Teela Hart

Surviving Domestic Violence


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I Moved On


My bare skin pressed into the unyielding, cold steel of an uncertain world. Nothing to cover the nakedness but a thin veil of shame, my eyes rejected the evil that so desperately coveted the death of my soul. I could smell the color of his vile presence, the stench of green vapor hypnotized and paralyzed.

green vapor

green vapor

The scent of a vulgar haze of hatred streamed from his nostrils. His eyes smelled black, soulless, and empty. His lips held the odor of a parched desert as waterfalls of perdition flowed unhindered. Moments before he fled to the abyss, his viscous carcass further depressed me into the resistant steel of this world I had come to know.

His presence retreated, however, his color persisted and my eyes remained unmoved.

A faint sound in the distance permeated the air, a sweet sound of people talking, laughing, and living. I had to find them in the world unknown to me. My overwhelming desire to find them, to beg them for help, to plead for mercy would override the evil that lurked. Covered with the thin veil of shame I made my way toward the sound in the world beyond my own. I turned the knob opened the door and screamed for help, however, my pleas went unanswered.

Therefore, I moved on.


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Hell Is Too Good For You!!!!!!!!


Faded denim jeans, black T, work boots and an Allman Brother’s cap fit like a glove to his 6′ frame. With a god-like stride, he strutted the halls, the kitchen, and the bedrooms all the while barking orders like a dog strait out of hell. “Git yur shit packed, everythin’, I don’t wana see anything lef’ within viewing distance.”

M, my daughter, inconsolable, gathered her clothes, stuffed animals, and any toys she could manage to carry  Her “I love Daddy” t-shirt stained with spaghetti sauce and matching shorts crumpled and  wet with tears stuck to her little body.  R, trembling, tears tracing the creases in his strained face obeyed, no questions asked. Their hearts ripped from their chests, their trust forever broken they made their way to the living room and awaited further instruction. They cried, begged and pleaded with Jon to let them stay, however, their pleas had no effect on Jon’s stone cold heart.

“Now git out.” Disbelief consumed my oldest son who had been staying with us at the time. He helped the children 11 and 9 years old. Carey glanced over at Jon and Jon gave him a little smirk. My son ignored him and continued to the car that he had finally loaded with everything they owned.  In the matter of a moment he nonchalantly approached the car.

“Get outta that fuckin’ car, unpack yur shit, and let that be a lesson to ya.  Without me you ain’t nothin’ and you ain’t got nothin’.

At the time, I was at the Domestic Violence Center gathering every  little bit and piece of information I could to plan my escape. I had no idea this had taken place until a few days ago.

hell

hell

I am convinced hell wouldn’t even have this sorry excuse for a human. I’m not even sure that son-of-a-bitch is human at all and I am certain hell would be too good for him.


27 Comments

My Own Personal Tsunami


Tsunami

Tsunami

As many of you know, most of my blog posts describe in detail my own encounters with domestic violence. I have noticed that with each post comes a significant amount of emotional upheaval. This can be cleansing as well as draining and by draining, I mean the tsunami kind of wipe out.

As a result, I have chosen to post videos, which address the issues women and men encounter every day. It is imperative to my well-being to take a break of sorts before journeying on with the rest of my hideous saga.

I hope you all understand and will be patient with me.

I want to thank all those who follow and support me in my journey to recovery.

911 I have had numerous questions in reguard to Lisa’s fate and decided to re-post.

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This video may be disturbing but it is an ugly truth that needs to be heard.  More than 10 million children witness domestic violence every year in he US.

I am compelled   PASSIONATE about this issue and I invite you to watch as this small child is forced to act on behalf of her mother and siblings.

I have searched to find the outcome of this horrific event and have yet to find it, however, the true point is to show that there are many, many instances that occur everyday  leaving us bereft of any awareness not to mention answers.  Bringing forward the real truth that these occurrences are ignored and unknown to so many is the true tragedy. My hope is to bring it out in the face of the public to such a degree that we may be forced to see the ugliness that  relentlessly destroys.


3 Comments

Is the fight against domestic violence in crisis?


I am happy to say that Avalanche of the Soul, also known as StrongerSoulSurvivor, whom I affectionately refer to as Triple S, has given me permission to Press this article.  She is indeed a strong advocate for domestic violence and has brought up a vital issue requiring our attention.

Together we can make a difference.

Is the fight against domestic violence in crisis?.

Begging


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I’m Begging You!


His face stern and intimidating roused my barely coherent state to attention.  His nose touching mine, his moist breath warm against my lips stirred the most intense of fears leading me to the conjecture that I, once again, was in for a tempestuous morning.  However, the moment my vision cleared he retreated.  Although his physical presence withdrew, his essence remained.  Upon questioning him about the event his reply was one of denial, after all, I was the crazy one, not he.  However, I knew he had been there, I knew his intent. 

Jon was lazing on the couch when I walked in.  Tears laced with hurt trailed effortlessly down my face forming a mosaic on my powder blue blouse.  I dropped to my knees before him, buried my face into his chest and clung to him as if he were my last hope for survival.

“Please” I begged, “Please go with me to counseling, our children’s wellbeing depend upon it.  So does ours.”

His face emerged hardened and unforgiving sending a wave of shivers down my spine.  Undeterred, I continued; I kissed his cheeks and his unaccepting lips, yet still the unrelenting face of stone peered back at me.  I traveled further, lowered myself, kissed his feet and devoid of any semblance of compassion, he pushed me away. 

“You can stop now Teela, nothing you say or do will ever change my mind.  No damn counselors and that’s final.  All they want to do is turn you and my young’uns against me.”

He could not understand that he was doing that all on his own.

Vehement emotion, and a few other indescribable ones, orbited my mind as a stony resolve of my own took place.  I marched over, took one more look at his “godly” demeanor, and made a statement I would soon regret. 

“If no is your answer, you have two choices.  We can place the kids in the care of your brother or I will have child protective services take them.”  Desperation had overcome fear and the words pouring from the deepest recesses of my soul would be the beginning of my tenuous attempt to affect change in the unrelenting pattern of abuse that had defined our relationship.  Jon had never lay hands on the children, but the mental and emotional abuse was present and accounted for. 

Abruptly, he dropped the tools in his hands and leaped toward me, nose to nose, through clenched teeth he muttered, “if you do anything like that Teela, I WILL KILL YOU!”  In addition, he turned away as if he had won.  In my mind, however, the fight had just begun.

. . .

For reasons I really cannot explain, the rest of this story will have to wait until I can reconcile what is left of my composure with the present.

Thank you for reading!