Teela Hart

Surviving Domestic Violence


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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.

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The Jaws of Life


I’ve learned a lot over the years but the one thing I’ve learned to do the best is keep a stiff upper lip. Allowing the intense rawness that I feel deep down inside, any space at all to run freely terrifies me to the point of freezing up like an old, rusty, hinge but I understand that it’s a necessary evil of sorts. Honestly, it would take nothing less than the Jaws of Life to free the stemmed tide and I have, on occasion, run across such a brash tool and denied it’s entry for the sole purpose of self-preservation which in the end leads to destruction.

The Jaws of Life is a tremendously loud, hydraulic tool designed to prevent loss of life in crushing motor vehicle accidents although that’s not it’s only use.

Jaws of Life

The consequences of all of my missteps rest not only on myself but also on the lives of those I endeavor to protect, so taking the blame seems to be the natural progression, and it should be. The problem with that is that I’ve been conditioned since childhood to slink back believing that I am the one who doesn’t measure up, for one reason or another, even when it is crystal ball clear that the problem wasn’t always due to my lack of adequacy but to their inability to accept themselves. On many occasions as a child, I felt that if I’d done this or that that things would have been different, that I’d be loved, that I’d be accepted and validated in the discovery of me. Rarely did that ever happen catapulting me into a metamorphosis so to speak and dividing me into tiny little pieces making it nearly impossible to detect the abandoned child crouching in the empty corner of my heart.  This plays a significant role in skewing my reality which in turn makes it nearly impossible to rightly judge my steps.

Child's Cry

I’d like to defer for a moment to the thoughts that I previously shared in “Chalk Outline” concerning my death and resurrection and say that I was wrong about that. The plain and simple truth is that I’ve never discovered me because at each and every turn in an attempt to do so, that hurt little girl jumped back to her assigned corner headlong. She’s never held firm in her demand for respect and the right to be who she longs to become.

I have jumped aboard a runaway train bound for nowhere good should I choose to continue to live in the throes of the anger that keeps me in denial.  This unworthily trusted reaction to childhood brokenness has more than sufficed as a protection against the hurt that now balks at the thought of remaining under the gun that had always kept it in check.

It’s time to call that hurt little girl out, hug her, tell her I love her and that it isn’t her fault.  Convincing her of that may be years in the making but I know that one day she will forgive me for abandoning her to her own devices.

footage.shuddershock.com

Within the walls

Of hurt and pain

I hid behind

A masquerade

I will give my love to you

My heart and soul to you

Forever you’ll be mine

I’ll put my hand in yours

All that I am is yours

Until the end of time

Although some of them may never know who they are, I find it necessary to thank those who wielded the Jaws of Life against the crushing, metal, armor that trapped my little girl inside for so many years.  Truly, you are my heroes.