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!!!
Monday, May 16, 2011
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)