Teela Hart

Surviving Domestic Violence


51 Comments

The Bat Cave Is Calling


Returning home from a much needed vacation literally hurt. I didn’t want to come home to more bullshit. It was a challenge to pull into the driveway and walk into my home knowing that I would be met with a barrage of phone calls and drop by’s from *John*. I didn’t expect the kind of reception that would cause alarm. I did expect the wearing down to be continuous and irritating.

***

I’d gone shopping for some much-needed groceries and such and returned to *John* standing in the driveway. My daughter, sitting on the tailgate of his worn down, dirty ass truck with her back to him crying her eyes out sent my heart and mind into immediate overdrive, my breathing stopped for a bit and every lick of spit dried up instantaneously. My hands, shaking like a leaf in the wind, ripped the keys from the ignition and my rubbery legs propelled me from my Jeep like nobody’s business. My mind had a little trouble catching up to my actions but I just went with it and approached the situation with wide-eyed apprehension. I can’t recall what I had in my hand but I directed my daughter, I will call her *Mary*, to take it inside effectively freeing her from his onslaught and placing myself in his crosshairs. I noticed her friend sitting in her car parked at the curb as I watched my daughter go safely inside the house.

***

What is happening here? What is he doing? What did I do with my mace? I need to get it and the knife NOW! His words seemed muffled and almost incomprehensible. I caught phrases like “I can’t believe you are doing this to me” and “all the times I took care of you”. The thing that really got me going was the look that I saw in his eyes. That ‘taken over by a demon’ look and he was charging toward me like a bull. Me dying in the driveway, in front God and everybody played in my mind and ‘fight or flight’ made it’s natural progression only this time ‘fight’ reared its head instead of flight. I made one or two steps back, held up the mace and told him in no uncertain terms that he’d better step back or I would put him down and then stomp the shit out of him. He wisely took my advice. God only knows what would have happened if he hadn’t. I’m just glad he did.

At some point in all the ruckus I thought to myself that if he did kill me it would be in front of God and everybody and he would at least go to jail for it. Not the best thinkin’ in the world I know, but my thoughts nonetheless.

***

Every day since that one has been a challenge and I’m sharing this because I need to. I’ve been in touch with the shelter. I’m getting all my ducks in a row. The kids and I have once again revisited safety precautions and emergency guidelines in the event of another surprise attack.

What have I learned?

My children and I cannot afford to drop our guard.

What do I want?

I want to answer the call of the bat cave and retreat to tangible safety.

Thanks for listening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements


48 Comments

Life Ain’t Always Fair, but it’s Always Life


I have not made a post in a long while and I have to say it feels like I’ve been running around with a half-empty glass. I’ve missed y’all more than words can adequately express.

I want to first thank, with all my heart, Americana Injustica for her guest post in my absence and CTC for their unending support while I’ve been away. I would have been lost a few times without you.

My intentions were to make a post announcing that I would be leaving for vacation at the end of the June, however, things got a little hairy and I decided to make a swift exit. I honestly believed that by the time I returned things would be better (naïve, I know) and needless to say when I arrived at the intended destination my ridiculously tense, stressed, brow un-furrowed.  The best feeling in the world was leaving home and all the shit that goes along with it; watching, as as the ‘crazy train’ grew smaller in the rear view mirror felt good.  I had no idea the shit storm I’d be returning to. (Yes I know that’s a preposition)

I was determined to get my children out of the toxic environment their father infused into the atmosphere and into “different”, for the lack of a better description, if only for a short time. Even though we no longer live with our abuser, we continue to suffer from his unbelievable reach thanks to the family courts. More on that issue another time.

We started this endeavor with the intention of being away for seven days (thank you Daddy) which turned into fourteen days for reasons I can’t really go into, but I will say that vacation was not the only agenda. I hope that I will be able to shed some light on the whole, screwed up, story once it’s over but as it stands, it’s still a work in progress so to speak.

My travels have ended, however, that’s temporary. I am not sure how long I will be able to make posts due to having to re-locate, but I am going to take advantage of the time I do have.

I am safe with plans to be safer. 😉

My children and I traveled with fun and tension release in mind and we made it together.  I sucked every minute of the distraction free time I could get with them. I visited with my son Carey. He doesn’t have internet yet, but he does send his love.

I love y’all and I’ve missed y’all very much.

I was not in an electronically friendly environment for quite some time although I did get emails via the phone.  I want those of you who supported me through email to know how grateful I am that I have friends like you. I mean that.

I cannot tell you how much I appreciate everyone here and I am sorry if I caused even a tiny bit of worry.

Now….. it’s time to make my rounds and catch up on a few blogs, I’ve missed a lot and I want to say hello. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


8 Comments

Language Matters When Engaging Survivors of Domestic Violence in Discussion


I have children and I am forced to deal with this issue on a regular basis and I can say that this hits the nail on the head in every way.
Thank you for making this post Sweet Marie.

Picking Up the Pieces

Words have the power to be dangerous, and when you are speaking in terms of domestic abuse, semantics do matter.  So often, statements and quotes offered up in attempt to encourage a survivor of domestic violence actually end up having the opposite effect.  How many of us will internalize what you said without seeking clarification, maybe being influenced to change the meaning attached to the simplest of words that could result in us reassigning blame to ourselves?  How many of us would momentarily protest but give up once we have been talked over enough?  How many of us would speak up in our defense and make our voice heard?

Opening up and holding a dialogue open about how abuse happens is imperative.  With the number of reported cases climbing, and taking into consideration the vast number of victims not coming forward, it is urgent that we talk openly about it…

View original post 1,670 more words