Teela Hart

Surviving Domestic Violence


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No More Anthem


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48 Comments

Just Call Me Rocky


I have to say this has been a helluva week.

So, I’m just gonna spill the beans or at least a few of them. I’ve learned something over the past couple of days and I think it’s important that I tell it.

I’m going to be forced to see *Jon* every day this week and for the sake of legality I can’t tell you the reason outright. But know this: IT’S OUT OF MY HANDS. It was a blow. A HUGE blow. Not to mention all the regular shit that occurs on any given day.

My initial response, as is usual with me, is to shrink back into my cocoon and hide. So I made the post “I’m Out”.

Then I saw all the support ya’ll handed out and was overwhelmed. As luck would have it today, I stumbled upon Rocky and I watched (for the 4th or 5th time) , needless to say I had an epiphany.

I’m in the ring, up against Mason, “The Line”, Dixon, getting my ass beat to a pulp (in my own mind). And each and every one of you have my back. Standing in my corner, cheering me on.

You’re all my “Micky”.  The bell dings, round 573 is over and you give me a stool, rub my shoulders, shoot hydration down my throat.

You advise, remind, pump me up, tell me “you got this, you can do it, now get out there and show him what you got! You trained for this all year, you’re ready, you know what to do!”

What you don’t do is give up on me because you believe in me, you know that I got this. You know he’s got a TKO comin’ to him and that I’m gonna be the one to oblige.

I thank the hell outta ya’ll for that shit. I really do.

I can’t think of any better way to say it.

I love ya’ll.

Almost forgot.  What did I learn?  I AM NOT ALONE!

 

Ok, I admit I ain’t no Rocky, mainly because I’m a chick.  I won’t cite the other obvious reasons

But ya’ll get the drift.

 


42 Comments

Do Ya’ll Want To Know The Truth?


The day before my escape from the war zone that had been my life, I ran to my neighbor’s house with my children for safety.

The week prior to my court date I asked my neighbors to testify to what they’d seen.

Their answer?

“It ain’t none of our business, we remain neutral.”

My 12 year old son had to testify, because of course, I’m crazy.

Three months before abandoning EVERY fuckin’ thing, social workers were sent to our home to determine why our children hadn’t been to school.

His reply?

“I worked Black Ops, I don’t even exist. I know ya’ll have an agenda here, I’m a human lie detector, now what are you really doin’ here.”  The only black op he’d ever seen was in his own black soul.

The week prior to my court date I paid a little visit to said social workers and asked them to testify.

Their reply?

We don’t recall any such conversation.

Four months prior to my exodus, I hid in the bathroom to call my dad. I stood next to the door so I could hear footsteps. I didn’t, but he was there, listening to my every word, became enraged and kicked the door in. The door put a gash in my forehead. The phone flew from my hands.

His response?

“I told you your mama’s crazy, look what she did to herself, now she wants to blame it on me.”

My response:

W-A-K-E   T-H-E   F-U-C-K   U-P   P-E-O-P-L-E

You want to save the animals, the ozone, the economy,  the fuckin’ trees and while I agree with all that shit, how about you take into consideration that without the fuckin’ woman there’d be no one here to admire all the other shit you’re tryin’ to save.

Three women are killed by their husband/intimate partner/boyfriend EVERY single day.

LEARN SOMETHIN’ ABOUT THIS SHIT.  HUG A VICTIM INSTEAD OF A DAMN TREE.

 

 

 


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


42 Comments

The Next Step


I decided, after three (or more) days of self- loathing, mindless distraction and fear (self-imposed and otherwise), that I would venture out from the confines of my cozy corner.

I discerned a distinct lift in my spirit, listening to Vivaldi’s “Winter” as I began putting away, picking up, rearranging, dusting, sweeping and mopping. Oblivious to anything else, it felt good, right, and free.

A knock at the door, my son running down the hall, and a slightly sinking feeling ended my harmony. Jon was at the door. I suppose, since the restraining order had timed out, he felt he could stop by any time he pleased.

I maintained, I think, as he stood at the door while every thought you can possibly imagine crushed my mind. He had decided to lighten the proverbial load with a menial monetary donation out of the goodness of his heart and look in on the children. (As if)

Refusing to make eye contact, I stared down at my feet and asked him if he had tried to call first. My insides vibrated; I held the doorknob tightly to brace myself just in case the quaking decided to seep into his view. I took in a long, unhurried, breath. I couldn’t give him a glimpse of the storm going on inside my body as well as my mind. The door closed behind him. At first, I thought I’d done pretty well under the circumstances.

Out of nowhere, like a slow winter approaching, my hearing muffled, tunnel vision replaced peripheral, I could feel my body growing cold as the blood literally drained from the top down.

I sat on the bed; huge bullets of liquid terror formed on my face and I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing. Shortly after, I regained my composure only to realize the dread growing in my belly.

I should’nt have been so curt. He is going to ‘get me back’ for that little tort. Maybe I should call him back and clarify. Maybe I should apologize. What is he going to do? How will he take it?

Even now, as I type this very post, I’m debating, hoping to stay a controlled, violated and blemished mind. I have somehow landed right back where I started today.  Cautious of every next step, I take it anyway.