Dominican

I went to the E.R. only once during our relationship. 

I drove myself to Dominican in the middle of the night ~ after being together a little over three months.

I was not bleeding or bruised.  The physical violence began in the second year ~ technically ~ although looking back there were moments of physical restrainment that pushes the transition time up a bit earlier.

Halloween Night 2001 started out okay ~ but with his usual wishy-washy behavior of never knowing if he really wanted to see me that evening or actually take his son trick or treating with his ex-girlfriend and her son.

He finally agreed to bring his son to my cousin's house in Santa Cruz for their annual Open House of Chinese food and hundreds of trick or treaters.  His son has recently turned 13 but still liked the idea of going out in a neighborhood that was full of magic and completely safe compared to navigating Highway 9.

Everything changed upon our return to Felton.  The crazy-making was out of control ~ the mind games ~ the verbal abuse ~ the round and round altercation of him pitting me up against his ex-girlfriend in his defense of finding it perfectly okay to see both of us even though he told me we were exclusive since summer.

I felt as though I was spinning ~ not physically ~ but emotionally ~ I felt like I was losing control of reality at that moment ~ that I needed to get away from him ~ I was numb yet I was full of sadness and anger at this man who was already torturing me in my mind. 

I told him I thought I should go to the hospital.  That I did not feel right.  Something was wrong.  I think I was on the verge of some type of breakdown.

My honesty angered him in ways I still cannot comprehend.  He yelled and screamed, "Go to the hospital!  But I'm not taking you.  You really should just go out and kill yourself!"

I had not mentioned anything about killing myself.  I was not suicidal.  But his chilling words were enough to get me to leave his house in Felton and drive myself down Highway 9 at 1 a.m. to Dominican.

What was I going to tell the doctors when I got there?  That my boyfriend was driving me crazy ~ both literally and figuratively?  Is there such a thing?  Could my body have really started having a physical reaction to his crazy words and vulgar put-downs?  To his demand that I go right out and kill myself?

The doctor was very kind ~ not much older than I am today ~ he took all my vital signs and then got to the bottom of what was really going on ~

First, I made sure I made no reference to the word "suicide" ~ fearing any mention of the conversation would make them think they needed to take me to the Mental Health Unit in the back parking lot and keep me there for observation for three days.  So I was on guard when he asked me what happened that night.

I confessed that I was having problems in my new relationship.  That I had been verbally abused that evening. 

"Did he hit you?" the doctor asked.  I whispered, "No."

"Has he ever hit you?" he asked this time.  I whispered, "No."

But suddenly, I blurted out, "He told me to go out and kill myself."

The doctor expressed compassion and concern for my revelation and then looked me in the eye and said, "If a man tells you to go kill yourself, he will hit you."

I drove myself back up the highway and passed his house on the way back to Ben Lomond.  Lil' Red was waiting for me in the window like he always did.  I held him tight, looking at the knotty pine walls of my tiny studio which felt like home to me even though I was rarely there anymore.

I wondered why my life had changed so drastically in the last three months ~ why this man continued to hurt me one moment and love me profoundly the next ~ I wondered if he was home wondering what happened to me during my visit to Dominican.  There were no voicemails on my answering machine.  No concern for my well-being in any way. 

Haunted by the doctor's words, I told myself that I would go back to Walnut Ave Women's Center.  I would try to pick up where I left off last summer when I tried to break free from him after only 9 days.  I needed answers.  I needed strength.  I needed to tell someone else what was happening to me.

But I did not realize that Halloween night that the biggest foreshadow of my life had just happened at Dominican.