So here is what I think: If you are going through any form of domestic abuse and you are staying put for whatever reason, you are simply enabling it. Walking away will help you save your life and help the beast get help.

READ THE STORY BELOW & FORM YOUR OPINION

My reactions was swift and shocking, even to my alcohol-flooded mind. A hard slap on the right cheek, another unforgiving follow-up on the left… I thought of using my blows, but then I realized it would be a sheer waste of effort. I kicked her like I was aiming for the goal post 20yards out; and I pushed her, frighteningly against the wardrobe. She was shocked at my venom, but her shock only added to my freefall I went closer, slapped her hard across the face some more. She kept crying, then gently calling my name in an endless sob. I trapped her feet under my knee, looked closer to her face and beholding the blood – THE BLOOD! I felt no remorse, just more anger as I remember all the unpleasant things she had been saying moments earlier.

And while I was about to knock her out with another blinding slap, she open her mouth-possibly to call my name, and the blood that spurted jolted me to momentary sanity. I stood up, looked upon her once more, spitted and picked my car keys, heading again for the Bar that has literally become my home for almost 2 years now

For almost 2years, the ritual has been the same in my home. It started with the global melt down and the mad job cuts from the bank I was a manager in one of the hopeless banks, until I lost my job with little or nothing kept aside for the raining days

And when indeed the rains approached, it was a blinding storm with accompanying flood I soon had too much time on my hands, with 2 children to feed, bills to pay and a wife to take care off

My life was in tatters as application after application never even attracted a single interview I sat all day watching CNN and Crime, and when the kids arrive back home it became a hell of a time

The evening were the boring-est, as I had to cope with everyone’s summary of activities but mine Sooner rather than later, I discovered the bar – perfect hideout and getaway

With my club affiliation came inescapable alcohol and drug association I soon developed a routine of going out at 6pm and arriving at 2am-which I comically claim was my 8hours of work time

I soon started spending our children’s saving, even as family upkeep depleted my wife’s account Sure it was a tough time that needed me to dig deep, but I melted away like a statue of snow in spring Then it started!

With sudden query and gentle probing my wife daily crawled under my skin She kept asking how I spent my day, what I do with my evenings or which meal I made for lunch My irritation grew even as my lips soon became glued as I kept keeping mute

Somewhere somehow, she lost her awe of me, and began to complain before the children And while I should have sucked it in, cleaned my life and moved on, I wallowed in it I spent hours upon hours brooding over her hiss.

Or even more hours pondering over her gait or the sound of her morning greetings – how it didn’t convey enough respect Then my water broke late one night I arrived right on time at 2am, noisily entered the room and headed for bed

I woke my wife, demanding my conjugal rights as husband, and instead of agreeing or refraining, she went on a wild un-welcomed rant YES-I was drunk, and NOPE-I wasn’t prepared for my impulsive reaction, I slapped her so hard my hand twitched

She was more dazed and shocked by my retort to violence than by the sting of the slap. I worried at my violent reaction, but relieved at the release of my pent up emotions

Indeed I had never thought of hitting her before, but that slap gave me a thrill. My burden was lifted and suddenly I found THERAPY.

Though I clearly apologized the next morning, even as my wife was dignified with a red face as she lied to the children. We kept at it, with my anger not rearing its head for awhile

Soon days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. But sooner, the frustrations started boiling over and the violence re-commenced. I hit her again, but this time it was deliberate and well thought out.

Soon our arguments became commonplace, and my hands on her face or her bloody stains on my shirts became the routine. I didn’t realize I was destroying everything I built with my hands, as I kept at the club, drugs and alcohol

It wasn’t long before the children witness the arguments, then the shouting and of course the beatings. I became a pariah-easily offended and clearly left alone to myself

Then I got a job, an even better one than my bank job. A senior manager’s role at one of the top Telecommunications company. But instead of things getting better it actually became worse.

Before, I only had physical powers, but now I had regained my economic authority, and some semblance of my ego and pride. But nothing truly changed. I still treated my wife like dirt and my kids like trophies or play things

Love was lost in my home; my wife abhorred me, my kids avoided me Each time I entered the sitting room, everyone scurried away, including our pets Each time I walked past, there was an unholy hush

No one knew what would make me angry, and in trying to avoid that, they avoided me completely Yes, money had return to my pocket and our savings was being re-reimbursed

Yes, I had cut out the incessant clubbing and the drugs, though I still kept some bit of the alcohol Yes, the arguments are few and far between, and the beating was becoming even less

But the cracks in my home were widening My wife no longer shared our room but slept with the kids My children no longer played with me, but maintained their robotic respect

Things weren’t as bad as they were economically, but things also were far from what it should be emotionally Then I decided to work it all out To call my family, have a sit down and a tough discussion

The day was the last Saturday in august What was supposed to be the day everything was set right; unfortunately, it turned out to be the day Armageddon was unleashed

I had read on some idiotic website, about how being democratic was the way to lead your home And in trying to hear their opinion, I was forced to face the truth which I couldn’t stomach. I was forced to face myself-and the beast in me

My kids started with the ranting-you really can’t believe what they teach them in school these days With their fearfulness gone-as I had encouraged them to say whatever was on their mind

They mentioned my drug and alcohol problems, the way I treated their mom, my disjointed lack of responsibility or sense of irresponsibility-everything was in torrents Sooner, my wife joined the brigade, and as she spoke she began to cry as she remember everything

In the emotional mood, her voice started rising, as she let out all the feelings and anger she harbored against me I am sure she didn’t know when words like “stupid” and ‘foolish” entered her vocabulary in her description of my person or past actions

But this animal in me just wouldn’t accept such unintended dents on my pride I told them the session was over-without allowing them to truly really finish And just as my wife said she knew I wasn’t really repented or intent or healing my home

Again my hands responded, again her blood reacted to the blows In no time it was slaps again, and kicks and screams, and tears and blood Our children came to hold me back, but I threw them aside like work tools in a mechanic’s workshop-with each suffering an injury or two

Truly I hadn’t been on drug for a reasonable while, but my act and reaction were just as it was if I was unduly influenced. I left home in a fit of anger and shameful regret. I was trying to build again what I tore-yet I wasn’t willing to accept responsibility for my actions

But as the anger wore off, and sanity slowly returned, I realized I desperately needed help First, what would make me hit the woman I promised to love cherish and protect, till death do us path?

Whatever makes me assault a defenseless woman, and my children when all they have said is the truth about my past indiscretions? What really gets me so angry in a way that words alone cannot express myself but with fist?

What enrages me so bad, that I find no rest until I hit someone or something? What is this thing in me, that although I see my wife gradually withering away under my fist of fury, yet I couldn’t bring myself to stop and take notice?

As I ponder on these questions in pitiful wonder. With little making sense and definitely no answer on what to do going forward, I quickly decided to at least head home and apologize again

And also to immediately seek for professional anger management therapy and maybe even spiritual counseling. When I got home, my trauma went full circle as my wife and kids were missing

Dashing all around our home, I soon realized that our wardrobe and the children’s’ was missing significant clothing So I started to dial my wife’s phone, the same line I have memorized since I started wooing her as a single lady-just finishing her NYSC

She didn’t pick up and my apprehension doubled. I called her parents, and they neither picked too. I called her favorite sister, her other siblings and then her close friends.

They all gave me attitude as they had each encountered my nuisance during those drama-filled days when i lost my job I couldn’t guess where to go to, so I decided to drive to her parent’s house just 30 minutes away. On approaching, their gate was locked.

I knocked till I was knackered, as Musa, their gateman must have been ordered not to answer the gate despite picking up a hefty tip each time I visited in the past I waited outside the gates. Minutes morphed into hours and soon it was dusk

I was prepared to pass the night there if the gates weren’t opened. And to my pleasant amazement, my phone rang; even though to my unfortunate incredulity, it still was bad news

Her dad was the caller, and with an icy tone he passed his message briskly “If you don’t leave my gate in minutes, you would spend quality years in jail, I promise you’ Without allowing me a response he cut the call, but in three seconds or less, I got the message

My wife was at least safe and recuperating in the comfort of her parent’s home. And my kids had the safety of their grandparents to protect them from the animal I had just become.

I went home being utterly disappointed that I couldn’t go home with my family, but at least thankful that they were safe NOW-It’s been months and still my family hasn’t yet returned

Not one call have been made from them, neither have they answered nor returned any of mine I did visit my children’s school, but their proprietor has been given express order-from my father in-law I guess, not to allow me access to see them

The house is hollow and lifeless without them I have been feasting on noodles and CNN nonstop, hoping that someday I would arrive from work to see my family.

Now I have lost or I am about to lose the most important things in my world-MY FAMILY By my hands, my home is cracking under the weight of my personal demons And now I cry out for help

I agree that I need help to help me manage, curtail and control these anger issues of mine I agree that I need help to help me know how to respect my wife and treat her with the dignity, love and respect that she deserves

I agree that I need help to parent aright my kids, to teach, instruct and discipline them in love without physically assaulting them or throwing them around like worn-out tools

I agree that I need help to remain sane and keep my anger in check, to not commit manslaughter and end up in jail, to not be served a divorce notice and lose my precious family

I desperately need help to conquer this beast in me, so that my life can have a brand new meaning I need help to wake up from these nightmares, and to begin living life as I really should Would you help me out?

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