...beggarman, thief

I wasn't going to write about this, but I keep having re-occurring flashbacks, and that tells me i need to get it out of my system. Last week I was robbed. It wasn't a lot of money, I never have a lot of money. I had just cashed my disability check (heart condition and spinal injury)and I paid the water bill at $37 (which I thought was a bit high for rainy weather,) bought a hundred dollars worth of food, which left me $70 ducats and change.
I was in a thrift store which is just around the corner and I am like a cousin cuz I'm always dropping by for this or that or nothing, but a howdy. I took the five dollars worth of clothes and fabric to the counter which was three steps from the fitting room where my purse was and a woman went in to try on some clothes, saw my open wallet (I'm an idiot, i admit it) and took it. I saw it all in a blinding flash and grabbed her hand as she came out of the fitting room. I said to her, "That's mine, you know it, so give it back.". She, of course argued and wouldn't let go. I saw the tracks on her arm and saw the need in her face for a fix, so I knew I was the stronger. I could not go home with nothing. I couldn't do that to my husband who takes care of me so well. It would have been a failure in personal responsibility. So I hung on. I told her I used to be married to the town judge and it would be easy to find her, (I recited the car's license plate # at her) and in that moment, she faltered and I got back fifty dollars. I demanded the last twenty, but she was just seeing a fix. I just couldn't get it out of her hand. I told the thrift store women to call the police. They came, not fast enough because, come on, it was just a thrift store, but they came. I explained what happened. He took me more serious when I came to the judge part. (I hate using that damn piece of info. I feel like I'm cheating. Name-dropping. But I'm so poor, I had to get the money.) I ended up losing that last twenty. The policeman turned out to be Vice. He said I could report it, but I would have to appear in court. I told him physically, I couldn't sit that long, so for $20 I was gonna have to let it go. He was so nice to me, I was almost in tears. But it was the first time ever in my life I stood up for myself and didn't let it go. All my life I have let people tell me it's my fault (i know this one was, but...), that I'm wrong, that I'm a failure, that I won't amount to much, that I'm too dramatic, that I betray, (I don't) but getting this money back made me feel so proud of myself. We live on $1,172 a month. My husband does odd jobs that amount to about a thousand. I didn't get it all back, but I felt strong getting back what I did. The women around me were weak, and didn't know what to do. They were of an older generation than me. I stood around in shock til I yelled call the the cops. It's not their fault. It';s how they were raised. I love them, but I wish they had helped me physically. I was sore in my muscles for so many days afterward.
It was such an ugly dance how we were locked in each others' arms, because I would not let go, I wouldn't let her go out of the store and flee. The man she was with told me her name and I recognized it as a trouble-family in our town. Violent, drug-takers, guns, knives, shouting, beating women kind of hurtful people. I had compassion, but it wasn't on the top layer of my skin. It was underneath where I pray. And interestingly enough, I didn't pray that I can recall that whole time. I don't know why. Usually I pray in the moment. She ran before the policeman came and I let the twenty go. But it's been on my mind this whole time and I know I need to seriously write about it. A poem, not just a diary entry.