Tom and I were married in November 1979 in a small private ceremony. A few friends from Tom’s place of employment, my daughters, and two of my closest friends attended. Tom and I had only met five months before, and it had been a short, whirlwind romance.

During the first two years of the marriage, Tom was (for the most part) very attentive, loving, and supportive. We played hard and worked hard. Tom was a very intelligent person, and I was always impressed with his ability to repair just about anything whether mechanical or otherwise. He was a very meticulous, organized person and made every minute of the day count.

Initially, he listened to what the girls, and I had to say, and the communication was great. Each evening around nine o’clock, Tom and I would sit in the kitchen, have a glass of wine and snack, and discuss the day’s events and future plans. I truly felt we had a great relationship, and nothing would ever come between us. I was determined that we would live happily ever after. I could not have fathomed what kind of misery I was in for.

Tom and I were both very busy in our careers. Tom was a plastics engineer, and I had begun a new sales position with a pharmaceutical company.

We had very little time to spend socially; therefore, our lives centered around our home, work, and my two daughters, 13 and 14 years of age. I had never been successful in obtaining any financial or emotional support from the girls’ father, so I had resolved myself to be their sole support. They had always been very good children, and they never caused any major problems even during my unsettling marriage with Tom.

Tom had three children from his first marriage: two sons and a daughter. The daughter was still in college being supported by Tom, while the sons were grown and self-supporting. During the seven years, we were married, I only saw his daughter twice. On several occasions, I asked Tom why they did not spend more time together. His answer was that she did not approve of our marriage. This is called a “Pass the Buck” answer, and one which I would get many times over the next few years. We did spend some quality time with his two sons, with whom I felt we had a fairly close relationship. They were always friendly and congenial. But on one occasion Tom’s younger son expressed very negative feelings about his father. He was visiting with us one afternoon when the girls came home from school. They both greeted Tom with a hug and kiss as they always did, and Tom appeared to be affectionate toward them. His son, Wesley, told me in private that this was not the father that he grew up with and that he hoped I would never know the other Tom.

I was very surprised at what he had said, but in the back of my mind, I also knew other members of Tom’s family had made similar comments. More than once, I had been told that I was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and they could not believe the change in his personality. These comments were confusing to me, but I did not dwell on them since we were getting along so well.

Tom, so far, had been a very loving, compassionate companion. I felt that possibly he had been difficult with people because he was unhappy in his previous marriage. I was certainly not having any problems in our relationship. I would see Tom’s dark side soon enough.-

On occasion, Tom would not take my advice. In other words, he seemed to not value my opinion on what I describe as simple, common-sense issues. For example, we argued once over whether  we could put corn husks down the garbage disposal. I asked him not to, and he insisted it was okay. We had company arriving for Easter dinner within the hour and I asked him again to please not use it. He refused to listen and fifteen minutes before our guests arrived, he still had his head under the sink trying to dislodge the husks.

Another time we were taking down our Christmas tree, and I asked him to please wait for me to get a sheet. I wanted to carry the tree out on the sheet so we would not get needles in the carpet. He refused to wait, and I was cleaning pine needles out of our white shag carpet for the next three months.

I can recall more than one plastic or wooden kitchen utensil which was destroyed when Tom insisted on putting it in the dishwasher. All the while I would be standing beside him asking that he not put them in the washer. And when the melted or discolored item would be pulled from the washer, I never received an apology or heard him say, “You were right.”

These are small incidents but are important when we speak of basic communication and respect.

The first time I saw the dark, moody side of Tom came like a thunderbolt from nowhere. It was eight months after our marriage, and I was cooking on the grill when he came home from work. Instead of his normal hug and kiss, I was greeted by a very nasty cutting remark. This was totally out of character for the man I had been living with. Being in a good mood, I laughed and said, “Lighten up, don’t be such a grouch.” He glared at me and said in a tone I had never heard from him, “Don’t ever call me that again. That’s what my ex-wife used to call me!” I was totally shocked at his behavior and totally confused as to what the hell had just happened. I was feeling great, looking forward to my husband’s arrival and now I was very hurt and upset over what? Had I said or done something to deserve this? The answer is no, but that did not make the pain I felt any less. I took refuge in our bedroom for the next hour until I could settle down and try to figure out why this happened. I searched for excuses. Had he had a terrible day at work and simply taken it out on me?

The answer is that I had just seen the other Tom that I had heard bits and pieces about from family members. But being the optimistic, good-natured female that I am, I was determined to make this marriage work and this man happy. I knew there had to be more good in the person than bad, and I was willing to do what I could to inspire the loving, congenial side to Tom.