Teela Hart

Surviving Domestic Violence


29 Comments

Blackest of Black


black hole

 

The blackest of black

The darkest of hell

It seemed to me

I would never prevail

Smoke from his nares

Breath of his soul

Bit just another

Blood gushing hole

The stairway to heaven

Far removed

’til I tripped over the devil

And landed at his stool

Winds rushed forth

As I looked to the sky

A shimmering hope

I’m not gonna die.


14 Comments

Say No More to Sexual Assault Month Begins Today


I will be making this post everyday for the rest of the month as April is No more to sexual assault month.  Please feel free to reblog, retweet, FB or all three.

There is only one way to break the silence and bring this ever growing nightmare to the forefront of the minds of others and that is to SPEAK out in the capacity that we can.

 

Say No More

Say No More


23 Comments

Versatile Blogger and Very Inspiring Blogger


Versatile Blogger

Versatile Blog

I was nominated a while back by belsbror for the Versatile Blogger Award as well as the Very Inspiring Award.  If you have never read his blog you should go check him out.  His blog is awesome.

I am very honored and at a loss for words.  I want to thank those who read my blog and I pray that the words I share will in some way help others to be aware of the damaging effects of Domestic Violence and most of all I hope they help others to see they are not alone.  They have a voice and are free to share it.  I will listen.  I promise.

My nominees for both awards are:

http://sweetmarie9619.wordpress.com/

http://wonderfulshantelle.wordpress.com/

http://betternotbroken.com/

http://soulhealingart.wordpress.com/

http://onewayhealthier.com/

Very Inspiring Award

Very Inspiring Award


12 Comments

The Peace and Justice Award


peace-1

 

 

I am honored to receive such an award. I spent 19 years without peace or justice and had come to believe no such thing existed for me at least.

I know now that there are times that if you want peace you have to make it so and if you want justice it’s a roll of the dice more times than not.

I started my blog to give voice to all the injustice victims of domestic violence suffer in hopes of helping to create peace.

My one and only desire today is to live in peace or at least a greater sense of peace than I’ve had in many years. Justice continues to hand in the balance and I have to believe justice will weigh out in our favor every day.

So many continue to battle the justice system for the protection, acknowledgment, and the rights we were all born with. It is our responsibility to help push that along. Without our voices, all is lost. Thankfully, there is a plethora of voices right here at WordPress who can out holler the loudest of neigh sayers and I am happy to be a part of that number.

Anyone who would like to join the fight against domestic/sexual violence can join the NCADV free as well as nomore.org.

Thank you Americana for nominating me for this award. You are a jewel and I mean that.

My Nominations Are:

http://sociopathlife.com/

http://letmereach.com/

http://cerridwyndarkstrom.wordpress.com/

http://paularenee.wordpress.com/


40 Comments

Where the F$%@k Have You Been.


Working as an Assistant Director Nursing is a hell of a job with a hell of a lot of responsibility. Most times I worked anywhere from 40-60 hours a week. Many days my phone would be ringing as I walked in the door and of course it was work and they needed me to return for some emergency. My children would moan, *Jon* would cuss like a sailor while I did an about face never having put down my purse, and head out the door to return to the facility. There was many times I had to return to work after arriving home and Jon had to stay with the kids.

I never got through a day without Jon calling at least every hour asking questions. “Who’ve you been flirtin’ with? Who’s been flirtin’ with you?” Moreover, a lot of others I don’t remember, or care to remember. Jon took me to work and picked me up every day. That insured him I was actually going to work and coming home immediately thereafter.

I never took my cell to work as I knew what it would be like if I had to stop what I was doing every hour to answer his call. So on this particular day I’d not called him to come pick me up and it was around 5:30. I called to let him know I’d be working later than usual and would call when I was ready. At the facility I worked in, if the phones rang after 6:00 the call would roll over to an answering service.

Generally, everything that could go wrong did go wrong and the night wrought with code blues, hospital transfers and anything else one could think of. Bone tired, I looked at my watch and realized it was 3:00 am. I hadn’t called Jon, but he knew where I was so I wasn’t very worried.

Once I’d gotten the mountain of paperwork down to a molehill, I decided I couldn’t make it another step and called Jon at 8:00 am to pick me up. No answer. I called again. No answer. I called at least ten times. No answer.

There I sat in my office with no way home after working 25 hours strait. I was terrified of what would be waiting for me at home. I was sure Jon was livid and there would be hell to pay.

Thankfully, one of my co-workers agreed to take me home as I white knuckled the armrest the whole way home. When we arrived, I took a deep breath and exited the car. I was so exhausted it would seem I crawled up to the front door.

Fortunately, I had my keys and walked through the door and there Jon sat in his recliner with that go to hell look on his face.

“Where the fuck have you been? I called that goddam place all night and there was nothin’ but a fuckin’ answering machine. (He knew about the phone roll over and that I couldn’t receive any calls after 6) Who you been fuckin'”?

I was so exhausted I didn’t bother to answer, I rolled my eyes and asked why the fuck he didn’t answer the phone to pick me up and headed to the bedroom to sleep. However, he would have none of that. I was in for a morning of hell and I knew it. Especially since, I ‘mouthed’ off at him.

He threw me into the chair and began choking me and screaming expletives. I could see out of the corner of my eye that my son was at home and I eked out “call the police”, but he sat there frozen in fear, and that was enough for Jon to release his grasp and leave the room.

Once I’d fallen asleep he came into the room, banging, slamming dresser drawers, yelling about something or another and anything else he could think of to keep me from rest.

One week later I lost my job.

It was eight more years before I finally left Jon.

My heart aches daily for my children and the things they witnessed.  I can never wipe that from their memory.  I can only hope they can one day forgive me.


8 Comments

I’m Tired of This and What I want Is That


I’m tired.

Tired of being alone.

Tired of being used.

Tired of all of hell breaking loose.

Tired of fixin’ toilets that won’t flush.

Tired of throwing closet doors out doors ’cause they won’t work.

Tired of hangin’ my own damn pictures.

Tired of patching holes in walls.

Tired of pullin’ nails from my hardwood floors.

Tired of the weight of the world fallin’ in on me.

Tired of goin’ to the corner store to pee.

Tired of all the well to do’s.

Tired of all the bullshit that walks.

Tired of all the mindless TV.

Tired of all the shit that swirls.

Tired of taking time to try and find peace.

Tired of it all fuckin’ with me.

Tired of all the fake, and I’ll leave it at that.

I need a vacation, it’s plain to see.

Side note: If it weren’t illegal, I’d smoke some weed.


17 Comments

The Rock


In vain

I try

To crawl

From beneath

The rock

That you

Have placed

Upon me

My bones

Are crushed

Form imprints

In dust

Freedom may

Be a

Frame of

Mind but

In my

Life it’s

A place

I’m buried

With no

Way out

No one

Can see

My filthy

Hand that

Reaches out

To be

Completely free.

 


11 Comments

You Didn’t Break Me (As Hard As You Tried)


This post was made by my son Carey Hart. He is such a talented writer and I am proud of him for allowing his heart to be lay bare before us all.
I love you Carey Hart.

Teela Hart

I don’t understand
I’ve done my best not to drown
I cant stop all the things
that are swarming me now
the decisions I’ve made
haven’t helped me thus far
and it grates on my soul
with the vengence of hell
it brings hate to my heart
and drowns all my thoughts
when all I can do
is just fall apart
so I swallow my pride
and choke down the tears
and fight all the hatred
that dwells deep inside
I want to unleash the anger
I want to scream at the sky
I want to take all these words
and just make you cry
I want to flip the fuck out
I want to strangle your soul
I want to make you bow down
until I can feel whole
so don’t forget what you’ve done
and don’t you dare look at me
because the last thing I need
is…

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You Didn’t Break Me (As Hard As You Tried)


Teela Hart

I don’t understand
I’ve done my best not to drown
I cant stop all the things
that are swarming me now
the decisions I’ve made
haven’t helped me thus far
and it grates on my soul
with the vengence of hell
it brings hate to my heart
and drowns all my thoughts
when all I can do
is just fall apart
so I swallow my pride
and choke down the tears
and fight all the hatred
that dwells deep inside
I want to unleash the anger
I want to scream at the sky
I want to take all these words
and just make you cry
I want to flip the fuck out
I want to strangle your soul
I want to make you bow down
until I can feel whole
so don’t forget what you’ve done
and don’t you dare look at me
because the last thing I need
is…

View original post 41 more words


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You Didn’t Break Me (As Hard As You Tried)


WRITTEN BY: Carey Hart

I don’t understand
I’ve done my best not to drown
I cant stop all the things
that are swarming me now
the decisions I’ve made
haven’t helped me thus far
and it grates on my soul
with the vengence of hell
it brings hate to my heart
and drowns all my thoughts
when all I can do
is just fall apart
so I swallow my pride
and choke down the tears
and fight all the hatred
that dwells deep inside
I want to unleash the anger
I want to scream at the sky
I want to take all these words
and just make you cry
I want to flip the fuck out
I want to strangle your soul
I want to make you bow down
until I can feel whole
so don’t forget what you’ve done
and don’t you dare look at me
because the last thing I need
is to remember your face
I hope your happy now
with all the pain that you’ve dealt
it may have left all these scars
and damaged my soul
but you can bet your damn ass
that I will make it through this


2 Comments

Pleased To Meet You…


I would like to introduce my oldest son Carey Hart as a new Author on my site. I am so proud and honored that he wants to get involved.
I love him more than words can express. I’m blessed we can take this journey together. I love you Carey.

Teela Hart

And since there is no game or anything like that… My name, for the purpose of this site, is Carey Hart. That’s right, proud son of your loved Teela. I found out about her blog in probably the first week of this momentous process. She was all excited “look at what I did Carey! I did this all by my lonesome!” I know how well my mother writes and how much of her own heart she pours into it, but I never expected the amount of love you have all given her. I thank you all. It truly means the world to her, and me, that she isn’t alone.

OK so..
I want you all to know that she has allowed me to write some of my feelings on here. just don’t get your hopes up, I am nowhere near as good as her. 🙂

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35 Comments

Pleased To Meet You…


And since there is no game or anything like that… My name, for the purpose of this site, is Carey Hart. That’s right, proud son of your loved Teela. I found out about her blog in probably the first week of this momentous process. She was all excited “look at what I did Carey! I did this all by my lonesome!” I know how well my mother writes and how much of her own heart she pours into it, but I never expected the amount of love you have all given her. I thank you all. It truly means the world to her, and me, that she isn’t alone.

OK so..
I want you all to know that she has allowed me to write some of my feelings on here. just don’t get your hopes up, I am nowhere near as good as her. 🙂


52 Comments

Yellow Roses


Yellow Rose Buds

Yellow Rose Buds

The yellow rose represents the sun, warmth, and friendships.

Last night I had a dream about yellow roses growing up from a concrete slab. I reached out to them to admire their beauty. My immediate thought was of the magnificent hearts at the Cut-Throat Clubhouse and the care we have for each other.  A new beginning beautifully hewn with delicate roses through our concrete prisons serves as a reminder that beauty springs from cold, dark places.

I am lost

At a loss

For real words

To express myself

Exactly the way

I really feel

Without the shedding

Of a tear

Ten thousand tears

A fountain flowing

Cannot control

Falling down

The darkest hole

Cannot run

Cannot hide

From the pain

That lives inside

A dream awakes

My darkened mind

Of yellow roses

At my side

Without thorns

In concrete slabs

In strength they grow

From tiny buds

I reach for them

And their love

Their Sunshine warms

They light the way

They lead me out

I live to fight

Another day


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In Keeping With My ‘Texans I Admire Theme’ Of Late:


Thank you Lance. This is a great post.

Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics

Here is more Molly:

On LBJ, Bill Clinton, Domestic Violence, Poverty of Women,  and Some Other Gems.

Worth a watch.

And here is another short one on her formative years as a journalist:

This is a new focus for this Blog–not The Only Focus–just an additional one.

Please stay tuned for frequent new posts on this Theme.

It will probably tack back and forth all over the Texas Map (and Timeline)

Thanks Y’all

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14 Comments

I Fried Chicken and Had A Little Wine


I’m not a drinker, I hate the taste of alcohol. But, last night I threw caution to the wind and indulged in a small glass bottle of wine. You know the kind. It was a great vintage, year 2014, strait from the grocery store shelf. I do believe it was the grocery store brand.

There’s nothing like the taste of rubbing alcohol to stimulate the taste buds. I squinted my eyes and took a small sip big gulp as the tiny hairs on my arm stood at attention and I gasped for air. I banged my fist on the table and rattled my jaws. I figured I needed a chaser. I refrained from that, as I’m not a veteran drinker. I’m certain it would have been an unwise decision.

My tongue was sufficiently numbed so I fried my chicken, sipped my wine, and listened to my favorite jams.

The hideous wine was a far cry from the first Long Island Iced Tea I ever had, I was sitting in a bar at the Holiday Inn in Savannah, Georgia. Of course, that was the last Long Island Iced Tea I ever had. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.

I pulled up a chair and took a seat at the kitchen table, opened up my PC and began my search for Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette and Freddy Fender. I’d forgotten all about the way makers of that time. It was an easier, happier time when an air of innocence could still be found. Maybe it was just ignorant bliss. No matter, it was what it was.

I enjoyed myself, immensely and discovered that sometimes we need to fry a little chicken and have a little wine.

Take it away Freddy:

Contrary to the song.  I was not wasted.


68 Comments

Warning: Bad F’n Language. Inappropriate for Young Readers


WARNING:  Under age 17 should not read.

I want to say here that I know this is a completely inappropriate post as far as some may be concerned.  I will understand if you decide not to read it.  It’s harsh, and crude and completely unladylike.  I cannot help the way I feel.  Anger seeps from my heart and out through my pen uncontrollably, but I believe God already knows how I feel.  I know that He knows that these very words whirl around in my mind on a regular basis.  I cannot and will not deny it’s access to the ink that has been provided.  Not today.

Why?

Because inside the fury is destroying my mind, body and soul.  I started this blog to cleanse the inner recesses of my mind.  I started writing because I wanted to end the silence.  Gone are the days of self-control to the denial of my healing.  Counter productive?  Maybe.  I need to ‘get better’.  This post may help, then again it may not.

F bombs and GD’s located in various  most sentences.

If you are sensitive to ugly words then I ask that you not read.  I respect that.  Many of you have moved past this, I have yet to do so. Many are gentle souls, I respect that.

I suppose one could sum up the following letter to *Jon* (rant) as —I’m extremely pissed.

Dear *Jon*

I’m busted, fuckin’ shattered into a million pieces. You’re a cold-hearted, lying motherfucker who needs to be put in his place. I don’t give a shit about you or your ridiculous life. You move across the waters of life like a goddamn angel but I know better. Suffice it to say I personally believe you’re the fuckin’ devil himself.

I have not one good, clean or pure thing to say about you today or any other fuckin’ day. You can’t put one foot in front of the other without tripping over your dick and landing smack dab in the fuckin’ middle of my reality.

You are a deplorable, despicable, self-serving, dumb ass. Your idiotic words and actions automatically trigger my gag reflex and I regurgitate this sewer sludge in mass fuckin’ quantities.  Your putrefied bullshit sticks in my throat and not one fuckin’ thing can wash it away. You lit the wick that burns a fuckin’ eternal flame of anger.

Give it time?

Fuck time.

I’m fuckin’ running out of time.

What the fuck do you have to say for yourself?

Nothing?

That’s what I fuckin’ figured.

P fuckin’ S: I’ll forgive your stupefied, non-ass on my terms, but for now, I’ll feel all the anger I please. Anger beats the hell outta fear. Fuck fear. Fuck you.

Just imagine exclamation points ever fuckin’ where.

Please pardon my french.


59 Comments

Things You Don’t Know About Me


Who am I?

Sensitive views on politics, religion, and correct grammar will not be found here. Sentence fragments, slang, political incorrectness, contractions, passive voice and the word ‘but’ will be.

Believe it or not, I am a private person to a degree. I suppose we are all the same in that respect. Some things I will share and some I see no benefit in sharing. I learned that in rehab.

The question of who I am has plagued most of my life. I continue in my lack of assurance today. But, here are a few things I do and say without hesitation in the real world and sometimes the cyber world.  No matter who’s lookin’.

If I see grocery carts in a parking space, I have a mini fit. Recently, I pulled into the parking lot to find said spectacle in a handicap space and much to my children’s chagrin; I promptly let the bag boy know, just in case he didn’t.

Recently, a door-to-door salesman stopped by and finagled his way past my mom who was visiting. To my children’s embarrassment and my mom’s I’m sure, I abruptly told him to get out, following behind ensuring that he did.  We have hard wood floors and he was selling carpet shampoo. This is a no-brainer in my mind.

I buy boxes of food for those less fortunate at the grocery store. If I am waiting my turn at a check-out and see that someone is struggling to come up with the cash, I take care of it.  I’m talking a couple of bucks here.

In nursing school, one of my classmates failed by .3 of a point. At her request, I went through her tests with her to be sure the instructors didn’t miss anything. I was told to drop it or drop out. I dropped it.

I’m certain I could never live in a mansion and even more certain I could not be a snob, although I have been called a snob on more than one occasion. I am terribly shy, and usually at a loss for words, I suppose this landed me in the snob category more than once.

I’m not “cool”, never have been, although I’ve tried to be. I’ve failed. Miserably.

Socially, I’m a misfit. I really have to think hard on what I’m going to say and I still sound like the village idiot most of the time.

I laugh when I’m not supposed to, I cry the same.

Witty is not a word I would use to describe myself.  Although I did use that word to describe myself at my daughter’s insistence.

Unless I see your face and attempt to read your non-verbals, sarcasm sometimes usually escapes me.

The things I share and the way I share them are all me. The heart and soul of me.

I’m not a writer as such but I get by with a little help from my friend, MS Word.

I don’t sound as Southern on paper as I do in person. Unless I’m in your comment box, without MS Word.

I love the fact that I am Southern. I’ve been called a Southern redneck and it tickled me good. It was their attempt at flattery. It worked.

Living the life of a domestic violence survivor is a hard row to hoe, and there are times I chop the shit out of it. More times than not, I’m up shit’s creek without a paddle.

I’ve attempted to watch every “war movie” ever made, I don’t like chic flicks and I love listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd.

My entire wardrobe consists mainly of faded jeans, tank-tops, and flip flops.  Winter wardrobe includes a jacket and boots.

I use terms and phrases such as:

Ain’t

Young’un

Look a yonder.

Can’t beat that with a stick.

I’m fixin’ to. (In a minute)

Ya’ll

Don’t git ya gander up. (Don’t be upset)

What brings you to my neck of the woods? (my house)

Redneck

Kin (cousin)

Sounds like the pot calling the kettle black to me. (One idiot calling another idiot an idiot)

Shit (my personal favorite).

One more thing. MS Word has this document lit up like a Christmas tree and it really sticks in my crawl, so I’m gonna post this before I change my mind.  Plus, my daughter is telling me to stop stalling.


5 Comments

He is not Really Heavy: He is my Brother


I want to those who have shared their hearts cry, written their words in blood and tears. I’m so glad you have found your voice and I dare say that if we all felt this way domestic violence would not exist, wars would cease, hunger would be eradicated, and the list goes on.
I want you all to know that you ain’t heavy; you’re my sisters and brothers. Please take pause, read and listen. Five minutes to know how much I truly do care.

I didn’t give Lance proper credit for this blog post.  We were having a conversation and this song came into the mix.  Thank you Lance.  You’re my hero.

Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics

Posted for Teela:

Here is a no shitter story:

I talked to my ever-so-cool step-sister back in the Seventies about this song.

She said to me,

“Lance, what does this song mean to you?”

I said (thirteen years old), I said, it is about some dude carrying his brother out of a war zone in a desert, and some guy comes up and says, ‘Is he heavy?’

And the dude says, “No. He’s my brother.”

My step-sister just left me there, all alone, wondering why I was not cool.

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26 Comments

Quintet of Radiance


Picking up the Pieces  authored by Amy Thompson also found on twitter @AMarie nominated me for the “Quintet of Radiance award.  Amy is an unmovable advocate and support for domestic violence victims and survivors.  I am truly honored.  If you haven’t met her already please go by and pay her a visit.  You will be welcomed with opened arms.  Chances are, she has already found you.

According to the rules for accepting the award.  I must choose a word that describes me using the Alphabet.  A challenge for sure.

A-Activist

B-Blessed

C-Charitable

D-Decent

E-Engaging

F-Forgiving

G-Generous

H-Honest

I-Improved

J-Just

K-Kind-Hearted

L-Loyal

M-Merciful

N-Nurse

O-Open-Minded  (daughter says sometimes 😉  )

P-Playful

Q-Quirky  (says my daughter 😉  )

R-Responsible

S-Strait Forward

T-Trustworthy

U-Understanding

V-Valuable

W-Witty  (my daughter chose this one; I obliged)

X-Xtra-Special (made that one up   🙂   )

Y-Young’un (according to Lance)

Z-Zealous

My nominees are:

afterthepsychopath.wordpress.com

behindthemaskofabuse.com

Unload and Unwind

The Phoenix Again

The power of silence

Lady with a truck

My life a day journey

Finding my inner courage