Pause when agitated

My wife had a good birthday, celebrating with a lunch out the day before and opening her presents on the day. This year, I got her an Italian pizza oven with accessories.  She enjoys cooking, especially out doors where we can sit on the deck or near the outdoor fireplace. And we both enjoy a thin crust pizza now and then.  She is going to try out the cauliflower crust soon.  Anyway, it was a good time, although much too short as I had to be on the road on the morning of her birthday.

I traveled to Raleigh to do some work.  In the meantime, I had a chance to go to the Al-Anon Literature Distribution Center where many of the books and pamphlets are shipped to groups in NC, SC and surrounding states. And I had an opportunity to go to dinner with my Service Sponsor, a person who guides me in the practice of the Traditions and Concepts.  I continue to do a lot of service work, but I also recognize that I can talk to this fellow if I have questions about whether I may be taking on too much.  I do have a tendency to say Yes to things that I really don't want to take on, but do so out of a sense of duty.  It's all about balance.  And it was a great chance to meet face to face with him.

When I got home on Sunday, I was catching up on news when I saw that a lady who was a passenger on a weekend cruise I captained had shot her husband during a domestic dispute.  As more details come out, it appears that she shot him and cut herself with a knife to fake self-defense.  I knew that she was a hunter and carried a gun.  She talked a lot about guns and her belief in being armed. I cannot understand the love of guns or the need to have them around.   I don't know what went on in her head to decide to shoot him, rather than walking out the door and leaving.  I don't think I can know how lives get so messed up.

I have thought about this tragic situation for the last couple of days.  No matter what, it seems that understanding the motives of people is baffling.
"...... when someone commits a violent crime, they always report in the news about his possible motive. As human beings, we need to somehow make sense of things. If someone murders someone, do you think it makes the family of the victim feel better to know the murderer's motive? No. Except for self-defense, there really is no excuse for murder. Motive, if there is any, is irrelevant. 

You want to know why. In many ways, you might feel like you need to know. But, if you could come up with a reason or a motive, it wouldn't help you." — Beth Praed (Domestic Violence: My Freedom from Abuse)

By no coincidence, last night's meeting topic was on motives.  It was a good reminder for me to examine my motives and understand what kept me in destructive relationships and accepting of negative behaviors and humiliation. What came across is that each of us is entitled to live without fear, uncertainty and discomfort.

Before Al-Anon,  I did not think about motives.  I had reasons to stay for many years with an alcoholic,  and those stemmed from beliefs that had been developed from outside influences and from poor self-esteem.  Then when I learned there were layers of truth underneath the reasons, I did not want to examine them because sometimes the truths about me were unacceptable to the mask I had created.  There was shame amidst my shadows.

Looking at the real motives and truths is an ongoing inquiry. My true motives may be unclear in the heat of the moment, but for the most part, I stay clear of people and those tasks that are unhealthy for my emotional well being.  I used to stick around for unacceptable situations simply because I didn't think that I deserved any better.  I stuck around to please another or because I was afraid of a negative reaction.  I let fear dictate my actions--fear of loss, of abandonment, of worthlessness.  Now, I do know that I can sort out my thinking in time, so that I realize what my motives were at the time I opened my mouth or made a bad decision.  It has helped me to not react until I have asked myself what my underlying feelings are at the moment.  "Pause when agitated" is a good mantra.

Respite

It was a good day yesterday spent taking an old classic sailboat down the coast to a boat yard for surveying.  The potential buyer is coming in today.  Hopefully, the old boat will have a new owner and be restored back to her former glory.  She is a gem that was custom built in 1978 at the Cheoy Lee yard in Shanghai for a former Navy Captain and his wife.  She was sailed throughout the Pacific and then over to the East coast where she was owned by a gentleman who can no longer give her the TLC that she needs.  Yesterday, she moved like a dream, and we all enjoyed feeling the sturdiness of this boat as she was underway.

Last night, calls of confusion came in from my wife's mom.  She was saying that there had been a party and all her china was broken, she hadn't had anything to eat all day, and no one was home.  Jessica, the caregiver, called to tell us that Mom was having a bad day.  Some days she is perfectly lucid and others days she isn't.

An older friend told my wife that some caregivers abuse their patients, slamming them into wheelchairs and slapping them.  We know that Jessica and Brad are great people and treat Mom with love.  And we stop by often to see her.  I suppose that there are those who just reach the end of their rope with taking care of others, whether it's the elderly, the physically and mentally disabled,  or low bottom alcoholics.  We are supposed to have compassion, but the human psyche can only take so much stress.

Sadly, the number of people who have caregiver burnout is increasing as more caregivers take on the job without getting the help they need, or try to do more than they are able to--physically or financially.  Those who are burned out experience fatigue, stress, anxiety and depression which sometimes can result in wanting to hurt those for whom they are caring.

I think that living with active alcoholism has the effect of burnout.  All the positivity of a life can become filled with anger and frustration.  Feeling that there is no one to turn to, no one to share the secret with can create such isolation that life seems hardly worth living.  And the alcoholic is likely feeling the same way--isolated, ashamed, lonely, desperate, filled with loathing.  More than one person gets lost to the disease when there is no respite from it.

We all need breaks from whatever stressful activity we are doing.  I needed it when I was working so I would take vacation days.  We give the caregivers a break by either staying there ourselves or bringing in temporary help.  And I give myself a respite now and then for no particular reason by spending a shining day on the water on an old boat.  Just keeping things in balance. It really helps.

Walking away and diving for dreams

We had a nice afternoon, deciding to go to a movie with an early dinner afterwards.  The movie was Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the 2011 release, and was excellent.  I spent some time in Stockholm, so it was nice to see the old city with its narrow streets and cobblestones.  I have been in December when the snow was coming down in a blizzard, and the windows were lit by the Julstacke lights.

The movie had a lot of powerful scenes but perhaps the most disturbing was the terrible rape of the heroine, Elsbeth.  I had not realized that the author, Steig Larsson, had witnessed the gang rape of a young woman when he was in his teens.    Failing to help her,  he was haunted by the brutality of men against women.  We talked about that after the movie, both of us expressing that there are terrible people who are within our midst, perhaps that we know, who do awful, unspeakable things to others.

I also didn't realize that Larsson lived in fear of his life because of his anti-establishment views in which he sought to counteract the growth of the extreme right and the white power-culture in schools and among young people.  Sounds kind of familiar, doesn't it?

And finally this sentiment:
“Always retain the ability to walk away, without sentimentality, from a situation that felt unmanageable. That was a basic rule of survival. Don't lift a finger for a lost cause.” ~Stieg Larsson

Walking away without sentimentality is one of the most difficult things.  How is it possible to not have some sentimentality, some grief, some regret?  I have too much sentiment,  I think.  I have found it easy to walk away in the heat of anger. That's the self-righteous part when anger fuels the feet and the mind to distance itself.  But, that fuel gets reduced to fumes when the reality of regret, sadness and great loss come in.  I would like to not lift a finger for a lost cause, but I am a sucker for them.  The underdog, the lost, the downtrodden have intrigued me for a long time.  It is a reason that I was attracted to alcoholics and the unmanageable life.  Sometimes you just have to trust your heart, dive for dreams,  and see where that leads you.


dive for dreams
dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for good likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were.


silently if, out of not knowable


silently if, out of not knowable
night's utmost nothing,wanders a little guess
(only which is this world)more my life does
not leap than with the mystery your smile
sings or if (spiralling as luminous
they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,
less into heaven certainly earth swims
than each my deeper death becomes your kiss
losing through you what seemed myself,i find
selves unimaginably mine;beyond
sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears
yours is the light by which my spirit's born:
yours is the darkness of my soul's return
-you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars 

~ee cummings

Storming within

A weather front turned this warm fall day into a rainy and windy one. That was the atmosphere at the noon meeting too where one of the long timers pounded the table because he has given up, isolated and lost his spirituality over the past two months.

With pamphlets and books bouncing as he pounded, he told of feeling worthless and unloved, of being angry with God for letting his father beat his mother, and for not wanting to trust or reach out to anyone. I imagine that for others, besides me, his behavior was a reminder of unmanageability that we have acted on or experienced from others. Yet, after the meeting, he was hugged and told that he had been missed.

I know my experience of feeling less than and disliked by others comes from long ago rejections. I shared with him that I still can get caught up in a swirl of negative thinking and self-pity. What has helped me to quiet the storm within is knowing that my perception is distorted--not everyone is out to get me. They are most likely just trying to get by and may be experiencing their own moments of doubt and pain due to their shortcomings. We are so similar in our humanness because we each have been wounded by living life. Once I realize that others react because of their own set of circumstances, I understand and have compassion for our human condition. We are all struggling in some way to quiet the storms within. I hope that he will find his way.

Pretty photos and a rant

I want to share a few of the sights of yesterday. The weather has been terrific! I need to focus on the pretty here because the not so pretty is bubbling up.


The dolphins are abundant this weekend. I watched them jumping out of the water and cruising by. They seem to find the boat interesting, often swimming right beside it.


The beach had its share of crazies but all were located in one area. Once the gauntlet is run, there is nothing but peace and quiet. The shrimp boats come near the beach, plying a nearly lost trade in this area. Foreign imports and fuel prices have made most go out of business.


The sand dollar is actually related to the sea stars. When alive, these critters move along the bottom feeding on algae and small invertebrates. Most of the ones I find are the shell. These are fragile and often broken by the waves.


The ghost crab is one of my favorite beach critters. It can see in all directions with those stalked eyes. Most are hiding out in their burrows during the day. At night, they run to the water to wet their gills.

I don't know how much longer I will be coming to this little island that I treasure. I have spent some wonderful days and nights here. It has been a place of peace. Summer though brings some fairly wild and crazy people with a lot of bad behavior. I have written about the stuff that happens here before: the drinking, unsafe boating, the loud profane music and the women that denigrate themselves by pandering to the sexist males on the power yachts.

Today, I am just fed up. I heard a fellow call a woman some terrible names yesterday. He was about to back into our boat, and she was scared. I have to say that one of the things that throws me into a rage is someone talking disrespectfully and rudely about women or to an individual who is doing no harm. It is hard, saddening, and frightening to watch real people in the real world say hateful things.

The woman was deflated and horrified. She evidently was a guest on his boat. Because his boat was caught up in an anchor line, our two boats were side by side. He eventually offered a kind of off hand apology after I said to knock it off. An apology is not a solution. The real solution is to to be aware and to change behavior.

Words do hurt, even if we are taught that they don't matter. If someone makes sexist jokes, says crude sexist things, and perpetuates sexist ideas that women don't have brains or that they are not valuable unless you think they are sexy, whatever that means, they are low lifes to me.

The gleeful skewering of another person, the disregard for their thoughts and opinions, and the total lack of respect for another person, whoever they are, leaves me sad. I know that this happens every day to all manner of people. And I know that we each have our moments of disregard for others. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t sad to see this happen up close.

And since this incident involved a woman, I want to note that the kind of sexism that places value on women’s appearance before anything else is rampant in our society. Flaws can and will be found with any person if hateful people need them to be there.

What I think this incident reveals is the degree to which hateful beliefs can become ingrained and invisible, and come out especially in moments in which a person feels threatened. When an instinctual, and later intentional response is predicated on racism or sexism or any kind of bigotry, we owe it to ourselves not to sweep our actions under the rug and say we are really a good or nice person, except this one time. Instead it is time to take an honest look at what the root of the issue is.

I needed to write about this because I sorely wanted to kick his ass. That is the instinct that I am inventorying.

Relationship between domestic violence and alcohol

I've always thought that there was a link between alcohol abuse and domestic violence. Statistics do indicate a connection between alcohol and drug abuse and domestic violence. In fact, 92 % of domestic abuse assailants reported use of alcohol or other drugs on the day of the assault, according to an article in JAMA.

But there are other studies that question whether there is a cause-and-effect relationship. Although research indicates that among men who drink heavily, there is a higher rate of assaults resulting in injury, the majority of men classified as high-level drinkers do not abuse their partners. Also, the majority (76 percent) of physically abusive incidents occur in the absence of alcohol use. In short, it appears that alcohol does not and cannot make a man abuse a woman, but it is frequently used as an excuse. Many men drink and do not abuse anyone as a result. On the other hand many men abuse women when they are sober.

One of the vivid incidents in my life that still comes back to haunt me happened when I was in graduate school. I was having dinner at my major advisor's house. It was a late dinner which always happened there because happy "hour" generally lasted about five hours resulting in dinner around 10 PM.

Anyway, there was a knock on the door. I was closest so I opened the door. There stood an older woman naked from the waist up, with dark bruises on her torso, her lip busted and bleeding, and her eye blackened. She was crying and begging to come in saying that her husband had beat her up.

I remember feeling shock, horror, fear and anger all rushing at me at once. I must have been in shock because I invited her in as if she were another guest coming to dinner. My date also looked horrified but had the presence of mind to grab an afghan off the back of a chair to cover the lady.

By this time, my major adviser and his wife came in and seemed to be nonplussed. The wife lived next door. Evidently, the husband was a drunk who on occasion would take his frustrations out on his wife and beat her up. I wanted to call the police but was told that it was best to stay out of it--The couple would handle it "their" way. So after getting a shirt for the lady to wear and making sure that she wasn't going to die right away, my major adviser escorted the beaten wife home, found the husband passed out, and left her to take care of herself.

I know that I didn't have a role in the abuse but have also had to face the regret that I have had about not doing more for the battered woman. I had never seen battery of another person. But I acquiesced to what my major adviser said. It's one of those things that I have inventoried.  And perhaps that particular incident had a lot to do with speaking up last week that I wrote about in this post.  I have read that getting the police involved can also trigger more violence.

Whether or not domestic violence is "caused" by alcohol seems academic when faced with the real thing. Experts have reached a consensus on several common characteristics among batterers -- they are controlling, manipulative, often see themselves as victims, and have major league denial. Abusers suffer from low self-esteem and don't take responsibility for their actions. They are filled with fear and seek to dominate someone else. 

There are many informational sites on the web about domestic violence. Here is a list of some of them: http://alcoholism.about.com/od/abuse/Domestic_Abuse_and_Violence.htm

Good samaritan?

God, what a day yesterday.  I was so tired when I got home around midnight last night that I didn't even shower.  I just fell into bed, hugged C. and told her I loved her, patted Mr. Moose on his needle nose that was stuck in my face, and then fell asleep.  I did not read a blog, I did not write a post.  I also did not eat much or drink enough water.  I was emotionally and physically drained.

I'll tell you about the day.  The morning started with my going to a fast food joint near the boat yard. I don't go to fast food places anymore.  But yesterday morning I was hungry and in a hurry.  First mistake.

 

The drive through service was backed up about a half mile, so I went inside. Second mistake.  So I ordered a biscuit, sat down at the plastic table on a plastic chair and was about to wolf down the biscuit and get out as quickly as possible when a young man came rushing up to a young woman who was standing in line.  He started yelling at her.  He had his fists balled up and was pacing back and forth yelling at her like a maniac. 

I looked up at the other people in line who were pretending as hard as they could that both these people would disappear.  The young woman was telling the crazy guy to please be quiet and to stop.  But he kept yelling to not give her any food because she stole his money.  And he said that he was going to beat her.

Bingo. He said the wrong words.  I looked at him as he was maybe five feet from me.  And I said something like "You need to stop yelling at her and leave now." God, I hate myself when I get in protective mode.   I cannot stand to see someone cowering and being threatened.  This guy was not big but he appeared to be high on something.  I thought that perhaps a fairly stern warning would evoke some flight response. 

Instead he came over and started getting in my face.  So I got up, towering over him, and said that I was going to get my phone (the one time I left it in the car) and was calling the police.  Okay.  That should make him leave, right?  Nope.  He follows me outside, yelling at me, with the young woman telling him to stop.  The frozen people in the fast food joint were watching all this without moving a muscle, pretending still that this is just normal and continuing to order their whatevers. 

So I go to my car, not really turning my back on him, but telling him to get away from me as I was calling the police, and he might just want to head on out.  He just kept getting in my face and screaming at me.  He told me that he could do what he wanted to his wife.  He could yell at her and hit her if he wanted. His fists were balled up, and he was acting like a crazy man.  I told him to get away from me.  I was seriously getting ready to plant a size 13 foot right in the middle of his chest followed by a hard right to the face,  when I saw a police car.

As luck (or HP) would have it, a police car drove by just at the moment and slowed for the light.  I walked quickly to the police car and told the officer that there was a domestic dispute going on right here, right now and to turn around.  He did a U turn and within seconds was right there.  Within a minute three other police cars were right there. 

So the police get out,  start talking to the guy who said that I was making threats at him.  Everyone went off to their respective corners--me with one officer, the girl with another, the fellow with another.  A fourth was standing amongst this happy little enclave ready to taze or do whatever was necessary if any of us made the wrong moves. 

So I told the officer what happened.  He told me that I could go back in the fast food joint and wait until he talked to the other two.  So back I go to purgatory.  I am looked at like I am some kind of homeless guy making trouble when I go back in.  I was wearing jean shorts, a tee shirt, a two day old beard and probably had a nervous twitch by now.  So I can see the confusion. 

The lady who I took to be the manager came over and asked if I was okay.  I wanted to say, "Yes, I do this every day.  It is a great way to get a huge adrenalin rush in the morning." But I said I had been better.  She said that those two were regulars but "He don't usually act quite that bad." Great.  I can only imagine having  to deal with the regular crowd every morning. 

The policeman then came in and told me that the fellow didn't actually make any physical contact with his wife or me, so he couldn't be charged with anything.  He is known by the police as a guy with temper problems and a few other issues that he didn't go into.  He thanked me for stepping up as a "good citizen" but cautioned against getting involved in the future.  He said the best thing would be to quietly step outside and call the police. 

Yes,  I definitely heard him.  I know how stupid I was.  The guy could have had a knife or a gun.  I know that something in me bubbled up when I saw nobody making a move to do anything.  It was like I couldn't help myself.  It was something deep and instinctual. 

So I left, got in my car, and drove past the guy who was surrounded by three police with papers in their hands.  I guess he was getting charged with something or being given a warning.  The young woman who he said was his wife was sitting alone on the curb with her head in her hands.  I rolled down the window as I drove past and said, "Take care of yourself."  She wanly smiled and said thanks.  That was it. 

When I got to the boat,  I had already beaten myself far worse than that guy would have.  Thankfully, the engine started, and I was able to get underway.  All of that went smoothly.  But instead of enjoying the first thirty minutes of the trip, I was continuing to beat myself up: "You know better. You could have gotten up and called outside. What were you looking for--a fight?".  Sigh. 

But I gave myself those thirty or so minutes and then I focused on the buoys and markers, calling the bridge tender to open the bridge, and the boat which is magical and beautiful.  By the time I got to the marina,  the residual of the experience was just about gone. 

For the rest of the day, I just worked on moving things from my 22 foot faithful boat to the new beauty.  I felt a bit like I was hurting the love of my life. 

Later I went to engine class where we had a good laugh over the misspelling of winch on a handout sheet.  The instructor had written "wench" instead.  You can only imagine what "hooking the strap on the wench" evoked.  Goodhearted laughter felt good.  And the two women in the class had a good laugh with the rest of us as we ribbed the instructor who is an older gentleman and hadn't a clue what his mistake was.  

Then I went back down to the boats to check on them and check the bilge systems, do some caulking on one of the hatches, and hook up to shore power.  Finally, around 11:30 PM, I headed home to another kind of refuge, worn out but with my head cleared of the day's events.  I will repeat from my previous post: Life is an apprenticeship.  I am still an apprentice.

The great divide

He was looking forward to the party and meeting some of her friends. There weren't many opportunities to socialize in this small town. He also was so happy to be with her, pleased to be included in her circle of friends.

They arrived at the party and people greeted her. She didn't bother introducing him. He thought that perhaps this was just an oversight. After all, she hadn't seen some of these people in a while.

So he wandered off to meet people on his own. He stuck his hand out and told people his name, saying how nice it was to meet them. Eventually, he wandered back to where she stood, talking to a fellow that he hadn't met yet. He stood nearby, waiting awkwardly to be introduced. Finally, during a break in the conversation, he introduced himself. The other fellow looked at her and said "Are you two an item?" She quickly said "No" with such finality that he felt his heart shrink and shrivel in his chest.

The other fellow looked perplexed and cast his eyes down. She went on talking, ignoring the one she came with. He stood there awkwardly, hardly able to breathe.

Finally, he knew that he would not fit into her world. He was discarded just as surely as yesterday's garbage. He understood at last that a vast divide stood between them, a deep schism of the psyche that his love could not bridge. He turned to her and said "I am going now" and walked out the door to start his long walk home.

Note: This event actually happened although the details have been left unspecific. It reminds me how difficult it is to love someone who doesn't understand the concept, except as it applies to themselves. Narcissistic and alcoholic to the end, the divide will only widen until one of them is completely lost.

Men are victims too

"Men too are victims and women too are perpetrators; neither sex has a monopoly of vice or virtue" (David Thomas)

I read Mary's post about abuse .  It made me wonder about gender stereotyping when it comes to abuse.  I have lived a life that is relatively free from violence.  I didn't have beatings when I was a child (my father did hit me with his belt once). My father and mother didn't fight.  But there was an incident when I was a teenager in which my father did hit me and I hit him back.  The only incident that has stuck with me was when I witnessed the result of one woman severely beaten by her drunken husband.  It was a frightening and horrific thing.

But Mary's post made me wonder about the other side of the coin in which men are abused.  I don't believe that any one sex has a monopoly on abuse.  Believing that all men are bad makes about as much sense as saying that all black people are ignorant, all women are weak, and all gays are sick.  These are general stereotypes that unfairly put people into categories that rob them of their individuality and basic dignity.  (Please note here that no where in her post did Mary claim that men were bad, evil or totally violent. I am simply wondering about "abuse" and what it may mean if one is a man and on the receiving end).

I know that abuse may take on several forms.  It may be emotional, psychological, physical and spiritual.  There are people in every part of the world, in all types of families and backgrounds who have been damaged by some form of abuse. And men just like women make up a huge percentage of that abuse.

I have been acutely aware for many years how much power men wield.  There is great inequality when it comes to pay and power.  But this comes with a price.  Men are told from a young age that they have to be the protector, provider, authoritarian, and enforcer.  I heard from my father to "buck up", "don't be a sissy", and to not express my emotions: "Don't cry. That's ridiculous." 

I now realize that those things were a reflection of what he had been told.  They couldn't be further from the truth, yet when repeated over time did cause me to be detached from my feelings.  I learned to hide my tears and to put on an appearance of being strong for everyone.

I was taught throughout my youth to respect all people.  It never occurred to me that a woman could be capable of physical abuse.  Yet, the first time it occurred I was stunned. Who do you tell? It's not a situation where you go to your group of friends and tell them that a woman became so enraged that she was physically abusive.  Do you tell them that she made me cry?  It wasn't thinkable at the time.  So I just stood (or sat) there and absorbed it.  Eventually, I had enough and walked away. 

I have talked to men who don't know how to feel emotionally.  They are very fearful of being perceived as weak.  And because of this they are accused by their partners of being emotionally distant.  But there is a link between the messages that little boys and men get on being strong regardless, and how this conditioning does great harm.

Let me assure you that men hurt too.  The emotions of fear, shame, guilt, and anger are similar, if not identical,  to those of women.  The same character defects that I have were also owned by my wife. There is a major difference though: many men keep their emotions hidden away and stuffed, unless they have been fortunate enough to understand that this is unhealthy and destructive.  I meet men in Al-Anon who are still hurting and who have not yet moved beyond the emotional pain of their past and the restrictive parental messages to a freer and more spiritually fit self.

Being the victim of any type of abuse is painful and difficult to overcome.  There is a lot of denial. The cycle of abuse, especially if it takes place over several years, can make the victim feel powerless and very fearful of change.  It is easy to believe that it is your fault.

It isn't so simple for a man to report abuse.  Men are much less likely than women to talk about domestic abuse to friends and family.  Here are some things that I found:

•  research suggests men are 5 times less likely to report abuse
• In general, only 1-2% of men who are assaulted by their female partners are likely to report the abuse to the police or outside agency
• Men contend with sexist stereotypes when it comes to reporting abuse.  They are thought of as weak and pathetic. 
• Men often don't have the social networks in place to easily tell friends what is happening. It's not easy to sit next to another man and tell him that you are being slapped around by your partner. 
• Men may feel isolated and unsupported, feeling alone and that there is no way out of breaking their silence about abuse.
• Although legally domestic violence laws are largely gender-neutral, that does not mean that attitudes are.

So I wanted to raise a bit of awareness here and offer another side to a very tragic picture.