Chapter by Chapter

THE POWER OF ADDICTED LOVE, Written by Teresa Hamilton

INTRODUCTION:
Codependence has often been considered one of those “made-up” terms to describe an uncomfortable circumstance as if it were a “real” condition. In her autobiography, Teresa Hamilton reveals just how real codependency can be. As she struggles through life-threatening situations with her alcoholic, drug addicted and often violent husband, we’re drawn to yell, “Get out of there!”…but she can’t. She is as addicted as her husband, not to drugs, but to “make it work.” This is the very real condition of a codependent…addicted to being needed to fix things. Teresa’s story is told in frank detail, taking us through the emotions she felt while being ignored, cheated and abused and while being greatly helped by strangers she calls “angels,” at the points of greatest desperation. Her story gives us hope that, regardless of circumstances we can recover from addiction to our “dream life,” just like Teresa. For the next several weeks, we’ll review the book, chapter-by-chapter. Get your copy now, so you can follow along.

CHAPTER 1
Key Features In The Power Of Addicted Love, Chapter 1, The Stage Is Set:
•9 month marriage
•Thyroid cancer
•Single Mom
•Meeting Greg-a nice man
•Greg persistent
•Starting 14 years of Hell
Teresa sets the stage well, describing her first, failed marriage and single motherhood afterward. As with most single parents, there is a drive to find another parent for their child. Her bout with cancer had to add more urgency to provide another parent for her child. This is a perfect opportunity for abuse by someone who needs to be taken care of. It’s clear Greg was manipulating right in the beginning from our perspective, but Teresa didn’t have the luxury of hindsight. She had a seemingly nice man who wanted a relationship with her

CHAPTER 2
•Greg Divorced twice, with 3 kids
•Dating In Bars
•Secrets
•Fictitious Past
•The Proposal
•The Red Flags
Teresa describes the signs of bad things to come which she had ignored at the time. I found myself baffled that anyone would be so silly as to make up outlandish and inflated stories about themselves, but then I’m reminded of my drug days when I did the same on a smaller scale…just didn’t have Greg’s courage or imagination, I guess

CHAPTER 3
•The Sugar Cube Engagement Ring
•Always Gone In The Evening
•Mood Swings
•Drinking Buddies
•Blackouts
•Lies
•Codependent
•Four Hours To The Corner Store
•Early Morning Drug Deal
•One Week In Rehab
In chapter 3, Teresa reveals how the real Greg was becoming apparent, even to her. She also reveals how little self-esteem she must have had to look the other way and even to make excuses for him. Her codependency is beginning to establish itself in her life as his addictions become more evident.

CHAPTER 4
•Monster In The Basement
•Teresa In Denial
•Left to Freeze In Car
•Spiders On The Wall
•Addicted To An Addict
•Enabling
•Bank Account Drained
•Deadbeat Dad
•Moving Out Of State
At this point in the book, I began wanting to yell at Teresa to end this relationship before it ended her. I’ve counseled people like Teresa and Greg (unsuccessfully), so this may add to my frustration over her inability to see just how pointless it was for her to try to fix Greg. Unfortunately, the biggest lie an addict ever tells is the one they tell themselves. For Greg, it was, “I don’t have a problem.” For Teresa, it was, “I can make this work.” For me, this chapter is just where the desire to yell began. My desire steadily increased as their situation became more bizarre and dangerous, chapter-by-chapter.

CHAPTER 5
•Pregnant With No Furniture
•Pregnant And Moving
•Car Repossessed
•Back In NY
•The 5 Minute Wedding
•Greg’s Best Friend Died
Teresa’s compassion for Greg is made clear in this chapter. Although his antics have left her pregnant, with no furniture and no transportation, she still spends a great deal of time describing the emotional upheaval Greg experienced through the death of his best friend. This chapter does a good job of explaining why codependency is often referred to as an addiction to love. She cares so deeply about her husband she will endure great pain and hardship to herself and still be more concerned over his feelings than her own. Some codependents, not Teresa, will sabotage the recovery of the person they love so they can continue to be able to show that “love” by fulfilling the person’s needs.

CHAPTER 6
•Out Of State Training
•Bus Trip From Hell
•Stealing Heat
•Granny Ill
•Drug Binge In Hotel
•Gone 2 days
•One Month Rehab-Back On Drugs
•Truck repossessed
•Lowering Standards
In the abusive relationships I’ve had in the past, I would tolerate almost anything for a time to help someone or to maintain the relationship. Still, there would be a tipping point where it was over…done…and there was nothing that person could do to recapture me after that point. When I see the stuff Greg put Teresa through, I can only identify to a point because I’ve never been addicted to helping someone. This chapter is already well past my tipping point.

CHAPTER 7
•Greg Adopts Sara
•Mystery Christmas Gift
•Out Of State Training
•Card From Pam
•Just A Friend…right!
•Telephone Monitor
We are beginning to get a clue just how imprisoning codependency can be. With all the signs of an affair, Teresa seems to just let things go. The monitor, though, was a great idea. Teresa wrote, “…no matter what happened, I had to make sure I didn’t fail.” That kinda’ sums the chapter up.

CHAPTER 8
•Planning A Binge
•Using Needles
•AIDS Test For Teresa
•It Is An Affair
•Depression For Teresa
•Greg Fired-Drug Test
•Emergency Surgery
•Four Days In Hospital…No Greg
We’ve all heard of the “emotionally unavailable” husband, but it’s clear Greg is unavailable, period. This chapter nails the Power Of Addicted Love by showing that Teresa would tolerate anything rather than accept failure in this relationship. Threat to life, Greg’s affair, drug binges, Greg fired, yet not around when she needed him most. Still, she keeps trying to make it work.

CHAPTER 9
•Moving To Phoenix
•Believing Lies & Making Excuses
•Nowhere To Live
•Home & Mortgage-Being “Bought Off”
•Ms. Activity
•Druggie comes To Visit
•Teresa’s Food Addiction
Like any other addiction, codependency will have negative effects on your health. Teresa’s food addiction is probably due to her repeated belief in a lie and denial of her own worth. The idea that a home purchase could change things was rather silly. Still, Teresa aptly shows us what codependency is all about.

CHAPTER 10
•Lonely Together
•Beat Up For Cigarette Money
•Filed For Divorce But Staying At House
•Time To Discuss It?
•Denial Over Divorce
•Pregnant & Pregnant Again
•Divorce Cancelled
•Battered and Flattered
In chapter 10, the heat gets turned up on Teresa’s codependency. Just when you think things can’t get worse…they do. We’re left wondering what kind of man would do these things and what kind of woman would put up with it. In both cases, it’s the addicted kind.

CHAPTER 11
•Kathy, The Ex
•Pregnant, Kicked In Stomach
•Old Fat Woman
•Can’t Tell Me How To Think
•Greg, Showering For Auto Parts Store
Teresa continues to amaze me, just how much she will put up with in order to make this disaster of a relationship work. I’ve counseled a lot of people in desperate circumstances but have never come across anyone willing to tolerate this kind of treatment. Codependency is clearly as serious as any other addiction. It is not just a made-up condition.

CHAPTER 12
•Still Living On Handouts,
•Shattered Plate On Head
•Fighting Calmed Down
•Kicked Out Without Clothes/Purse
•Police Couldn’t Help
•Shelter Closed
•Angel Drives A Cab
•Teresa Returned?
Imagine being on the street without an I.D. and few clothes on your back…no help…no place to sleep…no money…no food…5 kids. Imagine going back to the person who did this to you. You’ve just imagined codependency.

CHAPTER 13
•Irrational Hope
•Greg Fired Again
•No Longer Cared
•From Dreaming To Planning
•Parents Help Her Leave
•Taking Control
•Greg Not Upset
Teresa writes that hope is what kept her returning to Greg, but this is the irrational hope of an addict, saying, “maybe if I keep doing what I’ve been doing I’ll get better results.” Finally, Teresa seems to get it that Greg will never give her or the children the respect and love they deserve…he’s hollowed himself out and there’s nothing left. Things look up as Teresa finally leaves.

CHAPTER 14
•Needing Work Clothes
•Hotel Manager
•Real Estate
•Confidence Back
•Greg Has New Girl, In AA
•Teresa Returns To Greg
•Lose House
•Girlfriend Pregnant
Just shoot me now! I can’t take it any more. What was Teresa thinking after finally being out, on her own, paying her own way, then returning to Greg. Any rationalization will do for an addict. For Teresa, it was Greg finally quitting drugs and alcohol. Teresa write, “I believe life is about the choices we make, but it isn’t about the choices other people make for us.” Who is choosing for you?

CHAPTER 15
•A New Home In Denial
•Supporting Greg’s Other Kids
•Forget And Forgive
•Car Business
•Back To Reality
•Apart Together
It’s amazing how well Teresa helps us enter into her codependency. She made me feel for a few pages as if things would actually work out for them…as if, somehow, here hope would be rewarded. Then, just as she experienced…the stage shifts yet, again.

CHAPTER 16
•Giving Up Again
•Living Separate
•Waiting For The Other Shoe
•Greg Bailed On The Dream Honeymoon
•The Dry Drunk
We’re taken through the hopelessness of their relationship in this chapter. Though Greg stays sober, the time he used to spend with drugs and alcohol he now spends at meetings. He still hasn’t got that he’s supposed to be part of a family. Teresa’s starting to get that he never will.

CHAPTER 17
•Facing A Huge Mistake
•Won’t Let Her Go
•Escape Plan
•Law Suit
•Forgery And Fraud
•An Affair…So What?
•Sneaking Out
Teresa, in fear for her daughters and her own safety, makes plans and slowly sneaks things out of the house. Now, we’re presented with the danger which seems just as real even though Greg doesn’t seem to be getting high. A nail-biting chapter

CHAPTER 18
•Moving With Greg Home
•Teresa’s Lawyer
•Singles Website
•Greg Seeking Singles
•Teresa Emotionally Freed
•”God Was Watching Over Me.”
•College & Work
•Set Up And Stood Up
“It’s not about the mistakes we make in life, more importantly, it’s about the lessons we learn from those mistakes.” This statement by Teresa serves as an inspiration to us all. By sharing her mistakes, she gives us all hope.

CHAPTER 19
•Laying Relationship Bricks
•Learn To Love Each Other
•Meet Goals But Don’t Sacrifice Values
•God’s Plan…Use My Pain To Heal Others
Teresa shares the big lessons she learned from her experience with Greg, which she says she would not trade. This chapter is worth the whole book. One of the biggest lessons she learned is how to sense her own needs and take care of them. A must read.

CHAPTER 20
•Man Of Her Dreams
•Dream Home
•Tight Quarters
•Blushing Bride
•Dream Wedding
•Going To The Chapel
•Dream Life…Finally
If anyone deserves a dream life, it’s Teresa Hamilton. She led us on a 14-year tour of her addiction to codependency. The trip was full of danger and intrigue, heartbreak and happy endings. I was brought to tears a couple times, while living through the struggles she documented so well. This book is well worth the money and the time to read. Thank you, Teresa, for sharing your story.

www.amazon.com/Power-Addicted-Love-Teresa-Hamilton/dp/1420860305/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&;qid=1386422467&sr=8-1&keywords=the+power+of+addicted+LOVE

FIND ME ON TWITTER @teresascreative

Advertisements
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

MY FOUNDATION TO LIFE……….Excerpt from my book “The Power of Addicted Love”

I am a true believer that with marriage, we must have a foundation that the relationship sits on. We are the creators of this imaginary foundation, and are given the controls to strengthen or weaken it.

Within our foundation lie hundreds of tiny bricks which are laid, one brick at a time. Each brick represents a feeling, an emotion, an idea, commitment, love, respect, faith, hope, trust, wisdom, patience, admiration, boundaries, partnership, friendship, lovers, children, career, guidance, balance, strength, morals, honesty, communication, etc.

However, because we have hundreds of bricks to build our foundation, we still need to have cement and tools. These items are extremely important and vital to a successful marriage, as they become the glue that keeps it altogether.

In exploring this one step further, as an example I will use the word “love.” We must first define what this word means to us. How do we apply this meaning to our personal lives? How would I like to feel when I feel loved? How would I like someone else to feel when I return that love?

We must learn how to love each other. We must learn how to have patience. We must learn how to respect not only ourselves, but to respect others as well. We also must learn how to create and set our own personal boundaries.

We must be willing to accept change in our lives, and be open to criticism. This doesn’t mean that what we hear, we must always accept. This merely broadens our perspective and allows us to grow internally.

Whenever we “assume” that we have all the knowledge we need, we are only kidding ourselves. A foundation cannot be built on false expectations or wishful thinking.

Foundations must be built on solid ground. Otherwise, there will be gaps or holes. And sooner or later, the SOLID foundation which we THINK we have created will begin to crack or crumble.

In other words, we must be “OPEN” to growing as individuals.

Because our lives are not always perfect, we have to expect there WILL be cracks which need repair. People do make mistakes, but it’s what they learn from those mistakes that matters the most.

For us to grow internally requires the ability to admit we are not perfect. Admitting we are not perfect takes maturity. And maturity brings personal justice in accepting that whatever direction our lives take, we will be content in knowing we have satisfied our personal goals without sacrificing our morals or beliefs.

Many time there are warning signs that go unnoticed or ignored. We tend to look the other way because of our inability to “reason” with ourselves. We don’t want to admit that we made a mistake or we have failed.

Failure, to me, is nothing but a stepping-stone. We can learn from our failures and teach others to do the same.

In my case, the building bricks which my ex-husband and I created were not even the same size, color, or shape. Nor did we use the same tools as our glue to keep our foundation together.

So not only did we have different opinions about what our goals were in life, we also had different tools when we put them together.

We are our own best teachers in life. We have the ability to open our hearts or close our minds.

I can’t say I ever regretted marrying Greg, because I was blessed with four of the most wonderful and beautiful daughters. I feel God has a plan for me. Through my experiences and pain, I am able to help others by sharing my story. If I hadn’t experienced these chapters in my life, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today.

*****************************************************************
FEEL FREE TO READ THE REVIEWS ON AMAZON:

www.amazon.com/Power-Addicted-Love-Teresa-Hamilton/dp/1420860305/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&;qid=1386087833&sr=8-1&keywords=the+power+of+addicted+LOVE

ALSO FEEL FREE TO FOLLOW MY JOURNEY ON TWITTER: @teresascreative

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

The Power of Addicted Love, written by Teresa Hamilton

The Power of Addicted Love, written by Teresa Hamilton

The Power of Addicted Love by Teresa Hamilton

Image | Posted on by | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Preview: The Power of Addicted Love, written by Teresa Hamilton

A PREVIEW from my book
“The Power of Addicted Love”,
Written by Teresa Hamilton

On this particular night it was so beautiful outside. The neighborhood had quieted down and most of our neighbors were inside their homes spending time with their families.

The girls and I were eating dinner in the living room while watching television. We often ate our meals in front of the television simply because our favorite shows were on at suppertime. I didn’t mind it at all as it allowed us to spend quality time together.

Of course Greg wasn’t home this night, but what else was new? I no longer drove up and down the streets looking for him, rather, I would just wait for his return to make sure the front door was locked behind him.

It was relatively early in the evening, and I heard the car door slam. I knew it was my husband, but what I didn’t know was why he decided to cut his evening short.

Traditionally speaking, I usually didn’t expect him until midnight or later. I could hear his keys jingling as he unlocked the front door. The girls and I were in the same room as I greeted him with my usual small “grin.” I very rarely got up to give him a welcome hug. There wasn’t anything huggable about a drunk who decided to come home.

For some reason, he always seemed to want to talk to me at inappropriate times. The girls and I were sitting around the television having dinner. I asked him if it could wait, but he refused. He mumbled a few words, but I couldn’t understand what he said.

Again, I asked him if it could wait, but he was persistent. Evidently I didn’t react quickly enough because he started walking toward me as if he was about to teach me a lesson.

As my eyes locked with his, I knew something bad was about to happen. But what I didn’t expect was what he was about to do next.

With all his force, he grabbed my plate of spaghetti out of my hands. He then lifted it above his shoulders, and with all his might, slammed the plate on top of my head.

The plate shattered into a thousand pieces of glass, tumbling downward, piercing my body as each piece of glass landed. If you have ever seen a Correll plate break, it doesn’t break in giant pieces, it splinters.

My eyes immediately welled up and my face turned bright red. I was seeing stars, my body was shaking. At that point, I wasn’t sure if I had just been shot in the head. It certainly felt as if I had.

I remember calling out to my oldest daughter Sara to dial 911. The girls were all screaming at their daddy to stop hurting me, but he wouldn’t. Sara reached the 911 operator and stayed on the phone long enough to let the police know where we lived.

I was emotionally shocked and physically dazed. I hated this man and wanted him out of my house. The police quickly arrived and saw what had happened. They asked me if I would like to press charges, and, of course, I said yes. I wasn’t about to allow this man to think for one minute that he could get away with treating another human being this way.

The police wrote up their report and hauled him off to jail. The girls witnessed their father being put into handcuffs, but I was thankful knowing he wasn’t going to be sleeping under the same roof as us.

The next few hours were painful and tedious. The girls found some tweezers and spent the night picking every single sliver of glass out of my body.

I remember declining having the paramedics treat me. I don’t know why I was so afraid, but I was. Nobody realized I was living with a time bomb that was ready to explode. I had to constantly tip toe around his mood swings just to survive.

Greg returned home the next morning and as usual, was very apologetic. He said he spent the night in a cold, damp, jail cell and it scared him to death. Frankly, I didn’t give a damn. His sob stories no longer worked. As far as I was concerned, he was right where he needed to be. He earned every bit of what he got that night, and was lucky he was let out as early as he was.

He went before a judge the next morning and was ordered to pay a $1,200.00 fine to victims of domestic violence.
At first I didn’t know where he was going to come up with the money, but at that point I really didn’t care. He committed the crime, so now he had to pay the price. In addition, the Judge ordered Greg to enroll himself in a twelve-month anger management program, with treatment to begin immediately.

Occasionally, I reflect on my life and the things I lived through with Greg. I honestly feel like most of the time I was under some sort of hypnotic spell.

In looking back, I realize I allowed Greg to control my destiny. He continually poked and prodded my body and soul. He was Svengali, and had this magical influence over me.

I did whatever he said and wasn’t allowed to leave. I felt I couldn’t escape his invisible hold. Whenever I would rebel, all he had to do was push that pointed needle into my lifeless body, and I would be forced to ride the wave with him once again.

But eventually, I realized that as long as I was able to breathe, I had the ability to release myself from his poisonous and toxic spell. I didn’t know how, I didn’t know when, but I was determined to find my way, in due time.

http://www.amazon.com/Power-Addicted-Love-Teresa-Hamilton/dp/1420860305/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&;qid=1385564128&sr=8-1&keywords=the+power+of+addicted+LOVE

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

PREVIEW FROM MY BOOK: The Power of Addicted Love, written by Teresa Hamilton

ANOTHER PREVIEW from my book “The Power of Addicted Love”, written by Teresa Hamilton

On this particular night it was so beautiful outside. The neighborhood had quieted down and most of our neighbors were inside their homes spending time with their families.

The girls and I were eating dinner in the living room while watching television. We often ate our meals in front of the television simply because our favorite shows were on at suppertime. I didn’t mind it at all as it allowed us to spend quality time together.

Of course Greg wasn’t home this night, but what else was new? I no longer drove up and down the streets looking for him, rather, I would just wait for his return to make sure the front door was locked behind him.

It was relatively early in the evening, and I heard the car door slam. I knew it was my husband, but what I didn’t know was why he decided to cut his evening short.

Traditionally speaking, I usually didn’t expect him until midnight or later. I could hear his keys jingling as he unlocked the front door. The girls and I were in the same room as I greeted him with my usual small “grin.” I very rarely got up to give him a welcome hug. There wasn’t anything huggable about a drunk who decided to come home.

For some reason, he always seemed to want to talk to me at inappropriate times. The girls and I were sitting around the television having dinner. I asked him if it could wait, but he refused. He mumbled a few words, but I couldn’t understand what he said.

Again, I asked him if it could wait, but he was persistent. Evidently I didn’t react quickly enough because he started walking toward me as if he was about to teach me a lesson.

As my eyes locked with his, I knew something bad was about to happen. But what I didn’t expect was what he was about to do next.

With all his force, he grabbed my plate of spaghetti out of my hands. He then lifted it above his shoulders, and with all his might, slammed the plate on top of my head.

The plate shattered into a thousand pieces of glass, tumbling downward, piercing my body as each piece of glass landed. If you have ever seen a Correll plate break, it doesn’t break in giant pieces, it splinters.

My eyes immediately welled up and my face turned bright red. I was seeing stars, my body was shaking. At that point, I wasn’t sure if I had just been shot in the head. It certainly felt as if I had.

I remember calling out to my oldest daughter Sara to dial 911. The girls were all screaming at their daddy to stop hurting me, but he wouldn’t. Sara reached the 911 operator and stayed on the phone long enough to let the police know where we lived.

I was emotionally shocked and physically dazed. I hated this man and wanted him out of my house. The police quickly arrived and saw what had happened. They asked me if I would like to press charges, and, of course, I said yes. I wasn’t about to allow this man to think for one minute that he could get away with treating another human being this way.

The police wrote up their report and hauled him off to jail. The girls witnessed their father being put into handcuffs, but I was thankful knowing he wasn’t going to be sleeping under the same roof as us.

The next few hours were painful and tedious. The girls found some tweezers and spent the night picking every single sliver of glass out of my body.

I remember declining having the paramedics treat me. I don’t know why I was so afraid, but I was. Nobody realized I was living with a time bomb that was ready to explode. I had to constantly tip toe around his mood swings just to survive.

Greg returned home the next morning and as usual, was very apologetic. He said he spent the night in a cold, damp, jail cell and it scared him to death. Frankly, I didn’t give a damn. His sob stories no longer worked. As far as I was concerned, he was right where he needed to be. He earned every bit of what he got that night, and was lucky he was let out as early as he was.

He went before a judge the next morning and was ordered to pay a $1,200.00 fine to victims of domestic violence.
At first I didn’t know where he was going to come up with the money, but at that point I really didn’t care. He committed the crime, so now he had to pay the price. In addition, the Judge ordered Greg to enroll himself in a twelve-month anger management program, with treatment to begin immediately.

Occasionally, I reflect on my life and the things I lived through with Greg. I honestly feel like most of the time I was under some sort of hypnotic spell.

In looking back, I realize I allowed Greg to control my destiny. He continually poked and prodded my body and soul. He was Svengali, and had this magical influence over me.

I did whatever he said and wasn’t allowed to leave. I felt I couldn’t escape his invisible hold. Whenever I would rebel, all he had to do was push that pointed needle into my lifeless body, and I would be forced to ride the wave with him once again.

But eventually, I realized that as long as I was able to breathe, I had the ability to release myself from his poisonous and toxic spell. I didn’t know how, I didn’t know when, but I was determined to find my way, in due time.

http://www.amazon.com/Power-Addicted-Love-Teresa-Hamilton/dp/1420860305/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1385564128&sr=8-1&keywords=the+power+of+addicted+love

 

 

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

DOING MY PART TO STOMP OUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE……ONE “Teresa” AT A TIME!

DOING MY PART TO STOMP OUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE……….ONE “Teresa” AT A TIME!

This is a story about “Teresa’s Journey”……… and I ask you, would you like to join me on my journey?

You may wonder…..what does she mean by “journey”?

Well, let me share with you what I mean. Back in 2005, I wrote a book entitled “The Power of Addicted Love”. It’s a story about an addiction to love. I was married to an abuser, a drug addict and alcoholic for 14 years. I am not an “author” by trade but I felt the need to share my story with the world with one goal in mind, and that was to help other “Teresa’s” out there. When my book was published, I received calls and emails from women and/or men who reached out for my help. I will never forget the hours of conversations……engaging in each and every one of these individuals, listening to their stories. Today……..I often wonder what has happened to these people, wondering if they are OKAY. Did they get through it?

Then, I put my book aside for a few years………..and got busy doing other things……..that is, until a few weeks ago, when out of the blue, I received an email from a young mother who just read my book. She told me she left her abuser and my story inspired her to do so. I cannot stop thinking about that woman. I can’t just “forget” people like her. I can’t forget who I “was”…….and I can’t forget the people that my story continually touches. There’s nothing more rewarding to me then to see my story touch the lives of others……….helping them one “Teresa” at a time. Eight years ago I did not have Facebook or Twitter, but today I do, and 2 months ago I decided to share my book on my two pages. Since sharing………..I have been in the newspaper 4 times, published in 3 magazines, and received messages from at least 5 dozen people that have written to me and told me that because of reading my story, they were inspired to either leave their abuser, or seek help.

This message isn’t about how many books I can sell. If I was after that, I wouldn’t have put it down for so many years. It’s about touching the lives of “Teresa’s” out there that need help. If 10,000 people shared just ONE copy of my book simply by passing it around…………I would still be okay with that as long as it continues to touch their lives.

So today, I am on a new mission………and I am asking for your help to join me on my mission.

Below are a few quotes of recent messages I have recently received:

“I am about halfway through your book and I just have to say thank you sooo much for writing this!”

“As someone who is going through a divorce right now, this book really spoke to me. It was exactly what I needed to hear at this exact moment. I will reread this over the next few months for the strength I need for my situation”

“I felt like I was reading my own life story! I never would have dreamt that there was another person out there that endured the same trails as I. Thank you for sharing and making me realize that I am not alone!”

“I just finished the book. Your stories were familiar. I hope I can be as strong as you were. If you were able to leave with 4 daughters, I should be able to do it with one son right? “

If you would like to help me by sharing my story, you are helping hundreds, if not thousands of “Teresa’s” out there. So today………with a smile on my face, and my head held high……………I am once again………..on a journey!

Feel free to take a look at the reviews on Amazon:
www.amazon.com/Power-Addicted-Love-Teresa-Hamilton/dp/1420860305/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&;qid=1385386519&sr=8-1&keywords=the+power+of+addicted+LOVE

________________________

EXCERPT CHAPTER 12 – The Power of Addicted Love, Written by Teresa Hamilton

“Outside the house, I heard an all too familiar sound. The car door had slammed. It was that all too familiar “slam” that made me cringe. I knew in an instant the man who was about to walk through the front door was not the same sober man who left earlier that day.

As Greg stumbled up the driveway to the sidewalk, I could hear the sound of his feet shuffling. God, I didn’t want to go through this again. Why can’t he just stay at a friend’s house and sleep it off? Why does he constantly have to come home intoxicated, making a fool of himself?

As he approached the door, no one ran to greet him. Even the girls learned that being around a drunk was no fun. Greg walked into the kitchen and wanted my attention. I don’t know what it was about him always needing my attention when he was drunk, but I wasn’t going to give it to him. I knew better than to try talking sense to a drunk.

He was slurring his words, swearing and cussing at me. Have you ever witnessed a drunk swearing and cussing? They don’t make any sense! If it had been anyone else, I would have started laughing. But past experience taught me to be very careful. Don’t laugh, don’t move, and don’t say a word.

At that moment, I reached down to pick up my purse. Knowing his condition, it was best for me to take the kids and leave the house. This man was being stupid and I didn’t want to wait around for him to sober up again.

My purse contained everything I needed in order to leave. I made it a point to make sure I had some extra cash, a credit card, identification and car keys in my purse at all times. If ever anything was to happen, all I needed was my purse and off I could go.

Only not so fast. Greg grabbed the purse from my arm, breaking the leather strap that was attached. We had a pool in the backyard, and he tossed my purse into the cold water. I tried to go after it, but he wouldn’t let me get close.

I watched in horror as the contents of my purse got soaked in water. Pictures, makeup, pieces of paper, checkbook, all destroyed. At this point, Greg was pushing me toward the door. The girls were starting to cry because all they could see was their drunken daddy hurting their mother. They wanted him to stop, but he refused. I didn’t have any shoes on and the girls were half dressed.

I pleaded with him to at least let me pack some clothes for the girls. But he absolutely refused to allow me to bring a diaper for my youngest or shoes for anyone else. Whatever clothing we were wearing was what we were allowed to leave with.

As I stood on the front porch with five small, half naked children, Greg slammed the door behind us. I knew I needed to stay strong, yet I didn’t have a clue where we could go. I guess I could have walked to a neighbor’s house, but I didn’t really know the neighbors. Besides, our neighbors liked us. They didn’t have a clue what really happened behind closed doors, and I was too embarrassed to have them find out.

I turned around and rang the doorbell. I wanted to plead with Greg to give me the car keys. The very least he could do was allow me to take my vehicle. Greg came to the door, but would only scream “GO AWAY!” through the door.

Knowing if I pushed my luck any further, I could be risking my life. Instead, I reluctantly turned around and headed down the street.
With my youngest daughter on my hip, the girls and I walked very slowly down the sizzling, hot sidewalk. My feet began to hurt as I hurried across the blistering pavement. My 4 year old began to cry, so I put her on my back. While carrying two of my daughter’s, and having two other by my side, not to mention my little niece who was only there for a visit, I didn’t know what to direction to take.

I found myself walking a mile up the road to the nearest payphone. There, I dialed 911 for help. I wasn’t sure what kind of help they could provide, but at that moment desperation had set in. I couldn’t go home, yet I had no place to go.

Two police cars arrived shortly thereafter. As I stood by the patrol cars, I tearfully explained what had just happened. One of the policemen told me he would drive back to my house to see if he could get Greg to open the door. At the very least, he would try to get some shoes and clothes for us so that we could get properly dressed.

The police arrived at the door and demanded to be let in. Greg was clueless that anyone was even knocking on the door. Apparently he had passed out on the living room couch and didn’t know anyone was knocking. The policeman told me he walked around to the side windows of the house where he saw Greg sound asleep. After several attempts to get his attention, the police stopped trying. I was told that in the state of Arizona, unless they had a search warrant to physically enter the house, their hands were tied.

The officer drove back to where the girls and I were standing and gave me a list of domestic violence shelters we would stay at for the night. They also gave me the name of a cab company that would provide transportation. I immediately called for the cab and we were driven to the shelter.

The cab left, but too soon. I found out the shelter was filled, no vacancies.

There I stood inside this shelter with five small children feeling very homeless and scared. By this time, night was beginning to fall, and street lights were beginning to come on.

The woman at the shelter didn’t have the heart to turn us away, yet she legally couldn’t allow us to stay as there were no beds available. She began to call around to different hotels in the area asking the manager of each hotel if they would be willing to put us up for the night, free of charge. After several failed attempts, she finally reached a manager who agreed. Not only did he agree to one night, he actually agreed to three free nights.

I was pleasantly surprised and so thankful that this woman went the extra mile to find us a place to stay. At that point, I didn’t care where we slept, as long as it wasn’t at home with that drunken bum who was passed out on the couch.

The woman called for another cab, and within minutes we were on our way across town to the hotel. The cab operator was very talkative and easy going. She was an African American with a wonderful sense of humor. She was curious in her own way and felt comfortable enough to ask me what happened.

As I proceeded to explain to her what had taken place, she became more and more willing to listen. For the first time that evening, I actually had an adult to talk to. The cab ride seemed like it took hours. As we talked, the more the cab driver seemed inclined to help. When she asked if I had any money, I told her I wasn’t allowed to bring my purse.

Would you believe she drove the girls and me to a grocery store? She went inside while we stayed behind. She came out with this bag full of groceries, and told me that the food and milk was for the girls and me to eat over the next three days. I don’t remember a time in my life when I ever felt more grateful.

When we arrived at the hotel, she helped the girls and me to our room. I don’t know her name, but I will never forget her smile. The look in her eyes was like an angel looking over me. I gave her a big hug, and said my goodbyes. The girls and I settled into our hotel room and took showers prior to turning in for the night. The night seemed so calm and peaceful. We watched a little television and fell asleep.

At 2:00 a.m. the telephone rang. I knew it couldn’t be Greg, as he didn’t have a clue where we were. I couldn’t imagine who could have found us, yet I was curious to find out. I answered the phone. The man on the other end told me there was a suitcase in the lobby for me.

As he had awakened me from a sound sleep, I didn’t quite understand what he was telling me. I decided to get dressed and go down to the lobby to find out what it was about. There, the hotel clerk stood holding a suitcase. He proceeded to tell me that an African American woman had dropped it off about thirty minutes ago and wanted to be sure I received it.

I couldn’t imagine who he was talking about until it dawned on me that the lady who drove us to the grocery store and hotel was African American. I took the suitcase and went back to my room. When I entered the room, the girls were still sound asleep.

I unzipped the suitcase and found a tremendous amount of clothing, shoes, hairbrushes, makeup, underwear, diapers, bottles, toothbrushes, paste and shampoo. There was a small note tucked inside that read, “I came back home tonight and went around to all of my friends and neighbors collecting goods for you and your children. I hope I have given you the right sizes. God bless you!”

I sat down the edge of my bed and shed more tears than I ever had in my life. Not because I was feeling sorry for myself, rather, I was so appreciative of the fact that this complete stranger helped the girls and me through our very tough situation.

I never got the chance to see or meet her again, and I didn’t even know her name. But to this day, I still call her my guardian angel. She was my savior that night, and I will never forget the wonderful gifts she gave us. How lucky and blessed I was to have met someone with such a loving and giving heart.

For the next three days, the girls and I had one big pajama party. We watched HBO, played miniature golf and laughed a lot. For the first time in months, I was smiling and having some fun. Everything I wanted in life was in the same room as me.

My thoughts would occasionally drift to Greg, but not as often as they should have. At this point, he still didn’t know where we were, as I refused to call him. Since I didn’t see my picture on the 5 o’clock news as a missing person, I figured he didn’t care anyway.

The girls and I went home on the fourth day. I called Greg to pick us up at the hotel. He arrived smiling and happy to see the girls. I still felt angry with him and didn’t have anything to say. It was very difficult to hold back my emotions when my kids were present. What I really wanted to do is rip his heart out for the pain he had caused my daughters and me. But I knew it was senseless. He was too drunk to remember all the fine details.

That was the difference between Greg and me. I refused to forget, whereas he refused to remember.

We arrived home a few moments later, and as I walked into the house, I noticed Greg had pulled my purse from the bottom of the pool. Everything was spread all over the kitchen counter. He was attempting to dry everything out.

The pictures were ruined, as were most of the contents. There wasn’t much I could to do to salvage what was left, so I simply turned to Greg and gave him a “look” and walked away.

He knew he was wrong, but was too proud to apologize.
___________
Fast forwarding my life to 2013, I am on a new mission. I have a message I would like to send to my angel that night.

“DEAR ANGEL:

I want to thank you! You are out there somewhere in this big world of ours. You know who you are and what you did for me and my family. I will NEVER forget you. You were the taxi driver who worked in Glendale AZ back in the 90′s who picked up my family and brought us to safety. Someone knows you……you’ve shared my night with others because you went around collecting clothes, shoes and diapers from your friends to give to us at the hotel. You spent your night’s wages buying food for us.

Please help me find you……I just want to tell you how much you have changed my life. You………are an angel! “

Teresa Hamilton
Find me on Twitter @teresascreative

My heart still carries this angel with me wherever I go. I think about her all the time and I hope that she is well and safe. She saved my life that night. Imagine being on the street without an I.D. and few clothes on your back…no help…no place to sleep…no money…no food…5 kids. Imagine going back to the person who did this to you.

You’ve just imagined codependency. This was my life for 14 years. I no longer live that life, but I have been on a journey ever since to help women who do. I want to pay it forward and be an angel to someone else. I want to show people who live in abusive situations that they have a voice. I hope now my voice can be heard loud and clear.”

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I AM STILL LOOKING FOR YOU!!!

I AM STILL LOOKING FOR YOU!
Please – if you are reading this – PLEASE share on your social media outlets.  I am on a mission to find this person, and I need your help.   Thank you! 
EXCERPT FROM MY BOOK – The Power of Addicted Love, written by Teresa Hamilton
HERE IS THE STORY:
Outside the house, I heard an all too familiar sound.  The car door had slammed. It was that all too familiar “slam” that made me cringe.  I knew in an instant the man who was about to walk through the front door was not the same sober man who left earlier that day.
As Greg stumbled up the driveway to the sidewalk, I could hear the sound of his… feet shuffling.  God, I didn’t want to go through this again.  Why can’t he just stay at a friend’s house and sleep it off?  Why does he constantly have to come home intoxicated, making a fool of himself?
As he approached the door, no one ran to greet him.  Even the girls learned that being around a drunk was no fun.  Greg walked into the kitchen and wanted my attention.  I don’t know what it was about him always needing my attention when he was drunk, but I wasn’t going to give it to him.  I knew better than to try talking sense to a drunk.
He was slurring his words, swearing and cussing at me.  Have you ever witnessed a drunk swearing and cussing?  They don’t make any sense!  If it had been anyone else, I would have started laughing.  But past experience taught me to be very careful.  Don’t laugh, don’t move, and don’t say a word.
At that moment, I reached down to pick up my purse.  Knowing his condition, it was best for me to take the kids and leave the house.  This man was being stupid and I didn’t want to wait around for him to sober up again.
My purse contained everything I needed in order to leave.  I made it a point to make sure I had some extra cash, a credit card, identification and car keys in my purse at all times.  If ever anything was to happen, all I needed was my purse and off I could go.
Only not so fast.  Greg grabbed the purse from my arm, breaking the leather strap that was attached.  We had a pool in the backyard, and he tossed my purse into the cold water.  I tried to go after it, but he wouldn’t let me get close.
I watched in horror as the contents of my purse got soaked in water.  Pictures, makeup, pieces of paper, checkbook, all destroyed.  At this point, Greg was pushing me toward the door.  The girls were starting to cry because all they could see was their drunken daddy hurting their mother.  They wanted him to stop, but he refused.  I didn’t have any shoes on and the girls were half dressed.
I pleaded with him to at least let me pack some clothes for the girls.  But he absolutely refused to allow me to bring a diaper for my youngest or shoes for anyone else.  Whatever clothing we were wearing was what we were allowed to leave with.
As I stood on the front porch with five small, half naked children, Greg slammed the door behind us.  I knew I needed to stay strong, yet I didn’t have a clue where we could go.  I guess I could have walked to a neighbor’s house, but I didn’t really know the neighbors.  Besides, our neighbors liked us.  They didn’t have a clue what really happened behind closed doors, and I was too embarrassed to have them find out.
I turned around and rang the doorbell.  I wanted to plead with Greg to give me the car keys.  The very least he could do was allow me to take my vehicle.  Greg came to the door, but would only scream “GO AWAY!” through the door.
Knowing if I pushed my luck any further, I could be risking my life.  Instead, I reluctantly turned around and headed down the street. With my youngest daughter on my hip, the girls and I walked very slowly down the sizzling, hot sidewalk.  My feet began to hurt as I hurried across the blistering pavement.  My 4 year old began to cry, so I put her on my back.  While carrying two of my daughter’s, and having two other by my side, not to mention my little niece who was only there for a visit, I didn’t know what to direction to take.
I found myself walking a mile up the road to the nearest payphone.  There, I dialed 911 for help.  I wasn’t sure what kind of help they could provide, but at that moment desperation had set in.  I couldn’t go home, yet I had no place to go.
Two police cars arrived shortly thereafter.  As I stood by the patrol cars, I tearfully explained what had just happened.  One of the policemen told me he would drive back to my house to see if he could get Greg to open the door.  At the very least, he would try to get some shoes and clothes for us so that we could get properly dressed.
The police arrived at the door and demanded to be let in.  Greg was clueless that anyone was even knocking on the door.  Apparently he had passed out on the living room couch and didn’t know anyone was knocking.  The policeman told me he walked around to the side windows of the house where he saw Greg sound asleep.  After several attempts to get his attention, the police stopped trying.  I was told that in the state of Arizona, unless they had a search warrant to physically enter the house, their hands were tied.
The officer drove back to where the girls and I were standing and gave me a list of domestic violence shelters we would stay at for the night.  They also gave me the name of a cab company that would provide transportation.  I immediately called for the cab and we were driven to the shelter.
The cab left, but too soon.  I found out the shelter was filled, no vacancies. There I stood inside this shelter with five small children feeling very homeless and scared.  By this time, night was beginning to fall, and street lights were beginning to come on.
The woman at the shelter didn’t have the heart to turn us away, yet she legally couldn’t allow us to stay as there were no beds available.  She began to call around to different hotels in the area asking the manager of each hotel if they would be willing to put us up for the night, free of charge.  After several failed attempts, she finally reached a manager who agreed.  Not only did he agree to one night, he actually agreed to three free nights.
I was pleasantly surprised and so thankful that this woman went the extra mile to find us a place to stay.  At that point, I didn’t care where we slept, as long as it wasn’t at home with that drunken bum who was passed out on the couch.
The woman called for another cab, and within minutes we were on our way across town to the hotel.  The cab operator was very talkative and easy going.  She was an African American with a wonderful sense of humor.  She was curious in her own way and felt comfortable enough to ask me what happened.
As I proceeded to explain to her what had taken place, she became more and more willing to listen.  For the first time that evening, I actually had an adult to talk to.  The cab ride seemed like it took hours.  As we talked, the more the cab driver seemed inclined to help.  When she asked if I had any money, I told her I wasn’t allowed to bring my purse.
Would you believe she drove the girls and me to a grocery store?  She went inside while we stayed behind.  She came out with this bag full of groceries, and told me that the food and milk was for the girls and me to eat over the next three days.  I don’t remember a time in my life when I ever felt more grateful.
When we arrived at the hotel, she helped the girls and me to our room.  I don’t know her name, but I will never forget her smile.  The look in her eyes was like an angel looking over me.  I gave her a big hug, and said my goodbyes.  The girls and I settled into our hotel room and took showers prior to turning in for the night.  The night seemed so calm and peaceful.  We watched a little television and fell asleep.
At 2:00 a.m. the telephone rang.  I knew it couldn’t be Greg, as he didn’t have a clue where we were.  I couldn’t imagine who could have found us, yet I was curious to find out.  I answered the phone.  The man on the other end told me there was a suitcase in the lobby for me.
As he had awakened me from a sound sleep, I didn’t quite understand what he was telling me.  I decided to get dressed and go down to the lobby to find out what it was about. There, the hotel clerk stood holding a suitcase.  He proceeded to tell me that an African American woman had dropped it off about thirty minutes ago and wanted to be sure I received it.
I couldn’t imagine who he was talking about until it dawned on me that the lady who drove us to the grocery store and hotel was African American.  I took the suitcase and went back to my room.   When I entered the room, the girls were still sound asleep.
I unzipped the suitcase and found a tremendous amount of clothing, shoes, hairbrushes, makeup, underwear, diapers, bottles, toothbrushes, paste and shampoo.  There was a small note tucked inside that read, “I came back home tonight and went around to all of my friends and neighbors collecting goods for you and your children.  I hope I have given you the right sizes.  God bless you!”
I sat down the edge of my bed and shed more tears than I ever had in my life.  Not because
I was feeling sorry for myself, rather, I was so appreciative of the fact that this complete stranger helped the girls and me through our very tough situation.
I never got the chance to see or meet her again, and I didn’t even know her name.  But to this day, I still call her my guardian angel.  She was my savior that night, and I will never forget the wonderful gifts she gave us.  How lucky and blessed I was to have met someone with such a loving and giving heart.
For the next three days, the girls and I had one big pajama party.  We watched HBO, played miniature golf and laughed a lot.  For the first time in months, I was smiling and having some fun.  Everything I wanted in life was in the same room as me.
My thoughts would occasionally drift to Greg, but not as often as they should have.  At this point, he still didn’t know where we were, as I refused to call him.  Since I didn’t see my picture on the 5 o’clock news as a missing person, I figured he didn’t care anyway.
The girls and I went home on the fourth day.  I called Greg to pick us up at the hotel.  He arrived smiling and happy to see the girls.  I still felt angry with him and didn’t have anything to say.  It was very difficult to hold back my emotions when my kids were present.  What I really wanted to do is rip his heart out for the pain he had caused my daughters and me.
But I knew it was senseless.  He was too drunk to remember all the fine details. That was the difference between Greg and me.  I refused to forget, whereas he refused to remember.
We arrived home a few moments later, and as I walked into the house, I noticed Greg had pulled my purse from the bottom of the pool.  Everything was spread all over the kitchen counter.  He was attempting to dry everything out.
The pictures were ruined, as were most of the contents.  There wasn’t much I could to do to salvage what was left, so I simply turned to Greg and gave him a “look” and walked away.
He knew he was wrong, but was too proud to apologize.
___________
Fast forwarding my life to 2013, I am on a new mission.  I have a message I would like to send to my angel that night.
“DEAR ANGEL:
I want to thank you!  You are out there somewhere in this big world of ours.   You know who you are and what you did for me and my family.  I will NEVER forget you.   You were the taxi driver who worked in Glendale AZ back in the 90′s who picked up my family and brought us to safety.  Someone knows you……you’ve shared my night with others because you went around collecting clothes, shoes and diapers from your friends to give to us at the hotel.   You spent your night’s wages buying food for us.
Please help me find you……I just want to tell you how much you have changed my life.  You………are an angel!
Teresa Hamilton
mylilsaab@gmail.com”
My heart still carries this angel with me wherever I go.  I think about her all the time and I hope that she is well and safe.  She saved my life that night.  Imagine being on the street without an I.D. and few clothes on your back…no help…no place to sleep…no money…no food…5 kids. Imagine going back to the person who did this to you. You’ve just imagined codependency.  This was my life for 14 years.  I no longer live that life, but I have been on a journey ever since to help women who do.  I want to pay it forward and be an angel to someone else.  I want to show people who live in abusive situations that they have a voice.
I hope now my voice can be heard loud and clear.
Image | Posted on by | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments