Elusive is twilight
Hangs on the brink
Gives us a show
Split the sky
Day and night
Dark and light
In one embrace
No loneliness here
Tears stream down my face
I’m constantly bouncing between getting better and falling apart, on the bright side, losing touch with my harsh reality is so much easier when I get out of the house and absorb the beauty that surrounds me. I can breath a little easier.
I really want to thank all of those who supported me through my somewhat tumultuous situation with the ex, You will never know just how much you all mean to me.
I’m simply writing my thoughts which are a bit odd, but then, I’m a bit odd.
I’ve placed myself in a very small bubble and find myself somewhat lonely.
That’s pretty damn funny ain’t it?
However, I do have a little Janis on the cue to help wash my blues away.
I’m definitely free:
From human contact
Male contact specifically
I believe that’s a topic for another day.being that I’m tipsy ‘n all
My email address has also changed to firstname.lastname@example.org.
The previous account was compromised. Go Figure.
I guess I’ll leave you with one of my favorite songs
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.
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.
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.
My email has been hacked and no longer exists.
Obviously my contacts were are all lost.
Please send me your email addresses so that I can talk to you again.
I’m makin’ this short and sweet so that I don’t say a whole bunch of fuckin’ cuss words.
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.
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.
Undoubtedly-you must know that Y’ALL pull me back up with your arms of love and kindness.
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.
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.
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. 🙂
I want to those who have shared their hearts cry, written their words in blood and tears. I’m so glad you have found your voice and I dare say that if we all felt this way domestic violence would not exist, wars would cease, hunger would be eradicated, and the list goes on.
I want you all to know that you ain’t heavy; you’re my sisters and brothers. Please take pause, read and listen. Five minutes to know how much I truly do care.
I didn’t give Lance proper credit for this blog post. We were having a conversation and this song came into the mix. Thank you Lance. You’re my hero.
Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics With A Twisted Twist
Here is a no shitter story:
I talked to my ever-so-cool step-sister back in the Seventies about this song.
She said to me,
“Lance, what does this song mean to you?”
I said (thirteen years old), I said, it is about some dude carrying his brother out of a war zone in a desert, and some guy comes up and says, ‘Is he heavy?’
And the dude says, “No. He’s my brother.”
My step-sister just left me there, all alone, wondering why I was not cool.
As you all know Teela has passed early this year, and as her son I feel the need to take over and see how things are going and I’m glad to see her memory live on and see more people reading her work. You are all a blessing and give me some sort of happiness through these hard times.
Hello everyone this is Teela’s son, I must inform you all that Teela has passed away yesterday, she was a strong brave woman and fought hard until the end. She was very sick with multiple problems such as RSV, COPD, and Pnuemonia. I know her stories were outstanding and I hate she couldn’t have made another one. God bless you all.
I have children and I am forced to deal with this issue on a regular basis and I can say that this hits the nail on the head in every way.
Thank you for making this post Sweet Marie.
Words have the power to be dangerous, and when you are speaking in terms of domestic abuse, semantics do matter. So often, statements and quotes offered up in attempt to encourage a survivor of domestic violence actually end up having the opposite effect. How many of us will internalize what you said without seeking clarification, maybe being influenced to change the meaning attached to the simplest of words that could result in us reassigning blame to ourselves? How many of us would momentarily protest but give up once we have been talked over enough? How many of us would speak up in our defense and make our voice heard?
Opening up and holding a dialogue open about how abuse happens is imperative. With the number of reported cases climbing, and taking into consideration the vast number of victims not coming forward, it is urgent that we talk openly about it…
View original post 1,670 more words
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.
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.
I would like to thank Rachel Carrera for nominating me for the “Not Freshly Pressed Award”. This is my second nomination and I am very proud and honored to have received it. Rachel is an awesome blogger and I do hope you do go and check her out. I am more honored to have received it from a fellow blogger than from the staff of WordPress to tell you the truth.
Don Charisma made the “Not Freshly Pressed Badge”. He is an amazing blogger and an awesome photographer. Please go by and pay him a visit. He is a true asset to our community.
At one point, I would have said that I care a great deal about getting freshly pressed, however, since my own growth and the growth of my blog I feel less and less that my desire to be “Freshly Pressed” is necessary. I have come to discover that my main goal is to reach those I can in order to interact as much as possible with those who have suffered many kinds of trauma and hopefully be an encouragement. I don’t need to be “Freshly Pressed” to do that. All I need is my story and my time.
I usually have more story than time, but I do the best I can with what I have.
Here are the rules for accepting the award:
1. Select the blog(s) you think deserve the “I’m NOT Featured on Freshly Pressed Award”.
2. Write a blog post and tell us the blog(s) you have chosen (there are no minimum or maximum number of blogs required) and “present” the blog(s) with their award.
3. Include in your blog post a paragraph about why you’d like to be on WordPress’ Freshly Pressed OR a paragraph on why you couldn’t care less about Freshly Pressed. Up to you …
4. Let the blog(s) that you have chosen know that you have given them this award and share the instructions with them. (Please don’t alter the instructions or the badge!)
5. Come over and say hello to the originator of the “The I’m NOT Featured On Freshly Pressed Award” via this link: http://DonCharisma.org/2014/01/01/the-im-not-featured-on-freshly-pressed-award
6. And as a winner of the award- please add a link back to the blog that presented you with this award, and then PROUDLY display the award on your blog.
7. If you ever do get officially “Freshly Pressed” then take down this award badge and display the official “Freshly Pressed” badge instead.
My nominees are:
My greatest fear of all the fears in my life is that there will never be one who feels this for me.
“If I should think of love
I’d think of you, your arms uplifted,
Tying your hair in plaits above,
The lyre shape of your arms and shoulders,
The soft curve of your winding head.
No melody is sweeter, nor could Orpheus
So have bewitched. I think of this,
And all my universe becomes perfection.
But were you in my arms, dear love,
The happiness would take my breath away,
No thought could match that ecstasy,
No song encompass it, no other worlds.
If I should think of love,
I’d think of you.”
No one has ever gotten anywhere near the proverbial door to my heart save one and I’m sure he doesn’t even know it himself.
I’ve had 4 dental procedures in 5 days and needless to say, it’s been a miserable five days.
I haven’t been reading a lot of blogs because of this incessant headache. (From the Nitrous) And the tooth pain from the root canals. (Two of them) Caps, wires and such.
All related to the abuse of the ex.
I am far behind on Awards and reading blogs.
I beg your patience with me.
I’ll get back to my old self soon.
I love y’all.
I had an on-line relationship once upon a time.
Crazy, I know.
It happened nonetheless.
This is a tribute to my Crazy Virtual Romance.
My romantic interest will probably never see this post, so I decided to let it all out.
It’s therapeutic you know.
Besides, I love this song and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to post it.
|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…
Having important phone numbers nearby for you and your children. Numbers to have are the police, hotlines, friends and the local shelter.
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.
How to get out of your home safely. Practice ways to get out.
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.
Any weapons in the house. Think about ways that you could get them out of the house.
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.
Going over your safety plan often.
If you consider leaving your abuser, think about…
Four places you could go if you leave your home.
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.
Keeping change for phone calls or getting a cell phone.
Opening a bank account or getting a credit card in your name.
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.
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.
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.
|Children (if it is safe)|
|Keys to car, house, work|
|Important papers for you and your children|
|Social security cards|
|School and medical records|
|Bankbooks, credit cards|
|Passports, green cards, work permits|
|Mortgage payment book, unpaid bills|
|Protective Order, divorce papers, custody orders|
|Pictures, jewelry, things that mean a lot to you|
|Items for your children (toys, blankets, etc.)|
If you have left your abuser, think about…
Your safety – you still need to.
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.
Changing the locks. Consider putting in stronger doors, smoke and carbon monoxide detectors, a security system and outside lights.
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.
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.
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.
Not using the same stores or businesses that you did when you were with your abuser.
Someone that you can call if you feel down. Call that person if you are thinking about going to a support group or workshop.
Safe way to speak with your abuser if you must.
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.
All went well with my trip to the dentist. The wisdom’s are out and it is now 5:45 am Saturday morning. My mouth feels like someone took a jackhammer to it, I can’t sleep, and I’m still a little loopy, but other than that I feel great.
Thank y’all for your support. I mean that.
I’ll be eating a lot of ice cream and drinking a lot of milkshakes and I like that.
Not sure how long it will be before I’m coherent enough to make any meaningful posts, but I wanted to give you a little update.
I go back o the DDS on Monday and have more work done on Tuesday.
Be well all.
On my way to the Dentist.
I hate going to the Dentist.
Laughing gas or no, it’s still a horrifying experience for me.
I will go to my happy place, but I’m still unsure that that will do much good.
On July 17, 2006, Baez received the Distinguished Leadership Award from the Legal Community Against Violence. At the annual dinner event they honored her for her lifetime of work against violence of all kinds.
Thank you Lance for sharing this with us.
Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics With A Twisted Twist
(No more preaching here from me; I do not wish to degrade the effect of the Video)
Yes, I know. This is a Socialist Song. But, without support from the home…well…