My Fifty-Two Years of Domestic Abuse: A Survivor’S Story

By Dana Wilson

For fifty-two years, Dana Wilson endured emotional and physical abuse from her husband. The abuse escalated until she finally escaped with the help of her son. Not willing to lose control, the abuser tried to kill their only child by terrorizing and shooting at him.

The counselors that helped Dana heal and restart her life have said that her abuse was the worst they had ever encountered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781532035883

Book preview

My Fifty-Two Years of

Domestic Abuse

A Survivor’s Story

Dana Wilson

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MY FIFTY-TWO YEARS OF DOMESTIC ABUSE

A SURVIVOR’S STORY

Copyright © 2017 Dana Wilson.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-3587-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3588-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017916138

iUniverse rev. date:   10/31/2017

CONTENTS

Biography

Dedications

Prologue

My Formative Years In School

Family Life—My Early Years

Lou’s Upbringing

I Meet Lou And We Go On A First Date

Were There Any Warnings?

Our First Apartment In New York

The Very First Physical Abuse

At 22, I Become Pregnant Again

We Move Back To Massachusetts

Back To Work In Massachusetts

Things You Miss In Life When You’re Abused

I Finally Feel Envy

The Deaths Of Our Parents

Gifts

Happy Memories

Our Grandsons’ Births And Baptisms

My Weight

Lou Made His Own Rules

Instances Of Some Of Lou’s Crazy, Unpredictable, Outlandish, And Sometimes Just Plain Mean Behavior

Another Instance Of Lou’s Total Control

I Never Told Anyone Of My Situation Until…

I Finally Reach The Breaking Point

More Examples Of My Daily Life With Lou

Florida

The Destruction Of My Possessions

Why Did I Stay With Lou?

Lou Tries To Do Something Good

More Examples Of My Life With Lou

Mean Grandfather

Lou Had A Particular Hatred For My Mother

Lou Also Abused Johnnie

The Start Of Seven Months Of Terror

The Hell Begins And I Try To Get Help

The Hell Continues

The Abuse Escalates And Gets More Creative

His Mental Abuse Campaign Intensifies

The Physical Abuse Now Puts Me In Danger Of His Killing Me

I Try To Escape

Lou Goes After Ryan

…And Then There Was No Escape

Johnnie Comes To My Rescue

I Move In With Johnnie And Cindy

And Then Lou Did The Unthinkable

I Become My Own Advocate

The Aftermath Of Lou’s Death

Lou Was A Psychopath

I Have A Revelation

People Step Forward To Help Me

My Life Today

This Is The Speech That I Give At Abuse Functions

You Can Escape From Your Abuser

Facebook Posts After Lou’s Death

Epilogue

BIOGRAPHY

Dana Wilson was born in Massachusetts. She attended college for three semesters and worked many years as a middle manager in the transportation industry. She has one son, Johnnie, and a daughter-in-law, Kendall. Dana always had a love of writing and had many articles, editorials and op-ed pieces published. She is a member of Mensa, the high IQ society. She lived most of her life under the yoke of a very abusive husband. Now that she is a survivor, free of him, she spends her time giving speeches and interviews for abuse groups in an attempt to help other women who are being abused. In her spare time, she travels.

DEDICATIONS

Johnnie, the loving son who took life’s scary journey with me.

Mary, The female detective who showed me understanding and compassion immediately after Lou shot at Johnnie.

Anne, My late sister, who took me into hiding in her home, knowing the danger Lou presented.

Sandy, A dear friend and neighbor, who was my confidant and support while I endured Lou’s abuse.

Cindy, My late daughter-in-law, who opened her home and life to me and exposed herself to Lou’s wrath.

C and N, who were instrumental in helping me keep Lou incarcerated and who offered me incredible support.

All my neighbors, who signed petitions, wrote letters, talked to the news media and the police in an effort to keep Lou incarcerated. (and hugged me when I was broken).

My two travel buddies and dear friends, who are patient when I talk about my past (even though I try not to).

The Umbrella Group, the abuse organization that provided me with counseling, knowledge, and support.

…and finally, Jim, who guided me through the process of getting my book published.

PROLOGUE

Five years ago, I wrote:

I’m seventy years old.

I’m living in a rented condo in hiding from a husband who abused me both mentally and physically from the first day I met him. My home in another city sits empty. I left my entire life behind me. I live in fear that he will find and kill me. I’m afraid all the time. I wonder in my frightened mind exactly how he going to kill me. I hear his voice shouting at me in my nightmares and I awaken, shaking and drenched in perspiration.

I recently observed my fiftieth wedding anniversary. You’ll notice that I said observed, not celebrated. I would have had to celebrate the occasion alone as my seventy-five-year-old husband is sitting in a jail cell. Not that I had anything to celebrate, certainly not my years of abuse living with him.

I filed for divorce almost a year ago, but it has still not been granted.

My life is in a state of limbo. I will not tell even the closest friends or relatives where I am hiding. I have no doubt but that my husband will make good his threat of killing me and all my family members if I ever left him.

I’ve been to court so many times, I’ve lost count.

I have no idea what my personal finances will be until the divorce is final.

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SKIP TO THE PRESENT

Three years after I filed, my divorce was granted.

Thirteen months later, my now ex-husband died in jail.

So many people who have been involved in my rescue have asked me to write a book and tell my story in the hope of helping other women living in abusive situations.

Initially, I didn’t think that was a good idea because I didn’t have a solution that would help women who were being abused. How could I help others when I tolerated my own abuse for over fifty years? One of the reasons I now feel compelled to tell my story is because so many women, and even some men, have come to me telling me that they too had been abused. I never realized how rampant abuse is. While I don’t have all the answers, perhaps when people read my story, they will recognize the early warning signs that I ignored. Maybe mothers of girls will instruct their daughters, as part of their upbringing, what warning signs to watch for in a man. Both parents should do everything possible to create, boost, and maintain their children’s self-esteem. It’s much easier to escape a bad relationship early before you become trapped with an abuser.

I must warn you that reading about my abuse will probably sicken you. One of the detectives involved in my case told me that my abuse was the worse she had ever seen. A therapist and two counselors have both remarked to me that while my husband shared all the traits of an abuser, he was the worst they had ever encountered. I’m sure you will be asking me the same question that everyone invariably asks me, Why didn’t you leave him? I hope I will be able to convey the fear I constantly had living under the yoke of a very controlling, abusive man. I didn’t leave him because he warned me, over and over again, that if I ever did leave, he would kill me and all my family members.

When I finally left him, after seven months of daily beatings, he tried to kill our only child, a son who was hiding and protecting me. Luckily, the shot that he fired missed its target. I always knew that his threats were not idle.

I find one remark that everyone seems to make a little strange. I keep hearing how strong and brave I am. Strong? Brave? If I had been strong and brave, I would have found a way of escaping from this brutal man. I feel far removed from strong and brave. I feel like a failure.

Everyone has a right to a safe happy life—a life that is created through one’s own decisions. I sincerely hope that my book helps other women to realize their own strengths. I hope I can help women live the kind of life they want, one that is free from the slavery of abuse.

MY FORMATIVE YEARS IN SCHOOL

I was not a pretty child, was overweight, had frizzy hair wore hand-me-down clothes, and did not know how to relate to other children; but I did have one thing going for me: I was exceptionally smart.

In fourth grade, the entire class was given an aptitude test. When it came time to learn my score, the nun leaned over and whispered to me that I had scored H. She explained that this meant that I had scored off the chart. I was at the college level. I was nine years old. Nowadays there are many programs for gifted children. It’s not unusual for young children who are capable to start college at a very early age. Back then, there was nothing for someone who was beyond gifted. When I finally went to college, I was surprised that the material being taught held the same challenge as what I had studied when I was in the early grades of grammar school.

I attended the same Catholic school from Nursery school through the first year of high school. While in Nursery school, one of the nuns recognized that I was very bright. I was three years old and she started me reading from a first-grade primer, Dick and Jane.

I can recall a very shy three-year-old standing in the back of a group of girls while pretty veils were handed out to wear to a May devotion to the Blessed Mother. I didn’t get one. Nor did I ever crown the Blessed Mother.

One Easter Sunday, I was sitting with my third-grade class in church at Mass. Suddenly, Sister Verna, a very short nun who was noted for her meanness, snatched my new straw Easter bonnet off my head. One of the older girls had had the audacity to come to