Despite all the bad treatment I lived through, I couldn’t stand being alone. At first.
The quest to be loved began. Looking for love in all the wrong places. Looking for Mr Goodbar. It’s really only by the grace of God I’m alive, well, and disease free. I can’t even tell you the number of men I slept with. I lost track a long time ago.
At some point after the divorce, I had a fling with a really cute guy from some flight squadron. I ended up pregnant. I never said a word to him. There was no way I was having another baby. I couldn’t handle the one I had. I had that abortion and didn’t flinch, didn’t shed one tear. It just had to be gone.
I went to clubs to drink and dance. I wanted my youth back, the chance to be free.
I was emotionally unavailable to my boy. I’d send him out to play all by himself, forget about him. When I remembered he was outside alone, I’d find him 200 yards down the hill playing at the playground all by himself. He was 2! I was simply an awful mother, self centered, self pitying, victim of abuse.
Life without God was getting darker by the day..
August 1988. The phone rang late that night. I answered. It was him. He was drunk, crying he missed us, would we come to see him? I said no. This was the first incident since the divorce. I sensed something was seriously wrong, but brushed it off.
Two weeks later, 5am. I sensed a presence in my bedroom. I opened my eyes and he was there, standing over me, naked, a look in his eyes that said he wasn’t really there. He climbed on top of me. I started screaming like a maniac. His movements were sluggish. I screamed so loud the boy woke up. He sat up, snapped back into reality, got up, went into the bathroom. I ran down the stairs to the kitchen, considered dialing 911, but heard him following. I ran out the back door, around the front of the house. Luckily, the neighbors were up, packing for a trip. I ran across the street to them. He ran off the base. I never said a word to those neighbors.
I ran back to the house, got the boy a bottle, convinced him to quiet down and go back to sleep. I crawled into bed, exhausted physically and emotionally. I didn’t wake up until noon.
I called the state police. The base police couldn’t help because he was a civilian. I went to the station and filed the complaint with an officer who had the same name as my brother. He was very kind. At the end of the interview, he asked me why I waited 6 hours to report the event. I told him I was so freaked out I just didn’t know what to do. He said, I understand.
They called me later that day to say he was arrested, in jail. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Next day. I asked for a reassignment. My life was in danger from this man I used to love. By the end of the week I had orders to go to Madrid, Spain.
The state attorney called me. Did I want to seek the maximum penalty for the sexual assault? I said it was more important for him to be treated psychiatrically than go to jail for several years. They sentenced him to 2 years of probation and 1 year of mandatory psych treatment.
To be continued…