There it was, Pat's name tucked under the most recent obituaries in the local newspaper. Her name, short list of relatives, loved her dog, and a successful career as a social worker. Nowhere in the obituary did it say she saved lives. I know she did because she saved mine.

It was more than 20 years ago when I first met Pat. I was raggedly stitched together emotionally when a very astute older friend identified my emotional abuse and suggested I start seeing Pat.

Emotional abuse is odd in that there are no visible scars. It all happens so insidiously, behind closed doors. I remember vividly the sense of isolation and the lack of self- worth. Back then all I did was wake up every day and hope I could hold myself together for another day in my marriage.