Editor’s Note: The following article is an excerpt from my manuscript detailing my own abuse. Please see “My Story of Abuse” under the category link.
After Broch’s death, his mistresses, no will, my grief, my son’s grief—I was just about at the end of my rope. I was not doing well at all. I spent most nights up crying until dawn, sleeping a couple of hours and starting another wicked day. It got to the point, that Crystal had Joshua more than I did. I couldn’t handle his grief and mine too. I had nothing left in me to try and comfort him with. To this day, I feel guilty over not being able to care for Joshua.
But, I knew I needed help and in the end, I think I did the right thing with him. My grief and depression were so bad, I became suicidal. One morning at 4:00 a.m., I thought I had finally come to an answer to escape all of my pain. I sit and contemplated shooting Joshua and then myself. I knew Joshua would never go through losing another parent so quickly.
By daybreak, I realized I was in serious trouble and called my pastor that had been counseling with me. He came right away, and we talked about it and sent Joshua off again to stay with his aunt. I took Joshua right away to a counselor but never thought of taking myself. I had found solace in booze. I had never drank in my life, but when we left for vacation, Broch’s boss sent two expensive bottles of wine with us to the beach. Neither of us had opened it, I never gave it a thought until I was packed and ready to leave the cottage. Louise asked if I was ready to go, and I said in a minute. Went to the fridge, opened a bottle of the wine—filled a water glass full and downed it. Then I told her I was ready to go.
Broch had worked at a beer and wine distributor, so when I took things back to the office that belonged to them, they sent me home with a case of wine and a case of pop for Joshua. Joshua never drank soda, so it sat in the basement. One night when I was totally overwhelmed and hysterical, I remembered how the glass of wine made me feel. Off to the basement I went and got a bottle of wine.
At first, I’d have one or two glasses and that was enough to slow me down and help me sleep. Before it was over, I was drinking a 2-liter bottle of wine every night. And that was the beginning of my alcoholism.
I numbed my way through the first nine months following Broch’s death. My mother kept bugging me about when I was buying a tombstone for Broch. It was August, and I did want his marker set before winter. So, we went tombstone shopping. I ended up buying a tombstone for my Father’s grave too (Mother’s name would be added after she passed). The monument company called on what would have been Broch’s thirty-eighth birthday and said, “we’re headed out to set your husband’s stone.” That struck me oddly, I could tell everyone I bought my husband a tombstone for his birthday. The entire family gathered at the cemetery to watch the setting of the headstone. I’ve never felt so alone in the world.