A number of people have asked me to tell my life story since I have hinted at some of my unusual experiences. So I think the best point to begin is the night that ended my 10-year marriage.

It was a Friday night and my husband Tim came home drunk. This had become his usual practice for the past two years. He claimed his boss was causing him increased stress and he had to stop off with the guys to unwind. At first he would come home a little tipsy about when I got our son off to bed. He would insist on fucking me and then fall off to sleep. But on this final night he came in very late, slamming doors and banking things around.

I asked him to be quiet so he did not wake little Timmy. “Don’t you fuckin’ start on me,” he shouted, “My boss was on my ass all day and I don’t need you hassling me.” I held my tongue because he had begun slapping me around if I upset him.

As soon as he was undressed he threw back the covers. I had on a sheer short nightgown and he asked, “What the fuck you got that thing on for?” I raise up to remove it but before I could get it all the way off he yanked at it and it hung up on my right arm hurting me. I shoved him away and in his drunken state he fell to the floor. I tossed the nightgown off and looked up at him just in time to catch a fist in the face. “Don’t you fuckin’ push me again,” he said as he hit me again and again.