The Monster Thinks He Is An M.D.

(Dean Paul: The Doctor

Biographical Series About My Childhood. This story deals with domestic violence.)

Early on in the marriage of Dean Paul and my mother, the four youngest of us children had earaches and complained of bad pains. Dean Paul was certain that we were all faking and insisted that mom put us to bed and not worry about it. 

As we got worse, my mother ignored my stepfather and took us to the hospital. It turned out that we all had ear infections and were running temperatures over a hundred.

This became an ongoing theme the entire time we lived with my stepfather. If we ever got sick, he just knew that we were faking and he would start calling us names like fakers, pansies, and sissies. Dean Paul mostly worked midnight shifts, so he would be home if we were ill from school.

On those occasions, we were made to stay in our beds all day, until mom came home. Ken and I had beds that were elevated and attached to the walls by two end chains. If Dean caught either of us out of bed he would pick us up and throw us against the wall, where we would slide down into the bed. 

It didn’t take long for me to develop migraines from the household stress. I can remember numerous occasions, lying in my mother’s bed, with my head pounding so hard that I literally just wanted to die. Dean Paul was always stomping about in the background, shouting that I was a dirty faker who was just trying to get attention. It was awful.  

There was no safety in our home, especially when we were sick. We children needed escape. We sought it out. School clubs, band, Dungeons and Dragons; anything we could find. My mother would walk around the block for hours just to get out of that house.

At age ten I developed OCD which presented in repetitive words, actions, and constantly retracing my steps. It only eased up later in life, when I learned that I was using it as a means of having control in an environment where I had none.  

Things were spinning out of control as it was becoming apparent that if we didn’t escape, somebody was going to die.