Dacia M Arnold

Mom, Author, SuperWoman

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Another Word About Domestic Violence

Just when I thought I had escaped the season without feeling the gaping hole in my heart, an old friend brings the feelings bubbling up to the surface. Tonight’s post (which will probably be deleted tomorrow) is brought to you by my old friend, tequila.

You see, many years ago, I would throw a few twenties at the bartender and she would mix as much house tequila with orange juice as I could manage for the night. I never asked if she counted, if I over paid or if she had to take the difference from her tip jar. She was my friend. We’ve lost touch, but it would not take any effort to find her and reconnect like it were yesterday. We hold that bond.

Though she was the one to put the taste of tequila into that setting, it’s not her that I miss. I’ve written about Sami before and I be damned if this woman was not a reoccurring thought every single year around this time. We drank tequila, but now she’s gone.  I’ll never have her back, but I will hold the small things that remind me of her real close to my heart. Damn you, tequila.

Sam was murdered. She was killed by the man she loved on Christmas morning seven years ago. I do not say this for shock value. I say this because nothing is sacred. Love, holidays, being a mother to six children. None of that saved her. She was the strongest woman I know, to this day. That did not even save her.

Seven years and I still wrestle with this. I think she is why I write what I do half the time. Why my book has such a strong undertone of what is and is not okay in relationships. What “love” should look like. I’ve met women in groups having nothing to do with my background talk about things that raise red flags. I have offered to help monetarily to get them out of their situations in the form of bus tickets or hotel expenses. Uber.

I was so young when Sam passed. She was a mother, I was not. I didn’t “get it”. I didn’t understand why she just didn’t leave or why she kept going back. Seven years ago, she relied on me. Seven years ago, I was too young to understand the weight of the situation.

I know now, her death is not my fault. But there will always be this internal need to save people.

Now when I read things said in closed private groups about the mean controlling nature of a spouse, that rescuer comes out of me. That empowering voice that I wish I could have been for Sam comes out.

I have found myself multiple times saying, “No one deserves to be treated like they are not good enough, thin enough, pretty enough smart enough, by the person they love.” It is not love to demean someone or to threaten them. It is not love to PHYSICALLY HURT SOMEONE. Sexually or otherwise. THESE THINGS ARE NOT OKAY. You don’t deserve that. No one should even experience these things period.

To some, I might not be making sense. To others, I might be making a difference. It’s not hard to leave me a DM, PM or email. If even just to ask a question. Please get out before it’s too late for you. I’m sure Sam didn’t think she’d be leaving her six children behind. If no one else, you can reach out to me.

 

 

 

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