speak to me for hours on end. He’d just sit there across the dining table eating and grunting as he wolfed down his meal. He wouldn’t even acknowledge me. He’d just leave the dining table in a huff and go into his man cave and play his video games for hours on end.

At times I didn’t see the violence occurring. He was often sly and sneaky in his actions, but I sure felt the aftermath of his mood swings.

On one occasion I was by the stove cooking our evening meal when he sneaked into the kitchen and grabbed me by my ponytail. I can remember my hair feeling as though it was going to be ripped apart from my head as he shook my head and hurled abuse at me. I don’t know what I had done wrong this time, but it must have been severe because he rocked my head back and