Category Archives: Domestic Violence
I changed the theme. I think it’s a push for me to start writing again.
I’m also going to write really honestly.
Here are some truths.
I miss The Girl. I am pretty sure she knows this. I’ve never stopped loving her, though I fear her intensely because at one time, she had the power, and used it to try and hurt me. It worked. I’d love to have a relationship with her, but I also fear it. Trust and all.
I am moving on in life after so many losses, but in all honesty if I die today, I am pretty OK with that. I don’t think I am courting death, but maybe I am. I’m not going to the doctor and I have some pretty serious things going on with my body. Do I ignore it longer and go till I drop, or do I go to the doctor?
I’m not really into more of the same. I have kind of had enough of the loss.
I am probably more closed off than ever, because to let anyone in that close would mean to trust, and I am very, very, very careful about who I hand actual trust to.
On the other side, I know the things I have experienced, seen and felt, to be true. It’s just that life hit me so hard I fell off the path. I’ve not gone back to that same hateful person, but there is this wall of protection around me and when you live like that, you aren’t really living at all. You’re sitting around, waiting for it to be done. My life has felt like the last act, of a bad play, that will not fucking end.
But still I am waiting. I don’t know for what, but I am waiting.
I’m thinking I know what I personally need to do, but I have procrastinated because to jump back into it means work and I know that with so much hidden emotion and denied feeling, it’s going to be heavy. It can’t be any heavier than keeping all this shit inside me, can it?
There are things I am totally happy about also.
I love my little apartment. I love that the things I do in my life, are mine. I do them when I want and no one criticizes me, tells me I am wrong, disapproves, or hits me.
I love my few friends I have kept. These are the people I trust and am comfortable with.
Yesterday, I read something I wrote a few moths before the stroke. How odd. As things were getting better and I was happy because of Mr. Yummy, my move, my job, my soaring spiritual awakening, there was a point I admitted I feared what was coming. In all honesty I seriously thought The Girl was about to make an appearance and I wasn’t sure I could do it. That would have been so much easier than losing Mel, Mr. Yummy and Arie. All within a short time span. Back to back. It felt so cruel. it made me ask if I was a good person? I sort of began to doubt my value. I forgot I am what I am and deserve what I deserve, as do you.
It’s what I have come to feel.
She hurled hate at me. She blames, blames, blames, but has no desire to know the truth. She hides, safe in the bubble of familiar.
She watches me. Pretty odd for someone who doesn’t give a shit. I care, but I don’t. I will never set myself up to be punished by her again. Were she to try and contact me, I don’t know how far I would be willing to go. I will never turn away someone I love. Make no mistake, I love her, but I also will never let a dog who bites, bite me again. I am also very , very unlikely to bring her around Mr. Yummy. I keep him safe. We may have been through some shit this last year, but we are finally talking. There is finally some fire burning again, and he is…above my abusive and abusing past.
I feel less and less for her, because that is what SHE wants. I don’t know if I would ever turn it around or could trust again.
This is not what I ever wanted, but I am OK with it, because I have to be OK with it. Unlike her (you, because I know your eyes or someone else is checking in) I don’t stalk. I am strong enough to face anything. Surviving the losses I have survived the last five years, has taught me this.
So the hate she invests in me, is not hurting me. I don’t feel it, seething and eating away and robbing her soul of peace. It doesn’t hurt me, not like it hurts her. It has actually started to fade, because I have no choice.
I took a new step yesterday. It’s one I have been thinking of doing for a few years, to ratchet up that Spiritual journey.
Sometimes baby steps are actually micro steps.
There is something I should have done in 2010, that I DIDN’T do because I was afraid. I was afraid for a lot of reasons, but mostly I was afraid that I didn’t matter, so I stayed quiet.
Someone who said he loved me, jammed his shoulder into my face, while I was laying beneath him on the floor. He did it twice. It was the second time he did it, that I heard a pop in my left eye. I was drunk, which is unfortunate, but it wasn’t a reason to bust the orbital floor of my left eye.
The actual reason he did it, is because I, was daring to become uncontrollable. I wouldn’t be told on this particular night, that it was time to go to bed. I didn’t have to work the next day, and I had just spent a week taking care of him, while he was drinking his way through his friend’s death. I just was taking a night, to listen to music, have some solitude and non drama, and a half a bottle of rum.
It’s always bothered me that I was shit faced drunk, because I really don’t drink that often. The details are blurry because of the drink, but in NO WAY, does that mean I deserved to have the floor of my eye busted, because I wouldn’t go to bed, or grabbed a cell phone.
I grabbed the cell phone, because he threatened to call the police on me for being drunk. Because I was drunk, I didn’t stop to think that the police couldn’t arrest me for being drunk in the place I was calling home. I was old enough, at home, and so fucking what?
It was the grabbing of the cell phone that set him off, and though I can admit, it was a drunkenly STUPID thing to do, knowing he had a temper, but I did not deserve to have the floor of my eye broken. It was stupid of me to stay with him too. We broke up, but true to form…I went back.
It’s not surprising that a year later, he assaulted me again.
I was still secretly paying for bankruptcy from the reconstructive surgery, that he told me NOT to declare bankruptcy on.
I didn’t have insurance. I didn’t call the police. I didn’t press charges. I didn’t sue him.
After the second assault, I left him. I lived in a closet in my mother’s studio for a year and a half, because that, was preferable to living with him while trying to go through bankruptcy and rebuilding my credit and my life. That is also when I went crazy. That was when the walls of hate that I had carried with me, for so long, crumbled. Overnight. Completely.
Pressing charges, doing all of that, would have impeded my spiritual journey, that slapped me in the face. It also would have meant, dealing with a lot of negative shit, and I really had just been so negative and angry for so long, it suddenly was toxic to me. I had to walk this path and learn the things I have learned with the Universe.
I probably had to get unafraid too.
The night before Mel died, I have said we talked about EVERYTHING. It’s almost weird that we spoke of so much and makes me think she knew something was happening to her. We talked about this man. I told her that I wished I had made a police report. She told me it wasn’t too late and that it would probably help the next woman, because we both know there with be “the next one”. I hung up the phone that night, knowing she and I would talk more about it and she would support me through it.
Well, I never got to talk to her about it again, but I am going to follow through on it. I don’t expect them to arrest, file, or do anything. Too much time has passed. It’s not about that. It’s about documenting. Not staying silent. Calling him, what he was to me.
Do I still forgive him? Yes.
Do I ever want to see him or have him in my life in any manner? No.
Woulda, coulda, shoulda…gonna.
I got subpoenaed at the beginning of the month, because I have twice picked up the phone to call 911 on the neighbors. It was the second call that did it, because booming was taken away and arrested. After speaking with the prosecutor, he told me he was pressing charges.
I sat in the KRJC really NOT wanting to be there. I was angry that I had to take MY time, from MY day, to deal with this bullshit, especially since I had heard he was claiming self-defense, and she was refusing to press charges.
I get it. I’ve been there. I had a husband and a daughter at the same time once. I took it and took it and took it, because I wanted my daughter to have a father who was present. Unlike what I had. I also took it because I didn’t believe in myself or my abilities. I also took it because no one ever picked up the phone and called the police on us or tried to do anything that would have or could have gotten is help.
Even the trips to the ER, where he sat by my side, the ever dutiful spouse, never leaving me unless he was asked to…no one ever asked me, “Is he hurting you? Did new york steaks REALLY fall out of the freezer and split your head open, or did he have something to do with it as well?
I didn’t WANT to be someone who fed the cycle through inaction. I may as well walk next door, pop Shrill in the face, call her a bitch and walk off if that’s the case, because inaction is condoning, and I do NOT condone violence on another human unless your life is on the line and you need to defend yourself.
Still…sitting there, staring at doors that have never led me any where good, I was getting pissed. THIS is what I get for trying to stop abuse? Well, no wonder no one ever gave a fuck or called 911! Who wants to go through this???
I sat there, shaking, remembering, remembering, remembering, wanting to panic and run. It took EVERYTHING I had to stay. I could have sat IN the courtroom, but I didn’t want to hear it so I let the prosecutor know I was there and would be in the hall. After four hours of watching people in the midst of trauma, the prosecutor came out and told me, “Mr. Booming plead guilty. He has some things to do for the court, but your services here are not needed. Thank you for talking with me on the phone and thank you for coming.”
He was very kind and had a good vibe about him, but I was happy as a pig in shit to leave.
If it happened again today, I would do the same thing.
I would call 911 again, because I simply, DO.NOT.CONDONE.
I’ve been contacted regarding Shrill and Booming. Booming has been charged and I am not surprised, nor do I disagree with it.
The gentleman I spoke with was very polite, kind, professional and I hated telling it as I saw it, but I have to be truthful. I trust my words here, more than my recollection, on the spot, so I let him know about my blog. In part, I blogged about it because my dad told me to always write stuff down immediately after you have any involvement in an accident, or witness a crime. SO I did. It felt like a relief to know I had to fall back on, as it helps jog the memory.
This is the kind of thing I don’t want to remember for long. I don’t want it in my head, or to have to deal with it, so it is one of the things you purposely push away and file.
I mentioned, more than once my history and I was asked, “Do you mind telling me your ex-husbands name?” I surprised myself at how fast I gave his name up and the tone I heard in my voice when I actually said his name. Of course, now I sit here, remembering my old life and I feel shame.
I feel shame that he wasn’t the last, that three years ago I had reconstructive surgery because another guy busted my orbital floor.
“I’ve changed”, I say after he says he is sorry to hear of my past. But have I? If I started dating someone again and they didn’t like things about me, would I morph and try to be what they want, or would I have the balls to say, “Maybe we aren’t made for one another?” Would I let them treat me like shit, or would I walk because I deserve respect?
I read my posts on Shrill and Booming, and I realize…I would be a crap witness, because I clearly confuse myself and the incidents. It took me reading them both to know, my confusion was present even talking to a prosecutor on the phone.
Still, as I stated, Booming TOWERS over Shrill. He should have walked away, not hit her back. Just because you’re bigger and stronger, doesn’t mean you handle things with more violence.
Between my room-mate and the neighbors, I need to move and find a new place.
Notice how my writing has dropped to non-existent compared to before March? It’s because I am not happy where I am at. I have an interview this week elsewhere, cross your fingers.