Tonight I’ve recorded and published Mental Health Network’s first podcast and I’m really excited for the future of the podcast and for the listeners as well. Please send me your wins, your experiences, your mental health goals, anything you need advice on, I want to hear it all.
I’ve dealt with mental health issues for the past 17 years, and I haven’t always had a network of people I could talk to. I’m hoping to change that for others that don’t have a community that they can reach out to.
This story starts in 2008 when I was hanging out with my best friend, at the time, and his cousin. We were your typical teenagers and tried to find as much trouble as we could. We met up at the local strip club and were drinking before we went in, as strip clubs in MN at the time didn’t serve alcohol, much less to minors. His cousin was a bit older and after thirteen years, his age has eluded my mind. I know he was over 21, as he had provided the alcohol that night. We smoked cigarettes and laughed and had a good time.
I remember the phone I had at the time with the QWERTY keyboard below the screen. Although recording wasn’t allowed, that didn’t stop us teenagers from trying. I remember the bouncers taking my phone and they almost didn’t give it back. I had to promise not to do it again and showed them I deleted the video.
We were all around a table and a stripper walks us to my friend and starts a conversation. She starts with how cute he is, and how muscly he looks. They kept talking and of course, my friend had fallen for the stripper’s tactics: they had everything in common! The same kind of dog, the same phone, were interested in all of the same things. She played him and he fell for all of it. I had never been to a strip club before, but I knew what she really wanted. Although my friend believed differently, I highly suspect she was interested in bringing more money home, and that she had all of those things in common with every guy she talked to.
After all, that’s what she was there to do.
After the strip club, I remember riding in his white boat of a sedan back through Minnesota’s cold winter night. The snow was coming down heavily and we were drinking the few beers we had left. I remember seeing an older gentleman out in the cold, walking the road and trying to hitch a ride. My friend, who wasn’t that bright, suggested that we pull over and let him hitch a ride. His cousin and I objected to the idea and my friend kept driving. “What if he tries to steal our beer?” his cousin asked. “Or worse, I added. He’s out here in the cold all by himself, what if he’s armed with something?” We pulled into a gas station so we get more alcohol, fuel, and cigarettes.
My friend drove to his cousin’s house where I met his girlfriend. When you walked in, the kitchen was to the right and the dining room was a part of it, to the left. He set the beer on the kitchen table and greeted his girlfriend. She started in on him as soon as he opened his mouth. “Where were you?” She snapped. “We went to the bar and were playing pool.” She already knew he was lying. “No you were not, your drunk ass sent me a text that was meant for your cousin saying “We’re in the parking lot, come out. You still get a lap dance?” We were sitting on the couch in the living room for about 20 minutes and I heard “don’t you dare fucking touch me!” So I asked my friend, what’s that about? He told me that he beats her sometimes and that he just stays out of it. I’m sitting there with a beer in my hand thinking, how could you know this happens and not do anything?
Then I heard it, a loud slam followed by her screaming. “What was that!” I asked, demanding a response. “He probably threw her into the fridge again by her hair.” That was unacceptable. I put my beer down and walked into the kitchen as fast as I could. Then I saw it, he grabbed her hair again and threw her into the fridge.
I’m pretty sure I saw red after that because I was now a force to be reckoned with. Although his cousin stood roughly 6’2” and weighed about 200 pounds and I am 5’9” and weighed 145 pounds, I wasn’t going to let my disadvantage get in the way of stopping him.
I put both my arms beneath his armpits and wrapped my hands around his neck and brought him to his knees before slamming his face into the kitchen floor. He was dazed and I started punching him in the back of the head and anywhere I could land a shot. His girlfriend picked up the phone and dialed 911 and although I didn’t hear any of the conversations my friend did and filled me in later. “Hello, 911 my boyfriend was hitting me, and I need police and an ambulance. My friend jumped in between us to save me, and I think he might take it too far. Please send someone right away.”
He came to his senses and got on his back, but I was all over him. He tried deflecting my punches and he did, at times. I stood up and looked at his blood-covered face and said, “You better never hit a woman again!” Then I sent a kick straight to his ribs.
There must have been a unit that was fairly close because within minutes they were at the house. When the cop entered, he saw me standing over him and quickly removed me from my position. The other officer looked at his cousin and then started talking with the girlfriend. She was in tears as she was talking, but her point was clear. She had just been beaten and this wasn’t the first time. I had intervened and stopped the abuse from happening any longer and she was afraid that I was going to end up killing him.
After the two police officers got our statements, he walked over to my friend’s cousin and asked if he wanted to press charges against me. As he was trying to talk, the officer interrupted him and said, “I don’t care what your answer is. You were beaten for hitting a woman and you got what you deserved.” Then added, “I wish more of my domestic violence calls ended this way.”
The second officer detains him while the first one walked towards me. “Were you drinking tonight son?” He asked. “Yes sir, we had gone to the strip club and I’ve had a few beers tonight,” I said nervously, not knowing whether it was going to be an issue or not. “Well, I’m going to leave that out of the report and write it up that you stopped a woman beater tonight. You did the world a favor tonight son.”
TattedFather 