Finally…

Well, well, well…after all these years someone FINALLY called the police.  Amazing.

I’m slightly stunned actually.  I mean in all the arguing and commotion I did scream out about how no one in all these years has ever called the cops.  No one has ever come to my rescue.  No one has ever tried to help me.  So, I figure it had to be my next door neighbor that called because he’s the only one who would have heard all of that.

Here’s the beauty of it.  The cops were called on me.  I was the one who lost it and threatened everything from bodily harm to burning the house down.  Pretty much on everyone who lives here.  What for?  All of this because of a donut.  My daughter went and bought donuts and HE asked for a specific kind.  She came home with the wrong one.  Of course, he throws a complete five year old crybaby fit, minus the laying on the floor kicking and flailing his arms.  With the sound of his noise for minor things over the last few days this was just one straw too much on my back.  I broke.

Ran upstairs and what started as “out loud” sarcasm – basically me saying OMG what is wrong with you how could you possibly get the wrong donut – turned into my daughter taking it out of context and as a personal attack.  So she started mouthing back at me, which at this moment was obviously not the best decision.  This turned into a snowball effect and I was literally shoved down the mountain.  I can pretty much barely talk because I was screaming at the top of my lungs.  Then HE came upstairs to yell at her and I tried to explain to him that it was MY conversation and he should not be coming up and involving himself.  Then he snapped at me.  Screaming at me for screaming at him.  Still screaming at her for getting the wrong donut.  Then on top of it my son comes upstairs and starts yelling at my husband to leave me alone.  So pretty much now it is a full on yelling match.

However, my screaming is far more overpowering and because I am threatening the existence of everyone in sight they’re all trying to get me calm.  I start ripping my room apart, packing up a box that I’ve had saved on the side for that exact thing.  While still yelling how I am not going to be feeding anyone today so they all better figure out how to survive.  How I am sick and tired of having sacrificed my entire existence for them and not one of them gives a shit about me.  How if I hear anyone open their mouth one more time I would burn the house down with everyone in it.  Yeah, I went there.  I said much more and far worse.

And then…knock knock knock.  The cops arrive.  Two female cops.  He’s telling me what to say to them – how they must have been called on my neighbor because he is constantly smoking pot, etc.  I did say that, but as a closing.  My opening was…yeah, we were arguing but everything is fine.  They asked if either of us wanted to file a complaint, we both said no.  They asked if there were any guns in the house, we said no.  And that was that.  They left.

I kind of feel weird about it.  Maybe because the one time cops were called is the one time I wasn’t being beaten?  I kind of feel betrayed.  Almost like, because I’m the one yelling and threatening you call the cops on ME???  Are you fucking kidding me?  Wait until I see this clown next door.  He will have to call the cops again.  So now I’m sitting here kind of wishing this asshole had been hitting me and hard enough to bruise quickly so that this would have been the time for me to act.  So I could have said yes, he hit me, yes there are guns, yes there are knives….take him!!  And as quickly as they would have taken him out I would have run upstairs like a tornado and got all my shit together and ran.

Bad news…that wasn’t the case and he is still here.  Eating the wrong donut.  Good news is…one box of my clothes is packed.  And now…I want a damn donut!!

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To read from the beginning… my story starts here.

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36 thoughts on “Finally…

  1. Man oh man. When I get a minute and you also have the same minute, I will drive you for the damn donut. In addition I hope he chokes on his.

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  2. well fuck. i’ve been out of touch lately, but returned just in time for this one. is there no fucking justice in this world? i mean, hell, you could have pressed charges against your daughter for getting daddy the wrong donut. let me know what kind of donut he really likes and i’ll be happy to send him a box of them. but you and the kids leave them alone – these are daddy’s special donuts.

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  3. I have been there, it is part of the game to make your nerves fried so that you are on their level. For me looking back it was signs that I should have gotten out much sooner. I hope you can take your power back and get out.

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  4. Please be safe-that go bag is a godsend but dangerous none the less. And isnt it typical that the cops come and there is nothing, not a mark on your body. Ugh, all I can say is ugh…well lets hope he chokes and falls down the stairs, all when you are not at home!
    If the cops come the next time, nick your self with a knife in the house that hes used…sorry thats just my mind thinking out loud

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    • Lol. I hear you girl. What makes me laugh though is that for a “domestic disturbance” they send two small ass women cops. I could’ve taken them. If something real was going down there was nothing they could’ve done physically to hold him down. Unless they decided to shoot. 🙂

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      • nah thats a good idea..shoot! its always like that-prob bc the complaint said that a woman was yelling…i bet they would have sent some men in there if the caller said that your husband was yelling;…and btw how interesting (not interesting at all) is that the only time he had the balls to call was when YOU were yelling…ppl can be shady…hes lucky hes not my neighbor…

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      • Not even the adult either. The father doesn’t live there anymore so it’s the son. Probably early 20’s if that old. That’s okay…I’ll get him. He’s sneaking in illegally next door. So now I can complain about a break in AND smelling pot. Another (male) kid with mommy issues.

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  5. Wow, I really feel for you on this and I hope you’re feeling okay. How desperately ridiculous that THIS should be the one time the police actually come!

    Not sure if you already do this, but perhaps it’s worth keeping what records you can of his abuse. That way, if he ever tries to play the victim you’ll be in a stronger position.

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    • This blog is as much record as I have on the physical stuff. It really has subsided over the years so in the reality of it, he probably could get away with being the victim more so then I can at this point. The physical confrontation that happened in January was such a shock because it almost never happens. You can bet I took pictures and recorded that info. Just in case.

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    • As yet another Sunday approaches, I have remained guarded. I stay on my toes and continue to use tactics that have kept me safe for the most part over the years. He’s been quiet since donut day and I’ve had one or two since then. 🙂 Thank you for reaching out. xx

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  6. The issues are not important…whatever excuse there is to blow up…it happens in situations like this. My last “blow up” was my teenaged son (at the time) asked permission to play hookie one day…that was the clencher. My only regret is that my son felt guilt for a long time thinking that was the real reason I left. I pray that you are all safe and that you will do what you need to do when you are ready. Everyone has your back, you know…you ARE way more than okay. You are an amazing person…blessings, Oliana

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    • I truly appreciate your kind words. Thank you so much. You are right, any excuse will do when there is the possibility of an argument. Whatever gets them off. I try and stay as mellow as possible and the kids already know how to tip toe around his moods. It’s a ridiculous game we all play but we all know the rules. I’ve been sitting here for the past half hour playing out my “game plan” before coming to WP and seeing your comment. As of right now, I am definitely okay and remaining on track for my exit. XX

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      • I can’t speak for my kids but I can tell you, myself living under these situations, when my mom finally left my dad, the tension was finally over…no more walking on eggshells.

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  7. This made me think of one of the catalysts that caused me to finally pack up and leave my ex. He was berating me about something (as usual) and I could hear him amping up. I was in the kitchen and he was standing by the open terrace door. I can’t recall the exact words that drove me over the edge. But I walked into the living room and was standing in front of him. He continued to scream about my stupidity and suddenly I punched him in the jaw. He went down. It was almost like it was in slow motion. I was sure he would get up and kill me. Instead he looked up at me and muttered that he had slipped. I went back into the kitchen, heart pounding in my ears. I waited for him to follow me and begin punching. He didn’t. Later that evening I thought back to what I had done and realized I was becoming the thing I hated and feared. That was about 2-3 weeks before I left. When you start to turn it’s time to leave the vampire behind before you forget what sunlight feels like. Take care dear. You are bigger and stronger than all this.

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    • That thought crossed my mind. In a lot of our daily interactions that have nothing to do with him being an idiot…it is a fine line to pinpoint who the victim is. I’ve noticed it a lot. Even though in those instances, he laughs off me being the one calling him names or (jokingly, with a hint of seriousness) throwing a punch that just happens to miss him by an inch or two. I think he finds it to be some form of twisted flirtation. He gets one of those looks like…aw, how cute is she…trying to be mean to me. Blech. Makes me sick. Lol. But, I totally get what you’re saying. I am definitely aware. Thank you for reaching out.

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