The first edition of ‘Throw It Out Thursday’, couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time.
I must start this out with a precautionary note. This post is not for readers who are sensitive to subjects including abuse and drug use.
Please exercise caution and discontinue reading at this point.
Should you choose to keep reading I will be sharing the brutal truth and my raw emotions regarding this individual.
I DO NOT warrant or wish any harm to come to this individual because of this post.
Instead, this is intended to provide the brutally honest truth of a situation that affected more than just the two of us.
Throw It Out Thursday presents this week’s episode: The Handsy Hubbies
In any good story, the main characters are the first to be introduced.
Welcome to the ‘Wall Of Shame’
Left: Jack Breazile. Right: Mike Christian.
I say this with every fiber of my being. So let me be very fucking Crystal clear..
I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU.
ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN YOUR FAULT PROMISES AND PAIN RIDDEN LOVE LANGUAGES.
I REFUSE TO STAY SILENT.
I REFUSE TO HIDE & LET A FELLOW WOMAN FALL VITIM TO YOUR MANIPULATIVE WAYS.
YOU BOTH ARE SICK.
Did I say that loud enough?
Throw It Out Thursday is dedicated to releasing those negative energies, thoughts and feelings.
The one therapy that has proven to work for me since I was an adolescents is journaling. Utilizing journaling, I am able to release my anger, pain and rage in a healthy, non violent way. Writing relieves stress because that paper holds no bias, and will always listen… especially when others are incapable of listening or understanding/confirm the validity of an-others emotions.
Shit. There’s the smart girl with her big words and thoughts again.
In The Beginning…
A wise old woman once told me, it takes at least half the duration of a broken relationship to start to heal. She wasn’t wrong, but in some cases it takes a lot longer. Say 20 years.
I have been actively healing from the damage that Jack did during our time together. Outside of being a beautiful woman, I am still unsure of what I did to deserve the first time you held me against a wall choaking me and beating me with a belt with the free hand. How about forcing me to drink Jack Daniel’s until I couldn’t walk.. then letting your friends have a drunken go at me while you watched.
How about the Korea to Kansas adventure. That’s really when you started to lose me. Forcing me to marry you overseas because this way no one could stop you. That was a three year part of our divorce by the way… should probably check the legality of you current marriage. Besides… isn’t she your cousin or some shit… wouldn’t surprise me. Did you tell her how I was pregnant and you were confident you could ‘fuck it out of me’. Yeah, I didn’t think so.
Yet, even after I left you in Kansas. Yes, I took the baby and fled. Look at what you did to your own daughter you sick fuck. There was no way in hell I was going to let you add another to your who the fuck knows how long of a list. Had I not known that the honorable Ms.Brown was guarding the other two from your ways… I probably would have died at your hands in a scummy hotel room and dumped behind the Tacoma Mall.
Yet, you had ultimate freedom to run your mouth after I left. You negated to tell them that you pathetically ran after me. How you intentionally rented a room at the hotel I was working the night desk at. All just to ‘talk’ to me. I had stopped taking your calls and texts.
I remember the look on your face the day CID, MPs and the Tacoma Police hauled you out of the lobby.
You got caught.
Talking to that CSI Investigator was the best decision I could have EVER MADE.
What I failed to realize at the time is, so long as I was there… and taking your punishment..
At least the children were safe from you.
I was 19 when I met you, Jack.
I was 22 when I left you.
I am now 40, and finally healed enough to speak out.
Fuck you for causing me to spend 21 years so broken I couldn’t trust myself. You’re nothing more than a disgraced con man. I speak solely for myself when I say, I hope the ending as painful and slow as the moments all the rest of us are forced to relive through the PTSD and utter destruction your “loving” treatment gifted to us.
Incase you wondered, you died the day we had you hauled back in. That’s why your letters and calls never got answers.
Good Riddance, Jack Eugene Breazile.
Exit Sign Ahead!
Every story we read eventually comes to an end. In life, that ending is the birth of a new beginning.
This story is no different.
I met Mike Christian on Facebook Dating. At first, neither of us could believe we were actually engaging in conversation. He came off as a sweet guy, who had experienced a lifetime of being manipulated and treated terribly by the women in his life.
He would tell me stories of his sister getting beat by her ex husband. How his mother ‘threatened’ him with a knife (which she openly denied until her passing, and I believe her) and how his father made him the outcast of the family and only engaged him when he had done something bad.
He told his story the way he believed.
Most of it was twisted and frayed versions of the truth. As it suited his need for answers.
He had beautiful blue eyes and the softest skin… I thought to myself, he’s got a nice car and takes care of his mother… this dude must have his shit together.
It only took a year to fully understand how incredibly wrong I was.
The first time it was an accident. He thought I was paying attention because I was speaking to him…
…as the full water bottle got chucked at me full bore when I wasn’t looking.
I told the people at work, I had another seizure and fell again. I know they didn’t believe it until the next time..
When I ended up in the hospital and having to do an Emergency EEG because you threw me off the bed, into the dresser at 2am. I hadn’t slept in 2 days.
I remember riding home in the Mustang with you driving. As you drove Route 10, just outside of Hamlin- you whipped around a curve as I snapped this photo. Thinking to myself.. and this is how I die.
Vunerable, damaged and alone. In a ditch. All because this “Man” wants to drive like he’s Dale while screaming at me and trying to put his cigarette out on me again. Maybe if I just sit here silently I won’t catch another hand from the drivers side.
I couldn’t get that lucky.
If I wasn’t with you, you’d text me. Endlessly. Berating and belittling me in any way you could.
My pussy was too big.
I wasn’t feeding you right because you weren’t losing weight.
I didn’t force you to go walking each night.
My cooking was not good.
I was always guilty of cheating.. even when I was asleep or by your side 24/7.
Messages like this were all too common when you didn’t get your way. We also won’t mention how you didn’t help with any of the packing because you were too worried about if you’d have enough Meth for the next trip out.
The cameras weren’t for catching spirits. I am not that stupid.
Even when you attempted to control me by disabling my phone due to your trust issues, or when you’d threaten to leave me on the side of the road in the truck. ‘I’ll just throw you and your shit out and leave, if you don’t shut your fucking whore mouth, bitch’, he’s threaten while throwing whatever he could reach into the bunk to strike me with.
It wasn’t until that final bull rush into the coffee table- taking me out at the knees and scraping my face. Holding that wanna be Derriger you carried illegally to my head and saying, “I’ll kill you if I ever see you again.” That I truly broke.
You stole $6000 from me to pay for your kitchen. You’ve held a gun to my head and throw me like a rag doll twice. The doctor had to prescribe medicine for the Pall Mall burns that won’t heal on the back of my calf…
… and this was just in the last 7 days…
Enough was enough. I wasn’t going to die in a mine shaft somewhere, or maybe up in the hills where you and your buddies make boys dig their own graves before you off them.
Time and time again since I left you, at 8:38pm EST April 8,2022 – you have tried to contact me.
I am writing this to put the truth out there. I have you blocked from everything. You do not get to be a part of my life.
The moment you put your hands on me.. the moment you brought meth into our house and proceeded to snort it off the kitchen plates.. the moment you made the decision to disrespect the one person who was pure in their intentions… that is when you lost me.
Actions speak louder than all them words, don’t they Doll.
Stop accusing others of lying when your the biggest one of the bunch. Those living in glass houses, shouldn’t throw stones.
I do not want anything from you except to disappear from my existence. I wasn’t the ‘love of your life’ or ‘the reason you’ve changed’. You haven’t changed. You never will change. You are incapable of being anything more than you are.
A control addict with serious delusional tendencies and a reoccurring drug habit. Exchanging one for the other isn’t quitting, by the way. It’s just making another excuse.
The reality is this. You’re what online daters should be warned about. The ultimate psychological Catfish.
The level of mental sickness that clearly runs genetically through the family, made you the sickest puppy of the bunch.
Treating someone as your personal slave and punching bag is illegal. Not to mention inhumane.
Especially when it is suppose to be the one you ‘love’.
I sincerely wish you, Michael Scott Christian, kindness in your years and the blessing of a quiet single life.
No woman should ever be allowed in your arms. It’s only a matter of time before I fear one of them will come up missing or dead.
Good Riddance.
That wraps up this edition of Throw It Out Thursday.
Tune in next week.
As always, thanks for following along! -🍋💋
🚢💋SEDONA SUNSETS💋🏴☠️ 