Darkness

My mother, during our conversation.

Alright. So what I'm going to be talking about is domestic violence. How it starts, escalates, and how it ultimately ends. I originally started working on this project because of someone who lost her daughter to domestic violence. At this moment, that is put on the back burner. She's just not ready to talk, and I completely understand. So that leaves me with all this work, and nothing to run with. Or does it?

A lot of people sweep this issue under the rug. It doesn't happen because they aren't personally involved. Maybe it does happen to them, but they are too scared, or don't know how to speak up. Some block it out because they don't want to remember it.

Well, this blog is about me, so... I guess this is where I step up to the plate. I grew up in a domestic violence situation. In my mother's own words, they were volatile. I remember hurtful words, broken dishes, busted walls, and shattered windshields. I will say this for my parents, they never hit each other in front of us. It was mostly a verbal thing.

So, I went shopping. I bought a voice recorder. And then... I sat down with Mama, Daddy, and my brother B individually, and recorded our conversations. It dang near killed me. It was so emotionally charged. It was so hard to hear things from Mama about Daddy, and to hear things from Dad about Mom. It was pretty easy to talk to B. He's like me, he remembered the screaming, harsh words, and shattered windshields. Like me, he also remembers that they never hit each other in front of us.

Let me just pause here to clarify my relationships with my family. Mama is my very best friend. She has been since my first breath. I've always been my Daddy's girl. I've had conversations with them that most people don't have with their parents. I know things about their relationship and them that very few do.

I started out with Mama. The first question I asked her was, "How did you meet Dad?" She told me about the fact that she and Dad's sister Pat were best friends, and they had met through her. "How did he ask you to marry him?" She couldn't quite remember the wording, but, she remembers it went to the effect of, "I love you, and I want to marry you and the kid." (My brother B, is technically my half brother. He was born in December of 1978 and my parents were married in February of 1979.)

"Who threw the first punch?" That was one of the hardest questions to ask. We talked about how often they fought. It wasn't a daily thing. It wasn't an all the time thing. Their verbal altercations didn't always turn physical. I remember one point in the conversation, Mama told me, "Your Daddy is not a monster." At that moment, I couldn't agree with her.

How can you sit there and tell me that someone who had locked her in the closet, left bruises on her, and shattered a baby's glass bottle against the wall, is not a monster? I asked her that question. She said, "We were monsters together. We were toxic to each other. Twisted and wrong. I antagonized him so much. I couldn't let him walk away." And that made me look at her in a whole new light.

I walked away from that conversation shaken and sick. Hearing those words about my father... it didn't break me, but it hurt. I had a hard time sleeping last night.

I talked to Daddy today. I had to. If I was going to do this right, I had to include his thoughts and memories. I sat him down and told him that I was planning a piece on domestic violence, and that it was going to be about our family. Dad was a little defensive to start with. I think he was afraid that I put the blame solely on him. After I explained that Mama accepted her share of the blame, that she admitted to antagonizing him, he opened up more.

He admitted to locking Mama in a closet. I'm not telling the story that led up to it, but the gist is, they were fighting, and he was trying to walk away, but she wouldn't let him. He was extremely upset. She stayed in his face, so he put her in the closet. "I couldn't make her leave me alone, so I put her in the closet. I sat down against the door so she couldn't get out, and I cried. I cried because of what she'd done to me." I'm not condoning what he did, and there is absolutely no excuse for hurting someone else, but after hearing what he said, I understand.

I closed the conversations by asking them, "What is your favorite memory from being married to each other?" Strangely enough, both of their memories revolve around me.

Dad's favorite memory was when B was standing up in his crib and was looking at the corner of the ceiling and said, "You're not gonna take my Daddy from me." About a month later, they found out Mama was pregnant with me.

Mama's favorite memory is when she was delivering me, Dad was standing by her side. The doctor looked up and said, "There's the head." Dad looked up and said, "What is it?" Mom says the doctor kinda smirked and said, "It's a head, I'm not sure yet." When I was finally out, the doctor looked up and said, "It's a girl." Mom said that Daddy got this look of wonder on his face and was jumping up and down and yelling, "We did it! We had a girl!"

My parents divorced in 1994. Mom remarried 3 months later to a man named Greg. Along with him, I got my awesome stepbrother D and my best girl Mamy. Greg died in 1996 in a motorcycle accident. Dad remarried in 1999 to a woman named Jeanne. They divorced not even 2 years later due to the fact that they were total opposites. Mom remarried again in2006 to Mike. (We have 18 million Mike's in my family. It's tons of fun during the holidays.) I got 2 more step siblings that are pretty good. Daddy remarried in April of last year to a lady named Rita. And now, 2 more steps. All in all, I have 4 brothers, and 3 sisters. To me, half and step don't really count. Family is all that matters.

Some days I wish my parents were still together. I know that will never happen. That saying... You can't go home, I think it pertains to this. Wanting to be a child again, being tucked in by your parents, kissed and loved, knowing the monsters aren't under the bed. They are happy. They are at least cordial, if not down right friendly at family functions that bring them together.

And now... me. I am emotionally drained. As I wrote this post, I listened to the conversations I had with Mama, Dad, and B over and over again. In some ways, I wish I could figure out how to post them on here, but then again, I'm afraid some people would hear them and think horrible things about my parents.

They were young, kids really, when they got married. They were learning together, how to be the grown ups. There were several stressors in their life. Two children at an early age, very little money, and not really sure what they were doing. They've grown into wonderful people. My mother is my role model, along with my dad. I look at them and see the strongest people in the world. I love them, and I am extremely grateful to them.

Domestic violence isn't something that can be swept under the rug. It will not go away if you ignore it. Mom & Dad were both lucky that it never turned deadly, because it can. This isn't the last I'll be talking about this.

If you or someone you know is in a violent situation, please, please, please. Get help. It is hard to walk away from all you've ever known, but you can. 1-800-799-SAFE(7233) or http://www.thehotline.org/

You may be asking... Allie, why are you posting your details? Well, if all the gory details that come out save 1 life, it's worth it. If one person reads this and gets out, it doesn't matter what I go through.

Love to all,
Allie