The canary sings for the sake of her son Poem

CPS April 25, 2016
CPS will be here on Monday I’m scared but its gotta be done and we will all be sitting here together

Dann Johnson Middle School
Ms. Roberson 8th grade counselor
Mr. Moore principal
Ms. Kramer Vice Principal
Mrs. Jager 7th grade counselor

all reported N’s behavior as radical and suggested that I call Cooks children’s behavioral because they notice and fear that N’s behavior was heading down the wrong path and they told R as well but I believe he refused to believe any of us. But I went ahead and got his name on the list at Cooks without R notice because I fear that R wouldn’t approve. He never does. I did it because I cared for my son. I waited a month for our turn to come up and I was finally called. R just happened to be home and I really didn’t know how I was going to pull it off but I did my best to try at least. The woman sounded enthusiastic but I had to have both parent’s approval so I had to get Robert on the phone. He took it and gave me this mean look but as soon as she mentioned N having to be put on medication in order to be in the program so they could monitor whether or not it would affect his behavior R immediately said no. I was angry but I knew that I had tried.

Then I tried squeezing N in to see my psychiatrist Dr. Shell suggested who also suggested counseling for N but R didn’t support that either
Then I tried asking if Robert would be interested in the FREE family counseling the offered at in ### but he said NO

When I told R that N had put a knife to my back he acts like he didn’t care because when I told him that the next time something like this happened I would call the police and he told me that if I did that, I may as well pack my bags

I tell R a lot of things that N does and what I fear and he acts like he just doesn’t care or like he doesn’t believe me

N has been allowed to disrespect me especially when Robert is away and I tell him but he doesn’t seem to care which makes Nathan believe that he can continue doing it

Sometimes I fear being left here alone because if and when I need to discipline N for doing wrong, I can’t because he becomes violent and I can’t do or say anything about it. R won’t care of do anything about it, and he has threatened to kick me out if I call the police.

N has been allowed to disrespect me especially of N is allowed to practically come and go as he pleases and R rarely questions like what where and how

I have had to beg R to put nanny blocks on the computer and on Nathan’s cell phone to prevent N from viewing porn ever since 2011 and he has done nothing but fight me on it as a matter. He has even allowed N to watch very sexually explicit scenes with him and when I say anything about it, I am told that I am making a big deal out of nothing.

He has not put his foot down about respecting women and has practically allowed N to become a porn addict

he believes every single word that N tells him and he doubts everything that I tell him about N and accuses me of lying

I bet that if in a rage N struck me while R was away and I call the police I’m pretty sure that he would believe N

I am despised while N is glorified and he buys N’s love

And seems like he’d rather be a best friend or big brother than the stern and strict but respected disciplinary father

N knows he can get away with things at home and at school because he knows they will be no repercussion or consequences at home. I can’t say anything literally, and if I tell Robert, he does nothing. I’m left to be stressed and worried

R is supposed to be helping me raise our son not doing everything the opposite just because he got a personal vendetta out against me.

I don’t know what else to do because I don’t have any control at all in this house, as a matter-of-fact I don’t even think R has any control anymore. N is taking full control and he knows it and R just allows it to happen he can deny it, but it’s true I’m I don’t want to sit here and watch it happen. R doesn’t communicate with me nor does he communicate with N.

This is not normal. This is not healthy and we need this in order to help our child grow up to be a normal human being to respect other human beings I know that I’ve done my best as a mother I left my husband before because of this and I came back for my child and I came back to a place where I still have absolutely no control.

At the sake of me being accountable as well, at least R will know deep down that this was all his fault

*The tweets that made up my mind* poem

*I found the tweets that made up my mind today*

It’s been a tough and arduous battle
The battle to leave, leave behind or
to stay
The decisions to stay or leave are
the easiest
But the decision to leave behind
Was the most difficult one to make

I found some tweets I tweeted
When I left before without you
Two Hundred Twenty Eight days
With at least twenty tweets a day
All about my guilt and shame to
have left you behind

With the monster, that scared me away
And with this much guilt and shame
It wasn’t worth the sobbing tears that
I cried every night over you

And it still isn’t worth it to me
to do it again
I’ve stayed this long, I can tough
it out two more

© she
April 18, 2016

Austin wouldn’t be so bad if…


I lived in Austin three years ago. It was when I left my husband back in 2011. I went there based on two reasons, I didn’t need transportation and the other reason was that I could just find a roommate. Everyone in Austin either rode the bus of shacked up with somebody else. It wasn’t bad. My biggest hardship was finding a roommate my age and finding a roommate who was sane. Riding the bus wasn’t so bad…yes it was. I take that back. Not having transportation really sucked. It was hard. Especially for a person like me who didn’t like to ask anyone for help. I didn’t want anyone to think I was taking them for granted. But when I missed the bus I ran like hell for it. I think that was the toughest. I did a lot of walking. I mean A LOT. And when it rained, it poured. I’d be drenched from foot to bottom. Cars would drive by and splash water on me… It was terrible.

I wish that I could say that I was a survivor and that I was surviving but honestly deep down, I felt like I was struggling. I was miserable. I tried to tell myself should have been happy that I was free from my husband and his abuse, but I was so lonely too. I had no friends. I walked everywhere. And when I wasn’t in class and was free on the weekends I just sat in my room in the dwelling I shared with my roommate. I was….miserable. I wanted to go back…home (my abuser).

And now that I’m panicked once again for a place to flee to Austin pops into my mind and I think to myself, do I want to Struggle Survive in Austin or just Living by a Thread Survive someplace else, but with rent, utilities, car note, gas, insurance, in addition to all of my other monthly expenses

Hmm..Which one would you choose?

Yesterday I was on the phone with the Housing Authority because I’ve been having some conflicts with getting out of my lease if I need to jet away from this asshole.

Apartment complexes will not let you out of your lease unless you can provide documentation or records that you have filed some sort of complaint. Well, I can’t really do that because my proof isn’t visible, it’s mental. Besides, I already went to the police department last November to complain about my husband, and they told me that I could not file a report just because my husband was “being mean to me” which is exactly what they told me.

So the Housing Authority pretty much asked me, would you rather have your ass beat or be mentally abuse? Well, I don’t know about any of anybody else, but I would prefer to be mentally abused that have my ass whipped by my husband.

So the next question was, (and not in these exact words) would you rather have mental abuse or be homeless? The reason why she was asking me this is, she was assessing whether or not she thought it was safe for me to stay here or go to a shelter.

Honestly, and I can’t speak for any other abused women, but I’d rather have mental abuse then go into the shelter without guarantee of being placed in transitional housing program, since they make us qualify for everything. I mean, I might as well stay where I am and suffer from mental abuse which is a lot better than getting my ass beat, then be in a shelter and practically homeless. What would you choose?

Just plain rude

I don’t know anymore,

Most times when my husband does petty things like

1. Walk away when I’m talking to him

2. When I am talking to him, he will flip on the trash compactor, or turn the kitchen water on high that he can’t hear me, just so that he can use that an excuse not to hear me

3. When I’m standing right beside him, he’ll call our son over to do something that I pull have done myself because I’m staying RIGHT there.

4. Purposely leave shit around know it will annoy me enough to take care of it myself
5. He won’t help take care of our dog, a dog that I did not ask for (I love him now, though) He’d rather let my dog suffer with a full bladder and not take him outside until I do it. Even when I’m not home.

6. He will buy things and assume that I knew that he bought them, so when I ask why, when or how, I’m accused of already knowing. How am I supposed to know if you don’t to me!? Like for instance, I didn’t even know he’d bought a gun over a year ago. So when I finally asked about it because it was sitting on the kitchen bar, he got an attitude and said, “I got it a year ago, haven’t you seen me taking to and from my home town??” I was like, No, I don’t fucking look at what’s in your hands when you come and go! It’s not like you told me you had it or that you were going to by it.
Then he looked at me and rolled his eyes. Fucker!

7. The list goes on and on…

What makes my narcissist different

What makes my narcissistic marriage different than other narcissistic relationships is that my husband thinks it’s a game. Childish, immature, passive aggressiveness, 24/7 silent treatments that has lasted up to one year as a punishment for me not “giving him any”, neglect of my needs for communication and love, ignoring me, competition for our sons love, the constant power struggle over who’s right and who’s wrong, irresponsible parenting on his part. It’s just an absurd, ridiculous game where my husband will pout sulk and do trifling things until he gets his way. And sex is at the very top of that list. It doesn’t matter what I want, it doesn’t matter that my feelings are hurt, it doesn’t matter to him, it doesn’t matter what I say. All that matters is that his needs are met. My needs are pretty simple. Acknowledge me, talk to me, communicate with me, and at least act like you like me. Without out at least this much respect how DARE you even think I’m going to have sex with you? I mean, how stupid do you want me to continue to be?

I mean what kind of man when given an ultimatum of, if you don’t treat me with respect, I’m going to leave you, would choose NOT TO treat me with respect, plus in addition to that cease to look at me, talk to me, communicate with me at all, for an entire year, just because I held my ground on the fact that until I was treated with that respect I was not going to have sex with him. How would he even think that I could possible still love him? I wouldn’t even have pity sex with him. Eww!

He actually told me that “he wasn’t going to treat me like a queen”, as if treating a woman with respect was as big a deal, a chore. Treating a woman like a queen would actually kwep her loyal if you aak me. But i didnt didnt even want that…I just wanted the basics. It’s not like I wanted him to pay for my manicures, pay to my hair get done or even to massage my feet every single night. He’d rather choose to play the bullheaded game, just to be an extra dick about it.

I’ve often asked myself could I stay. Would I stay and and would it be that bad. Anything is better than living on the streets. Staying with him wouldn’t be half as bad, if he didn’t treat me like I didn’t existed, or that my roll was to clean, cook and please him. Most times I wonder if his actions are intentional or is he just fucking enjoys making my life a living hell. And if it is, he’s the devil in disguise and that is what’s so heartbreaking.

Girls, there’s no where left to turn

wpid-6b5c09572b068ad6e234579ddbb0e457.jpgI’ve applied for legal aid, I was told by Safe Haven themselves that I would qualify. So I filled out all of the paperwork, went in and had my interview.  A few weeks later after they reviewed my app. They emailed me and told me that I DIDN’T quailify. I was like, what!!?

So I went to the next city over, Safe Haven legal aid because…shit I don’t know, I was told by my case worker at One Safe Place Women’s Abuse that I may have a better chance over there.

Welp, I filled out the paperwork work, even attached a Heartfelt list of all my mental abuse, the legal aid intake lady was just shaking her head as if she was in total support of all the shit he was putting me through. She shook my hand, said they’d give me call and if not, for me to call them back on Monday. Well, I waited and waited…

Two weeks went by. Finally I got an email. Sorry but, you don’t qualify. I was in tears.

So I called Safe Haven crying again. They gave me a list of Shelter and Transitional housing. I told my case worker, hell no to the shelters,  but I would call the Transitional Housing Programs.

There was this one in particular that I was really, really interested in called Gatehouse Grapevine.  It was like a dream come true program. Two and a half year stay, transportation, counseling, food, clothing, opportunity to go back to school. I mean this place had the works!! I got myself excited. So I filled out their short application online. I got denied. So I asked my case worker at Safe Haven to do one as well on my behave and at first I was denied by email again, but then surprisingly I received a call from them. They did an intake. I waited a few days and I got an email saying that they were interested in taking me to the next step of the process, which was an 18 page application which I filled out thoroughly and honestly. I had seven days to complete it. I completed in one day and made sure the print was readable and looking as good as posible. And two days later I was denied by an email saying SORRY, LOSER YOU DON’T QUALIFY. Well, it didn’t use those exact words, but that’s what it felt like.
Talk about weeping. I wept. And wept and wept. I honestly wanted to kill myself. I still do. I’m actually contemplating it.
It breaks my heart that none of these places that claim to help us ARE LIARS!! Sad thing is, they won’t even tell is why we were unqualified! !

I called my case worker at Safe Haven and he was literally speechless and apologetic, because HE DIDN’T’t KNOW WHAT TO DO EITHER!!

Ladies, all of these places like Safe haven, women’s domestic support groups, all they CAN do is give you a pamphlet of shelters and or support groups on how to deal with our abusers, but they really can’t help us.
I understand that they want us to help ourselves, but how are we supposed to do that when Transitional housing, 2 year programs, won’t let us in to do so?????

How are we to qualify, be accepted and be able to save money, to start anew!! It’s impossible! !

And then check this out, Transitional Housing programs want you to be at the shelter first before they even consider you (qualify) you. The thing with that is you leave your abuser, you check yourself into a shelter, you stay there, you apply for legal aid and or transitional housing, you either qualify or you don’t, and then what?? If you don’t qualify, YOU’RE FUCKIN SHIT UP A CREEK AND HOMELESS that’s what happens!!

So we have to stay with our fucking jackass abusers and keep dealing with this shit!! That, or murder his ass or kill ourselves.

Shelter Prison: What really goes on

No body cares about what really happens in a Women Shelter. I lived in one for 7 weeks back in 2012 and I lived in fear the entire time.

I was a victim of bullying, by other women who accused me of being supercilious, just because of the way that I spoke and because I have an introverted personality.

I was almost a victim of theft from roommates who would attempt to snoop into my stuff and steal my things. I had a suitcase which I’m glad I never un packed and kept a lock on. One woman had her wallet stolen by an exiting woman (leaving the shelter because her stay was up), who then stole her identity and her social security check. I felt like an inmate in a prison having to do chores that placed upon me when other women up and abandon the center just to avoid doing them.

I was hated because I didn’t want to give rides to people to the store so they could buy cigarettes, snacks, to borrow my phone, etc. There were women there who were starting fights, drama, screaming and yelling, scaring people, coming in after curfew drunk waking everyone up. There would be abusers  (spouses or boyfriends) waiting OUTSIDE the entrance of the facility because the victims would tell them where the location was!!

The shelter director had it out for me and I can only assume it was because she was intimidated by me.

The staff in the kitchen were slamming food on the plates and treating us all like we were less than nothing. I had to file a grievance against one of the kitchen staff for thinking she could get away with being disrespectful towards me and then I wouldn’t go back into the cafeteria to eat because she would give me threatening looks. I lost ten pounds during my 7 week stay there.

They would make us hunt for jobs regardless if we had a vehicle or not and if we didn’t we were told to walk to find one.

I had to beg for an extra two week extension because I had no where else to go and when my time was up at the shelter, I was forced to live in my car for a week. Sleeping in Walmart parking lots by night and sitting at Starbucks by day.

You can’t tell me that I have choices. You can’t tell me that, because I know that I have few to none.

Let’s face it girls, nobody cares

To whom it may concern:

I’m having to learn the hard way that unless I’m getting my ass whipped by my husband, nobody cares.

No one is willing to help me when I tell them that my husband is “being mean to me” which is what a male officer referred to mental abuse as, when I told him how I was being treated by my husband.

Nobody cares that I am totally financially dependent on my husband, that if I do something to make him mad, he will not feed or cloth me.

Nobody cares that he makes me pay for my own gas when I use the car knowing darn well I don’t have that kind of money.

Nobody cares that he has so much control of the finances that when I need money, it’s like going to my father and begging and pleading for a few dollars.

Nobody cares that I can’t leave the house because if I do my husband will accuse me  of cheating and treat me like a liar or as if I’ve done something wrong.

Nobody cares that I have to watch what I do, I have to watch what I say, I have to be careful how I say it, I have to be careful of my body language when I say it, because if it comes off in anyway threatening to him, I have to deal the repercussions from that.

And it’s the kind of treatment that just anybody would understand unless they experienced it for themselves.

I have to walk on eggshells and it’s not fair because I didn’t do anything wrong, yet I’m made to feel like I did.

I can’t even ask a question without him getting defensive. I’m afraid to ask questions, I’m afraid to go anywhere, I’m afraid to do anything.

I am told that I don’t have any rights to anything since I told him that I didn’t want to be with him anymore. I don’t even have his respect. I don’t even have his acknowledgement. I’m treated like dog doo on the bottom of his shoe.

Nobody cares that I’ve had nightmares about my husband and my son killing me in my sleep. I shouldn’t be having these dreams and nightmares.

I shouldn’t have to be afraid that if I do something or if my husband thinks that I’ve done something, that when I close my eyes he will be standing above me with a knife.

Maybe I hate my miserable life so much that I don’t care if he kills me.

Nobody cares that my feelings towards him have become so dark and dangerous that I contemplate killing him, for which I’d end up in jail anyway

Nobody cares that I am made to feel afraid of my husband, not because he actually hits me, but because his stares, his body language and the way he talks to me, makes me feel like he would hit me.

Nobody cares that in exchange for kindness I have to have sex with him. Which after, kindness follows cruelty all over again.

Nobody cares that I am ignored, given the silent treatment, needs neglected, and made to feel invisible, so badly that I am driven insane with loneliness.

Nobody even cared when I told them that my husband stood by and allowed my teenage son verbally and physically bully me.

Nobody cares that everytime I have taken my husband to therapy he has manipulated everyone to make them think that I was the crazy one, therefore I’m still left with a man who treats me this way.

Nobody cares that this man is using every manipulative tactic that he can to make it seem like everything is fine, when it really isn’t, because behind closed doors he’s a completely different human being.

Nobody cares how afraid I am of him. Nobody cares about how many times he threatened me and threaten to kick me out of my home if I do something that he doesn’t want me to do. Like for instance, stand up for myself, speak for myself, call him out on any of his bad behavior or even speak to him at all, for that matter.

Nobody cares that he has made my friends so afraid of him that they have turned away from me, so that when I needed them they’ve all scattered.

Unfortunately, the only time that we victims of mental and emotional abuse will ever get any attention or shown any concern, is the day that he slaps the hell out of us. And he knows it’ll never come to that because he knows better. He’s not that stupid.

So until then, no one is going to care and we victim’s of this type of abuse, will never get any help or support from the system. At least not the support that we really need, which is a way out. Not just counseling to deal with or ways to cope. We are tired of dealing these abusers we need a way out.

We need legal aid support and we need transitional housing as well. Those services should not  just be granted for victims of physical  abuse.

Because apparently until I am knocked the hell out of, kicked to death in the ribs, strangled, or nearly killed, I will never qualify for legal aid  (if I don’t have money because I’m dependent on him) until then I would never “qualify” for housing until I show proof that I’m being abused. In the meantime, I have to stay right where I am, because I have no other choices, and don’t tell me that I do. Until you’ve walked in my shoes, you’ll never know.

And just because a solution was found and worked for one victim, it doesn’t mean that it’s going to work for another.

It’s not fair because nobody cares.

And you want to know why nobody cares? It’s because in thier “eyes” physical abuse will always cancel out emotional and mental abuse.

It’s as if, if they can’t see it nobody is going to believe it. Unfortunately the proof is in the pudding.

But for those of us with this type of abuse, there will be no proof and there definitely won’t be any pudding.