In an effort to distract myself from the shit I need to do, I’m here to chatter with y’all and essentially force myself upon you, because I don’t care. Y’all signed up for this, fam.
Bet you’ll think twice about that shit next time, huh? Artists. We’re just a crowd of fuckery and probably illicit sex or drugs, unless you’re me and lame, and have neither.
Fucking so lame. So. So. Fucking lame.
So, remember how I said I was taking all those classes and webinars basically because I am (please see above) really fucking lame, and I just earn certifications I may never need.
But, then again, I might. And if I do and don’t have it, I’m going to be very upset.
That being said, Indiana, I can now come to y’all and snatch a knot in that ass, baby. I know that sounds like an excellent time, I need you to rest assured, it absolutely is not.
No, seriously, I took some DV prevention in disabled/housing security with DV and disabled/etc. specialty training that I more than likely won’t need, but it’s always better to be smarter than the other broad running her mouth.
I learn a lot of statistics in these classes. They make me sad. But, every time I say I am going to back up off of the advocacy work for a while, someone hits me on the Signal or Reddit mail rings, and I find another reason that backing up off of it is just the dumbest shit I’ve ever said out loud.
I don’t always offer to help. I know I’ve said that before. There are women who I cannot help, and I know it usually from the first time we talk. They sound different. The ones who are ready.
They don’t make excuses to stay. They ask me questions about leaving.
That’s how you know. That’s when it’s really time.
Today I was taking a class and it reminded me that 38% of all women murdered, worldwide, are murdered by their significant other.
Excuse me, did you hear what I said? I said 38%. So, y’all know half is 50%, right. Like we toeing the half line. We over here pulling right up on it.
That’s so many women murdered by the men that they love. That’s so many women who are dead at the hands of the person who said he would have her back. He would be in her corner. He would love her.
It looks as though he lied.
And in the spirit of transparency, like I always do, I will state again for the record; I wasn’t always this Bitchface. In the not-so-distant past, I was abused and violently assaulted by a person I was involved with. A horrible, awful person. And he nearly took my life.
Now, much like the underdogs I cheer for, I came back from that and he got just what he was asking for. Because surely if you can try to choke a woman to death, you’re aware of just what you signed up to have delivered.
If he wasn’t, he is now.
But it was a bad, dark, tumultuous time in my life. It was more terrible than I like to admit, even now, on this side of safety for the years I have been.
Almost as though saying it out loud might somehow breathe life back into it. As though the effort of recognizing how badly he hurt me might leave handprints around my throat.
I don’t think I’ll risk it today, y’all. I think I will just fold it into pocket sized right here, and we’ll pretend we didn’t see it sitting by the door on our way in.
It’s the method that has worked, so it’s the method we’ll continue to choose.
I digress.
So, as I always do, I will tell y’all once again that I work these exit plans because I needed one. I know what trapped feels like. I know what alone feels like. And I know that if you have a reason not to leave, I have a better one that you should go.
I’ll wait here as long as you need me to, because I said I would, but if we’re being honest, you should just go ahead and get that ride out of there now. If you don’t have one, let me get you one. Really, it’s no problem at all.
Your dog or cat, I got that too, love. My chic who is the end all be all with the dogs and cats, she creeps through here every day or so. Here in Florida, Rachel is all about the fostering. If you’re somewhere else, we’ll just get Brandi on the Batphone.
It’s not an issue. They’re happy to help. Our casa, su casa, sis. Plenty of room.
We even got your back in Canada. I know, I’m not allowed there, but y’all are aware people sometimes like me right, like not everyone thinks I’m made of brimstone and vinegar. I was nice at least 2, 3 times back in pre-covid era. I wrote it down somewhere, it’s fucking documented.
Point being, if you have an excuse, I assure you, I have a solution.
Let me help you. Because otherwise, you know, I get my ass into trouble. You can’t leave me to my own devices, do you know what kind of shit I can get into? I’m like a fucking toddler in an alligator pit. The threat of dismemberment is fucking real.
Really, the only thing I can’t do is pack your things and walk out the door. I can be there. But I can’t do it for you.
I hope this is the weekend. What would make a greater end to May than freedom? Not much I can think of. It still feels pretty fucking amazing to me.
Whatever you need to clear your path, holler at a Bitchface. If I can’t, I guarantee you I know someone who can.
Go ahead, Ask A Bitchface. I’ll tell you what his little stupid ass problem is.
Sorry I haven't "creeped around" in a while my friend! Working with the animals here and writing about them has kept me busy. I see you've been occupied as well! Keep up the great work and let me know if you need a hand here in Pinellas or the surrounding areas.
My contacts aren't extensive yet, but I'm planning on building a network to start handling this kind of shit --count on it. When our new shelter goes online next year it could be a good launch point. That may be a project we could collaborate on, when you've got a few...
I KNOW you're all about the animals (as well as the people) ;)
I love you for who you are, hugs 🤗 and kisses 😘
Keep the good work April, over here in Puerto Rico we have had so many beautiful souls ripped out from us, we are weeping with sorrow every single day...
We got you God Bless