The following day, without any sleep due to my inability to cease my racing thoughts, I went back to my house that I had been banned from. Prior to arriving back home, I called the nice bondsman who trusted my word and I (well, my daddy) paid my debt to him. My mama and daddy gave clear instruction to NOT GO BACK HOME. "Hope, he will put you in jail." It would not register with me, that my husband, the father of my kids could legally and choicely choose to kick me out of our home with me no place to go. Like I said before, I had no family around-only my neighbor who we called Mimi who took me in like another daughter. My mom said, "come home (back to Alabama) and we will figure it out." "Figuring it out" meant rehab and I was determined not to back to a place that I thought made me worse than my initial state of going in. (Speaking from the experience from the Florida treatment facility).
Have you ever heard the saying from the bible, "vengeance is for the Lord to take." I learned the hard way. The way I learned everything back then.
Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. Romans 12:19
This one experience taught me a lot about trusting God and trusting his way is always better than mine. There is one thing I know, whole Heartly to be true...God will protect you and pay back those who have mishandled you. It may not look like you want, and it may not be in your time frame, but best believe it. God is a just God. He will always complete his promises to you. If you dare to believe.
I took things into my own hands. By the way, is never a good idea. I stopped by the liquor store and purchased vodka. It is absurd but I honestly believed I could not function without it. For me to escape the pain and continue this hideous journey of revenge, I remained mentally and physically impaired. My plan was to stop by the house, take a shower, change clothes, and fill my minivan with everything that was mine. I had brought a lot more material possessions into our marriage. Honestly speaking, I had nicer things than Eric when we met. He financially was more secure but was not responsible with money. He spent his money on booze and our elaborate dates. I was spoiled by my family but was very responsible when it came to money and taking care of things that needed to be handled. After marriage and three kids, and one income, we were doing better than most but with alcohol always being a part of our lives we were never making the best financial decisions. We were living paycheck to paycheck which made us both want to drink more. Looking back, had we not been so mentally dependent on something else which drove all our decisions, we would have not been in the mess we were in... that we both had made. I'll say it again, it takes two to tango like we did!
I drove my carefree, enraged spirit back home. Cursing his name as I made my way through the home. I was intoxicated so I became sidetracked. I forgot to shower and change clothes. I still remember what I wore. It was a black top with my casual wear gray pants. They were silk like material. I am still unsure why I had that outfit on! I usually was in leggings and a t-shirt. I began by taking what was "mine" and would affect him the most...televisions! I laid the seats back in my minivan and started loading the televisions in. Did I say how God intervenes? And Satan? Well, here comes Satan himself (Eric, I am kidding) walking up as I am carrying out a television. "Hope, what are you doing? The police are on the way." As I am cursing him and letting him know what a piece of sh*t person he is, the police arrive. He was in my face but as the officers arrive, he becomes cool and collective and my crazy shined like the deranged woman they read on paper. I was handcuffed right there in the middle of the cul-de-sac. No tears were shed. Hate brewed in my heart and manifested itself through revenge. In my mind, he played on my emotions and threw me to the wolves after he fed me the poison. I was sick.
Eric would call my parents, "I can't do anything with her." That confused me. Although, I do not think about it unless I have to go down memory lane on this blog. I think to myself, what does that even mean? I bring this up because if you ever find yourself in a relationship confused on how to approach a behavior...calling friends and family only make matters worse. You don't need to do anything except, maybe communicate. Healthy communication is one of the most valuable tools in any relationship. Utilize it.
I woke in jail, again. The second time within 48 hours. I began my desperate attempt to call the bondman's. The man answered, recognized my voice and name. "Jillian, if I get you out. I cannot drop you back off at your house. You have to find your own way." "Please bail me out. You know I will pay you." I felt like with my daddy, it was better to ask for forgiveness after utilizing his card. Afterall, he did give me his credit card number, and this was an emergency. Right?
Remember, how I mentioned I was responsible, and my parents trusted me to make good choices. Years prior, my daddy gave me access to my own credit card within his company that I would have never abused. That was farfetched and out of character for me until I was in a state of survival. It is very surprising what the human mind will convey to when left in a state of fight or flight.
The bondman's picked me up from jail. I was taken to his office to sign paperwork on both the bonds. While there, a gentlemen walked in to pay. He appeared to be harmless and high. I asked him to drop me off at my house so I could get my minivan. He said, "Yes." The bondman said, "Jillian, get your car and leave. The third offense can be real time if you go back to jail." " I am. Thank you so much for helping me."
Third time is a charm...
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