There’s an ever-increasing body of work being done on the links between domestic violence, abuse towards animals, and veterinarians’ roles in responding to, and reporting about, suspected abuse (good resources here, here, and here). My friend, a fellow veterinarian and PhD candidate, recently mentioned a study that she’s about to publish about veterinarians’ own, personal experiences of domestic violence.

It got me thinking. How do such intelligent individuals, who relied on a combination of ruthless ambition and unwaning pragmatism to make it through the emotionally draining delights of vet school, end up in these situations? These are difficult questions to ask about anyone. I remember myself struggling to empathise with a dear friend of mine who confessed to being locked in cupboards by her then spouse, and learning to comply with his every demand — how to make his sandwiches, where to place his slippers — for fear of being beaten. Why didn’t she just leave? What was she doing to her children?

And then it happened to me, too. Over a period of two years I became irreversibly trapped in the rollercoaster ride of isolation, humiliation, bottomless self-doubt and anxiety that I learned all too late had a name.

That’s over now, and I am very blessed to have left with answers to some of those questions. It’s not easy to leave. Love is a very powerful magnet and so too are feelings of guilt and responsibility and expectation. But the question still intrigues me: how do people find themselves in these situations? What in particular could be gleaned from veterinarians’ experiences?

I think that most veterinarians are drawn to the profession due to their innately empathetic natures. This allows us to care for and treat species that can be otherwise quite difficult to relate to. With naturally open hearts, perhaps we are more readily attracted to others’ ‘issues’ and complexities, until our martyrdom gets the better of us. Perhaps for me, too, my ambition has always been fuelled to a certain extent by self-deprecation, which made me more vulnerable to the cycle of intimidation and manipulation. And certainly in my case, my angst at home was easily echoed in the often overwhelming pain felt in clinical practice, as we dealt with death and loss and financial issues on a daily basis. I think that our rational minds only take us so far, and our hearts and souls, no matter what beat you step to, or walk of life you’ve found yourself in, can lead us on bewildering journeys.