Another piece of Dr. T’s story
I don’t hate you.
Even though you tried to murder me on several occasions while in a drunken stupor.
I am not angry.
Even though you filled non-alcoholic beer bottles with real beer, just to prove you could still lie to my face.
I still laugh at the funny things you did.
Like the time you berated a random woman at the grocery store for buying hot dogs—because you stormed up to the wrong cart and mistook a stranger for me. (Her only crime was having my hair color.)
I am not sad.
Not even when I remember all the times you abandoned me in strange places. Like that time, you took our son and left me at the Gurnee Mills mall. No cell phone. No contacts. No warning. Just weeks after dragging me across the country.
I wandered for hours, crying, asking security guards if they’d seen my husband and baby.
By sheer luck, I ran into our landlord. He recognized me—since we’d just met two days earlier—and drove me home, only to find our car already in the driveway. He saw an opportunity. He started calling me daily, offering to “comfort” me.
I don’t feel dread.
Not even when I think about how much money you drained from both of our families. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. Two legitimate businesses. Two lifelong dreams.
And yet, I walked away with nothing. A single mother, on welfare, because no one in my family could afford to help—thanks to you.
I still smile when I think of the happiest day of my life.
Even though you picked a fight with the doctor delivering our baby because you thought he popped our son’s head. (Spoiler: That was my third-degree tear. I felt it. I remember.)
The day I got home from the hospital, you made me walk back and forth to my mom’s house, fetching socks that weren’t “crunchy.”
I gleefully tell the story of how you almost robbed a bank in Mexico.
Not intentionally, of course. You were just too drunk to figure out how to withdraw our life savings from an ATM. You wanted to give it all to a stripper. In your infinite wisdom, you somehow broke the glass of the bank and got thrown in jail.
The Navy bailed you out. Because, of course, they did.
I am glad you were wrong.
For years, you convinced me that if I left, I would never see our children again. That you would take them. That the law was on your side.
You were so sure of it.
The day I was granted full custody of our children was the second greatest day of my life.
I do not let name-calling bother me.
Not after fifteen years of being called every name in the book. Your favorite? “Bacon-eating cannibal.” Smug, like I didn’t get the joke.
I am strong.
I took hit after hit and never fell. I survived fifteen years with a physically and mentally abusive person. And because of that, my children are still in my life. They want nothing to do with you.
I am smart.
So smart that I earned my doctorate in psychology. I put myself through school. I studied the laws. I studied the human mind. I made sure that no one would ever con me again.
I am Dr. T.
I would not be who I am today if I had not survived what I did.
For that, I thank you.
And that is the last thing I will ever give you.
Final Thoughts: Embracing Chaos and Finding Hope
As I reflect on my journey, I realize that every challenge has shaped me into the person I am today. Through the darkest times, I found strength, resilience, and wisdom. My experiences have taught me that even in the face of absurdity, there is always hope.
To those who are struggling, remember that you are not alone. Embrace the chaos, laugh at the absurdity, and take determined action to shape your reality. There is healing, and a future filled with possibilities lies ahead. Cherish your victories, and never lose sight of the brighter days to come.
Thank you for being part of this journey with me. Together, we can continue to support each other and build a community where everyone can find their own path, even amidst the chaos.
