Burning Beds

A true confession of domestic violence in Maine

Even though it has been several years since her divorce, Michelle still wakes in the middle of the night from nightmares of her past life, only to realize that she is free from the physical pain, anguish and feeling of utter fear and horror from her eleven‐year marriage to Tommy, her high school sweetheart.

“It doesn’t just go away,” she said. “It took everything I had in me and years of counseling to escape and cope with my low self esteem, emotional pain and the ability to trust another man. The bruises go away but the emotional scares are everlasting.”

Her divorce from Tommy wasn’t a mutual agreement or irreconcilable differences. It was a break away from the life where she was captive to a man who promised to love, cherish and protect her.

Michelle remembers the first time Tommy hit her. He had always been jealous, making negative comments about her appearance and analyzed her conversations to others, especially with other men, always questioning her intentions. However, it wasn’t until they were into their second year of marriage and she was pregnant with her second child that he lashed out at her physically.

“Tommy grabbed me and pulled me towards him. Screaming in my face, he threw me down a flight of stairs. The only thing I could think of as I fell was holding my belly tight so not to injure my baby, but I had no control. Fear and gravity carried me to a place that I could have never even imaged. I was shocked and full of fear.”

“He was so sorry for what he had done and I forgave him, I was convinced that I was to blame for not having the laundry folded and put away as he wanted. He told me I slipped and he didn’t mean to let me fall. I owned up to my part in the situation and felt that in the future I needed to tow the line. Feeling like a child for disobeying their parents, I tried even harder to please my husband, the man I loved and trusted with my life.”

“He didn’t hit or even verbally abuse me for weeks after that incident, but once he started again, it never stopped. There seem to be no reason for the abuse. Drunk or sober, happy or sad, it was my fault and he had all the answers and excuses.”

The abuse went on for eleven years, sometimes daily, sometimes months in between. “I was so ashamed that I couldn’t tell anyone. Talking about it was never an option I thought I had. It was part of my life just like cooking dinner, laundry and taking care of the kids. The one thing I knew in my heart was that I didn’t have a choice, or so I thought at the time.”

“One night he was drunk and playing around with his rifle. The kids were asleep and he was waving the gun around their bed wanting to shoot out the window. For the first time the fear and rage overtook me. I needed to protect my children; it wasn’t about “us” anymore. I remember Tommy coming after me with the butt of the gun as I begged him to stop. The next thing I remember was my father in law standing over me with a wet cloth on my eye, trying to pick me up from the floor.”

“Nothing was said or done, I didn’t go to the doctors even though I had a black eye and the left side of my face was lacerated and swollen with a golf ball size goose egg. “They” agreed Tommy would be arrested if we got medical attention. His father took all his guns that night.”

“Tommy always reassured me that no other person could ever love me. How could they? My medium framed, 130‐pound body was disgusting and I was lucky that he loved me. He had me convinced that even my family didn’t love me.”

“I attended college part time for years. Tommy said I could go if it didn’t interfere with our life and my responsibilities. My desire to better myself left little time for sleep, but I was determined to finish school and get a job. Some how I thought working would stop the abuse, and in some ways, it did. Tommy never hit me from the neck up again. That didn’t stop the verbal abuse, beatings, rape and the horrible threats of death if I tried to leave.”

“I would daydream of what it would be like to live without Tommy. What if he died? Then I would finally be free. I knew he would never let me go. He would always tell me that if I ever left him, he would find me and kill me and I believed he would. When the movie, The Burning Bed was released, I realize the agony and terror I lived was happening to other women. The support systems and awareness programs were not available like they are now. I had a choice. I started thinking that maybe I could live a different life.”

“At work, I would try to figure out how to live on my own, how much money I would need and how I could hide without Tommy finding me. The hope chest my grandmother gave me was secretly stuffed with three of everything in preparation for our escape.”

“My parents were never happy about my relationship with Tommy, so I was compelled to let them think the marriage was perfect. I finally remember getting up enough courage to talk to my mother about the abuse, thinking she would jump at the chance to save me. I sat at her kitchen table sipping a cup of hot tea, shaking in fear. As the kids were playing in the other room with my dad, I told my mother about the years of abuse and that I needed to get out of the relationship before something terrible happen.”

“And then something happened that left me paralyzed and stunned. She told me that I didn’t want to be divorced, what would people think? I should at least stay until the kids graduated from high school.

I was devastated; it had taken me years to work up to this conversation and to admit that just maybe I should make the prison break, only to be shot down by the one person I thought would understand. My realization at that time was, I married my mother and in later years learned of narcissism.”

“One morning I called in sick to work. As soon as Tommy left, I packed the kids in the car with all our clothes and the contents of the hope chest, stopped at the bank, withdrew my four hundred dollars in savings, and drove away.”

“My oldest daughter once told me she was surprised to find out from her friends that not all fathers hit mothers. I was so sad and ashamed that I had put my children through this nightmare. I thought I was the master of disguises and no one knew what was going on. Everyone knows, or at least they suspect, it’s just that nobody tells.”

This is a true story, the names were changed. Check your local listings for centers in your area that provide support for domestic violence. Written for and featured article in the Phoenix, Fall 2009

Character Under Attack!

To educate a person in the mind but not in morals is to educate a menace to society. 

Teddy Roosevelt 

One thing that outrages me is people with what I call, diarrhea of the mouth. People whose words fall profusely off the tongue with the quest to make themselves look "good" by destroying someone else's character without any worry or regret of how hurtful they are being to someone or something that is none of their concern.  The proverbial tattletale and gossip falls into this category as well. Nothing disgusts me more. Even when you try to stop them, they just can't and will find someone else to listen if you won’t. Just like the toxic Ebola virus it is just plain deadly.

I just can't figure out if these people have the direct purpose to hurt others or just like to hear themselves talk. Maybe a little bit of both. But whatever their reasoning, they are a disgrace to society.

In middle and high school these were the cliquey girls (or guys) that shunned, ridiculed and tormented other kids. They have a “leader” and all the little minions follow suit. You know like Mean Girls. These girls grow up to be mean women, teach their kids to be the same and the cycle continues leaving us scratching our heads to what just happened?

I don’t know about you but I refuse to allow people to make me their target to feed their narcissistic supply. Stand up and speak your piece, they will move on. Unfortunately they will move on to someone else to torment but at least is will end for you. Hear this though, SAY SOMETHING or they will not go away. The less you say the more power they get.

Bullies are sneaky. They always assume, (which is not necessarily true) an imbalance of power and most important it is repetitive. If someone says or does something once and shows remorse, it is bad character not bully.

It is ridiculous to expect our children to have good character when their role models, adults, teachers, parents, grandparents etc. can't respect other enough to zip it and show others a little bit of respect and compassion. 

In fact if we all just had some mutual and heaven forbid, self-respect, character educations wouldn't be necessary or even an issue, it is a major problem in American society.

Yesterday there must have been some negative force in the air. One person thought they could bypass my boundaries and attack my character and motives. Another tried cunning and manipulative tactic to get what they wanted from me and I had a couple of friends call with similar situations happening to them. I guess some people are having some down time this summer and need something to do or focus on that is not someone else’s business?

Then to top off the day with tragedy, one of the largest mass murder suicide took place in the history of our state, which just happens to be branded the “Safest” state in the union. This was a murder of the wife, three small children and the husband’s suicide. What is society coming to? 

These series of events brings up many questions for me. Life is hard enough, why insert extra pain and drama? Why do people feel the need to attack others? What comes first, bullying or domestic violence? It is like the chicken and the egg, a vicious cycle of the lack of social behavior and support. What are we missing as a society in raising our children to be resilient, sound-minded adults? How do we tell the difference between bad behaviors or a cry for psychological help? How do we “teach” adults to understand that pure happiness is when what you think, say and do becomes the answer to healthy living and the lessons our children need to learn?  Where should character education be taught, in schools, in the home, how do you measure and change this? When do we stand up and say something and when do we walk away?

One of the most important things we can do as adults is to teach and educate our children in positive values and the core character morals like respect, caring, and compassion. Adults need to have and demonstrate moral standards. The signs are there we just don't recognize them for whatever reason. Above all, we need to “walk the walk and talk the talk.” Children will imitate us regardless of how much we teach them otherwise.

Several years ago I made a school visit at the very school one of the murder victims attended. While on break in the lunchroom I was looking at a couple of books on display. After reading a few pages I couldn’t put the book down. I had to come home, order it and read it. I was so impressed and moved I called the author. He was a man whose moral compass was spot on, who walked the walk and restored my faith in society. If only everyone could read Mr. Sommers’ book. Ah, you can! Here is the good part, you can download this book for free: http://www.advancepublishing.com. Character Under Attack by Carl Sommers, a wonderful and insightful man and author. It is only 113 pages; it’s worth the time.

One of my favorite quotes from Carl Sommers, author of Character Under Attack is, “Today, parents must be extremely careful they don’t succumb to the deadly moral standards that are so popularized on TV, in music, children’s magazines, and our present culture of leaving children to be free to develop their own values. Children need guidance; wise are those parents who supervise their children, provide positive materials, and take time to teach them successful virtues.”

I am going to repost an article I wrote for the Phoenix a few years ago on domestic violence, it is a true story. Hope the blog, book and article give you some healthy food for thought. I welcome your opinion.