Well, its been two weeks since he got back. We spent our second wedding anniversary (June 22nd) at the local No. 1 Chinese Buffet. Thanks to Mom for the $20 for that, and the movie we rented (I am #4) before I had to leave because I couldn't afford the $10 to stay with him that night.
He is still in the seedy motel they put him in to start with. Of course, he has to be re-evaluated every week to make sure he still has a place to stay because they want to know that he is looking for a new place, even though he isn't allowed to have a job. And Workforce NY is insisting he apply for jobs in order to keep his food stamps, even though he isn't allowed to hold a job. He is not allowed to be around anyone with a criminal record, unless it is approved, and most of the guys who stay in the motel are there for the same reason.
I quit my job so I could move out there to be with him and help. I am withdrawing part of my 401k to find a place to live. But because the 401k withdrawal takes time, I have spent the last 4 days in Auburn, no gas in my car, food from a local food pantry (I never thought I would have to do that), and two dollars in my pocket. My cats a pissed at me because their food is awful, since I can only afford Aldi's and Alley Cat. My husband only has a prepaid phone, so of course, his minutes ran out two days ago. I barely get to talk to him, and I worry constantly about him getting to his appointments on time, and the people he hangs out with at that motel. I don't trust a one of them.
The check is supposed to come tomorrow. I am hoping I will be able to cash it at Key, through their check cashing service. If not, I have to deposit it in my bank, and I probably won't have money until Wednesday or Thursday, and they might kick him out of the motel Tuesday morning if we can't pay rent. We also need to get phones with unlimited minutes (yesterday), but they cost money too. My electric, cable, and car insurance will be cancelled or shut off in the next week if I don 't pay them. My bank keeps calling me because my account is overdrawn, and I have no money to put in it. For some reason there is some new fee they have implemented. I think it is $5 everyday it is overdrawn. I think I will be doing some screaming about that tomorrow. I might even cancel my bloody account there if they keep pulling this shit.
This is all the shit that has to run through my head while I sit here, writing my resume, applying for work, looking for a place to live out there, with no money to get the place with until it comes. I am tired. And I can't wait to see him again.
Ugh, and stuff.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
The moment of truth has come
I realize that there probably should have been this ecstatically happy post telling you all how stoked I was that my husband is finally coming home. Trust me. I was so happy to hear he would be let go so we could begin our life together.
We didn't even know when he was gonna come home. We found out 2 days before they actually released him to the county of his conviction. But I was thrilled, because I was finally gonna get to spend time alone with my husband and claim my rightful place by his side.
I have never been more disgusted with the way this state has totally fucked him and I over with this goddamned ridiculous law. They only used that trump so they could have a reason to supervise him because he maxed out. There was never going to be any trial. They just wanted a reason to watch him.
Now, he is living in this seedy, nasty motel, wearing a GPS tracking device around his ankle, and his curfew is from 8pm to 8am. He is not to step a foot outside the door of the motel during that time. Shit, if the place was on fire, and he ran out to save his life, they would probably find a reason to violate him. Anyways, to continue this list, He has to write down everything he does when he leaves the motel, including things like the mileage on the car he rode in, how long it took to get there, who he was with, and the reason for going. I am not allowed to spend the night with my own husband unless I rent my own room, so every night this weekend, I slept in the same bed with my mother in law, because I couldn't stay with him.
I have to go on birth control, because they threatened us. If I get pregnant, and he is still not allowed to be around anyone under the age of 18, (that includes his 7 year old son who is DESPERATE to see his father), if we are living together when the child is born, they will take the child away. It's either that or live separately, and he is to have no contact with the infant at all. That basically means we can't even be a family until they decide this shit is over. My womb is under the control of this fucking state, and I have never been convicted of a crime.
And, on top of all that bullshit, the state is gonna sue ME for spousal support because he is receiving benefits from the state because he is considered homeless. Merely a formality, they say. They are the reason he is homeless!!! Because my apartment is a few feet too close to the YMCA, they wouldn't let us reside together unless I could find a suitable place (in less that a month, and I am fucking broke as a joke...don't you just love this economy?), they released him "undomiciled". And they are going to sue me for support, even though I have pretty much been his SOLE source of support for the last 2 and a half fucking years!!!!
You see, I was really looking forward to being able to be free with my husband and have the life we have been looking forward to since his max date last September, and now we have to hurry up and wait some more, and put OUR life off longer because the state wants to supervise someone who isn't even a fucking pedophile!!! He was locked up in that hospital with men who held children at knife point and raped them. Little children.
Tell you what. I feel like I have been raped. The state has violated every little semblance of happiness I have tried to claim with this man, and it continues to get worse by the day!!! Don't I have any rights? We are a family, and we have to continue to wait before we can actually BE a family.
Fuck this shit.
Its lucky that the limited time we spent together this weekend was so much fun! In spite of this milieu, we are still best friends. The only constant in our life together is how much we believe in and strengthen each other. There has never been any doubt between us, only those of others. And it has always kept us strong. We bring out the best in each other. And the more people who see it, the more quickly this will move along.
No matter how much I cry, I know we will get through this. We both do. So, damn the man. They don't know who they are dealing with.
We didn't even know when he was gonna come home. We found out 2 days before they actually released him to the county of his conviction. But I was thrilled, because I was finally gonna get to spend time alone with my husband and claim my rightful place by his side.
I have never been more disgusted with the way this state has totally fucked him and I over with this goddamned ridiculous law. They only used that trump so they could have a reason to supervise him because he maxed out. There was never going to be any trial. They just wanted a reason to watch him.
Now, he is living in this seedy, nasty motel, wearing a GPS tracking device around his ankle, and his curfew is from 8pm to 8am. He is not to step a foot outside the door of the motel during that time. Shit, if the place was on fire, and he ran out to save his life, they would probably find a reason to violate him. Anyways, to continue this list, He has to write down everything he does when he leaves the motel, including things like the mileage on the car he rode in, how long it took to get there, who he was with, and the reason for going. I am not allowed to spend the night with my own husband unless I rent my own room, so every night this weekend, I slept in the same bed with my mother in law, because I couldn't stay with him.
I have to go on birth control, because they threatened us. If I get pregnant, and he is still not allowed to be around anyone under the age of 18, (that includes his 7 year old son who is DESPERATE to see his father), if we are living together when the child is born, they will take the child away. It's either that or live separately, and he is to have no contact with the infant at all. That basically means we can't even be a family until they decide this shit is over. My womb is under the control of this fucking state, and I have never been convicted of a crime.
And, on top of all that bullshit, the state is gonna sue ME for spousal support because he is receiving benefits from the state because he is considered homeless. Merely a formality, they say. They are the reason he is homeless!!! Because my apartment is a few feet too close to the YMCA, they wouldn't let us reside together unless I could find a suitable place (in less that a month, and I am fucking broke as a joke...don't you just love this economy?), they released him "undomiciled". And they are going to sue me for support, even though I have pretty much been his SOLE source of support for the last 2 and a half fucking years!!!!
You see, I was really looking forward to being able to be free with my husband and have the life we have been looking forward to since his max date last September, and now we have to hurry up and wait some more, and put OUR life off longer because the state wants to supervise someone who isn't even a fucking pedophile!!! He was locked up in that hospital with men who held children at knife point and raped them. Little children.
Tell you what. I feel like I have been raped. The state has violated every little semblance of happiness I have tried to claim with this man, and it continues to get worse by the day!!! Don't I have any rights? We are a family, and we have to continue to wait before we can actually BE a family.
Fuck this shit.
Its lucky that the limited time we spent together this weekend was so much fun! In spite of this milieu, we are still best friends. The only constant in our life together is how much we believe in and strengthen each other. There has never been any doubt between us, only those of others. And it has always kept us strong. We bring out the best in each other. And the more people who see it, the more quickly this will move along.
No matter how much I cry, I know we will get through this. We both do. So, damn the man. They don't know who they are dealing with.
Monday, May 16, 2011
News
I am not sure how I am supposed to survive this. Today, his lawyer visited him at the facility, because he has a hearing coming up on Thursday to determine whether or not they will release him on SIST (super parole). His lawyer is not working for him, so they are pushing for it. Since he cannot live with me, where the hell is he going to go? I can't afford to move right now, even a little bit. The City of Auburn seems to be doing their damndest to make sure there is no way we can live there, anywhere. Every address I have checked isn't far enough away from anything. I feel like I am going to lose it right now. Are they going to declare him homeless? Are they going to violate him immediately simply because he has no where to go? How the hell is this supposed to work? SIST is set up for these guys to fail, so even if he comes home, and we get some time together, chances are we will be separated again shortly after he comes home. I simply have no words to describe how helpless and hopeless I feel right now. These people working for our great state seem to be controlling every single aspect of what is going to happen, and not a thing we do or say is going to matter. All the research I have done seems like a waste. All the reaching out I have done seems all for nothing. When are we going to catch a break in this?
We will know by Thursday whether or not this is going to actually happen, I think, and my thoughts are that he is going to be sent back to Ontario County to live in a shelter or halfway house. Or he will be stuck in the hospital indefinitely until I can find a place where he can legally reside. I am sad, and defeated, and feel like giving up. No one seems to know what to do, and I don't either. Is there anyone out there who can help us? I just can't deal with this anymore. I have tried and tried, and tried, and it gets us nowhere. And these State assholes want what they want, and he is still going to be punished for what he has already paid for.
Help. Fucking help!!!
We will know by Thursday whether or not this is going to actually happen, I think, and my thoughts are that he is going to be sent back to Ontario County to live in a shelter or halfway house. Or he will be stuck in the hospital indefinitely until I can find a place where he can legally reside. I am sad, and defeated, and feel like giving up. No one seems to know what to do, and I don't either. Is there anyone out there who can help us? I just can't deal with this anymore. I have tried and tried, and tried, and it gets us nowhere. And these State assholes want what they want, and he is still going to be punished for what he has already paid for.
Help. Fucking help!!!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
I am reaching out for help...
And I keep hitting walls. I have found a couple of interesting message boards, and I have posted a few preliminary posts to see who might be out there, and what they may know that I don't. And let's face it. There is a ton I don't know. What I know is what I have experienced since this whole Article 10 fiasco started, and I learn new things everyday. I have learned that assigned lawyers only do what they absolutely have to. And that social workers lie to shut you up because they think you aren't smart enough to look up the laws and regulations of the New York State Office of Mental Health.
And the people who actually care can do just as little as anyone else can, but some will do more a little bit more if you have many thousand dollars to put into their bank accounts. Even before the Article 10 mess, the assigned council for his sex offender level hearing hadn't even done his homework, and embarrassed himself and my husband in front of the whole court because he hadn't read the case file the DA was using for evidence. They gave him a Level 3 solely because the crime he had been convicted of had been deemed violent, no matter the case, two years before his release. And his lawyer was an ass.
Everyday, we hear another name of a lawyer, or a group, or a shrink, and every phone call I make is either not returned, or is returned, but the party is so dumbfounded that they make me feel like an idiot for even thinking they might have at least some information for us. I hear this over and over again:
If I have to hear any one of these things one more time, I think I will just explode all over my poor, innocent, bug ridden apartment, and scare the crap out of the poor maintenance man when he finds my cats feeding off of my messy, strewn corpse. There has to be someone, somewhere who knows who I can talk to who can tell me something useful.
One thing that I am learning from this whole process is how to fight. Everyday, I wake up, never knowing what may come, and I am so surprised when I get home after work in one piece and fall into bed, dying to sleep, and fearing waking up, not knowing what may come tomorrow. Sometimes, I hijack my friends from work in the parking lot and make them listen to me, just so I can get out my frustrations before I get home, because if I don't, I am going to go home and cry so hard that I can't even breathe.
Sometimes at work, I feel the panic rise up in my chest. I try to keep working, but my hands just won't connect with my brain. I focus on my breathing, hold back the tears, and tell myself over and over that I just have to make it a couple more hours, and then I can fall apart. I am dumbfounded that I haven't lost my job yet. I am not able to keep my mind on my work, so my productivity is hit or miss. Some nights, I make quota. Some nights, I barely make it home. My boss knows I am fucked up, but he pushes me anyways, because he thinks I can handle it. I keep trying to tell him as honestly as I can that I am barely able to focus on the job in front of me, but it doesn't matter. And I keep taking time off that I don't have just to keep from completely falling apart. The meds help. I am terrified of what life would be like without those.
I keep trying to get across to people that I need help. I need someone to tell me what is the right thing to do. I need someone to tell me it is ok to take some time to myself so I don't fuck up and lose my job. I need someone to wrap their arms around me and tell me that everything is going to be ok. I need help.
And every day, people tell me in some new way that there is no help. There is nowhere to go. No one gives a fuck. They are just happy to go home to their uncomplicated, boring, unsatisfying lives because they know that it is predictable, and all they have to do is feel sorry for me, and hope that tomorrow they won't see me fall apart. I don't want to lose my mind. I want to make it through this. I am not going to leave the man I love to do this alone because this experience feels like some new circle of hell.
Because I know, every time I fall into his arms, and look into those beautiful blue eyes of his that that is where I am supposed to be, and getting through this is the only way to get to what I want out of my life. Doesn't it just figure that when I finally find the answer to all of the prayers and spells and softly spoken chants to the fates in the night that he would be kept from me by the worst possible manifestations of modern society?
People love to believe that if you just make a law against something, that their life will be that much more worry free. Their children will be safe, and they won't have to worry about bad things coming into their lives. If they only knew that those laws cause just as much misery in life for the convicts, their families, the lawyers, the social workers, the police officers, the corrections officers and the bureaucracy that have to deal with, pay for, defend, speak for, take care of and punish people and so on and so forth. I hear the weariness in the voices of every single person I have to deal with everyday that have to do with some aspect of my husband's care, treatment, trial, defense, and punishment. It is just as stressful for them to deal with him and I and their bosses everyday as it is for us to deal with what they have to deal out. And it just sucks all around.
And the people who actually care can do just as little as anyone else can, but some will do more a little bit more if you have many thousand dollars to put into their bank accounts. Even before the Article 10 mess, the assigned council for his sex offender level hearing hadn't even done his homework, and embarrassed himself and my husband in front of the whole court because he hadn't read the case file the DA was using for evidence. They gave him a Level 3 solely because the crime he had been convicted of had been deemed violent, no matter the case, two years before his release. And his lawyer was an ass.
Everyday, we hear another name of a lawyer, or a group, or a shrink, and every phone call I make is either not returned, or is returned, but the party is so dumbfounded that they make me feel like an idiot for even thinking they might have at least some information for us. I hear this over and over again:
"I don't know what you expect me to do." "It isn't my area." "How did you hear about me again?" "The only advice I can give you is to find a better lawyer."
If I have to hear any one of these things one more time, I think I will just explode all over my poor, innocent, bug ridden apartment, and scare the crap out of the poor maintenance man when he finds my cats feeding off of my messy, strewn corpse. There has to be someone, somewhere who knows who I can talk to who can tell me something useful.
One thing that I am learning from this whole process is how to fight. Everyday, I wake up, never knowing what may come, and I am so surprised when I get home after work in one piece and fall into bed, dying to sleep, and fearing waking up, not knowing what may come tomorrow. Sometimes, I hijack my friends from work in the parking lot and make them listen to me, just so I can get out my frustrations before I get home, because if I don't, I am going to go home and cry so hard that I can't even breathe.
Sometimes at work, I feel the panic rise up in my chest. I try to keep working, but my hands just won't connect with my brain. I focus on my breathing, hold back the tears, and tell myself over and over that I just have to make it a couple more hours, and then I can fall apart. I am dumbfounded that I haven't lost my job yet. I am not able to keep my mind on my work, so my productivity is hit or miss. Some nights, I make quota. Some nights, I barely make it home. My boss knows I am fucked up, but he pushes me anyways, because he thinks I can handle it. I keep trying to tell him as honestly as I can that I am barely able to focus on the job in front of me, but it doesn't matter. And I keep taking time off that I don't have just to keep from completely falling apart. The meds help. I am terrified of what life would be like without those.
I keep trying to get across to people that I need help. I need someone to tell me what is the right thing to do. I need someone to tell me it is ok to take some time to myself so I don't fuck up and lose my job. I need someone to wrap their arms around me and tell me that everything is going to be ok. I need help.
And every day, people tell me in some new way that there is no help. There is nowhere to go. No one gives a fuck. They are just happy to go home to their uncomplicated, boring, unsatisfying lives because they know that it is predictable, and all they have to do is feel sorry for me, and hope that tomorrow they won't see me fall apart. I don't want to lose my mind. I want to make it through this. I am not going to leave the man I love to do this alone because this experience feels like some new circle of hell.
Because I know, every time I fall into his arms, and look into those beautiful blue eyes of his that that is where I am supposed to be, and getting through this is the only way to get to what I want out of my life. Doesn't it just figure that when I finally find the answer to all of the prayers and spells and softly spoken chants to the fates in the night that he would be kept from me by the worst possible manifestations of modern society?
People love to believe that if you just make a law against something, that their life will be that much more worry free. Their children will be safe, and they won't have to worry about bad things coming into their lives. If they only knew that those laws cause just as much misery in life for the convicts, their families, the lawyers, the social workers, the police officers, the corrections officers and the bureaucracy that have to deal with, pay for, defend, speak for, take care of and punish people and so on and so forth. I hear the weariness in the voices of every single person I have to deal with everyday that have to do with some aspect of my husband's care, treatment, trial, defense, and punishment. It is just as stressful for them to deal with him and I and their bosses everyday as it is for us to deal with what they have to deal out. And it just sucks all around.
It would just be nice if we didn't have to fight against each other all the time. If we worked together, then maybe things could be done with quicker, and a lot of heartbreak could be avoided. But I guess that is just not how things are done.
I am just so tired, and we haven't even gone halfway toward the end of this mess. We all need help. We all need someone to listen.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
No time for weakness
I want to rip apart this cubicle. I want to throw this computer monitor across the floor. I want to punch the walls until my knuckles break and I can't feel them anymore. I want to cry until the tears run dry, and scream until my voice is gone. I want to rage, and fight and make lots of noise. I try to maintain calm for the sake of those around me, but the panic attacks are coming. I can feel them welling up inside my chest like that alien from that Ridley Scott movie waiting to burst out and show the world my gleaming insides. And yet I keep my tongue, hold my breath, and pray to get through the day so I can sleep and forget one more night. And then the next day it starts all over again. No escape from the daily grind. No savings to hold me over so I can have time to put my head back together. No secret rich relative to leave me enough money to buy a shack in the woods so he will be allowed to come home to me, or better yet, buy a lawyer to tell the truth and get us out of this nightmare. Still, I hold my tongue, swallow my fears, and pray for the strength to get through one more day. Just one more. Just one more. It will all be worth it when it is over. (Will it ever be over?) Just when I think I can't make it through the day, the next day comes, and I have the nerve to be surprised that I made it. And I'll be damned if I know how I did.
A boy named Luke
Luke is seven years old. He has his mother's eyes, and his father's bright smile. Luke lives with his Nana and Papa in the country with wild kitties and lots of land to run around on. Papa takes him prospecting for gold and fossils and arrowheads. Nana helps him with his homework and makes sure he gets the right chicken nuggets for dinner.
Luke likes to play Lego Star Wars, and he got lots of Legos and Star Wars stuff for Yule and his recent birthday. Oh, and you can't forget the Hot Wheels and Battle Hamsters! Sometimes Daddy calls him on the phone, but he can only talk for a little while because he only has so much money on his phone card. Daddy was supposed to be home last year, but some dumb judge decided to keep him away from him. He doesn't understand why the judge made Daddy stay away.
Mommy is a few miles away, living her life and trying to get by. Daddy has been locked up for as long as he can remember. And he will never forget the heavy doors, razor wire, and men in blue shirts taking his Daddy away from him after every precious visit.
Daddy's wife Holly comes to visit sometimes, usually to bring him presents or to hang out, play games, and read him stories. She tells him that Daddy loves him and misses him so much, but Luke can't understand why she gets to see him every weekend, and he doesn't see his Daddy at all anymore.
And what Luke doesn't know would break anyone's heart. He can't visit his Daddy because the place where Daddy lives is full of pedophiles. Daddy isn't even allowed to keep any pictures of Luke because of the men he lives with. And little does he know that when Daddy finally comes home, which could be months, or even years from now, he probably won't be able to contact him at all. He won't even get the phone calls that he has grown accustomed to because Daddy won't be allowed. And when Daddy is finally able to see him, strangers willl have to watch them, and there will be a time limit on a special day to visit. And Daddy will have to get special letters from people who he goes to visit giving him permission to be around their families and children.
Even though Daddy will be free, he will never be "free", and it means he won't get to be his Daddy like he wants him to be his Daddy, and Luke has no choice in the matter until he is an adult.
And Daddy does not have a crime that has anything to do with children or any form of pedophilia.
That is Luke's reality. And he has no choice.
Luke likes to play Lego Star Wars, and he got lots of Legos and Star Wars stuff for Yule and his recent birthday. Oh, and you can't forget the Hot Wheels and Battle Hamsters! Sometimes Daddy calls him on the phone, but he can only talk for a little while because he only has so much money on his phone card. Daddy was supposed to be home last year, but some dumb judge decided to keep him away from him. He doesn't understand why the judge made Daddy stay away.
Mommy is a few miles away, living her life and trying to get by. Daddy has been locked up for as long as he can remember. And he will never forget the heavy doors, razor wire, and men in blue shirts taking his Daddy away from him after every precious visit.
Daddy's wife Holly comes to visit sometimes, usually to bring him presents or to hang out, play games, and read him stories. She tells him that Daddy loves him and misses him so much, but Luke can't understand why she gets to see him every weekend, and he doesn't see his Daddy at all anymore.
And what Luke doesn't know would break anyone's heart. He can't visit his Daddy because the place where Daddy lives is full of pedophiles. Daddy isn't even allowed to keep any pictures of Luke because of the men he lives with. And little does he know that when Daddy finally comes home, which could be months, or even years from now, he probably won't be able to contact him at all. He won't even get the phone calls that he has grown accustomed to because Daddy won't be allowed. And when Daddy is finally able to see him, strangers willl have to watch them, and there will be a time limit on a special day to visit. And Daddy will have to get special letters from people who he goes to visit giving him permission to be around their families and children.
Even though Daddy will be free, he will never be "free", and it means he won't get to be his Daddy like he wants him to be his Daddy, and Luke has no choice in the matter until he is an adult.
And Daddy does not have a crime that has anything to do with children or any form of pedophilia.
That is Luke's reality. And he has no choice.
How does all this affect my life?
I figured I would just get this rant out of the way, because I hate reliving the reality of this life in my head more often than I have to.
I miss my husband everyday. No matter how many phone calls we share. No matter how wonderful the Saturday visits are. No matter how sure I am that this is right where I am supposed to be, and this is exactly what I am supposed to be doing, I miss him.
I fiigured nothing could capture the desperation of my longing better than a quote from Shakespeare. I have married a man, and no matter how long that fact is a fact, he is still only an idea to me. We have never shared real life together. We share friends. We share family. We share a boy named Luke, who he never sees, and to whom I play the second-hand replacement of a stepmother. We share a few hours every weekend. And we share many hopes of a life that we so desperately want to share with each other.
Everyday, those dreams get pushed further and further back by all the people who tell us that there is nothing we can do. They are the people who ignore him, kick him while he is down, and remind him of the awful label he will always carry for the rest of his days in this life by denying him his simple human rights everyday in that place. And then there are the people who tell me that it is a lost cause and it's not too late to divorce him and get a life for myself before it is too late. They tell me it is not my fight, and that he made his bed, so he has to lay in it. Then there are the lawyers who do their job, but care nothing about the people they represent. They do what they have to do, and nothing else. And the lawyers who actually do care about those they represent want forty thousand dollars for a good trial. It's about the money. Not the justice. And then there are the parents of the children they believe they are protecting by denying other human beings the rights we are all born with in this country, simply because they can. I agree with them for the most part, but they have no idea how the laws they support are being used and abused to treat these men like monsters.
We can't tell the future. We can't predict the fate of anyone, anytime. There has to be some trust that our higher power has a plan that no manner of human law can override. We are not fortune tellers. No one can stop bad things from happening. But, in the name of a civil society, we deny these men a second chance at a life simply because we can't control the chaos of life, but we can keep them locked up.
I want my husband home. I want to share my life with my best friend. I want the intimacy that is my right in my marriage, and I desperately want to be a mother. I am 34, and my time is running short. At this point, I would settle for a cabin in the woods where no one can find us, and we can live our life as we see fit.
I have never been convicted of a crime. I have lived a fairly boring life, waiting for the love I found with this man. And now I am still alone, waiting for a bunch of people who are not cheering for us to decide our fate. Who cares about us? Who wants to help us? I tell people about this life I have stumbled into, and they listen, shake their head, and continue to take their life for granted. They get to go home to their lives and families everyday! I can't. I go home to a crap apartment with my kitties, my cable, and my head full of so many things that no one can or will understand.
My heart is full, but it is broken. My head is full, and I fear it is breaking. I have some little pills from my doctor that are supposed to patch it up, but they don't seem to fix what is broken. They just make things numb for a little while, and then all that emotion just comes spilling out anyways. This is the point I have come to. I am so full of all this stuff, and I have no one to spill it to, save my husband, and my father. My friends care, but have no idea what to do, and the rest of my family always say the same thing:
I have been alone all my life! And I won't go back to that crutch again. The only thing it leads to is more loneliness. I have a love. I have a purpose. I have something worth fighting for. And I need help and support that no one can give.
So here I am. And I have to get up tomorrow...and do it all over again.
I miss my husband everyday. No matter how many phone calls we share. No matter how wonderful the Saturday visits are. No matter how sure I am that this is right where I am supposed to be, and this is exactly what I am supposed to be doing, I miss him.
O, I have bought the mansion of a love, but not possess'd it, and, though I am sold, not yet enjoy'd: So tedious is this day as is the night before some festival to an impatient child that hath new robes and may not wear them...Juliet Capulet
I fiigured nothing could capture the desperation of my longing better than a quote from Shakespeare. I have married a man, and no matter how long that fact is a fact, he is still only an idea to me. We have never shared real life together. We share friends. We share family. We share a boy named Luke, who he never sees, and to whom I play the second-hand replacement of a stepmother. We share a few hours every weekend. And we share many hopes of a life that we so desperately want to share with each other.
Everyday, those dreams get pushed further and further back by all the people who tell us that there is nothing we can do. They are the people who ignore him, kick him while he is down, and remind him of the awful label he will always carry for the rest of his days in this life by denying him his simple human rights everyday in that place. And then there are the people who tell me that it is a lost cause and it's not too late to divorce him and get a life for myself before it is too late. They tell me it is not my fight, and that he made his bed, so he has to lay in it. Then there are the lawyers who do their job, but care nothing about the people they represent. They do what they have to do, and nothing else. And the lawyers who actually do care about those they represent want forty thousand dollars for a good trial. It's about the money. Not the justice. And then there are the parents of the children they believe they are protecting by denying other human beings the rights we are all born with in this country, simply because they can. I agree with them for the most part, but they have no idea how the laws they support are being used and abused to treat these men like monsters.
We can't tell the future. We can't predict the fate of anyone, anytime. There has to be some trust that our higher power has a plan that no manner of human law can override. We are not fortune tellers. No one can stop bad things from happening. But, in the name of a civil society, we deny these men a second chance at a life simply because we can't control the chaos of life, but we can keep them locked up.
I want my husband home. I want to share my life with my best friend. I want the intimacy that is my right in my marriage, and I desperately want to be a mother. I am 34, and my time is running short. At this point, I would settle for a cabin in the woods where no one can find us, and we can live our life as we see fit.
I have never been convicted of a crime. I have lived a fairly boring life, waiting for the love I found with this man. And now I am still alone, waiting for a bunch of people who are not cheering for us to decide our fate. Who cares about us? Who wants to help us? I tell people about this life I have stumbled into, and they listen, shake their head, and continue to take their life for granted. They get to go home to their lives and families everyday! I can't. I go home to a crap apartment with my kitties, my cable, and my head full of so many things that no one can or will understand.
My heart is full, but it is broken. My head is full, and I fear it is breaking. I have some little pills from my doctor that are supposed to patch it up, but they don't seem to fix what is broken. They just make things numb for a little while, and then all that emotion just comes spilling out anyways. This is the point I have come to. I am so full of all this stuff, and I have no one to spill it to, save my husband, and my father. My friends care, but have no idea what to do, and the rest of my family always say the same thing:
Save yourself. He is lost. You still have a chance. Find someone without all the baggage. Find God. Go to college. It is better to be alone than suffering with someone when you didn't do anything to deserve it.
I have been alone all my life! And I won't go back to that crutch again. The only thing it leads to is more loneliness. I have a love. I have a purpose. I have something worth fighting for. And I need help and support that no one can give.
So here I am. And I have to get up tomorrow...and do it all over again.
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