Many years ago, I had a friend named Sandy. To protect what is left of her family, I will not give out her last name. I met Sandy when I was just in my early twenties. We hit it off right away at an arts & crafts show. It seemed that Sandy loved to paint arts & crafts and pictures just like me. Sandy could draw anything she looked at and was good at it. We would get together and go out to different places, such as eating out, bowling, skating, going to the movies, fishing, and to the lake. Maybe just out shopping. It was window shopping because neither of us had much money.

I was divorced and had a small child. Sandy had never been married, nor did she have any children. Sandy was good at spoiling my son with ice cream, treats, or toys. She loved children and often would babysit for several other people. Sandy was a very caring and loving person.  She had a heart of gold, and she would help anyone. If you had very little to eat, she would go out and buy groceries for you. If Sandy did not have to work and your child was sick, she would come to your home, babysit for you, and not charge you a dime.  So you could go to work.

If you needed anything, she would give it to you or get it for you, no questions asked.  She was always there lending a hand and helping others. We had been friends for about two years when we were invited to a church function, not far from where her aunt lived. As a matter of fact, Sandy’s aunt was the one who invited us. We ended up going and having a really nice time. Sandy met a man there who was two years older than her. She later found out he was the preacher’s son. And so, it began! Sandy started going to church there every Sunday.

 There were times when I would go with her. It was not long after that Sandy started dating the preacher’s son. He was a very nice-looking man, and his name was Bret. They looked and acted like a perfect couple.  At that time, I was very happy for Sandy because I knew she wanted to get married and have at least two children. After six months had passed, Bret decided to ask Sandy to marry him, and she said yes!  I, on the other hand, was now not too sure about this upcoming marriage. I had very good reasons for being troubled by his marriage proposal.

One of the main reasons was the fact that during the time they started dating and I had been around them, I started to notice something about Bret that made me uncomfortable. Bret displayed a controlling behavior towards Sandy. This was especially true when other men from the church or any social gathering would talk to her, even when they had just spoken to her. I saw his temper get the best of him on several occasions. Bret and Sandy were finally married six months after they started dating. I tried my very best to talk to Sandy about Bret’s behavior.

 I begged her to wait a little bit longer, so she could get to know Bret better. Something did not feel right, and my gut instincts told me this! I remember speaking to her one night shortly after they had announced their engagement. We were outside in her backyard cooking on the grill. I did not know that Bret had arrived at the house. That he was standing around the corner of the house and listening. Sandy went inside the house to get more ice. Bret came walking around the corner. He had a nasty expression on his face, and I could tell he was mad.

He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “If you know what’s good, you better learn to mind your own damn business!” I knew at that time, this marriage was going to be wrong for Sandy.  Again, I tried several times to talk to her about the little things I noticed concerning Bret’s behavior towards and around her. She would always make excuses for him.  I tried to call and talk to Sandy several times after the marriage. Bret was the one who usually answered the phone, or if Sandy did answer, I could tell by the way she talked that he was somewhere nearby.

It was about 3 months after their marriage that I saw Sandy again in person and at church. Sandy barely spoke to me. I noticed that in the dead of the summer, Sandy had on a long-sleeved dress and sweater,  plus she had a scarf tied around her neck. She looked very pretty, but for some reason, I could not get that picture out of my mind. Mainly because I knew Sandy well and she did not like to wear a lot of clothes during the summer months.   I got a phone call at 2:00 AM one morning shortly after that weekend. It was Sandy, and she was in the emergency room.

I got dressed and went to the emergency room. I can honestly say that what I saw when I got there broke my heart.  I cried for her and with her. She was covered in bruises from her head to her ankles. A busted and bleeding lip, two teeth knocked loose, a broken wrist, and bruised ribs. After being discharged, Sandy came back to my place. It was during the time she was asleep that I heard her crying out in her sleep, begging Bret not to hurt her. I was so angry that I wanted him locked up for life. Unfortunately, that did not happen.

 Two days later, he showed up at my place begging Sandy for forgiveness and asking her to come back home with him. Bret claimed that it was alcohol that made him hurt her. He promised not to drink anymore. He said he loved her more than his own life. Bret stood outside for twenty minutes begging while I tried so hard to tell Sandy it was just a “front”.  During the next two years, I made at least one trip, it seems like every four to six weeks to the local hospital emergency department to pick Sandy up and bring her back to my place or to visit her as a patient in the hospital.

Once I even got her to press charges against Bret. And it blew my mind when Bret’s parents came to the hospital to see her. It was not out of concern for Sandy. Bret’s father, “the so-called preacher,” told Sandy it was her place to stand by her husband as he went through a difficult time in his life. So again, Sandy dropped the charges and went back to Bret. Two months later, Sandy called to tell me she was pregnant. She was so excited and happy that finally she was going to be a “Mommy!” I was happy for her but afraid just as well. I know Sandy was hoping Bret would change.

I remember Sandy telling me that Bret again promised to stop drinking. What Sandy nor I knew was that Bret was not only drinking heavily but also using hard-core illegal drugs. It was one of the reasons he had horrible mood swings and took his anger out on Sandy. Once I heard a doctor in the emergency room tell Sandy that she was Bret’s punching bag. And if she did not leave permanently, he was going to one day seriously hurt her. It always made me so upset that every time Sandy left Bret, of course his parents were always there telling her it was her responsibility to stand by him.

When Sandy was a little over seven months pregnant, Bret came home one night in a bad mood. He pushed Sandy, and she fell fourteen steps down a stairway. Bret just walked out the door, but not before he told her to get up off the floor and go to bed. Somewhere after midnight, I got a call from Sandy. She is crying so hard I could barely understand her. I finally got her to calm down, only to tell me that Bret had pushed her and she fell down the stairs in her hallway from the very top. Sandy asked me to come pick her up and take her to the hospital because she thought that she was in early labor.

 I will never forget that night or the next day. Sandy was in active labor and bleeding a lot. On Tuesday morning at 2: 15 am, Sandy’s son came into the world. A beautiful little boy with dark black hair, fair skin, and who looked so perfect but was not breathing. He never took his first breath. Sandy held her son for a very long time. The doctor, nurses, and even I had to continue to talk to her to release his body to the funeral home. The police came the next day. But so did Bret’s parents. Bret’s father somehow convinced Sandy that it was “God’s will that the child was not to live!”

He did not even refer to the baby as his grandson. And he talked Sandy out of pressing charges against Bret. After Sandy was discharged from the hospital, several days later her son was finally buried. Sandy stayed with me for three weeks. Unfortunately, Bret was trying every day to make her come home. I was at work when I found out she had indeed gone back home to him. Bret’s father {the preacher} came by my job and told me that I needed to stay out of their marriage. He said that a few of Sandy’s other friends and I needed to leave her and Bret alone so their marriage could work.

 I told Bret’s father that the marriage was never going to work because his son had serious drinking, gambling, and drug problems. That his son had no respect for Sandy.  That he was a lousy person and preacher himself, for telling her to go back to this son. That his son needed serious help and he should be locked up in jail for murder. Two weeks after Sandy went back home with Bret, he came home one night and started yelling, crying, hitting, and kicking her. He used his fists to beat her in the face. A female neighbor heard the noise and called the police.

However, by the time the police got to the house, Sandy had already found Bret’s handgun. She shot and killed him! Eventually, there was a trial. Sadly, at that time the world did not consider the permanent damage that domestic violence does to a woman. The world did not look at post-traumatic stress disorder as they do now. They did not consider the damage that was done to Sandy’s state of mind by the way Bret beat on her and treated her or the death of her son. The doctor stated that had it not been for Bret pushing Sandy, her son would have lived.

Sandy told me that when she went back home with Bret, within days he had started in on her again with the beating, finally, in her mind, I guess, she had enough.  I asked her while she was in jail, “What was different this time around that made you fight back!” I remember Sandy looking at me and saying,” Dee, I remembered holding my baby boy and knowing he would never take his first breath, never take his first steps in life, never smile, never have a birthday party, and never call me “Mommy” all because his father destroyed his life.”

And she then told me, “Dee, I knew when I left the hospital it would be only a matter of time before I was going to take Bret’s life!” I asked her, “Why did you not just walk away from him permanently! “Sandy stated that she no longer cared because she had nothing to live for. Then she further informed me the doctor had told her due to internal injuries and the severity of her hemorrhaging, she would never be able to have any more children.  Sandy also told me before her trial began, “Dee, what have I got to live for now! Every time I close my eyes, I see my tiny son’s lifeless body!”

Sandy went to prison for 18 years, just two weeks shy of her 30^th birthday. Years later, after serving her time, several friends knew she would visit her son’s grave as soon as she got out.  And I knew she would go to the cemetery to visit his grave. But I did not know the depths of her depression. I did not know that while in prison she was not really treated for severe depression. The caretaker for the cemetery found her Tuesday morning at sunrise. At first, he thought she was kneeling and praying until he walked around in front of her and saw dried blood. Sandy took her own life at her son’s graveside.

Sandy was only 48 years old.  The Sandy that I knew never recovered from her son’s death.  The carefree, loving, and giving person that Sandy was  stopped existing. One time I visited her in prison, she told me that she died inside completely the day her son was born dead. I remember asking the prison chaplain to please talk to Sandy. I know that during her prison time several of her friends and myself as well, wrote letters and visited her. I noticed every time I looked into her eyes; she had no emotions there. It was like she was miles away in another world.

Where there is domestic violence, you can bet there is mental illness. It is hard for anyone who has suffered from domestic violence to not have scars for the rest of their lives. Unfortunately, not all scars are shown. What one feels inside does not show. Most individuals think that post-traumatic stress disorder {PTSD} only affects military members who have been to war. Post -traumatic stress disorder {PTSD} can affect anyone, at any age, who has been through a traumatic experience. Years ago, the medical field and society did not know that much about PTSD.

NOTE: If things in your life are difficult. If you are having problems coping with everyday life. If you feel the world is closing in on you. If someone is treating  you bad…. Please seek help as soon as possible before you hurt yourself or someone else!

Call the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline!