We arrived in England approximately Aug. of 1998. We were all tired as the plane flight was eight hours. The kids (ages 8, 6, 4) did great. Even my 2 year old Justin did not complain.
Our sponsors picked us up at the airport and brought us back to their home for some food and drinks. We then went to a temporary apartment until they could fix up our home for us. The Lt. officer housing was too small for our big family, so they were going to move us to Lt. Col. housing (see link at bottom of my blog. this takes you to a picture of our "white" house. Note our bulky van to the left of house. It is on red page 48). We all slept for about 12 hours when we arrived. Then it was time to get ready for the movers and Kevin had to sign in to his unit.
It was a challenge to unload our home, get the kids ready for school, learn the surrounding area and drive...Oh my-The driving. It was very stressful. We had a full size Dodge Caravan and the streets of England were not built for a vehicle that size. Also, I had to learn how to drive on the other side of the road...YIKES! But, I managed and made the best of it. The children adapted well in their schools. "K" and "M" went to Curridge Primary School and "J" and "A" went to Crabtree Pre-School. I was very impressed with the schools and I volunteered twice a week at "K" and "M" school. Then, twice a week at the pre-school. I truly enjoyed my work with the children.
Kevin was very busy with his master’s program. It was through the Royal School of Military Survey, based alongside the Regiment at Hermitage in Berkshire. Officers attend the Army Survey Course and, if successful, are awarded a Master of Science degree in Defense Geographic Information (Topography). The demand on these soldiers was intense and I started to fear Kevin’s attitude as it did affect his behavior towards me at home. I stayed pretty busy with the children and family support get-togethers. But in the evenings, Kevin would have high strung moments. He started to stress over this school and if he was stressed then I knew that his outbursts would be erratic and violent.
His completing this school was detrimental to his career. Without a Masters degree, Kevin would not be promoted to Captain. Once again, I pondered why he gave up his masters in the states and why did he have to leave so abruptly only needing 6 more credit hours to obtain a Masters in Business? Deep down inside my soul, I knew he was hiding something. I would find out years later what his secret is.
Perhaps with the intensity of Kevin’s school or being forced to accept England; whatever the reason, Kevin only engaged with me for sex or beatings. Our marriage was stale. We both went through our daily routines and when we saw each other, it was mostly just a stare in each other’s direction. It got to the point that the two of us would only exchange a few words over a several day period. I became fine with that as once again, I would rather have him ignore me than beat me. The children thrived in England. I was so happy with their education and their friends. "K" and "M" do not remember talking with British accents and now I wish I would have tape recorded them. My focus was the kids, and to me, they seem to be happy and relaxed. Once again, children sense things stronger, see things, hear things, observe and looking back, the kids knew that their father and I were not even friends anymore and it frightened them. Sometimes, children "appear" to be the most happy when they know mom and dad hate each other. The children got a Masters degree in PRETENDING and I was the perfect teacher on this subject. All of us got use to Daddy shoulder shucking mom into the wall as he passed, and the shoves, the dirty looks, and yelling. It became a mainstay and perversely, it became normal “Daddy behavior” for our children. I allowed it to become normal and today I see how horribly harmful that was to the Landers children who PRETENDED to be happy little kids.
Up to this point, one of the more severe mentally abusive acts by Kevin in England was the evening Kevin held a drill to my face in our kitchen. My day had been a crazy one as I had to drive 40 minutes to nearest American military installation (Croughton Air Force Base) to shop and then pick up the children from friends. I had just unloaded the groceries so the counters were full of grocery bags. I had not cleaned the dishes from the night before so the kitchen was a mess. Kevin had come home early and I could tell he was in a very bad mood. I chose not to ask why. I just started unloading the groceries. Kevin changed out of his military uniform and started slamming around the kitchen. Now looking back I find it interesting that Kevin had been abusing me for 8 years at that point, however up to this time, he would always change out of the respected uniform and put on civilian clothing prior to abusing me. During this England assignment, Kevin resented having to forfeit his business Masters and, in a way, England is where Kevin first started showing less respect for his role as an officer. Back to Kevin’s tantrum. After changing clothes and storming through the house, I ignored him. He was strange about me ignoring his childish tantrums. Sometimes Kevin did not want me to talk at all because he always said I talked too much and repeated myself. Other times, when he was not in the mood to degrade and beat me, he would have me tell him about my day and my plans for the next day. So, my ignoring Kevin on this evening, I thought was a good move. A safe move. But I was wrong, again. Kevin had come in from getting his drill out of his tool box. He proceeded to attempt to drill a hole in the wall to hang a picture and his drill bit broke. I knew when that happened I was in danger. I asked him if I could help with anything and he said "just stay out of it." So, I did. Once again, ignoring his temper tantrums. He would stomp past me, slam cabinets, cuss and kept trying to drill a hole in the wall. Once again, another drill bit broke. I was getting nervous, but in a way it was kind of entertaining that he was acting like a two year old who was not getting his way. So, I smiled and said nervously "Kevin, forget the hole and just relax. The picture will be there tomorrow." He was in my face before I knew it. He almost knocked me over when he grabbed me. He had his one arm wrapped around my entire body and was holding painfully hard. I dare not move and was holding my breath. His lips were right up against my ear and he said "You think this is funny?" I did not say a word. I could see he was still holding the drill in his other hand. Once again he said, "So, DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY??" I spoke and I should have not. I said "Kevin, you need to just relax and calm down. It is going to be ok." Kevin repeated what I said with clenched teeth as spit was spewing out of his mouth. "CALM DOWN! CALM DOWN! You stupid lazy bitch." "You have no idea what I go through in this school every day." "You are just a lazy, stupid, country girl and I can't stand the sight of you." Then he turned the drill on. I could feel the heat from it. I stiffened up and said in a real low, firm voice "Take your fucking hands off me asshole" I know I should have not said this. I knew he had the drill and I knew I was walking a very dangerous line. But, at this moment, I did not care. I was mad. I was mad that he always blamed me for his bad moods. To this day he continues to blame me and others for any of his demise. At that moment I knew he was going to hurt me regardless, so I said what was on my mind.
His grip tightened around me, almost like he wanted to remind me that he physically at 190# could once again over power me – all of 5’2 at 115#. He felt strong and tough being able to bully me. I knew I could not break his grip. He held the drill to my face. The drill was not running, when he whispered in my ear with a growl, "I could just take this drill and put a hole in that pretty face of yours." And then he turned the drill on. I could feel the heat and smell the motor. I remember having to change later because of the way I drenched my clothes. I KNEW HE WAS CAPABLE OF HARMING ME. He said, "Tell me you want me to drill your face, because I can if I want to." I just closed my eyes trying not to move and also not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how terrified I was. Then he turned on the drill. Tears rolled down my face as he kept making the drill run fast, then slow, fast then slow. After taunting me several times, he released me and was breathing hard, as though he was excited and had a “rush” for showing me who was boss. I just wrapped my arms around my body as he walked away laughing. I could see his finger prints on my arm and I just stared at him almost waiting for him to turn around and give me an explanation; an apology…maybe he would express a “I’m sorry and I love you”. How crazy this relationship had become. How dangerous. How sad.
As I sat stunned on the floor, he returned into the house and kept glaring at me. Then he walked past me and said, for the first of many times to come “SKANK” … "Skank, I think I will take your advice and just relax. What’s for dinner?" At this point, I am thinking that he is insane. Does he not feel any remorse for holding a drill to my face and threatening to put a hole in my face! As quickly as he became insanely angry, he reverted back to calmness - all within a matter of seconds. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to throw things at him. I WANTED TO GRAB THAT DRILL ON THE COUNTER AND SHOVE IT UP HIS ASS. I was livid. I wanted to leave. I wanted him to leave. I was still trying to absorb what had just happened in our kitchen. I was trying to comprehend how a grown man can be so hateful and treat a living being with so much hate and vulgarity. So much cruelty and meanness. So much “self-hatred” being directed at his wife. He repeated himself sarcastically as though he was irritated as to why I had not answered him; As though nothing had happened, "Cath, HELLOOOOO...Hey. Skank Whore - what is for dinner?" I snapped out of my thoughts and did the one of many things I look back on and still resent. I resent MY choice to NOT flee-I answered his question. "Pasta. We are having pasta Kevin." He said, "Okay, Skank. I am going to take your advice and relax...call me when my dinner is ready."
And then he smiled. He looked at me and smiled almost seductively. I knew what that meant for later. He would be wanting sex. Almost like having sex with me showed him that I had forgotten and forgiven his disgusting cowardly behavior. I felt sick. Once again, Kevin left the kitchen. I looked at the drill on the counter. As I picked up this still warm drill, I accidentally pressed the “ON” button. The drill screamed and shook in my hand. It startled me. I unplugged it and I started to cry quietly as I slowly returned to being seated on the floor with the unplugged drill in my hand. An unplugged drill. I looked at the drill closely. When Kevin was mad at the world he blamed me. Just like the drill when it is plugged in, it screams and shakes when you press “the button”. Then it stops when you release the button. I realized at that moment, Kevin was in control of his emotions. He was not crazy. He chose how to act, talk, react, abuse, not abuse. Kevin was in control of his “ON” and “OFF” button. Something would go wrong in "Kevin world" and I was the wall that he wanted to drill into. I did have a wall around me and he knew it. I would not leave him. And he knew it. I would “cover” for him. And he knew it. I would not call the police. And…He Knew It. He wanted to drill a hole in me with his words and his actions and his fists because he was pissed off at the world for whatever reason.
I slowly got up and put the drill back on the counter. I went to a dear friends home that was watching my children with her children while I shopped for our families at the commissary. Next trip would be hers to shop and my duty to watch the children. All I kept thinking was how thankful I was that the children were not home when their father held the drill to mommy’s face. An image that could have haunted my children for the rest of their lives. This moment was going to pass and the kids did not need to know about this insane incident. I wanted my children to love and respect their father. However, I could not protect them from the images that they were about to experience first hand. Images that are still imbedded in their memory. To this day, as I write this blog, there are incidents of abuse that I have suppressed. Some of these recalled incidents have been brought to my recollection recently by my oldest 3 children expressing what they recall of the insanity. They recall things their father did to me after he would choke me to unconsciousness. I would learn through my babies that as I lay motionless, their father would beat and violate me in their presence. The drill was just the beginning. Kevin and I were heading for damages that could never be repaired by any tool.
REST....REGROUP...RETURN...
Fear is, I believe, a most effective tool in destroying the soul of an individual - and the soul of a people” Anwar El Sadathttp://www.methodpublishing.co.uk/publications/scogs/hermitage/pages/download/lores.pdf
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