The story of the jail cell "tenant"...

I can't believe it's almost been a month since I wrote out a story! A busy few weeks with moving back into the house, a sister-in-law's wedding, deadlines and several sicknesses! I've thought about what I'd write next. There is still so much to write out. And I'm happy to report that writing these stories have proven to be very therapeutic to me. I especially hope by now one of these stories has reached someone that led them to help.

What to tell...what to put out there...

How about the story of the jail cell "tenant"...

One of the times that he got out of jail, I picked him and his new friend up to bring them both home. He had said he made a friend "inside" that really was a good person just needed a starting place. I remember those jail cell phone calls. Every few minutes you get a ding to put in another quarter so you can keep talking.

Where did these 2 want to go eat? Amerigo's downtown Nashville. I took them. I took them both, and I paid for both. Of course his friend didn't have anything. No clothes, shoes, boxers, toothbrush. I bought it. We had an extra room he could sleep in; my stepson's, since we only had him every other weekend.

They were going to look for a job together. The first week was about resting and "recovering" from being in jail. Second week was scanning the classifieds while watching a little TV. Third week was to decide which places in classifieds they were going to actual apply to. You get the idea.

The original agreement was that he could stay up until a month, maybe 2, just to get back up on his feet a bit. I like to think of myself as a giving person. I want to help others, always. Everyone deserves a second chance. We're all one decision away from having a totally different life. 

He ended up staying for about 3-4 months - as my memory serves me. 

So, they never got jobs, but they got along just fine in the 3400 sq. house with a bonus room TV and sectional we had that I was struggling to keep the lights on for. I picked and chose each month the bills that were going to get paid. I finally told our new friend he had to leave. I couldn't afford to feed him anymore (he was a very muscular, large guy!).

He moved out. He really was a kind guy. I don't remember if I took him somewhere or if someone picked him up. But I got the silent treatment for at least a week. Or little "crazy bitch", or "cruel ass bitch" every here and there. But I was made felt as I had done something wrong. I housed a homeless guy for a month - who I didn't even know his real name! Who knows what he could have done... But there was no way I could actually say "no" to - what did I say I was going to call him? Ha! (Do I have the right to use his real name because of freedom of speech???) Didn't matter he still didn't have a job and still managed to have cigarettes to smoke. Sigh...take a guess at who drove to the gas station to buy said cigarettes for him. 

Belittled. Deceived.

The story of the high speed chase

He had been missing, gone, for at least a week this time. He wouldn't answer the phone. Wouldn't text back. Not even an "I'm ok". The timeline of our marriage in my head is so blurred I don't even know what month this was. I'm pretty sure it was after tax season though, so possibly May of 2005. But those are just minor details.

I took the day off of work to stay home and attempt at focusing enough that I could study for the part of the CPA exam I had coming up. I was sitting at the dining room table. We had a bay window & the house sat up on a hill so I could easily see down to the culdesac. I remember the sound of the garage door opening and I looked out the window and there was his truck. That damn truck I had to pay the note on because it was in my name.

However, he wasn't expecting to see my car when he opened the garage door - he thought I'd be gone to work. I ran out the door and they were backing out of the driveway & closing the garage door. The girl he had been sleeping with. I had never seen her face. AND she was driving! Driving THE CAR I PAID FOR. I saw red.

If you can imagine, you see your husband, who you haven't seen or heard of in over a week, finally show up. Then he tries to run away. I flew down to my car as fast as I could. I don't even think I put shoes on. I flew down my driveway, it bottomed out at the pavement, and I started chasing them. Out of the neighborhood, down the street and up to the on ramp of the interstate. I'm honking the whole time. We get on the interstate, and I pull up next to them, and I see her. Why her? What is she doing that I'm not? What is so wrong with me?

I'm yelling PULL OVER! PULL OVER NOW! They're both flicking me off and I see him laughing. We get up to almost 100 mph on I-24. She's mouthing "CRAZY BITCH" at me. Who knows what lies he told her about me. But she was right, I was crazy. It makes you CRAZY. Do things you would normally never do.

After a few miles I just let them go. What was I going to do? Wreck us? I went back home. Cried. Yelled. Screamed. I felt crazy insane and completely alone and helpless. I don't remember when he came back after that. 

But apparently I forgave him and believed his "I'm sorry"'s, because this story continued on for at least another year. That's one of the things about domestic, emotional, psychological abuse. It's a cycle. A vicious cycle. And so so hard to get off the merry go round. 

The story of the 1 year anniversary

As I stated in one of the earlier posts, our mind has a way of protecting us from painful memories. Just blocked. I know that within 6 months I was already staying at my parents house, which luckily was only about 3 miles away. But for some reason, I took him back and we tried to move forward.

It never crosses your mind to ask the person who is driving, if not you, if they have a legal drivers license. I mean, you'd just ASSUME if they're an adult driving a car, they are legally allowed to do so. Well, I didn't ask Bart when we were dating if his was legal. Much less ask how many DUIs were on his record. He never even had a car while we were dating. He just always had a ride. I did end up signing for him a very nice black SUV. But, that's for another story.

Anyway, back to this story. Bart was in jail during the last few months of our first year of marriage. Apparently he got pulled over driving a friend's car while drunk. Apparently he had a very long list before I met him - mostly DUIs. After several weeks in a way-too-nice-and-expensive-for-me home all alone I picked him up on the day he was released...our one year anniversary. I was SO EXCITED. Y'all. I was under his spell. I was EXCITED - to pick up my husband for our anniversary from JAIL. I should've been so pissed that I let his ass walk home from the jail that day.

But, I didn't. Instead, a friend loaned him money for us to have an anniversary dinner. We had like, NO MONEY. I was the only employed one. Y'all know where we went...THE PALM. Ha! We looked so good too. I remember sitting there feeling so special. My husband took ME to THE PALM for dinner the day he got out of jail! I'm sure he would've rather gone out with friends or just sleep in the bed, but he humbled himself to borrow money from a friend so he could TAKE me to dinner... (it really makes me gag now)

That's what the emotional abuse does. I mean, it takes away so much of your self worth! My worth depended on whether or not he WANTED to sit by me on the couch at night instead of sitting on the back deck, in the same clothes he slept in the night before, drinking Captain and Coke, on the phone smoking cigarettes.

I didn't feel like a domestic violence victim. That was the women whose husbands punched them every day. We'd make it days that he wouldn't abuse me in any way! It was fiiiiiine. I could make him better. Nicer. Get a job. If I love him harder, he'll love me more. "He was just tired today." "Just hungover today." "Just stressed today." I can change him.

Even another big slap on the face like this one, wasn't a big enough, flashy enough sign for me. I still went back. And HOPED he'd CHOOSE ME.

The story of the missing newlywed

If you knew my ex-husband in real life, you'd understand that "to know him is to love him". He had one of those personalities that just draws people in. He's funny, charismatic, life of the party, and knows how to make everyone feel at ease. As you've read in previous posts though, that's not the same behind closed doors.

For our honeymoon we took a cruise to Mexico. I was 23, about to turn 24. Very young! We were ready to have a good time -  drink, lay out by the pool and party. We made some friends, as he always easily did, with a group of guys that were on a guys trip I suppose. I mainly remember just hanging out at the pool with them.

One of the nights we went to their cabin to pre-party. We had dinner as normal then went on to the clubs they had on the cruise ship. Next thing I know, I wake up in our cabin and he's gone. I yelled his name, no answer. Not in the bathroom. No where. It was like 3am I'd say.

I got out of our cabin and went up to the deck where the pool and hot tub were to see if he was up there or possibly passed out on one of the lounge chairs. Nope. I remember stumbling around yelling his name. I was so afraid he had gotten drunk and fallen off the side of the boat. Terrified. I probably walked that ship for over an hour.

I don't remember what time he came back to the room, but he refused to tell me where he had been - "just hanging out" - is what he said. I never did find out where he had been. Yeah, he could've just passed out in the guys' room, or he could've been in another girls' room. Who knows.

All I know is that my new husband didn't come "home" during our first week of marriage, and I was just supposed to accept that. That was the first of many nights I would spend alone, wondering where he was and who he was with.

The story of the twins

Saturday, October 4th, 2003. I went into the ER with severe pelvic area pain. They did a pelvic exam (which I had never had by the way), and an ultrasound. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but your baby is ectopic. We have to do emergency surgery right away. Tonight"

Let's go back about 2 weeks prior though. The last story, where my car was stolen. You can read that post here Stolen Car entry.

After that night, I started to have really sore breasts. My friends convinced me to get a pregnancy test. Positive. Which is ironic considering my infertility issues I dealt with later in life. You can read about that here Infertility story.

I was going to take care of the baby myself. I decided that day. Then my friends chipped in and said they'd help me raise it. I had just turned 23. Junior in college. I could do this.

A few days went by, I decided to tell him. He deserved to know. I told him. He wanted proof from a real test. He knew I was coming to pick him up for the test. He was still passed out when I got there that morning. I had to pull him out like a child and get him dressed. We went to a free clinic somewhere in a small town. Or maybe, it was in town. I don't know. But I felt far away from myself.

After that confirmed test, I went back to my car and smoked a cigarette. I knew it would be my last one in 9 months or more. I just needed one more.

We told my parents that weekend. Looking back, I'm really surprised my dad let him in the house. After we told them, I just remember Daddy saying, "We'll see if the cream will rise to the top". My parents let him sleep on their couch for a few nights. He had no car. No job. When I look back and think about this time, you know what he DID have? ME. F*cking me. Y'all, DO NOT be a door mat. Do not be the girl that falls for the boy then does EVERYTHING. You are worthy. Worthy of much more.

I had a job at Cingular (the cellular company that turned into AT&T) part time while I was in college full time. I had moved back to my apartment, and he followed me back there. It was Friday night and I have having the worst cramps I had ever had in my life. I got in the shower and let the hot water, as hot as I could stand it hit my stomach while I lay on my back in the tub. He never got up once to check on me. I went in to work Saturday morning and told my co-worker about the pain. She had 2 kids. Of course she'd say, oh that's normal! But I was sore! I felt like I had done an intense workout on my abs. She told me to go to the doctor. The ER. That wasn't normal. She texted her nurse friend.

I went back to my apartment to get him. We drove to Southern Hills hospital. Next thing I was having my first "girl" exam by a red headed ER doctor whom I had never met. I was scared to death. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but your baby is ectopic. We have to do emergency surgery right away. Tonight"

He hugged me. Told me it was going to be ok. He was here for me. He had to call my parents. My parents and sister got there right before surgery. If an ectopic pregnancy ruptures you can die. Hence the urgency. I remember my sister crying.

Next thing I know I'm waking up to Daddy and him trying to get the UT game on in the hospital room. It was probably the only thing they had in common. Ever. That was another HUGE SIGN. Donitka came. Donitka always came. She was always there. Erika came. Bless her.

We were released the next day. No sex for 6 weeks. He made me anyway THAT DAY. "I'll be easy. You'll be fine". Bastard.

I had to keep going to get my blood drawn to make sure the pregnancy hormone, HCG, was going down. It wasn't. "Ma'am, we need to do more tests"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry. They didn't check your other fallopian tube. The baby has already passed though, so we don't need to do surgery. We can just give you some chemo shots in both your hips to kill any remaining living cells." Cells.

Those babies weren't meant to be. I have another baby in heaven too. We had a miscarriage between Kenna and Everly. We don't understand God's way in the moment, sometimes decade. But we just have to trust he knows what he is doing.

This story's picture is of me and Donitka at a UT game. Seemed fitting :)

The story of the stolen car

You know...sometimes God flashes HUGE signs in front of us that we either ignore, or simply don't see because, you know what they say about love. It's blind.

It was my 22nd birthday, September 16th. Daddy had bought me one of those awesome CD changers where the face comes off. I was so excited. It was for my beloved Honda Accord coupe. 

I didn't go out that night, I was in school and I had a test the next day. I was living with a roommate and both our dogs. *Ben (actually, let's call him Bart, Ben is too nice of a name) was staying with us most nights at this point. I should add that this is a year before I married Bart. Bart wanted to go out, so he took my car. He didn't have a car.

I was woken up around 3am to loud laughing in the living room of the apartment. I went out there to to find 2 thug looking guys on my couch who I had never met, along with Bart. They were clearly trashed. I told Bart to the side to get them out of my house, I had no idea who they were. He told me I was crazy and just to take my crazy ass back to bed. I knew I wasn't going to win this battle, so I grabbed Toby, my dog and laid in bed until it was quiet and I went back to sleep. 

I woke up at like 5, all was quiet and I went out to the living room. Bart was passed out on the couch. I looked around and saw my purse on the kitchen table. All my cash, my debit card, MY KEYS were gone.

I ran outside to the parking lot. My car was gone. I ran back in and tried to wake him up, asking him where the F*CK my car was. He was no use. He couldn't even talk, still too drunk.

My roommate drove me to my parents house and I told Daddy what had happened. Daddy drove me back to the apartment, his gun with him. We had no idea if these guys were coming back...what we would come back to. We walked up to the door to hear a blaring noise. It was my alarm clock. He was still passed out, no budging. Daddy banged on the door until he finally unlocked it. Remember, I had no keys. I don't know how he managed to get up and lock the door. 

Daddy told him to get his ass up he was taking him "home". I don't even remember where that was at that point. Maybe his brother's. It was over, it was done. I couldn't be with someone who would bring random people to my house without my permission. And they had STOLEN my car. Luckily, my car was found 2 weeks later abandoned in a parking lot. Of course it had been stripped, along with my new CD changer. 

I had decided the relationship was over. Of course it was. Until about 3-4 weeks later when I discovered I was pregnant.

That story will be next...

The Story of bar hopping

*Ben had a knack for just not coming home at night. This is before iPhones. Before you could "track your friends". These were Blackberry days. He worked downtown and a lot of his line of work would be to wine and dine. Funny I was never invited to these events.

One night we were supposed to actually have dinner at home. Together. A rarity.

5:30 came. Then 6. So I called. No answer. 

7 came. 8 o'clock passed. No calls. No answers.

It MAKES YOU CRAZY. They warned me. There were bets on how long the marriage would last. 

We lived almost to Nolensville. I was tired of being the waiting wife that night in particular. A lot of nights when he did come home, I'd be lying there just waiting into the early morning hours. When I heard the garage door, I'd turn out any lights and get still as a mouse. I didn't want him to know I'd been waiting. Pathetic he'd say.

So this one night in particular I was determined to find *Ben. I went alone on a Friday night downtown Nashville to at least 7-8 bars. All these happy, dancing, laughing people. Couples. Friends. They had no idea. I'd search every room. I probably looked like a crazy woman. Crying. Just desperate.

I never did find him that night. He never came home either. One of many. So so many. Not counting the nights he was sleeping in a jail cell. But that's for another story.