Teela Hart

Surviving Domestic Violence


55 Comments

Cops??? I Chucked It On My Mother…


Let me say here and now.  I am (almost never, most of the time, usually) always on my best behavior and I am without doubt a law breaking abiding citizen. (Sarcasm)

I don’t go around making trouble as I have some sort of drug paraphernalia on me at all times. (Sarcasm again)

I have the utmost respect for law enforcement on a good day. (Sarcasm, and it may not end here, unlike the paved street)

I haven’t been pulled by a cop in…well…since I was a wee teen.

I suppose the cop that pulled me today was quite intimidated by my gangster appearance.  (One can never be too careful you know).  After all, I had my posse with me (my 69 year old mother and my 15 year old daughter).  I guess I asked for it.

My favorite Cop

My favorite Cop

I was ticketed.  I took my punishment like a real ‘trooper’, clenched teeth, fake smile, accompanied by the famous Clint Eastwood, make my day, look and all.

I drove away, cussin’ like a sailor, but I’ve not said one ugly word in this post and I’m happy about that.

My destination was clearly mapped out in my mind.  I had to get my mother home to get her diabetic meds.  I know, I know, I shouldn’t have been in that drug run, but I couldn’t help myself it was a true error in judgement on my part.  I don’t know what I was thinkin’.

Of course, I drove right by an apparent drug deal and the officer did too.

I know, you know the movie.

Apparent Drug Deal

I continued on and low and behold, my favorite cop made a U-turn and a high speed chase ensued as he had snagged yet another crew of vicious criminals who were traveling East at about the speed limit.  (An older lady and a younger one).

Poor felons.

Poor felons.

Yes I did.  I turned around just so I could take another photo.  Of my favorite cop.

In the blink of an eye I had an epiphany.  It is the 30th.  He has to get that quota in and it’s blatantly obvious he’s gonna do it all in one day.  Yes, that had to be it, or, someone pissed in his cornflakes this afternoon.  Or, someone has to pay for the new Police Station.

By the way, I was ticketed for………..

Alright, if you insist, here’s the whole sordid story:

I was wearing my seat-belt mind you, it clicked when I put it on.  You know the saying “click-it or ticket”?  I clicked it.  I adjusted it, placed it underneath my arm (I don’t do turtle-necks or seat-belts choking me to death) and as a result I must pay a $150.00 fine.  My contribution will help pay for the new police station that was erected three blocks from my home.

New Cop hangout.  Notice newly paved street.

New Cop hangout. Notice newly paved street.  Grand opening was? You guessed it. Yesterday!

 

Oh, I almost forgot, the city was kind enough to re-pave the street just in front of the new station.  Not the entire pot-marked street, just that one portion.

The buck stopped here. My buck.

The buck stopped here.
My buck.

FYI:  The crime rate in the county in which I live, is the highest in the state.  60% of violent crimes are related to domestic violence.  I sure would love to know where this dedicated law enforcement officer was when my ex was trying to run me over, driving down the sidewalk on the very street I just got pulled on, just one mile from the police station. (Not sarcastic)

I would dare to say that, looking back, he made the right decision.  I’m a zit on the face of society and clearly, I must be eradicated.

Thank you favorite cop.  I’m in total awe of your hard work and dedication.

We simply cannot leave this post without the “Cops” video ’cause…………. I’m a bad girl.

I must admit, this whole post, with the exception of two lines (my bad, three lines), is, in all it’s glory.  Sarcastic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prescription-Drugs


10 Comments

The World Continued to Turn


It is true.  I married an abusive narcissist.  It was a poor decision; however, in my defense he presented himself very well.  He was a kind, humble, Christian, man looking for a kind, humble, Christian woman.  It seemed only logical that we join forces, forming a kind, humble, Christian couple.

The problem came, when after 2 weeks of marriage, he revealed to me that he was a member of the KKK, and a prospect for the Hell’s Angels.  The fact that he was trying to be a better person and move on from these things gave way for the compulsion to overlook these horrifying confessions.

After picking up my jaw from the floor, he declared yet another unspeakable revelation.  “I almost killed my ex-girlfriend; I was choking the life out of her and my brother broke a Pepsi bottle over my nose to get me to let her go.  But she was a crazy bitch; she attacked me first and talked trash about my daddy.”

He went on.  “Please believe me, I’m a changed man.  I will quit the KKK and the Hell’s Angels and I will never, ever, ever, put my hands on you in anger.  My father used to beat me like a grown man when I was a child, I will never forget what he said as he beat me with clothes hangers and drop cords, ‘son, I am going to beat you as hard as God will let me.’”  “  I will never do that to my children and I could never do that to you.”

My heart broke into pieces for Jon as I imagined him a small, defenseless, child battered at the hands of a full-grown man.  Jon’s mother left his father after 19 years of marriage, and proclaimed the whole time that his father had never struck his mother.  I, in turn hated his mother, who had already passed, for allowing her son and herself to suffer such abuse and I hated his father for perpetrating it. I had no idea I would be Jon’s mother one day.

I could not understand why a neighbor did not tell someone, or why family members never intervened, or why his mother did not leave long before 19 years had gone by.  I wanted to help Jon.  I wanted to make him better.  I wanted him to know what it felt like to be loved by someone who would never hurt him.  I believed in the power of God to heal his wounds and so I proceeded on the rescue mission facing me.

I ignored the red flags, I turned a blind eye to his shenanigans and my children and I paid a hefty price that will likely haunt us for the rest of our lives.

Upon realizing that no amounts of love, assurances, yes sirs and no sirs, perfect housekeeping, or perfect “wifing” would ever make a difference with Jon , I felt destitute.  He continued to berate and abuse me; several times, he actually slapped my face while getting ready for church and loved me like a princess in the presence of the church family.

Alone in the bed, I had made for myself, destitute and suffering both physically and emotionally, I made the fateful decision to medicate not only my physical pains but also my emotional pains.  I found that my painkillers worked wonders for numbing the insatiable anguish dwelling deep within.  I no longer belonged to my children, my husband, or myself.  I now belonged to a new lover.  One that was always present down that dark desert highway.

The world continued to turn and I sank lower than I could have ever imagined.  Angrily, I survived many attempts to end my life and after two coma’s and a final decision to do it “right” this time I called the pharmacy to inform them I would be there the next day to pick up my bottle of 240 pain pills.  In my mind, I had twelve hours to live, therefore, I curled up in a fetal position underneath my blood red throw.  However, as fate would have it, a tiny hand touched my shoulder and the words, “I need you Mommy” pierced my heart (See “I need you Mommy”).

The following day I took myself to rehab, detoxed my drug-ridden body, and hashed my plans to escape the streets of hell that Jon had so carefully constructed just for me.

If I could do it all over again, I would have pulled myself up by my bootstraps, flushed the drugs down the toilet and I would have run, and run hard, and I would have never looked back.