Learning a new way to live

The following articles give a glimpse of two programs offered through Alaska Family Resource Center. One story outlines the Family Violence Intervention Program, a men's group that meets two hours per week. Those attending are primarily court-ordered to undergo the treatment. The other story is about the resource center's Domestic Violence Support Group for women who are or have been victims.

More information about the programs is available at 746-4080.

By STEVE KADEL-Frontiersman reporter

WASILLA -- Four men huddle in a small room at the Alaska Family Resource Center office in the Westside Center. Two drink coffee. One fidgets, then leans back in his chair and sighs.

They're waiting to begin another violence intervention meeting. Usually the room is crowded, but not this Monday night. Fishing, or long work schedules, cut attendance during the summer.

The men, who are court-ordered to undergo counseling for domestic violence crimes, must complete 36 sessions. Two excused absences are allowed. More than that and they go back to jail.

The men are tired tonight. Their clothes are dirty. They've come straight from work, and now they'll work two more hours before going home. Former program director Sharon Osborn will see to that.

Things begin with each man introducing himself -- first names only, which have been changed for this story -- and telling whether he's had a stressful week, whether he's given in to the urge for violent responses. Brad, the second to speak, admits he got mad at work today. Someone broke one of his tools. But Brad says he let it go, didn't force things. Osborn nods approval.

Kyle is the last to talk. This wasn't a good day for Kyle. A co-worker injured him by being careless. The situation was potentially life-threatening, as he describes it. The others aren't surprised Kyle threw a hammer at the other guy, hitting him in the leg. He admits it was wrong, and Osborn agrees he was put in a dangerous situation. Still …

"We're all going to have tension," Osborn said. "That's just life. But having communication skills is what can eliminate the explosion stage."

A diagram on the chalkboard shows the cycle of violence, how tensions build to an explosion. The men all understand the theory; what they don't know is how to make the correct response. They try to identify triggers, things that trip their anger.

Alan says his wife talks about goals but never does anything to reach them.

"Do you know how many times I've heard 'Let's go to marriage counseling'? It never happens. There's no follow-through. She just lays around the house all the time."

Alan talks in abrupt sentences. He's been round and round with his wife, seeing the same pattern again and again. His patience is shot.

Co-facilitator Nancy Retallick brings the discussion back to triggers. What kind of things set the men off?

"Feeling like a crutch," Alan said. "The only reason she's back is because she's got nowhere else to go."

His wife left and returned four times, and finally -- Alan snaps his fingers -- "It was time for her to go for good. It was a week and a half. It just built up and up and up. Then when I felt like I didn't want to go home … No way, this is my house."

Someone breaks in and says Alan seems like he sets up preconceived ideas how his wife will act, and waits for her to fulfill them. Alan doesn't answer. He looks at the floor.

Osborn takes over the discussion again.

"The violence always gets worse. It's more than anger. It's a way to get what you want."

At first, a certain expression may do it, she says. Then it takes a harsh word. Next, yelling and slapping the table. Violence increases, Osborn says. Always.

After an hour, it's break time. The men go outside and stand together, smoking cigarettes. Inside, Osborn tells a visitor the program covers more than anger management. It also teaches the value of respect between partners, fair-fighting techniques, trust, support, parenting skills and how domestic violence affects kids.

When the group reconvenes, John says he and his wife never talked well throughout their marriage. Thanks to the program, he's communicating effectively for the first time.

"It was scary," he says. "This is our ninth year, and I'm just starting to do something I should have been doing all along."

Now, John is most concerned about his relationship with his 10-year-old son. He can easily hug his young daughters, but can't show the same expression of love to the boy.

"I just find myself holding back," John says. "I know what he needs. There's a fear to do it. I don't know why. He's really jealous of his sisters, and I can see why. They're getting more.

"No matter what my daughters need, I can jump in and handle it. I can see what's going on with my son but I don't know how to fix it. I can see he's getting a little more rebellious lately. I want my son to communicate and show his emotions with everyone. And I'm the one who's stopping it."

Osborn urges John to focus on the child, not himself.

"This is not about you and what you're scared about," she said. "This is about your son, and he's the one who'll suffer the consequences."

Everyone is quiet for a minute. One man cracks his knuckles. Co-facilitator Peter Houston notes that John's own parents died when he was 7. Houston says it's significant that John didn't have a role model to see how a father treats a 10-year-old boy.

"I don't want to use that as an excuse," John said.

"It's not an excuse," Houston replied. "It's an awareness."

When the second hour is over, three of the clients zip out the door to their pickup trucks. They roar out of the parking lot toward home.

John stays behind, talking about his boy. Osborn and the other facilitators listen, saying little, letting him explain how he feels. They know that, in itself, represents a victory for John.