Teela Hart

Surviving Domestic Violence


61 Comments

The Shelter Life


The the kids and I are in a shelter.
There’s not much more I can say.
We are managing. One day at a time, and at times, one minute at a time.
I miss y’all and I hope to get back soon.

It may take a bit to reply to comments but I will.


34 Comments

Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional


That’s me, I’m FINE. It ain’t pretty in here today so for that I’m sorry. Younger or sensitive readers might want to look away.

I suppose that this would be what one might call a dear *Jon* letter if *Jon* was the one gettin’ it. But, he ain’t. The blog is.

There are just a few things I want to say to that son-of-a-bitch. (He always hated it when someone called him that, he took it as a personal slight to his mother; God rest her soul.) She was no bitch; I just get great satisfaction out of knowing that he hates the hell out of it.

I always said that I wouldn’t be like his mother, but what the fuck do you know, I turned out just like her. 19 years with my father-in-law (God rest his soul) and she left him. Some 5 years later, she died with cancer and a few years after that he died. My beef ain’t with them. I’m sorry they were both afflicted with whatever virus infects abusers/victims/survivors.

I wish that I could change all of that shit, but that ain’t gonna happen because it’s a man’s fuckin’ world. Sorry men, but I’m not in the best of moods these days. Try not to take it too personal.

I’m in no mood for moving poems, poetic phrases or words, wit, read between the lines bullshit and I for sure ain’t here to paint a pretty fucking picture. The whole godamned thing is a revolting, stomach churning, pathetic ranting of someone who’s just FINE.

*Jon*

Why the fuck did you do this to me? I’ve lost everything and have nothing left but this fucked up life that I’m gonna have to box up into tiny parts and ship to some un-fucking-known part of this shitty little world I live in and start all over again.

I take particular offense to that Jon.

I don’t like it at all. The kids don’t like it. Nobody particularly likes going into hiding and looking over their shoulder at every turn. I’m pretty sure I’m right about that.

You are really gonna go fuckin’ ballistic when I skip town with your kids in tow because you couldn’t keep your dicked up ego in check.

I loved your sorry motherfucking ass, and a very, very tiny little part still does and I hate your motherfucking ass for that too.

I gave you EVERYTHING you wanted, I told you EVERY ONE OF MY DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS and you used them against me.

I no longer have anyone to lift heavy boxes and open jars and shit and I’m pissed about that.

I had to change my own oil in the jeep and I’m really pissed about that too.

If someone talks shit to me on the street I have to MAN UP and I’m a fuckin’ woman and I’m pissed about that.

I have to change my own flat tires and I’m superbly pissed about that.

I have to haul in the groceries, put them away and cook ’em and that really burns my ass.

You have the fucking nerve to call 30 times a damn day and if I don’t answer, you’re at my fuckin’ door.

I can’t take it anymore man, I can’t take it, it’s killing me slowly.

That’s funny ain’t it y’all?

He’s still killing me. Every minute of every day. Killing me.

With guilt I shouldn’t have to bear.

With fear I shouldn’t have to live with.

With trying to pull magic dust, money, what-the-fuck-ever outta my ass to leave here.

I’m dyin’. Every day. Right before your very eyes.

I hope you’re happy Jon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


41 Comments

You Know Don’t You?


Due to my circumstances I’m making this post via this contraption we call an iPhone.

I have gone over and over in my mind what to say and how to say it and I haven’t got a clue. (Typing with my thumbs is a definite disadvantage.) 😉

I’ve been from piller to post over the last month, makin’ plans, huntin’, gatherin’, fallin’ down repeatedly and gettin’ back up.

Surely y’all see, feel, realize and know that I ain’t simply just gettin’ back up.

Don’t you?

Obviously y’all know that each one of you form a collective force in my world that is composed of hope, assurance, light, energy, patience, and undying support in my absence and my presence.

Don’t you?

Undoubtedly-you must know that Y’ALL pull me back up with your arms of love and kindness.

Don’t you?

Most assuredly y’all know that every like, every word in every line, every sentiment embodies me and drives me forward in ways I just can not adequately express.

Don’t you?


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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


16 Comments

GUEST POST: “Pales in Comparison” – By Americana Injustica


 

 

Hello everyone: happy Saturday to all of you ever-supportive people who visit my dear friend Teela Hart’s blog regularly, I am Americana Injustica – and Teela is my right hand. I am simply here as a guest blogger in her absence, to keep her stats up (just kidding, we don’t need no stinking stats…) – to keep her spirits up. She struggles.

Some of you know, Tee is away for a time, to find some strength in the peace and quiet of ‘anywhere but here’…I’d like to report that she is on vacation, but I suspect that would be a gross mislabeling of her ongoing necessity to live in FEAR.

I don’t know how many of Teela’s readers have lived it to be here reading this now (likely quite a few I’m sure – myself included), but I can say there are a lot of us out there. Too many have experienced ‘terrorism’ or ‘trauma’ in its most cruel and raw form – within the walls of a place called ‘home’. Too many realize too late that they have entered a mind-phuq zone from which there is little hope of escaping; too many never make it out alive. TRUTH.

Today, I am strong.

Today, I am free.

Today, I can hold the light out in front of myself and the masses of shivering, terrified Survivors of Trauma who walk, newly freed, along a very crumbly trail at my back into a life of their very own.

Today, I have survived.

Despite my motivation and the fire within me to move others to safety, I was once the epitome of a victim, not a survivor. I was broken by my ex-husband in ways I honestly perceived as being permanent during the recovery from my traumatic injury…life never seemed to have the same feel as it did before being so brutally betrayed by someone I had loved, shared marriage and children with, and committed myself to. I thought I had it bad, as a newborn survivor of my near-fatal marriage.

But Teela….

It’s hard for me to really put it into words when it comes to Tee; when she and I first met, she said (and I quote), “…my story pales in comparison to yours…”, a line that I have never forgotten for a single moment since, as a very telling aspect of her personality and perception of Self.

She thinks she hasn’t been through shit; as if she’s not worthy to be called a Cut Throat Survivor sometimes, she forgets that she can be free, she somehow still doesn’t see herself for all that she is…it baffles me. I love her fiercely for this reason: she is so innocent and pure, untainted by the YEARS and YEARS of Hell she lived inside of – still open and willing somehow…still so very human in every way…

If ever there was a woman out there in the world who I would stab an abusive mf’er in his neck for – it’s Tee.

Teela has never been acknowledged for her long-term strife as a domestic hostage of someone she loved and committed herself to, because she’s built that way: to keep her word.

She’s earned my undying respect and admiration through her impenetrable strength at the clubhouse; she is our “mouse” of the house, but her voice, although very quiet and soft-spoken, carries distances that none of the rest of us can maintain, because we aren’t Teela Hart.

This is just my way of trying to publicly blast her TRUTHS while she can’t defend herself and be all humble in her customary ways. She would probably never let this post through if she was editing, but she’s not so I’m running with it…

I love you, Tee. I’ve got your back; ALWAYS.


4 Comments

Coalition Against Domestic Violence


 These are the Safety Guidelines written by the Coalition Against Domestic Violence.I do not claim any authorshipl

Hotline Number: 1-800- 799-SAFE (7233)
TDD Number: 1-800-787-3224

Domestic and Sexual Violence Research Group Safety Strategies Workbook http://www.dvsafetyplanning.org/.

National Sexual Assault Hotline – 1-800-656-HOPE

Personalized Safety Plan
Your safety is the most important thing. Listed below are tips to help keep you safe. The resources in this book can help you to make a safety plan that works best for you. It is important to get help with your safety plan.

If you are in an abusive relationship, think about…

  1. Having important phone numbers nearby for you and your children. Numbers to have are the police, hotlines, friends and the local shelter.

  2. Friends or neighbors you could tell about the abuse. Ask them to call the police if they hear angry or violent noises. If you have children, teach them how to dial 911. Make up a code word that you can use when you need help.

  3. How to get out of your home safely. Practice ways to get out.

  4. Safer places in your home where there are exits and no weapons. If you feel abuse is going to happen try to get your abuser to one of these safer places.

  5. Any weapons in the house. Think about ways that you could get them out of the house.

  6. Even if you do not plan to leave, think of where you could go. Think of how you might leave. Try doing things that get you out of the house – taking out the trash, walking the pet or going to the store. Put together a bag of things you use everyday (see the checklist below). Hide it where it is easy for you to get.

  7. Going over your safety plan often.

If you consider leaving your abuser, think about…

  1. Four places you could go if you leave your home.

  2. People who might help you if you left. Think about people who will keep a bag for you. Think about people who might lend you money. Make plans for your pets.

  3. Keeping change for phone calls or getting a cell phone.

  4. Opening a bank account or getting a credit card in your name.

  5. How you might leave. Try doing things that get you out of the house – taking out the trash, walking the family pet, or going to the store. Practice how you would leave.

  6. How you could take your children with you safely. There are times when taking your children with you may put all of your lives in danger. You need to protect yourself to be able to protect your children.

  7. Putting together a bag of things you use everyday. Hide it where it is easy for you to get.

ITEMS TO TAKE, IF POSSIBLE click here to print check list.

bullet Children (if it is safe)
bullet Money
bullet Keys to car, house, work
bullet Extra clothes
bullet Medicine
bullet Important papers for you and your children
bullet Birth certificates
bullet Social security cards
bullet School and medical records
bullet Bankbooks, credit cards
bullet Driver’s license
bullet Car registration
bullet Welfare identification
bullet Passports, green cards, work permits
bullet Lease/rental agreement
bullet Mortgage payment book, unpaid bills
bullet Insurance papers
bullet Protective Order, divorce papers, custody orders
bullet Address book
bullet Pictures, jewelry, things that mean a lot to you
bullet Items for your children (toys, blankets, etc.)
  1. Think about reviewing your safety plan often.

If you have left your abuser, think about…

  1. Your safety – you still need to.

  2. Getting a cell phone. Getting a Protective Order from the court. Keep a copy with you all the time. Give a copy to the police, people who take care of your children, their schools and your boss.

  3. Changing the locks. Consider putting in stronger doors, smoke and carbon monoxide detectors, a security system and outside lights.

  4. Telling friends and neighbors that your abuser no longer lives with you. Ask them to call the police if they see your abuser near your home or children.

  5. Telling people who take care of your children the names of people who are allowed to pick them up. If you have a Protective Order protecting your children, give their teachers and babysitters a copy of it.

  6. Telling someone at work about what has happened. Ask that person to screen your calls. If you have a Protective Order that includes where you work, consider giving your boss a copy of it and a picture of the abuser. Think about and practice a safety plan for your workplace. This should include going to and from work.

  7. Not using the same stores or businesses that you did when you were with your abuser.

  8. Someone that you can call if you feel down. Call that person if you are thinking about going to a support group or workshop.

  9. Safe way to speak with your abuser if you must.

  10. Going over your safety plan often.

WARNING: Abusers try to control their victim’s lives. When abusers feel a loss of control – like when victims try to leave them – the abuse often gets worse. Take special care when you leave. Keep being careful even after you have left.

 


8 Comments

Coalition Against Domestic Violence


I received a much awaited letter from the Coalition Against Domestic Violence in the state I am currently residing.

I joined the coalition back in January when I started my blog.

I want to share with you some of the advances made in my state.

1) The budget for 2013 did NOT cut funding for the the upcoming year for the Council for Women for the Domestic Violence Center Fund that is intended to be distributed to domestic violence programs.

2) Senate Bill 302 was RENEWED for teams dedicated to examining deaths caused by domestic violence and has also included an additional two counties.

3) House Bill 24 passed (finally), providing for notification to the DA’s office if an abuser fails to complete a required abuser treatment program.  (Although I do not personally believe that completing these programs prevents future abuse to future victims.)  It does however, serve to throw the crazies in jail who refuse the program altogether.

4) Now here is the real killer:  Adjustments to the funding for domestic violence programs (more cash) to the court and attorney’s fees in 50B cases- WERE NOT PASSED.

I will be posting a petition shortly asking you to participate in, for example contacting government agencies electronically and so forth to continue the fight.

As we all know, without the funding for the courts and the attorneys most victims of DV stand not a chance in the world.  Going it alone is as dangerous as staying with the abuser.

Thanks for reading about our accomplishments as well as our failures.

Tee.


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Breaking The Bond


I spent 19 years “hanging on every word” believing EVERY TIME he finally got it and I cannot tell you how good if feels to be on the other side of it.
Thank you Tela. This is a must read.
Get out and go on. Please go check out Tela’s site.  She is an insightful sister-survivor with a wealth of wisdom to offer.

SociopathHell.Com

………one minute, one hour, one day at a time.

How many times have you sat there thinking ‘if only’, ‘why did they, and ‘how can I’? Focusing on these questions, and several more gets you nowhere. How do you get to the point to where you can once and for all let go of all the deep feelings of love, wanting and needing? How to do you replace the constant thoughts about your ex?

The first and most important step is to recognize & accept, you are/were not involved with a person who is emotionally connected to LIFE as you know it. They are constantly on the outside looking in, without being able to connect with a conscience. With you accepting that your Sociopath will never, ever understand what their words and behaviour has done, is completely unacceptable.  No matter how much love, compassion, understanding , empathy, you have…

View original post 361 more words


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Who’ll Stop The Rain?


It’s been raining all day and will continue to do so all night along with thunder and lightning.

rain

In light of my most recent visitor, I guess I’ll hunker down with my military mace, blade and 12 gauge.  Oh, well.  Long night ahead.  :/

Thunderclap as I type.  :/

 

 

Carolina Girls

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The kids and I had an awesome time!

I hope you enjoy the music and photos!

 

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~This is what it is to be free from Domestic Violence~

If you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, please visit http://www.nomore.org for a list of domestic violence centers specific to your location. You can also contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at http://www.thehotline.org or call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). If you feel you are in immediate danger contact your local law enforcement by calling in the U.S. 911

This gallery contains 18 photos


22 Comments

Onslaught *Heavy Triggers*


I cannot force anyone to understand domestic violence if they have never experienced it. However, I can most assuredly give a sneak peek into the life of a DV victim/survivor and hope that someone will open their mouths or quite simply click the share button. To remain silent is to be complicit in this crime.  I’m just sayin’.  One more thing.  I lived for  nineteen years in domestic violence, I escaped, and I had to watch and think on these things as I made this post.  Remember that.

 

Now take a deep breath and move on to the next one.

 

Take your time, clear you head and keep watching.

 

Enraging isn’t it?

 

As painful as it is to watch this tragedy multiply that by infinity and you’ll begin to understand how painful it is to live it.

If you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence, please visit http://www.nomore.org for a list of domestic violence centers specific to your location. You can also contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at http://www.thehotline.org or call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233). If you feel you are in immediate danger contact your local law enforcement by calling in the U.S. 911


81 Comments

No More Beatin’ Around the Bush


I hate making confessions; they are painful, ugly truths I’d rather not share with anyone, much less the world. I seem to have no recourse in the matter at all so, I’m gonna spill the beans if you will. I’ll do my best not to beat around the bush and get to the point.

The bare-naked truth is that when I’m left alone with my thoughts they wonder into places the hadn’t ought to go. I don’t hate *Jon* every day all day. I remember the tender moments, the laughs, the fun, and the over the moon intimacy we shared early on. These emotions are intensified when he calls at all hours of the night pleading for my forgiveness and I’m hovering at the brink of loneliness myself.  I know that makes me sound like I’m one brick shy of a load after all the things that I’ve already shared and maybe I am, but I also know that I’m flesh and blood with a heart that pumps syrup through my veins.

What saddens me the most is that I can’t pull the good parts that belonged to *Jon* out of the air and keep them with me and let the ugly parts float away.  The sad fact is that I had to take my heart and run.

I thank all that is good that these seemingly never ending moments of deluded memories are trumped by visions of the undeniable truth that he is a broken man that neither I nor anyone else can fix. His capacity for carrying goodness is tainted and there is no point of return to reference.

Because of the battle that takes place in my mind, I have to force myself to search out and see the brokenness of my children and the unwarranted guilt that they carry over the events that led to our final run for freedom. I have no choice but to counter that longing for his carefully constructed illusion with the lies, the condescension, the cruelty, the hate, the battering and the never-ending pain that resulted from it. Of all of the things that I have to remember and relent to, I have to remember and relent to that.

 

Whatever you do, wherever you are, whatever you think, when the longing for that illusion of love creeps in I hope you join me and choose to “Remember That.”

Side note:

Some folks think it’s unrealistic to strive to maintain my sense that good lives in everyone, that the road paved with a healthy amount of cynicism is the safest road to take.  Is there such a thing as a healthy amount of cynicism? Anyway, I have not one scintilla of a desire to be cold, hard and overwhelmingly disparaging, but I’m finding that to be a difficult task and if one such healthy balance does exist I hope I find it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


24 Comments

Alright Everyone! Its the Beginning of Missions of Happiness!


By Carey Hart

Sorry for being gone for so long I just got a new job and have been tired. Getting used to having to wake up at 5am compared to my usual of 12pm is a little difficult. Here is a thought for you all though.

Ok, so imagine you are out walking from one place to another in a big city. There are hundreds of people walking around besides yourself. Do you look them, ANY of them in the eye as you pass, or do you look down at the ground and try not to attract any attention? Now imagine someone walks up to you and randomly tells you they love you. Do you panic and speed up and walk away? Do you stop, startled and just look at them? Do you smile and tell them you love them back?

Do you realise that every decision you make and every reaction you have determines not only how you make someone else feel but how you feel about yourself as well? If you have been abused the way you react can wildly vary depending on what stage you are in, but let me challenge you all to do something that suprisingly WILL make you feel better about yourself regardless of what stage of grief or repair you are in. Next time you are going somewhere realise that there is a large percentage of people that are victims of abuse so use the fact that you have been through it to go out of your way and spot those people. Go up to them and tell them that you love them. Chances are once you get good at it and KNOW who is a victim they will be shocked and probably wont know what to say. Some of them may avoid you because they may be scared of the repercussions of their seemingly omnipresent abuser. One thing you can be certain of is they will remember you and they will start to question everything that that abuser is striving to program them to believe. “why would someone that doesnt even know me tell me they love me?” They WILL remember you, and that will be the beginning of the end of that dictators reign. YOU have just used manipulation in the best way possible.

Now heres another thing I would like you to try: think of the people that helped you out of your abusers grasp or anyone that just inspired you or helped you in a major way. Now choose one of them and write them a letter telling them how much you appreciate them. Make it serious and heartfelt I want you to get as close to tears as possible writing this letter. NOW I want you post that letter in the replies so we can all read it. Dont use their real name in the post but I want you to use their real names in your HANDWRITTEN letter. After I get 20 or so letters in the reply I will have a new mission for you.


14 Comments

You and I


You and I

You and I

 

You made an empty promise

You made it very clear

You said I was your princess

You said you’d never leave

I wrapped my arms around your legs

I shot up to the sky

I trusted everything you said

I never asked for lies

You didn’t seem to care that day

You screamed into my face

You turned those hurtful words

You knew they had no place

I gave you all my loyalty

I gave you one more chance

I gave you all you asked of me

I gave you my embrace

You struck my heart, my soul, my mind

You brought me to my knees

You lied again; I’d simply sigh

You blamed it all on me

I sank into my own abyss

I had nowhere to turn

I must have been at fault for this

I deserved that hateful burn

You’ll be sorry that fateful day

You see my back and not my face

You will know too late to say

You will see me walk away

I don’t need your empty promise

I don’t want your warm embrace

I’ve never been your princess and

I hate your lying ways

You can take your filthy guilt

You can find another trip

You can hurt somebody else

You were meant for nothing less

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


2 Comments

Say No More to Sexual Assault


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


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Almost Forgot……


Say No More

Tap on the poster and go right to the link or 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.

 

 

 


9 Comments

Say No More


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


4 Comments

Say No More to Sexual Assault


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


58 Comments

The Night the Lights Went Out *Trigger Warning*


I’ve been working on this post for several days.  It is the single most difficult post I’ve made.  It is my hope that in the end you will have found it to be encouraging.

Raw unadulterated emotion reduced me to a fragmented heap in every sense of the word as *Jon’s* lawyer ripped what was left from my heart and soul. He condemned his prey to death with the stealth and viciousness of a Leopard; I could hear Jon’s words creep like the grim reaper from his lips and into my thoughts exacting a cruel and hefty price for my defiance. The courtroom, packed with onlookers, stifled the air. They needed no oracle to see all of the destruction; the gruesomeness overpowered their urge to turn their heads.

Streaming tears gave way to guttural groans; breath escaped me; heaving and gasping my composure fled. My defenses hemorrhaged onto the stand, as the predator circled and clawed ferociously ending me with ease. Gravity weighted me to the seat, I couldn’t stand under it’s supremacy. I buckled under the pressure and gasps escaped from the (now) audience in the courtroom

 

Granted supervised visitation, I met with my children every weekend. The release I’d felt when I left my abusive environment quickly turned from hope to hopeless.  My health and mind quickly declined; depression settled like a black stormy cloud. The gnawing, deep seeded pain, no longer tolerable, drove me down into the hell of hopelessness. The wish for a shove or a slap and even death replaced the desire to survive. Alone and rejected by everyone I relied on, I screamed into the void, my voice went unheard. In my mind, recourse did not exist. I’d failed at every attempt to retrieve my children and now the desire to rescue myself no longer existed.

 

I couldn’t divert my eyes from the bottle of pills on the coffee table. It somehow drifted into my consciousness incessantly, calling my name. The harsh unrelenting words and actions of Jon over the past 19 years cut like a knife. The memory of his attorney’s assault invaded my senses and I questioned my sanity. The cries of my children and their inability to cope formed the final bullets of death.

Separated, mind from body, I took the bottle into my hand, I stared into it’s eye and it stared back at me. It understood what I had to do, it invited me. I twisted off the cap and 20 or 30 pills spilled into my hand, they seemed to sparkle like jewels. I answered their call and swallowed them down a few at a time and then 30 more. I did not seem to be in control of my body, it was moving through the actions without my consent.

 

Three days later, I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness unable to move. My hands, tied to rails on either side of the bed, ached. A respirator effected the rise and fall of my chest. The hospital room was cold and sterile and the machines played a lulling song. I could hear my own heartbeat on the monitors; silent tears rolled down my face.

I returned to my mother’s a week or so after my suicide attempt and still I never sought help.  I returned to Jon and my children a few months after that. I grew angry and insolent as time passed and even contemplated another suicide attempt. I didn’t follow through because of one simple act of kindness. Someone reached out to me and spoke living words into my heart. Those words ignited my hope into a fire that would give me the courage to ask for help.

I went to a rehab/shelter, told my story and it was heard.  I knew then that if I’d reached out to the right people I could have prevented such an awful act of violence against myself along with untold suffering.

They called outside resources to come in and provide counseling concerning Domestic Violence. I was given a plan with local resources, the hope to fight and the strength to win. It was a welcome reprieve, a place of strengthening, encouragement, and acceptance. I was safer and freer than I’d been in a very long time.

Three years later, one year ago, my children and I walked out for the last time. We received therapy and I’m blessed in their presence and living the life of a survivor. Many good and bad things happened in that three year interim and I reached out for help.

While the reasons for our pain may be different, one fact will remain the same; heartache is, at times, intolerable to bear without help.  The choice to reach out to someone in my desperation saved my life and the lives of my children; I hold firm to that belief.

I’ve included a national suicide hot line link here. I also have resources and help links at the top of my blog page for those struggling with Domestic Violence.

Don’t suffer in silence.  Reach out.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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What the Hell is Trust?


I’ve been given an assignment for the day week month year foreseeable future by a good friend and confidante Tela and I have to say that it’s not one I really care to participate in, as once again, I must look inside myself and pull out some ugly shit.  However, I believe it is something I must address in order to grow into my new self.  Thank you Tela for being pushy. I need it.  🙂

The wrecking ball responsible for reducing this foundation of trust into a pile of brick and mortar is termed abuse, which comes in many forms. While I experienced physical abuse, more often than not, I was the victim of gaslighting as well.

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The following, are words on a page:

Gaslighting is a form of mental abuse in which false information is presented with the intent of making a victim doubt his or her own memory or perception thereby causing the victim to question their own sanity. Instances may range from the denial by an abuser that previous incidents ever occurred, to the staging of bizarre events by the abuser with the intention of confusing the victim.

The term “gaslighting” comes from the play “Gas Light” and its film adaptations. Today it is used in clinical and research literature. Wikipedia.

***

The spit required to initiate the catabolic process of this word is severely hampered by the chemical toxicity (bullshit) of the act itself. Why on God’s green earth would anyone choose to be so toxic to his or her fellow man/woman? What provokes the idiotic, egotistical, maniacal, exuberance in such an individual? I suppose I don’t really give a rat’s ass to know the what’s, when’s, how’s, and why’s of such anymore.

I’ve stepped out into my own and it is of great comfort to me to know that I can recognize it again if need be. I have no desire to be “lit” up again and if such an act of lunacy is attempted, I believe I will be able to recognize the match for what it is. Let there be no mistake that I will extinguish that motherfucker before I go up in flames.

(Mini rant over)

The following is gaslighting is all it’s corrosive glory:

 

Ingrid Bergman had been “lit” up by her husband and was on her way to the madhouse, until he was busted.  Reasons?  Doesn’t matter.

Back to the questions:

The cure for atrustolee, (no trust)?

After my arm had been paralyzed I was forced to go to PT and put tiny golf tees in tiny holes, my fine motor skills resembled that of a child trying to grasp cheerios from the table for the first time.  I was clumsy and awkward; it took all of my concentration to be able to make a fist.  The arm itself was extremely hypersensitive to any sort of touch.  I had to pull and stretch muscles I’d protected from the pain.  It was a long, painful and mostly irritating experience.  I was relentless in regaining the use of my arm because without it I would never be able to function normally again.  Machines and therapists surrounded me at each visit to assist in my dubious recovery.

The issue of trust isn’t any different.  It will be required that I use muscles I’ve tucked away for safe keeping.  It will most likely cause pain at some juncture and I will be awkward and unsure about it.  Relentlessness will be required once more in order to regain the tone and use of my trust muscle.  My heart is hypersensitive to any random touch and I find myself once again, surrounded by machines and therapists to assist in my dubious recovery.  At this point, I am trying to place those tiny golf tees into tiny holes all over again.  Mark my words; before it’s over I’ll be brushing my own hair and living life to it’s full extent.

Thank you for all of your support.  I mean that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


15 Comments

Chalk Outline


Recently, on a visit to the Cut-Throat Club Online I found a song that one of my fellow Cut-Throats, Sunshine, posted.

I had all but forgotten about this song until that day. I’d listened to it repeatedly all summer long.

I traveled anywhere and everywhere over the last summer and the radio blasted most of the time. I had to drive, feel the push of the clutch, the stick in my hand.  I would decide when the motor revved and when it quieted.

I’d dreamt of liberation, I’d tasted it’s goodness, it smelled of sweet honeysuckle and it was good.  It also came with a price.  A price that I didn’t know I’d paid.

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“Who is this? Where did she come from? I don’t recognize her.” My anger bubbled and burst.

“Where am I? What happened to me? Where did I go?” Grief settled as dew on a barren soul.

The rubber met the road and I drove….hard and fast. Just not fast enough or hard enough to get away from the woman I’d become and not slow and cautious enough to find the woman I’d lost.

They said welcome back. They said they’d missed me. They said it was good to see the “real” me again.

They didn’t know that I’d died. They didn’t know that I’d become nothing more than a chalk outline.

Neither did I.

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I stood before *Jon* this week as neither the woman he’d killed nor the woman he’d created.  He didn’t know that the dead can’t speak.

In my death, Tee had risen and she walked away today, for the last time, with Victory in her hands.

Each victorious step leads to another step of victory.  It is you, my community here that gives me that gift.  Know that.

I’ve included the music video as a memorial to her.  Thank you Sunshine.

Don’t grieve for her.  She’s at peace now.

I’m at the wheel and I’m a survivor.