Saturday, February 19, 2011

Photo: 1971

Maybe the apartment we rented in 1971 was next to a lake with a stream on the other side of the main drag. I do not have this photographed. Cropped it when I was living with daughter on east coast, to use for my basketball website. The basketball website was a spin-off from gypsywoman homeless website. I dream big and wasted a lot of effort tying to earn a living via Internet sales. Anyway, that is my oldest daughter standing next to the body of water in "our side yard".

I also went into shock at this apartment. He threw me on the floor, punching, chocking me. I vaguely remember locking myself in the bathroom afterwards, straight edge razor blade in my hand. The fight started when he came home from his part time job at the tavern/pizzeria downstairs. I used to say I was "dumb lucky". Maybe I was putting his socks away in a dresser drawer, maybe straightening the piles. I found the works.

Incensed I opened our screen less windows, and threw the needles out the window. Then I went down the three flights of stairs, and stomped to break the glass. When he could not find them he asked where they were. Ha, ha, had to admit he had them. Do not recall seeing any glassine bags of heroin with the bit of elastic used to tie the arm, blackened spoon, whatever. Too many years, do not even recall what the works consisted of.

I feigned ignorance. He ranted. Pleaded with me to give them to him. Said they were not his, he was holding them for a friend who was downstairs waiting for them. Did I finally admit I destroyed the stuff? No recall. Will never forget trying to protect myself from the blows and horror of being strangled by much larger husband sitting on me. I never told anyone. Abused women are like that. Shame, I suppose.

That was the start of domestic violence. Verbal abuse started a lot earlier. It was also, likely, the start of mental health issues. My lucid dream/nightmares began in that apartment. Many years later when I would have one of those dreams, I knew something in my life needed to be corrected.

I left my cashier job due incredible pains in my side. I thought it related to pregnancy. When my new daughter was three months old I spent eight days in the hospital. Story there. The cause of the pain was a kidney stone.

The raid on previous apartment caused me to distrust police; the kidney stone incident caused me to mistrust medical professionals. Both became lifelong mistrusts.

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