My Story
The following was originally written in the summer of 2010. My Story was written at the urging of both a counselor I had seen while in my fifties and a very special friend. Both young women were young enough to be my daughter. Similarly, both young women were wise beyond their years.
If you or someone you know is being abused by a family member, there is help. Contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1.800.799.SAFE (7233). Likewise visit their website at thehotline.org.
A Child of Six
I lay in my bed, alone in the dark. As the monster roared and thrashed about, I listened in fear. His screams seeped through the pillow wrapped around my head. My heart pounded inside my chest. My breathing was rapid as air rushed into and out of my lungs. I opened my mouth but not a sound could be made.
As I lay there, I wondered what would happen next. Would he once again hurl mom across the room as he had done so many times before? Maybe this time he would crash through the door and hurl me across the room? Would we survive this night of terror like we had done so many times before? Or would tonight be our last night living in this dark, ugly place?
Eventually the monster stopped his roaring and thrashing about. He had worn himself out, just as he always did. Eventually sleep washed away the nightmare just as it always did.
A Boy of Sixteen – Part 1
I sat on the edge of the bed, my younger brother did likewise. He looked at me and I looked back at him. Our sister was just down the hall, alone in her room. What had just happened? Had I just awakened from a bad dream? No, now I remember.
Mom and dad had gone to a mid-day Christmas party. The hours passed as we three were left alone to play our favorite games. Running and chasing each other through the house while yelling: “I’m gonna tell.” Finally with anticipation, we stood in the window as our car pulled into the drive. Seconds later the monster crashed through the door chasing after mom who was already clinging to me for protection. The monster raised his fist and stood ready to slay anyone who challenged his authority.
And now, once more the battle raged on, just outside our bedroom doors. As I sat there, I wondered, how many times more would history repeat itself? How many more times would mom battle an adversary she could not conquer? Moreover, how many times more would the sights and sounds of anger and hate be recorded in our consciousness?
My heart pounded inside my chest. My breathing was rapid as once again air rushed into and out of my lungs. I opened my mouth and at the top of my lungs I screamed. “No one in this house gives a fudge about anyone else but themselves,” I shouted.
A Boy of Sixteen – Part 2
It probably goes without saying that “fudge” was not the word that sprang from my lips. The word that I used was one that had never been spoken by anyone in our house before that day. The monster himself had never spoken that word aloud. And yet at that moment I found it within my vocabulary. Likewise, I found the strength, the rage, to shout it out loud enough for the entire world to hear.
No sooner had I uttered my proclamation, than a silence fell upon the house. A silence unlike any silence I had ever heard. Moments later the bedroom door sprang open and there stood mom, sis, and dad. In unison they moved across the room towards the bed. Towards my brother and me. Dad dropped to his knees at my side and began to weep as he once more begged for forgiveness. Once more he promised that the monster would never hurt any of us again.
With tears in my eyes, I looked up at mom. What choice did I have? What could I say? Moreover, what could I do? I asked mom to once again forgive him. Just as before, I asked mom to once again believe him. What choice did she have? What could she say? We had been there before, what else could she do? As dad stood up, mom found the courage, the strength. With tears in her eyes, she embraced him. With a quiver in her voice, she forgave dad once again.
A Man of Twenty-Six – Part 1
I stood in the doorway. I wiped the grease from my hands and mopped the sweat from my brow. The day had hardly begun and already the thermometer was well above eighty degrees. The overhead door and the large pedestal fan in the corner would provide the only relief, the only air conditioning. Just as they had all summer long. For a moment I closed my eyes and imagined a cool, tropical breeze and crashing surf.
I opened my eyes and there stood mom on the sidewalk just steps from where I stood. I knew in an instant that something terrible had happened. Mom pulled up the sleeves of her sweater and took off her sunglasses. The monster had been beating her for the past several days. (Later I learned that there where many, many more bruises than the ones I had seen that day.) The monster had told her that he was going to kill her. This time she was convinced that he meant every word. With a shaky voice, mom said, “I have to leave your dad. Will you help me?” I drove her home and paced anxiously in the living room as mom frantically packed. When she returned from the bedroom she handed me the gun that the monster had assured her he would use.
I took her to a friend’s house and then later I drove her to the house of my in-laws. In a matter of days, mom got her own apartment. Mom was finally free. The monster would batter and torment her no more.
A Man of Twenty-Six – Part 2
The next morning, just as unexpectedly, dad appeared outside the same overhead door where mom had stood the day before. In a calm, yet determined voice, he said, “You are either for me or you are against me. If you won’t help me get your mother back, I don’t need you in my life.” The words echoed in my head. “You are either for me or you are against me.” Had he forgotten? I now have a voice. Again my mind repeated dad’s words. “You are either for me or you are against me.” Does he not know? I now have a choice.
I looked at my dad and I told him I was sorry. Sorry that he felt the way that he did. Sorry that I was no longer his son. That was the last time we spoke. As far as he was concerned, I no longer existed. As far as he was concerned, I was as good as dead. From my perspective, it was the monster that died that day. And as for me, on that day, I too was finally free.
If you or someone you know is being abused by a family member, there is help. Contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1.800.799.SAFE (7233). Likewise visit their website at thehotline.org.