Purgatory is about being in that halfway place (right??). Well, that is where I am right now. It is 11 days and a wake up before I am supposedly going to home confinement. Region had me go through more hoops, like Sporty was successful getting me an appointment at my rheumatologist for May 29th (means I must be home on the 28th, right??), so they moved my file forward to the halfway house. Well, a couple halfway houses... they need to see who may be able to take me in for a day or two in just 1 1/2 weeks. Once they hear back, my electronic file will show my new designation and that's when the wheels start moving here at Carswell.
The most important thing is getting me home. Since this is a medical facility, some people are flown home, but the vast majority are bused. Greyhound must make a fortune off the BOP. Families are allowed to purchase a flight for their loved one, but there are time parameters and you have to know where in a state you are going... unfortunately, I have none of this information. Today was the first time I was close enough to a "yes, you are leaving in 1 1/2 weeks" to actually talk to the woman who I need to talk to about travel, and she is off. Monday morning, I will be stationed outside her door at 7:30am (as I was today, but she never came in).
I was going to have my family possibly fly me home. A two-day bus ride sounds tortuous on my body. Plus, I will be carrying medication that needs to stay cold. However, I have not been told yet what halfway house I will be going to. I don't know if the BOP has me designated to be flown. Flights are getting much more expensive by the day. I'd rather that money help me get myself back on my feet at home. So, I decided to put it in god's hands. All I care about is getting out. I would walk home (even though it would take me a year), if I had to. The BOP will be responsible for ensuring my medication gets packed in ice. The BOP will pay for all my travel meals, cab rides, and the bus/plane ticket. It will be up to the BOP to decide if I have to leave prior to my home confinement date, in order to ensure I make that doctor appointment on the morning of the 29th. The BOP will have to consider that Monday will be Memorial Day, and I can't leave that day... maybe that can help make it a flight home. Who knows? I'm beyond the ability to control that situation. So, I release it (although, I will stay checking in with staff to make sure I don't fall through the cracks again).
Maybe I can pick up a disposable camera as I take the bus. I can take photos of all the small towns we stop in. I can people watch and try to figure out who else is in a similar situation to me. I can journal the experience. I can read a book or three. Maybe the bus will have a movie and I'll have to purchase some headphones. Maybe the plane will. I will pray that they fly me home on the morning of the 28th. If not, though, it will be okay.
So, I'm in purgatory. I think I am going home. It's like 95% definite. People who are leaving 2 months after me already have their travel booked. I do not. My case is still under review. It's hard to be in purgatory, but not impossible. If I could do 9 months of prison and all it's uncertainties, changes, and chaos, I certainly can handle not knowing how or when I am leaving.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
From Dragonfly: Cleaning House
I'm a pack rat. I've always been a pack rat, someone who hates throwing something away, thinking, "I just may want this someday..." I kept the cartons and containers from Passover; I have small scraps of colored paper; I have every letter and every card sent to me over the last 9 months; I have small pieces of paper with notes on them; I notes from my GRE practicing; I have small scraps of yarn; I have unfinished projects; I have books I've already read; well, you get the idea. Don't forget, I fit all this, plus my clothing, active projects, food, hygiene, cleaning supplies, etc. all in a 3' x 1 1/2' locker. Don't get me wrong, I don't belong on the show, "hoarders," there are no mouse droppings or cat carcasses hidden in my locker. I can get what I want out of my locker (as long as I don't mind something ALWAYS falling out while I search for it). My locker always closes (with a little push here, pull there). Well, maybe I could be on a "nearly hoarders" tv show...
The thing is, though, that in recent years, I have learned to sift through everything and once in a while, purge. I can't say I end up giving away/throwing away much - but those little scraps of paper with old notes go in the garbage; any photographs find their way to one of my two photo albums; letters get put into a manila envelope and their outside envelopes are tossed (once I write down any new addresses for folks); books get sifted through and most given away; my food shelf is emptied and put back in neatly so I know what I have exactly (which lasts for about 2 days before the shelf is a complete disaster again); my clothing gets rearranged by type and refolded; I use my handmade locker organizers to separate my cards from my socks/underwear; from my cleaning supplies; other handmade shelves are separated by craft project type; the shelf with all my important documents is emptied, documents are put into piles of type, and they are put into different brown document files. At least one of these tasks is done on a weekly basis.
Today, however, is my BIG purge day. I am going to empty my full locker (probably done about 5 times since I arrived besides when I've moved), and really clear things out. I need to decide what I am taking home, shipping home, or giving away. I will put hobby craft together to do a mail out next week - most specifically my blankets. So, I need to finish my blanket project in the next week... I can do that. Then, the small amount of yarn I have left will be given to someone who is in need. We all pay it forward in here, especially to those that have no/little outside support or a long time inside. Any hygiene products (except soap of course) that I do not use up will go to Taz. Food items (there won't be much) will be split among Taz, my roommates, and Mama - depending on their tastes (remaining rice to Taz, ranch dressing to Mama, and my roommates (especially Mexico and Long winded) will happily take ANYTHING! I'm not giving this all away today. I still have weeks (still can't be specific on how many, but things are looking up...) to do here, and will continue to feed myself, work on projects, read books, do crosswords, wear clothes, etc. I am just making my plan, and I'm purging what I can (so my darn seasoned salt won't fall out of my locker every time I open it... so I can grab out my yarn colors without half the lockers being on the floor...). Yep, I'm a pack rat.
I remember back in a sociology course in college. My professor was talking about how hoarders and neat freaks can not get along... I'm both in one. I love everything to look pretty, clean and for everything to be in it's proper place. It just takes me a bit to get around to doing the work. So, maybe I am a secret pack rat (was a public pack rat during my years of addiction). Maybe my home looks clean and everything looks like it belongs where it is, but don't open my drawers... don't ask me to find something specific. You will shortly learn that my cleanliness is possibly only cosmetic and my pack rat self found Ikea as to help me come up with creative ways to hide my inadequacies.
The thing is, though, that in recent years, I have learned to sift through everything and once in a while, purge. I can't say I end up giving away/throwing away much - but those little scraps of paper with old notes go in the garbage; any photographs find their way to one of my two photo albums; letters get put into a manila envelope and their outside envelopes are tossed (once I write down any new addresses for folks); books get sifted through and most given away; my food shelf is emptied and put back in neatly so I know what I have exactly (which lasts for about 2 days before the shelf is a complete disaster again); my clothing gets rearranged by type and refolded; I use my handmade locker organizers to separate my cards from my socks/underwear; from my cleaning supplies; other handmade shelves are separated by craft project type; the shelf with all my important documents is emptied, documents are put into piles of type, and they are put into different brown document files. At least one of these tasks is done on a weekly basis.
Today, however, is my BIG purge day. I am going to empty my full locker (probably done about 5 times since I arrived besides when I've moved), and really clear things out. I need to decide what I am taking home, shipping home, or giving away. I will put hobby craft together to do a mail out next week - most specifically my blankets. So, I need to finish my blanket project in the next week... I can do that. Then, the small amount of yarn I have left will be given to someone who is in need. We all pay it forward in here, especially to those that have no/little outside support or a long time inside. Any hygiene products (except soap of course) that I do not use up will go to Taz. Food items (there won't be much) will be split among Taz, my roommates, and Mama - depending on their tastes (remaining rice to Taz, ranch dressing to Mama, and my roommates (especially Mexico and Long winded) will happily take ANYTHING! I'm not giving this all away today. I still have weeks (still can't be specific on how many, but things are looking up...) to do here, and will continue to feed myself, work on projects, read books, do crosswords, wear clothes, etc. I am just making my plan, and I'm purging what I can (so my darn seasoned salt won't fall out of my locker every time I open it... so I can grab out my yarn colors without half the lockers being on the floor...). Yep, I'm a pack rat.
I remember back in a sociology course in college. My professor was talking about how hoarders and neat freaks can not get along... I'm both in one. I love everything to look pretty, clean and for everything to be in it's proper place. It just takes me a bit to get around to doing the work. So, maybe I am a secret pack rat (was a public pack rat during my years of addiction). Maybe my home looks clean and everything looks like it belongs where it is, but don't open my drawers... don't ask me to find something specific. You will shortly learn that my cleanliness is possibly only cosmetic and my pack rat self found Ikea as to help me come up with creative ways to hide my inadequacies.
From Dragonfly: The Klutz
I've been a bit of a klutz throughout life. I once attended a cardboard boat regatta, slipped on some mud, and slid my way to the edge of the water. Walking around after, was a real eye sore for everyone else. Lots of laughs. When I attended my first women's basketball game in college, I (along with everyone else), jumped out of my seat excited for a 3-pointer, and when I went to sit back down, my chair had flipped up and I fell flat on the cement. The entire seating area was in tears laughing so hard. My friend with me couldn't even look at me. Once, when I was in prison, I was trying to talk to someone on the second tier, while walking to turn in a cop-out and I walked right into the stair bannister, got a huge knot on my shin, another on my stomache (it's a big bannister), and woke people up I was laughing so hard. Okay, that last one happened just now, and I had soooooo many eyes on my kluziness. It's something I will not live down for my time remaining here. The knot on my leg formed within seconds and is growing bigger and bigger. It doesn't really hurt, but it may be very sore tomorrow. So much for being suave in prison!!!
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
From Dragonfly: The Cheesy Poem Writer
I'd love for this to be about someone else, but alas, it is not. I am officially the "cheesy poem writer." Sometime in my youth, I got it in my head to start rhyming words. Simple words rhyme easily, and so my 5th grade vocabulary and I rhyme away. Sometimes I just do it in my head. Sometimes, I write down what comes to me.
Somehow, it got out that I can write some cheesy poems with rhyming. "Can you write a birthday poem for my husband?" "Can you write a get well poem?" "Can you write me an anniversary poem?" And each time, I said, "yes." Why not? So, I labor for about 5-10 minutes... sometimes a long one with a lot of detail will take longer... sometimes I have it written in just 2 minutes... and walah, a poem for your greeting card, letter, etc.
I even write cheesy poems sometimes to my friends. They just come to me. It's a skill I am not particularly proud of. None of the poems follow a good iambic pentameter. They are literally what your third grader writes. For example, "day" rhymes with "way," so those are two words to use to end a phrase. It's sad, really, how very simple this is.
When people do send them home, though, their families and friends seem to love them. They always tell a story and even when I have no idea who I'm writing the poem for, I always ask just a few questions to make it a little personal for the sender and receiver. I write nearly none for myself. However, often when I wake up, one is sitting in my head and I think it all the way through, writing and rewriting lines in my head to make it flow. I have no idea what dream leads to these cheesy poems, but there they are, most mornings, in my head.
This morning was no different. Perhaps it is because I wrote one of my cheesy poems for someone yesterday who is going through a difficult time right now. I woke this morning around 3:45am, which is my typical time as of late. My bunkie wakes up then to get ready to go to her job in food service, and while she is very quiet, something wakes me. I do not complain, it is her job and way more important than anything I have to do these days. Sometimes I fall back to sleep, most times it takes a long while or I don't. I'm okay either way, by that time, I usually have enough energy to face at least my morning.
This morning, however, I did a rare thing. I wrote the cheesy poem in my head down on paper. I guess I have my release in my head, because it focused on that. So, since you read everything about me, I suppose you may enjoy reading one of my very cheesy poems. Here it goes:
Home is where I am heading,
to my own room and bedding.
I will leave the fences and prison behind,
and will live in the present, not rewind.
I am leaving a bit stronger,
fear guiding me no longer.
For I do not hide from my past,
I can truly love myself at last.
Recovery carries me through my days,
and guides my life in so many ways.
It's gratitude and humility I feel,
so I can stay focused and 'keep it real.'
I will not look back in shame,
as there can exist no blame.
Our experiences make us who we are,
and walking through difficulty can take us far.
Looking back at this place,
it will be just another space,
where I was led by God to grow,
I can survive anything, I now know.
(See the "heading" and "bedding" rhyme is just SOOOOO very cheesy... but, hey, it worked!)
Somehow, it got out that I can write some cheesy poems with rhyming. "Can you write a birthday poem for my husband?" "Can you write a get well poem?" "Can you write me an anniversary poem?" And each time, I said, "yes." Why not? So, I labor for about 5-10 minutes... sometimes a long one with a lot of detail will take longer... sometimes I have it written in just 2 minutes... and walah, a poem for your greeting card, letter, etc.
I even write cheesy poems sometimes to my friends. They just come to me. It's a skill I am not particularly proud of. None of the poems follow a good iambic pentameter. They are literally what your third grader writes. For example, "day" rhymes with "way," so those are two words to use to end a phrase. It's sad, really, how very simple this is.
When people do send them home, though, their families and friends seem to love them. They always tell a story and even when I have no idea who I'm writing the poem for, I always ask just a few questions to make it a little personal for the sender and receiver. I write nearly none for myself. However, often when I wake up, one is sitting in my head and I think it all the way through, writing and rewriting lines in my head to make it flow. I have no idea what dream leads to these cheesy poems, but there they are, most mornings, in my head.
This morning was no different. Perhaps it is because I wrote one of my cheesy poems for someone yesterday who is going through a difficult time right now. I woke this morning around 3:45am, which is my typical time as of late. My bunkie wakes up then to get ready to go to her job in food service, and while she is very quiet, something wakes me. I do not complain, it is her job and way more important than anything I have to do these days. Sometimes I fall back to sleep, most times it takes a long while or I don't. I'm okay either way, by that time, I usually have enough energy to face at least my morning.
This morning, however, I did a rare thing. I wrote the cheesy poem in my head down on paper. I guess I have my release in my head, because it focused on that. So, since you read everything about me, I suppose you may enjoy reading one of my very cheesy poems. Here it goes:
Home is where I am heading,
to my own room and bedding.
I will leave the fences and prison behind,
and will live in the present, not rewind.
I am leaving a bit stronger,
fear guiding me no longer.
For I do not hide from my past,
I can truly love myself at last.
Recovery carries me through my days,
and guides my life in so many ways.
It's gratitude and humility I feel,
so I can stay focused and 'keep it real.'
I will not look back in shame,
as there can exist no blame.
Our experiences make us who we are,
and walking through difficulty can take us far.
Looking back at this place,
it will be just another space,
where I was led by God to grow,
I can survive anything, I now know.
(See the "heading" and "bedding" rhyme is just SOOOOO very cheesy... but, hey, it worked!)
From Dragonfly: A New Hoop
Okay, I promised NOT to write about when I'm getting out of prison, yet here I am, writing about it AGAIN... truth be told, it's really the most important thing right now for me... And, actually there's an update, which I, of course, want to share...
So, my case manager called my region office again this afternoon. I could tell by the conversation that it seemed to be going well. They were talking DATES!!! Well, she hangs up and this is what she tells me - they can still make my May 28th date, BUT I need to find a clinic by my home that will administer my first embryl shot that Friday. Okay, well... I always got my healthcare on campus - can't go there until I'm back in school. My rheumatologist and the other specialists are SUPER expensive, and I won't have health insurance that fast... SOOOOOOO, Sporty is making calls for me. She is doing her best to find a clinic or doctor's office that will make me an appointment. I actually administer my own injections, but the BOP/probation requires that I have it administered this first time at a clinic. Really?!??!?
Sporty has called three places so far. No luck... she will call my rheumatologist tomorrow... maybe they'll do it without a big charge - I don't have to see the doctor, I just need to come in for my injection. If they can't accommodate me, she will keep trying and I'll ask everyone who lives near there to try as well... Okay, I'm that desperate.
Once I have the appointment, Sporty has to send confirmation of the appointment by fax to my case worker... hopefully by the end of the day tomorrow...
Do I know if once we find me an appointment, if there will be another hoop???? Of course not. I only learn one small thing at a time and then find there's something else to do that I wasn't aware of.
Something tells me, though, that this is really going to work out. Two weeks from tomorrow (Wednesday), I will be heading to a halfway house for a brief orientation and then to home confinement. I'm getting out of here... I can feel it!!!
So, my case manager called my region office again this afternoon. I could tell by the conversation that it seemed to be going well. They were talking DATES!!! Well, she hangs up and this is what she tells me - they can still make my May 28th date, BUT I need to find a clinic by my home that will administer my first embryl shot that Friday. Okay, well... I always got my healthcare on campus - can't go there until I'm back in school. My rheumatologist and the other specialists are SUPER expensive, and I won't have health insurance that fast... SOOOOOOO, Sporty is making calls for me. She is doing her best to find a clinic or doctor's office that will make me an appointment. I actually administer my own injections, but the BOP/probation requires that I have it administered this first time at a clinic. Really?!??!?
Sporty has called three places so far. No luck... she will call my rheumatologist tomorrow... maybe they'll do it without a big charge - I don't have to see the doctor, I just need to come in for my injection. If they can't accommodate me, she will keep trying and I'll ask everyone who lives near there to try as well... Okay, I'm that desperate.
Once I have the appointment, Sporty has to send confirmation of the appointment by fax to my case worker... hopefully by the end of the day tomorrow...
Do I know if once we find me an appointment, if there will be another hoop???? Of course not. I only learn one small thing at a time and then find there's something else to do that I wasn't aware of.
Something tells me, though, that this is really going to work out. Two weeks from tomorrow (Wednesday), I will be heading to a halfway house for a brief orientation and then to home confinement. I'm getting out of here... I can feel it!!!
From Dragonfly: The Set Up
Yesterday afternoon, I am playing Canasta with Mama and some other friends, when a case manager (not my own) walks by and says, "[NAME], did you get the good news?"
I say, "good news??" I know that the only good news around here is an out date... she tells me that she saw my name and my date came in... "Really???" I was confused, because my case manager hadn't called me in. So, I quickly - like quicker than quick, walked with this case manager directly to my case manager's office. When we get there, I realize I am wearing a tshirt, shorts and my shower shoes (crocs), this is not how we are supposed to be dressed to talk with staff, but I was too excited to think about anything but seeing if I am actually leaving in 2 weeks.
My case manager and the other case manager proceed to talk to each other about whether or not my date has come in. My case manager says, "I think you're talking about her street date," that's the date for maxing out, not home confinement. The other says, "no, it was a May or June date..." They go back and forth until my case manager opens my electronic file. Meanwhile I am just standing there, heart pounding, thinking, "I'm going home, I'm going home..."
They scroll down my electronic record and lo and behold... nothing. My date has not come in. It was my "street date" that the woman saw, she just hadn't realized that it would start popping up on the "exit soon" report --- I leave within 2 months no matter what, so my name will now be on that weekly report I guess.
I slowly made my way back to my game. My friends looking at me with smiles and excitement. I tell them, "it was a mistake." They seemed as sad about it as me. We all like to see good happen for one another. I went back to my Canasta game... maybe the next time it will be for real.
Meanwhile, we've been having a lot of storms down here in Fort Worth. The age of the main building is showing. When you walk into the building, there are about 25 bucks and a bunch of potted plants lined up to catch the leaks from the ceiling. It kind of reminds me of the bucket game - where you have to throw a ball into a close bucket, then the next bucket, and the next... Only here, the rain falls in all the buckets at the same time. Everything here is really just "cosmetic," the buildings may look good, but they leak. Perhaps, next time their repairs, like the news of my leaving, will be for real.
I say, "good news??" I know that the only good news around here is an out date... she tells me that she saw my name and my date came in... "Really???" I was confused, because my case manager hadn't called me in. So, I quickly - like quicker than quick, walked with this case manager directly to my case manager's office. When we get there, I realize I am wearing a tshirt, shorts and my shower shoes (crocs), this is not how we are supposed to be dressed to talk with staff, but I was too excited to think about anything but seeing if I am actually leaving in 2 weeks.
My case manager and the other case manager proceed to talk to each other about whether or not my date has come in. My case manager says, "I think you're talking about her street date," that's the date for maxing out, not home confinement. The other says, "no, it was a May or June date..." They go back and forth until my case manager opens my electronic file. Meanwhile I am just standing there, heart pounding, thinking, "I'm going home, I'm going home..."
They scroll down my electronic record and lo and behold... nothing. My date has not come in. It was my "street date" that the woman saw, she just hadn't realized that it would start popping up on the "exit soon" report --- I leave within 2 months no matter what, so my name will now be on that weekly report I guess.
I slowly made my way back to my game. My friends looking at me with smiles and excitement. I tell them, "it was a mistake." They seemed as sad about it as me. We all like to see good happen for one another. I went back to my Canasta game... maybe the next time it will be for real.
Meanwhile, we've been having a lot of storms down here in Fort Worth. The age of the main building is showing. When you walk into the building, there are about 25 bucks and a bunch of potted plants lined up to catch the leaks from the ceiling. It kind of reminds me of the bucket game - where you have to throw a ball into a close bucket, then the next bucket, and the next... Only here, the rain falls in all the buckets at the same time. Everything here is really just "cosmetic," the buildings may look good, but they leak. Perhaps, next time their repairs, like the news of my leaving, will be for real.
From Dragonfly: Not My Best Person
Let's face it, prison does NOT bring the best out. Lately, I've struggled with moodiness, anger, boredom, loneliness, selfishness, fatigue, hunger, fear, frustration, and more. Such emotions lead to bad choices. For example, I talked to my roommate about a situation, rather than going directly to the person. The person got angry, and I don't blame her. It's not my way, anymore, but all I can do is apologize and try to do better. I am definitely not the person I strive to be, while here in prison.
In recovery programs, we have this statement about HALT (Hunger, Anger, Loneliness, Tired)... these are the emotions we must be aware of and take care of, because they inevitably lead to our worst "defects." I struggle with these and so many other negative emotions here. My early focus on the positive waned... but I still have time to adjust and make every day a day of gratitude. I am alive, I am walking, I am breathing, I am not gambling, I am loving, I am cared for, I am intelligent, I am capable, I am cute, I am fed, I am housed, I am clothed, I am kind, I am helpful, I am helped, ... there is so much for me to focus on that is good, so I need to make the conscious effort to focus on the positive.
There are some things that bring me up. My daily breakfasts with Freckles has been one of the highlights of my time here, and has been a guiding force since I left my job. Instead of sleeping in, or being lazy, I get up and meet her and start my day right. It gets me moving. We talk about everything. We trust one another. Just yesterday, she was saying "thank you" to me for the breakfasts, when it's really been just as important, if not more so, for me.
I have not been as grateful for everything as I strive to be. I know how lucky I am to have so many people who love and care for me, yet I get caught up in the craziness of prison. I start to actually care what people here think of me; something I know is just nuts. Once you've been here for a certain amount of time, it becomes your normal, and you start to forget that this isn't "really" your life. You will leave here and go home, and that's your life. The chaos, gossip, craziness of prison is just a temporary experience for the vast majority of us.
I'm not sure how many more days I have here, but I make this promise to myself. I will make each day a better day than the one before. I will work on me. I will stay out of the drama. I will prepare for my time in the "real" world. I will laugh and enjoy friendship, and expect nothing from anyone else. I will try and do another round of letters with the ones who write me so often (I just can't always do it, and it is selfish of me to not write back more often!). Each day I will strive to be my best person.
In recovery programs, we have this statement about HALT (Hunger, Anger, Loneliness, Tired)... these are the emotions we must be aware of and take care of, because they inevitably lead to our worst "defects." I struggle with these and so many other negative emotions here. My early focus on the positive waned... but I still have time to adjust and make every day a day of gratitude. I am alive, I am walking, I am breathing, I am not gambling, I am loving, I am cared for, I am intelligent, I am capable, I am cute, I am fed, I am housed, I am clothed, I am kind, I am helpful, I am helped, ... there is so much for me to focus on that is good, so I need to make the conscious effort to focus on the positive.
There are some things that bring me up. My daily breakfasts with Freckles has been one of the highlights of my time here, and has been a guiding force since I left my job. Instead of sleeping in, or being lazy, I get up and meet her and start my day right. It gets me moving. We talk about everything. We trust one another. Just yesterday, she was saying "thank you" to me for the breakfasts, when it's really been just as important, if not more so, for me.
I have not been as grateful for everything as I strive to be. I know how lucky I am to have so many people who love and care for me, yet I get caught up in the craziness of prison. I start to actually care what people here think of me; something I know is just nuts. Once you've been here for a certain amount of time, it becomes your normal, and you start to forget that this isn't "really" your life. You will leave here and go home, and that's your life. The chaos, gossip, craziness of prison is just a temporary experience for the vast majority of us.
I'm not sure how many more days I have here, but I make this promise to myself. I will make each day a better day than the one before. I will work on me. I will stay out of the drama. I will prepare for my time in the "real" world. I will laugh and enjoy friendship, and expect nothing from anyone else. I will try and do another round of letters with the ones who write me so often (I just can't always do it, and it is selfish of me to not write back more often!). Each day I will strive to be my best person.
From Dragonfly: The Worst Consequences
Some people might think that the worst consequence of my gambling addiction/crime is being here, in Carswell. Prison is hard. Very, very hard. However, I'll tell you that my absolute worst consequence happened exactly six years ago today... it was the last day I truly mothered three amazing kids.
In 2008, I was living as a family with a partner and three kids. They were not my biological kids, but I loved them with all my heart. We'd been together for a while and, at this point, the kids were 12, 10, and 2 1/2. I'd met their parent before the 2 1/2 year old was even born. I'd known the kids for two years before we became a true family. When we all moved in together, in summer, 2006, I thought I had met my future - a partner and kids that I would love dearly. When I had to have a hysterectomy in May, 2008, I wasn't worried. I told the doctor I already had three kids, so I was okay not being able to bear my own.
Mother's Day, 2008, May 11th... I was just four days post-hysterectomy. I was still barely eating and moving, but that was okay. I was going to celebrate Mother's Day and it was perfect. My partner's mom came for brunch. We gave her a refurbished computer that I'd spent hours on, making sure she had the programs she needed. She was ecstatic. Brunch was delicious. Everyone was happy. We were all invited to my partner's Mom's house to go set up the computer. I wasn't feeling up to it, so they all left me to nap. I went to my bed happy, happy to be a Mom.
It was two years earlier when I received a gift at some point from my partner. The gift included a statement that "I love the kids as if they are my own," then it said, "They Are." I believed in that. I was still gambling, though. My partner was involved in a tragedy at work - where a gun man opened fire. Nothing was the same after that point with our relationship, but I stepped up with the kids. My partner needed time and I believed I could fix everything. That is a gambler's/addictive mentality. I could not fix everything. I had a new high-stress job. I was, also, still running the summer camp I'd helped start years earlier. I now took on much responsibility with the kids. I loved my time with the kids. However, I was emotionally broken, and the tragedy that occurred at my partner's work affected me as well.
My gambling increased, as I found myself trying too hard to be the "savior" and take on too many responsibilities. I started to make really bad decisions for myself. I became desperate because I had no healthy outlet. It became the time when my addiction had taken over my life. On that Mother's Day, 2006, I had planned in my head to commit suicide just four days later. I had a meeting with the Board of my organization on Tuesday. My plan was to tell them everything. Knowing that my reputation was gone, and I held way too much belief in my reputation, I believed the only answer was suicide. I could never see an end to my gambling any other way. I knew that whatever I did to kill myself, though, I couldn't do it at home. I wouldn't want the kids to find me. What selfish thinking that was, but it is where my inability to think rationally brought me.
Asleep on my bed, I heard loud raps on my door downstairs. Due to my recent surgery, handling the stairs was still painful. Rap, rap, rap. It didn't sound like a typical knock. It was already dark, the house was still quiet (they weren't back from grandma's yet), so I slowly made my way downstairs. I peeked through a window that has a view of the front door. All I saw was two police officers, one using the back of his flashlight to hit my door. Immediately, my stomach fell, had something happened to my family? Was there a car accident? Is this how you find out your life has changed forever? At that moment, all I thought about was my family, not myself. I opened the door.
Standing right at the door were two very familiar faces. They were two members of my Board at work. One, I considered a good friend. I'd asked him to join the Board. The other was the Board President. The cops were there for "show," I suppose, because they said nothing. I invited them inside, but instead was handed a letter. It was a letter putting me on "administrative leave pending criminal investigation." My worst nightmare was unfolding. I thought the police were going to haul me off in handcuffs, instead, I was just asked to put together anything/everything I had that belonged to the organization. I had a lot of things at home, including my laptop computer, I was on sick-leave due to the recent surgery and had to be able to work from home. With my recent surgery, I wasn't supposed to lift. Then, I had to walk the stairs carrying a heavy(ish) box. I did it, though, slowly. My mind was racing, so I didn't have time to take it all in. I was on automatic pilot.
As soon as I closed the door, I began sobbing uncontrollably. I didn't know what this all meant, what was going to happen. I started to imagine being hauled off at anytime. I called my partner and we talked by phone. I said that if a police car were in front of our house, to not bring the kids in. I didn't want them to see it. We'd talk when they got back. A bit later they pulled in. No cops were casing my home. I was being very paranoid. I sat in the kitchen with my partner. I shared the letter and we talked next steps. The anger at me could be cut with a knife. She didn't know what I'd been doing. She didn't know how sick I really was. At the end is when I finally said the words for the first time, "I think I'm a compulsive gambler." It's the first time the words officially were told to another person. I was raw and becoming rawer. I wanted to just share everything.
While at first, I thought our family could survive this, it quickly became apparent that we could not. I needed help. My partner needed space. I was still suicidal. Being around the house caused horrible tension. The kids sensed something was wrong. I'd hated myself for so long, that it never occurred to me the harm that this could cause "my" kids. I just loved them so much, and believed I mothered them well, that I wasn't able to see how all this could unfold.
That was my last Mother's Day with "my" kids. I left and went to live with my family two thousand miles away. I started therapy and GA. I got stronger in every way. I no longer was suicidal. All I wanted to do was understand my addiction and finally realize that I was not "broken." I was always in fear of what would happen legally against me, but as time continued on, I was able to just accept that something could happen, and I could move forward in my life.
I was given an incredible gift a year later. After not talking at all for about 9 months, the kids came to visit for a week. I was allowed to spend a week of quality time - helping answer their questions and holding my "baby" - who was now 3 1/2 - once more. We built good memories that I cherish. My favorite moment was when we were in their hotel room. The baby was on my lap, the two others were doing things to make us laugh. I thought to myself, this is the happiest I've ever been in my life. I made a "memory" book of the week and kept one for myself and sent one to them. I thank god for the opportunity to love these children and what they brought to my life. I now love them from afar. I think of them often and they will always have a place in my heart. It took a long time for me to accept that they were never, really, my kids. I felt a parent's love, and perhaps they loved me as a parent, but they belonged to my partner.
Mother's Day is hard for me. T.S. usually gives me something, and that's the best! I'm a much better parent, generally, to T.S. because I am a much better person today. When I see a little boy, with blondish wavy hair, I immediately think of the baby I loved, and my heart breaks. T.S. knows that look and tells me that I need to become a "mom" again... adoption, surrogacy.. there are options. T.S. wants a baby sibling. I truly believe that T.S. was put in my life so that I could continue to feel a mother's love. She helped me heal in so many ways. I may have met her when she was entering her teen years, but our bond is real.
You do not have to be a biological parent to be a good and loving parent. Children just want someone in their life who tells them they are loved, who guides them, and who spends time with them. I will never know what it feels like to birth a child, but I know what it is like to mother a child. It is the most special bond in the world. I am lucky to have had two incredible experiences loving children. All four of them are my heart, even the three that I lost - the worst consequence of my actions.
In 2008, I was living as a family with a partner and three kids. They were not my biological kids, but I loved them with all my heart. We'd been together for a while and, at this point, the kids were 12, 10, and 2 1/2. I'd met their parent before the 2 1/2 year old was even born. I'd known the kids for two years before we became a true family. When we all moved in together, in summer, 2006, I thought I had met my future - a partner and kids that I would love dearly. When I had to have a hysterectomy in May, 2008, I wasn't worried. I told the doctor I already had three kids, so I was okay not being able to bear my own.
Mother's Day, 2008, May 11th... I was just four days post-hysterectomy. I was still barely eating and moving, but that was okay. I was going to celebrate Mother's Day and it was perfect. My partner's mom came for brunch. We gave her a refurbished computer that I'd spent hours on, making sure she had the programs she needed. She was ecstatic. Brunch was delicious. Everyone was happy. We were all invited to my partner's Mom's house to go set up the computer. I wasn't feeling up to it, so they all left me to nap. I went to my bed happy, happy to be a Mom.
It was two years earlier when I received a gift at some point from my partner. The gift included a statement that "I love the kids as if they are my own," then it said, "They Are." I believed in that. I was still gambling, though. My partner was involved in a tragedy at work - where a gun man opened fire. Nothing was the same after that point with our relationship, but I stepped up with the kids. My partner needed time and I believed I could fix everything. That is a gambler's/addictive mentality. I could not fix everything. I had a new high-stress job. I was, also, still running the summer camp I'd helped start years earlier. I now took on much responsibility with the kids. I loved my time with the kids. However, I was emotionally broken, and the tragedy that occurred at my partner's work affected me as well.
My gambling increased, as I found myself trying too hard to be the "savior" and take on too many responsibilities. I started to make really bad decisions for myself. I became desperate because I had no healthy outlet. It became the time when my addiction had taken over my life. On that Mother's Day, 2006, I had planned in my head to commit suicide just four days later. I had a meeting with the Board of my organization on Tuesday. My plan was to tell them everything. Knowing that my reputation was gone, and I held way too much belief in my reputation, I believed the only answer was suicide. I could never see an end to my gambling any other way. I knew that whatever I did to kill myself, though, I couldn't do it at home. I wouldn't want the kids to find me. What selfish thinking that was, but it is where my inability to think rationally brought me.
Asleep on my bed, I heard loud raps on my door downstairs. Due to my recent surgery, handling the stairs was still painful. Rap, rap, rap. It didn't sound like a typical knock. It was already dark, the house was still quiet (they weren't back from grandma's yet), so I slowly made my way downstairs. I peeked through a window that has a view of the front door. All I saw was two police officers, one using the back of his flashlight to hit my door. Immediately, my stomach fell, had something happened to my family? Was there a car accident? Is this how you find out your life has changed forever? At that moment, all I thought about was my family, not myself. I opened the door.
Standing right at the door were two very familiar faces. They were two members of my Board at work. One, I considered a good friend. I'd asked him to join the Board. The other was the Board President. The cops were there for "show," I suppose, because they said nothing. I invited them inside, but instead was handed a letter. It was a letter putting me on "administrative leave pending criminal investigation." My worst nightmare was unfolding. I thought the police were going to haul me off in handcuffs, instead, I was just asked to put together anything/everything I had that belonged to the organization. I had a lot of things at home, including my laptop computer, I was on sick-leave due to the recent surgery and had to be able to work from home. With my recent surgery, I wasn't supposed to lift. Then, I had to walk the stairs carrying a heavy(ish) box. I did it, though, slowly. My mind was racing, so I didn't have time to take it all in. I was on automatic pilot.
As soon as I closed the door, I began sobbing uncontrollably. I didn't know what this all meant, what was going to happen. I started to imagine being hauled off at anytime. I called my partner and we talked by phone. I said that if a police car were in front of our house, to not bring the kids in. I didn't want them to see it. We'd talk when they got back. A bit later they pulled in. No cops were casing my home. I was being very paranoid. I sat in the kitchen with my partner. I shared the letter and we talked next steps. The anger at me could be cut with a knife. She didn't know what I'd been doing. She didn't know how sick I really was. At the end is when I finally said the words for the first time, "I think I'm a compulsive gambler." It's the first time the words officially were told to another person. I was raw and becoming rawer. I wanted to just share everything.
While at first, I thought our family could survive this, it quickly became apparent that we could not. I needed help. My partner needed space. I was still suicidal. Being around the house caused horrible tension. The kids sensed something was wrong. I'd hated myself for so long, that it never occurred to me the harm that this could cause "my" kids. I just loved them so much, and believed I mothered them well, that I wasn't able to see how all this could unfold.
That was my last Mother's Day with "my" kids. I left and went to live with my family two thousand miles away. I started therapy and GA. I got stronger in every way. I no longer was suicidal. All I wanted to do was understand my addiction and finally realize that I was not "broken." I was always in fear of what would happen legally against me, but as time continued on, I was able to just accept that something could happen, and I could move forward in my life.
I was given an incredible gift a year later. After not talking at all for about 9 months, the kids came to visit for a week. I was allowed to spend a week of quality time - helping answer their questions and holding my "baby" - who was now 3 1/2 - once more. We built good memories that I cherish. My favorite moment was when we were in their hotel room. The baby was on my lap, the two others were doing things to make us laugh. I thought to myself, this is the happiest I've ever been in my life. I made a "memory" book of the week and kept one for myself and sent one to them. I thank god for the opportunity to love these children and what they brought to my life. I now love them from afar. I think of them often and they will always have a place in my heart. It took a long time for me to accept that they were never, really, my kids. I felt a parent's love, and perhaps they loved me as a parent, but they belonged to my partner.
Mother's Day is hard for me. T.S. usually gives me something, and that's the best! I'm a much better parent, generally, to T.S. because I am a much better person today. When I see a little boy, with blondish wavy hair, I immediately think of the baby I loved, and my heart breaks. T.S. knows that look and tells me that I need to become a "mom" again... adoption, surrogacy.. there are options. T.S. wants a baby sibling. I truly believe that T.S. was put in my life so that I could continue to feel a mother's love. She helped me heal in so many ways. I may have met her when she was entering her teen years, but our bond is real.
You do not have to be a biological parent to be a good and loving parent. Children just want someone in their life who tells them they are loved, who guides them, and who spends time with them. I will never know what it feels like to birth a child, but I know what it is like to mother a child. It is the most special bond in the world. I am lucky to have had two incredible experiences loving children. All four of them are my heart, even the three that I lost - the worst consequence of my actions.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
From Dragonfly: Everybody's Got Something
While incarcerated, I've read more books than ever before in my life. I've read great mysteries, biographies, romance, historical novels, non-fiction, self-help, even math books. My brain loves just escaping for the time to wherever the book takes me. Magazines, too, have helped me through my time. Due to all this reading, it's the rare book that really captivates me. Robin Roberts' "Everybody's Got Something," did just that.
My friend, Purple, who has her own struggles in life, felt I would appreciate the book. Having now read it (arrived last evening and finished it this morning), I would suggest right back to her to read it. I have been having some bad days lately, and some emotional turmoil. This book has brought me back to my center. It reminds me of what I've said from the beginning; I am having this experience for a reason. I may not know that reason. Perhaps there is an impact I had to make on someone or someone needed to make on me. Perhaps, my experiences will help another person. Perhaps, putting this out there through writing will ease the tension of someone facing something similar. Maybe I will help one less person face addiction. Maybe I can help someone do their time with gratitude and humbleness. I didn't realize this book would bring me back to just where I needed to be mentally, but it did. Thank you Purple!!
If you watch GMA or know of Robin Roberts' story, then you pretty much know what the book is about. She survived cancer, only to be diagnosed with a life-threatening illness a couple years later. Given her ability to reach many people, she used her experience to help others. She recognizes her privilege and does not take that for granted. The book is about so much more than her health - it is about love, family, friends, gratitude, acceptance, loss, anger, serenity, and so much more. I couldn't put the book down.
Throughout the book, Ms. Roberts puts in her own wisdom, and the wisdom of others... those lessons of life and faith that help make sense of what is so impossible to understand. I sat, reading the book, with my blue pen (well Cali's blue pen) in hand, underlining, like I was reading a school book. I just wanted to capture the wisdom. I wanted to hold onto the words and sayings. What better way, than to share some of them here, now (The following are direct quotes of the book by Robin Roberts and Veronica Chambers who helped her write it):
I've shared this one before, but it's early in the book (pages 38-39) and I found myself reading it over and over again last night. I then went and shared it with several people on my unit:
"If I found my self on that rooftop becoming depressed, I realized that I was living in the past. If I started to become anxious, I knew it was because I was living in the future. I was truly only at peace living in the present."
In struggling with faith:
"I feel it's okay to get angry with God. He can take it. Just don't stay angry. It takes courage to believe that the best is yet to come. I hold steadfast to that belief, especially when I come face-to-face with adversity" (pg. 44).
From her mother's wisdom to how she lives her life - and how I hope I live mine:
"Make your mess your message" (pg. 52). She explains this in detail. We can never learn the message of our experiences. We must find that message and help others with the message. (Didn't do it justice, but I want you to read this book!)
"I choose to be happy even in difficult times. Uplifting thoughts and actions. Nowhere is it written that we shouldn't be happy. We don't get extra bonus points for drudgingly going through life" (pg. 61).
"The thing about fear is that it only needs the tiniest space, the size of an eye of a needle, to get through and wreak havoc" (pg. 63). This page also shares some incredible wisdom of her mother who show's the epitome of what being humble means.
"Amazing things happen when you let your passion be your purpose" (pg. 70). That's always been my mantra and outside of here, I will continue to chase my passions.
"A prisoner was behind bars and had a decision to make. He could either look down at the dirt in his cell or look up, outside his window, and see the stars... " (pg. 90). How very fitting for this experience I am having.
"When fear knocks, let faith answer the door. Just imagine that for a moment. Fear knocks on your door, and when it opens faith is standing there. Trust me, fear will go looking for another door to knock on" (pg. 110). Oh, I love this one... Later, she writes, "Sometimes when fear knocks, faith shows itself through a friend who stands by the door, squeezes your hand and answers it with you" (pg. 160) - I know how true this is. My entire recovery, health battles, and being in prison I have been held by the hand of countless people. Thank god for you all.
"I'm not going to wait to embrace the perfectly imperfect moment that is now.... this is a chapter I'm about to go through; it is not the end of the book" (pg. 153-154). I've said so many times how I want to write my book, but this experience is merely a chapter, it is not the entire book.
"Again, once you know that someone else has walked that path before you, it makes it a little bit easier for you" (pg. 201). I got this experience in my GA rooms, and I hope I am providing this assistance to those who read my writings, now and into the future. It's how I can possibly help ease someone else's fears.
"You have to change the way you think in order to change the way you feel" (pg. 202).
"It might have looked as if life was beating me senseless with challenges and tragedies and los, but God was holding me the whole time.... Thank God that he had given me, bit by bit, the strength and courage and the good fortune to be a thriver, more than a survivor" (241). Wow, I love this one!!!
"I've learned that strength, true strength, isn't when you face down life's challenges on your own. It's when you take them on by accepting the help, faith, and love of others. And knowing you are lucky to have those..." (pg 244). This has been so true for the past 6 years of my life. I am so blessed.
"We try to identify what's an individual's North. You want to try to never take away somebody's North because you leave them without hope" (pg. 250). We all know that I love any quotes about Hope. I also see this as the roadblocks I must face to get back to my North, my passion. It was a doctor talking to Ms. Roberts that led to this quote. However, it speaks volumes about what we must to for all people who are struggling - give them back their passion/their North, and they can thrive through anything!
Okay, enough quotes. I promise, I did not ruin the book for you. I know many people will not purchase it or it may not resonate with them the way it did for me. If you are needing to get out of your own head and sorrow, though, this is the book to read. It's one of the few books that will go home with me as well.
My friend, Purple, who has her own struggles in life, felt I would appreciate the book. Having now read it (arrived last evening and finished it this morning), I would suggest right back to her to read it. I have been having some bad days lately, and some emotional turmoil. This book has brought me back to my center. It reminds me of what I've said from the beginning; I am having this experience for a reason. I may not know that reason. Perhaps there is an impact I had to make on someone or someone needed to make on me. Perhaps, my experiences will help another person. Perhaps, putting this out there through writing will ease the tension of someone facing something similar. Maybe I will help one less person face addiction. Maybe I can help someone do their time with gratitude and humbleness. I didn't realize this book would bring me back to just where I needed to be mentally, but it did. Thank you Purple!!
If you watch GMA or know of Robin Roberts' story, then you pretty much know what the book is about. She survived cancer, only to be diagnosed with a life-threatening illness a couple years later. Given her ability to reach many people, she used her experience to help others. She recognizes her privilege and does not take that for granted. The book is about so much more than her health - it is about love, family, friends, gratitude, acceptance, loss, anger, serenity, and so much more. I couldn't put the book down.
Throughout the book, Ms. Roberts puts in her own wisdom, and the wisdom of others... those lessons of life and faith that help make sense of what is so impossible to understand. I sat, reading the book, with my blue pen (well Cali's blue pen) in hand, underlining, like I was reading a school book. I just wanted to capture the wisdom. I wanted to hold onto the words and sayings. What better way, than to share some of them here, now (The following are direct quotes of the book by Robin Roberts and Veronica Chambers who helped her write it):
I've shared this one before, but it's early in the book (pages 38-39) and I found myself reading it over and over again last night. I then went and shared it with several people on my unit:
"If I found my self on that rooftop becoming depressed, I realized that I was living in the past. If I started to become anxious, I knew it was because I was living in the future. I was truly only at peace living in the present."
In struggling with faith:
"I feel it's okay to get angry with God. He can take it. Just don't stay angry. It takes courage to believe that the best is yet to come. I hold steadfast to that belief, especially when I come face-to-face with adversity" (pg. 44).
From her mother's wisdom to how she lives her life - and how I hope I live mine:
"Make your mess your message" (pg. 52). She explains this in detail. We can never learn the message of our experiences. We must find that message and help others with the message. (Didn't do it justice, but I want you to read this book!)
"I choose to be happy even in difficult times. Uplifting thoughts and actions. Nowhere is it written that we shouldn't be happy. We don't get extra bonus points for drudgingly going through life" (pg. 61).
"The thing about fear is that it only needs the tiniest space, the size of an eye of a needle, to get through and wreak havoc" (pg. 63). This page also shares some incredible wisdom of her mother who show's the epitome of what being humble means.
"Amazing things happen when you let your passion be your purpose" (pg. 70). That's always been my mantra and outside of here, I will continue to chase my passions.
"A prisoner was behind bars and had a decision to make. He could either look down at the dirt in his cell or look up, outside his window, and see the stars... " (pg. 90). How very fitting for this experience I am having.
"When fear knocks, let faith answer the door. Just imagine that for a moment. Fear knocks on your door, and when it opens faith is standing there. Trust me, fear will go looking for another door to knock on" (pg. 110). Oh, I love this one... Later, she writes, "Sometimes when fear knocks, faith shows itself through a friend who stands by the door, squeezes your hand and answers it with you" (pg. 160) - I know how true this is. My entire recovery, health battles, and being in prison I have been held by the hand of countless people. Thank god for you all.
"I'm not going to wait to embrace the perfectly imperfect moment that is now.... this is a chapter I'm about to go through; it is not the end of the book" (pg. 153-154). I've said so many times how I want to write my book, but this experience is merely a chapter, it is not the entire book.
"Again, once you know that someone else has walked that path before you, it makes it a little bit easier for you" (pg. 201). I got this experience in my GA rooms, and I hope I am providing this assistance to those who read my writings, now and into the future. It's how I can possibly help ease someone else's fears.
"You have to change the way you think in order to change the way you feel" (pg. 202).
"It might have looked as if life was beating me senseless with challenges and tragedies and los, but God was holding me the whole time.... Thank God that he had given me, bit by bit, the strength and courage and the good fortune to be a thriver, more than a survivor" (241). Wow, I love this one!!!
"I've learned that strength, true strength, isn't when you face down life's challenges on your own. It's when you take them on by accepting the help, faith, and love of others. And knowing you are lucky to have those..." (pg 244). This has been so true for the past 6 years of my life. I am so blessed.
"We try to identify what's an individual's North. You want to try to never take away somebody's North because you leave them without hope" (pg. 250). We all know that I love any quotes about Hope. I also see this as the roadblocks I must face to get back to my North, my passion. It was a doctor talking to Ms. Roberts that led to this quote. However, it speaks volumes about what we must to for all people who are struggling - give them back their passion/their North, and they can thrive through anything!
Okay, enough quotes. I promise, I did not ruin the book for you. I know many people will not purchase it or it may not resonate with them the way it did for me. If you are needing to get out of your own head and sorrow, though, this is the book to read. It's one of the few books that will go home with me as well.
From Dragonfly: Mother's Day Weekend
As a woman's prison, mother's day weekend can be both sobering and filled with happiness. From the young 18 year olds, to the 80 year olds, a woman here is likely to have one or more children. You wonder what happens to those teens that have children too young, well, they become moms and they love their children just as much as anyone else. Perhaps they were not ready to be moms, but they are and they miss their kids so much. The older women not only have children, but grandchildren. Throughout the compound, people wear pictures of their kids next to their i.d., in the pockets above their heart, and in the "keepsake" mug they drink their coffee out of. This is true 365 days/year, but this weekend, there's an even greater awareness of missing one's kids.
Mail call has been especially bulky this week, as people's children mailed in hand-made cards, pictures, and more to tell their moms that they miss them and love them. Even family pets reached out to their "moms." We all see the women, when the envelope arrives, slowly open them and then the tears come to their eyes, as they chuckles at their children's drawing or hold a picture close to their heart. Perhaps these women did something wrong, but they are not all bad people. Being away from their children is the biggest punishment they get - nothing of being in prison can compare to that hole in your heart when you are away from your loved ones.
Visitation this weekend is expected to be very dense. Local families were given a rare opportunity to visit Friday night. With only 24 hours notice, I'm not sure how many took advantage of the extra 4 hours of visitation, but I saw some women in full uniform heading to the visitation room. We are warned that on the weekend, they will likely have to ask people to shorten their visits - local families will be asked to leave first - giving the families that traveled further and can't see their loved one often, to have longer visits. It's going to be a hot day - 90's and humid - but I imagine they will open the outside section of visitation - just to be able to accommodate a few more families.
Parenting from prison has got to be a very difficult task. I know that my ability to be there for T.S. has been strained. Sometimes, I just can't call her - I don't want the phone to just hang up on her when time runs out. I don't want that feeling of not being there to help her through her difficult decisions. I am not a good example of parenting from a distance. Others, like Red, I'd say do a good job. She calls everyday, sometimes more than once. She emails with her oldest daughter. She releases control to those on the outside who are taking care of the kids, but she is still involved in decision making, celebrating, and even punishment when appropriate. Not a day goes by that Red doesn't have a good story about something her kids said or did. Just the other day, her youngest daughter said she wants to be a "smurf," and they had a long conversation about why. Her kids may have experienced her absence physically, but she never left them emotionally and that is something not to be taken lightly. In just 17 days and a wake up, Red will be heading back home and she and her family will be able to put all this behind them. The thing about children is that they are resilient. In time, they forgive. They just want to know that they are loved.
I am reading a book, right now, that shares so much joy about how a mother's love can carry us forward. The book is the new one by Robin Roberts and since I received it yesterday, I am just a short bit away from finishing it. I will write separately about the book, because it is that good and that inspirational. If I write my story, I can only hope I can write a book similar to Robin Roberts. It connects health, faith, forgiveness, family, friendship, and love in a way that few stories ever do. I mention the book because of the way Robin Roberts refers to her mother, and the relationship they shared for the 50 years her mother was walking on the earth. Her mom is now "home," meaning her "heavenly home," but was the kind of person that was able to give so much to her children and community. I know that Robin knows that she is able to fight anything because of the wisdom and encouragement and humility of her mother. As much as this book is about Robin's fight for life, it is about how we can not take the gifts our mom's give us for granted. We need to listen, really listen. I can't wait to share more from the book with you.
Anyway, Happy Mother's Day (tomorrow) to all who are moms. Please don't take for granted that your mom will be by your side forever. Even if your mom is not with you at the moment, lives far away or like so many here, incarcerated, love them. Send them prayers for health and coming home. Visit if you can. Call if you can't.
For me, I have been trying to call my Mom since yesterday. No answer yet. She works A LOT. I will try again today, wait in any length of line, to get to talk to her. If not today, then tomorrow, even though the lines will be that much longer. No line is too long to reach out to someone you care for. I love my Mom and I hope she has a wonderful Mother's Day!
Mail call has been especially bulky this week, as people's children mailed in hand-made cards, pictures, and more to tell their moms that they miss them and love them. Even family pets reached out to their "moms." We all see the women, when the envelope arrives, slowly open them and then the tears come to their eyes, as they chuckles at their children's drawing or hold a picture close to their heart. Perhaps these women did something wrong, but they are not all bad people. Being away from their children is the biggest punishment they get - nothing of being in prison can compare to that hole in your heart when you are away from your loved ones.
Visitation this weekend is expected to be very dense. Local families were given a rare opportunity to visit Friday night. With only 24 hours notice, I'm not sure how many took advantage of the extra 4 hours of visitation, but I saw some women in full uniform heading to the visitation room. We are warned that on the weekend, they will likely have to ask people to shorten their visits - local families will be asked to leave first - giving the families that traveled further and can't see their loved one often, to have longer visits. It's going to be a hot day - 90's and humid - but I imagine they will open the outside section of visitation - just to be able to accommodate a few more families.
Parenting from prison has got to be a very difficult task. I know that my ability to be there for T.S. has been strained. Sometimes, I just can't call her - I don't want the phone to just hang up on her when time runs out. I don't want that feeling of not being there to help her through her difficult decisions. I am not a good example of parenting from a distance. Others, like Red, I'd say do a good job. She calls everyday, sometimes more than once. She emails with her oldest daughter. She releases control to those on the outside who are taking care of the kids, but she is still involved in decision making, celebrating, and even punishment when appropriate. Not a day goes by that Red doesn't have a good story about something her kids said or did. Just the other day, her youngest daughter said she wants to be a "smurf," and they had a long conversation about why. Her kids may have experienced her absence physically, but she never left them emotionally and that is something not to be taken lightly. In just 17 days and a wake up, Red will be heading back home and she and her family will be able to put all this behind them. The thing about children is that they are resilient. In time, they forgive. They just want to know that they are loved.
I am reading a book, right now, that shares so much joy about how a mother's love can carry us forward. The book is the new one by Robin Roberts and since I received it yesterday, I am just a short bit away from finishing it. I will write separately about the book, because it is that good and that inspirational. If I write my story, I can only hope I can write a book similar to Robin Roberts. It connects health, faith, forgiveness, family, friendship, and love in a way that few stories ever do. I mention the book because of the way Robin Roberts refers to her mother, and the relationship they shared for the 50 years her mother was walking on the earth. Her mom is now "home," meaning her "heavenly home," but was the kind of person that was able to give so much to her children and community. I know that Robin knows that she is able to fight anything because of the wisdom and encouragement and humility of her mother. As much as this book is about Robin's fight for life, it is about how we can not take the gifts our mom's give us for granted. We need to listen, really listen. I can't wait to share more from the book with you.
Anyway, Happy Mother's Day (tomorrow) to all who are moms. Please don't take for granted that your mom will be by your side forever. Even if your mom is not with you at the moment, lives far away or like so many here, incarcerated, love them. Send them prayers for health and coming home. Visit if you can. Call if you can't.
For me, I have been trying to call my Mom since yesterday. No answer yet. She works A LOT. I will try again today, wait in any length of line, to get to talk to her. If not today, then tomorrow, even though the lines will be that much longer. No line is too long to reach out to someone you care for. I love my Mom and I hope she has a wonderful Mother's Day!
From Dragonfly: Days Like Yesterday
It's inevitable when you are in prison. Some days will just be bad days. There's no one thing that particularly made yesterday bad. Certainly, I was bored. I miss my friend Lola and worry about how her husband is doing. I know I can't see my case manager until Tuesday to find out if she's heard anything about my release. I put four rows on my forever project - the throw blanket. I worked out in the morning and walked the track by myself in the evening. I made myself a good tuna lunch. I had my friends Taz, Mama, Nurse, Red, and others to confer with. It was just a bad day. I actually cried. I am really 'done' with being in here and not out there.
Like a child I am told when to wake up, when to go to sleep, when I can and cannot use the restroom, when to eat my meals, what I am allowed to eat, when I am allowed to be outside, when I must be in my room, when I must stand up, when I am not allowed to be in my room, when I can use the phone, when I can use email, what paper I can write letters on, what pen I am allowed to own, what I have to wear, etc. Sometimes, all the rules make being a real adult difficult. Sometimes, seeing the fighting among inmates gets to me. Sometimes, having too much time on my hands is the worst thing for my brain.
Let's face it. I miss my job. I loved my job, here. I loved teaching. Yesterday, I tutored two of my past students - one in decimals, one in algebra. It felt good. Time went by so fast during the week when I worked. Time moves so much slower now. I don't regret resigning from my job. I had to. Truly. However, I miss the real impact that work had. If you want your time to go by quicker in prison, get a job - one that utilizes your brain!
There was some very good news, yesterday. The doctors are starting radiation and chemo on my father next week. They believe it could help prolong life - maybe even bring back his eyesight (always double vision now). He may actually become blind, but he may live for a lot longer. I'm not sure why they scared my family so much by telling them there was nothing they could do, at first, but my father has a top neurological team and maybe, just maybe, he'll get through this okay. One thing that's definite, now, is that he should be around when I am finally able to visit him. Funds and permission from probation will be my only obstacles - both are merely roadblocks and can be overcome.
Today, I already feel better. I'm not sure why yesterday was so difficult for me, but today I know I'm okay. I am grateful that I don't try to hold back my emotions or bad days, though. In my past life, I would have hidden such feelings by just going gambling. This week marks 6 years since my last gamble (my clean date of June 9th is my first GA meeting) but May 5th, 2008, was my last gamble. Sunday, mother's day, will mark 6 years from when my "Divine intervention" occurred - when I was officially caught/found out, and I had to leave a life I thought I loved. That day saved my life. I always get very reflective at this time of the year. This is the first year, since it all happened, that the dates line up - the 11th is on Mother's Day - which is the same day/date as 6 years ago. I will likely write about that day, here, in the coming days. It's important to reflect and see how much I've grown and how much good there is in my life. Today, I will focus on all the good.
Like a child I am told when to wake up, when to go to sleep, when I can and cannot use the restroom, when to eat my meals, what I am allowed to eat, when I am allowed to be outside, when I must be in my room, when I must stand up, when I am not allowed to be in my room, when I can use the phone, when I can use email, what paper I can write letters on, what pen I am allowed to own, what I have to wear, etc. Sometimes, all the rules make being a real adult difficult. Sometimes, seeing the fighting among inmates gets to me. Sometimes, having too much time on my hands is the worst thing for my brain.
Let's face it. I miss my job. I loved my job, here. I loved teaching. Yesterday, I tutored two of my past students - one in decimals, one in algebra. It felt good. Time went by so fast during the week when I worked. Time moves so much slower now. I don't regret resigning from my job. I had to. Truly. However, I miss the real impact that work had. If you want your time to go by quicker in prison, get a job - one that utilizes your brain!
There was some very good news, yesterday. The doctors are starting radiation and chemo on my father next week. They believe it could help prolong life - maybe even bring back his eyesight (always double vision now). He may actually become blind, but he may live for a lot longer. I'm not sure why they scared my family so much by telling them there was nothing they could do, at first, but my father has a top neurological team and maybe, just maybe, he'll get through this okay. One thing that's definite, now, is that he should be around when I am finally able to visit him. Funds and permission from probation will be my only obstacles - both are merely roadblocks and can be overcome.
Today, I already feel better. I'm not sure why yesterday was so difficult for me, but today I know I'm okay. I am grateful that I don't try to hold back my emotions or bad days, though. In my past life, I would have hidden such feelings by just going gambling. This week marks 6 years since my last gamble (my clean date of June 9th is my first GA meeting) but May 5th, 2008, was my last gamble. Sunday, mother's day, will mark 6 years from when my "Divine intervention" occurred - when I was officially caught/found out, and I had to leave a life I thought I loved. That day saved my life. I always get very reflective at this time of the year. This is the first year, since it all happened, that the dates line up - the 11th is on Mother's Day - which is the same day/date as 6 years ago. I will likely write about that day, here, in the coming days. It's important to reflect and see how much I've grown and how much good there is in my life. Today, I will focus on all the good.
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