Inaccuracies in your report, a tale so wrong
Unjustly burdened, your innocence gone
A few boxes misplaced, a deed so slight
Yet judgment reigned, casting shadows of blight
No benefit of the doubt, no mercy in sight
Past biases lingered, dimming the light
Landlord informed, troubles brewed
Eviction loomed, the unjust pursued
Inaccuracies abound, a skewed reflection
Your car’s color, your name, a flawed collection
The VIN number amiss, errors untold
Yet fines imposed, a story cold and bold
The law’s shield shattered, by a flawed report’s decree
Inaccurate it was, and the consequence fell on thee
Injustice unveiled, a narrative unjust
Where truth was lost, buried in mistrust
It's exactly what the title says. Let me start with my mother, of course. She never wanted to pay to dump her recycling or trash, so we would take the stuff to apartment complexes to dispose. I had no clue it was even illegal. I realize a lot of people do this, but here's the rest of the story.
When you're living in a domestic violence situation, you need to be very careful with every single thing you do. In fact, living with him in our first apartment together in that lovely small town of mine, verbally assaulted by my ex for not taking out the recycling immediately. I cried myself to sleep that night while he woke me up repeatedly to call me names and spit in my face. The next morning before I went to work, I took the ONE box out, that was such a big deal. We lived above a business and the recycling bin was blocked by the business's vehicles. So I took the box to the apartments next to me, because I knew if I didn't, I'd be harshly beat up that night. I left for work at 6:30AM.
When I returned at 3:30PM, there was an officer waiting for me. Skipping the small talk, he wrote me a ticket for dumping the one box I had put in the apartment complex adjacent to us. I tried to reason with him, and I knew him. I remembered him from many altercations in my youth. I told him I didn't know it was illegal, and that it was just one box. He kept replying with, "It's the law." I even said to him, "You're only doing this because of my past, aren't you?" Of course he replied, "No." Any who, not only would that police report incident be incredibly flawed; incorrect color of my vehicle, incorrect date, incorrect VIN number, my name spelled wrong, and more, this officer went as far as to tell our landlord, (who was illegally renting out our apartment as it wasn't zoned for residential - no ticket for him...) that I'm trouble. That I'm going to bring more trouble, that I'm dangerous, blah blah blah. We were evicted that night. 30 Days and we had to move. I can't even write right now, about what happened to me that night. That was the worst beating I ever took from him. I didn't see my kid or anyone I know for 4 weeks as I recovered... My son thought I was purposely avoiding him... All while working from home, looking for an apartment, seeing the apartments, applying for the apartments, packing up the entire house, with no help. I actually developed and OCD counting problem due to the stress, that still sometimes lingers way more than it should.
We had trouble finding a new apartment because he has a felony for selling drugs. (Yeah, I know... now...) We lived in a hotel for a while, with his mom for a while and eventually found a new place. But being "homeless," was one of the reasons my son's father and my mother were using to blackmail me. We were in between apartments in a hotel, because we were evicted over some bull shit, over one damn box put in my neighbor's recycling bin, but they were definitely going to use it against me. That night, that I should've gone to the hospital for my injuries, was the night my complete breakdown started. I can see it now. That poor, unloved, unwanted, traumatized girl was about to lose all her shit, her mind, her sanity, any self-respect, everything. That poor girl who's been continually punished throughout her life for behaving in ways she didn't understand, for being chronically abused and not "taking it like a champ." That's when things started to get really bad. But that, my friends, is for many future posts. It's all in the book, but it'll come out! Looking back now, that wasn't the end, it was the beginning of something beautiful within myself. It wouldn't be easy, but the work that came after was worth my current state.
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