliver?” Jasmine became Miss Suzy. “I’d sweep in through the window like Mary Poppins, hold their hands, and jump out of the window together. We’re on the ground floor, so it’s okay.” Jasmine returned to the tent to re-watch the scene from the 911 call through the rescue.

“Now that you saw how this happens, would you be open to seeing what it feels like to be rescued?” I asked. Jasmine confirmed, reentering the scene as herself. When Miss Suzy swept them into the window, Jasmine said, “I didn’t have to see the chaos in the front room. I feel like I can breathe out here.”

Everyone playing a part de-roled, reminding the group of their names. “Even though this isn’t what happened”, Jasmine shared, “it helps to have a different view of this memory. It feels less heavy this way, and I know I’m a good mom.” Women shared their experiences of survival with Jasmine, reminding her she wasn’t alone. The group closed for the evening with a reading of a group member’s original poem in honor of Jasmine.

.            .             .

Seeing “Error 404 Not Found” on a website means the resource you’re looking for isn’t on the page you’re searching. The resource might exist- it’s simply somewhere else.

When I packed away the cushions, chairs and scarves, turned off the sound of running water, and wafted sage vapors for a final time, bittersweetness settled in my stomach and throat.

I remembered:

Angie said she was overheating, and the group rested on the cool laminate flooring. We quietly sang, “Blackbird.”

Scarves representing “PTSD”, “self-doubt”, “debt”, “loss of safety”, “losing my daughter” pelted at an empty chair for abusers to take back before banishment by a “FUCK YOU” chorus.

Raven sharing her favorite word- “compersion”- and demonstrating with gifts of iced sugar cookies.

Jessica stepping into every wisdom figure role, draped in a purple scarf. In and out of role, she held those weeping.

Daisy’s drama about returning to her family’s Georgia home. A hurricane-resilient tree. A window keeping out darkness and inviting in light. A wrap-around porch of wise ancestors.

.            .            .

I left Room 404. Not in error, it was just time. And survivors still gather there. And beyond the group room. Some moved in together; some traveled on road trips; some read at the library together with their children. Surviving violent men and an egregiously broken system, these women bring healing to one another. Witnessing their transformation gave me a glimpse into what heaven must look like.

I carry them in my heart to a “somewhere else.”

If you or someone you know needs help fleeing an abusive relationship, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline for connection to local resources: 1.800.799.7233 or text “START” to 88788.

Courtney Meadows, LCSW is Registered Drama Therapist (RDT) and director of Weaving Embers Counseling and Consulting, also Courtney is studing psychodrama at the Hudson Valley Psychodrama Institute.