Tomorrow I have a court date that most people would think of as something minor, but in reality for me, a girl who spent a year being seriously abused by a guy who'd convinced the police that I was crazy and he never did anything wrong (nevermind the photos they took of the marks all over my neck and face, and how they could obviously see where he'd broken door locks and windows to get into my house. Let's not forget that my son was the one calling the police half the time because mommy was being choked unconscious). So after about six times that the police had come and gone, stating that it was a domestic matter and I should just not take him back, my ex taunted me day and night how the police would never actually arrest him because of the times he'd arranged to get me arrested--either for trying to stop him from blowing the rent at the track (never go look for your boyfriend at the track when he's supposed to be home and cause a scene; they'll arrest you instead of said boyfriend who just stole the rent money and your ID from your purse), or from believing that your chamomile tea is safe on your own table to drink....but then waking up at least four hours later being strapped to a chair and pepper-sprayed in the eyes by deputies, left to scream yourself into unconsciousness from the pain. My ex made it clear that he would never leave, and no one would believe me because now I'd been arrested twice within two months. And besides, he was "bigger than me, and he could do anything he wanted to." And he did. I still can't get close to a man, even two years later. It literally makes my skin crawl to even think about one even touching my arm.
I kind of had this feeling that I'd been able to get past all the pain, all the abuse I'd been through, not just by him, but by law enforcement, and especially one certain judge who had made it his personal mission to treat me like dirt in the courtroom, degrading my character any possible way he could. Everyone knew he was mean, but with me, he was especially cruel. My ex only got stronger and more brazen every time I had to step into a courtroom and become humiliated.
Everything finally came to a head exactly two years ago, when my ex was trying to force himself on me and I finally realized that no one was going to save me from him but myself. When he started trying to choke me out to have his way, I managed to get my teeth in his arm and bite down on his arm as hard as I could. He let go, but by this point someone had called the police, and he beat me to them, explaining to them that I attacked him and showed them the bite marks on his arm. I was arrested, again, this time with felonies, and the courts finally placed a restraining order....but on me, not him. Now, not only was I not being helped, but now I was the one who was apparently the perpetrator. My parents weren't of any help, because although they knew he'd been stealing everything from me and kept doing drugs on the sly, they blamed me for letting him stay. My brother called me a loser and a drunk and treated me like he was always on the verge of beating me up. People who didn't know me at all had more than enough horrible comments to make on my mugshot article in a rival news source. It was like the whole world could not understand that I'd done everything I could to get rid of him, and the things that they tell women to do to protect themselves physically did not apply to me, apparently, because I was dating a person who knew how to talk his way out of anything. That song, Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out, never rang truer than in those lonely times two years ago.
All these things I've tried to forget. I've tried to move past them, but the honest truth is, as this court date comes too close for comfort, all I want is just to be left alone and out of the courtroom. I've paid fines and struck plea deals when my gut told me not to, but my lawyers told me to let them do the talking. They say you get your day in court, but I've not gotten those chances. So now, when I go in front of a judge tomorrow, they're going to pull up this long list of my "crimes" and hopefully not decide that I'm some crazed lunatic fighter who needs to be behind bars. But frankly, I've lost that hope. If they don't want my freedom, they'll want my money, and if anyone has seen In the Raw's bank accounts, they will clearly see that even making payroll is a real struggle and sometimes a fail.
I really don't want to give up, but when I look at my little man, I know the pain he'll go through tomorrow night if Mommy isn't there sleeping next to him to protect him. It's too much to bear, and I think I might die of heartbreak to know he may go through that.
I know that I'm in a dark space in my head right now, but if I can't write about it, then it will just destroy me. Feeding people real food is my passion, but writing is my catharsis. At least I can know I've said my peace. In the past, I would've been afraid to talk about these kinds of things, but I decided about six months ago that I wasn't going to let fear rule my life anymore. This is me, In the Raw.
Until next time, however long that may be....
Eat Raw, Live Long!
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