I have just read a heart breaking letter. I wrote the other day about my motorcycle ride, and about the fight afterwards. Wesley wrote what was going on for him. He already feels like a piece of shit, being in jail, leaving me alone with all the responsibilities. He already feels, sometimes, that I was not happy with him before all of this came to pass. In fact, I was worn out from working nights. Also worn out from fighting to get caught up on bills. He took that to mean I was unhappy with our life together. I mistakenly stated that I was bending over backwards to take care of everything, and what I meant to say was that my plate was full, I was occasionally overwhelmed with all the responsibilities. Even in our discussions afterwards, he stated it was like we were having two different conversations. He was trying to describe and explain his feelings, even though some were not true, it was what he felt was true. I felt accused like I had done something wrong by getting a break, and was overwhelmed with stuff. It took us two days to process, and even then it took me getting his letter today. He has been depressed every since. I can not help but feel I am at fault.
He does not need me to tell him that I am overwhelmed. As hard as it is for me here on the outside, his pain, his sorrow is more important, it takes priority. I do need to buck it up, or at the very least, get better at hiding it. Being tired and having a bad day are part of life. But being overwhelmed, going for a ride, whatever to him may look like or seem like me getting sick of this life of waiting for him, needs to go.
When a person gets depressed they get selfish. It isn't intentional, it is trying to survive in whatever circumstance they are in. I know this, I have been there. My life is tough at times, but not compared to him. And I am his life line. I have to hold myself together, hold our life together, I have to be strong, be ever faithful to build him up. He has done it for me many times. A couple years back I went through 3 back surgeries in less than six months. He physically, mentally, and emotionally took care of me. Relationships has that at times. Many times we just do what we need to do to get through. But other times, like this, it needs to be purposeful. I am incredibly strong, I am a survivor. So, is my husband. The unspeakable horror of some of his childhood abuse from his dad has made him incredibly resilient. But everyone has a breaking point. His despair right now overwhelms him. He is losing hope, even though he has lots of reasons to have hope. I am praying for him. If you are a Christian, please pray for him too. I love and adore this man. He is my anchor in life. Even as a Christian, I have always needed a lifeline on earth. God has been merciful and kind and always gave me someone in my life. As I reread this, I realize, actually, there have been plenty of times I have been alone and cried out to God to help me and he answered. I will pray and fast on that tonight. I am not a fanatical Christian, my deep faith is personal, I am not big into organized religion. There is a lot of preaching and not as much loving and taking care of people. I'm about the people. I don't know how I ended up in a theology discussion with myself. Perhaps I will discuss it another day.
For now, I will be strong, tell my husband how wonderful he is, because he really is awesome. Remind him of all the hopeful things that have happened so far, that his attorney is going to gently prod someone along to get the paperwork going to he can move to Harris County to begin the process of dealing with all of that. My husband said some key things today I would like to share. One, his great humiliation of being in jail creates a difficult situation for us both. We like to talk every night. 15 minutes is our lifeline. Occasionally we get 30 minutes as a treat. But, if I want to do anything, last minute, and I have to excuse myself to accept a call from jail, he is horrified, ashamed, and that is doubly around my kids. He already feels like a loser, and my grown kids, especially twin sons, are just getting to know him, but to have their mom leave a room to take a call from "loser husband in jail" is more than Wesley can handle. So, keep in mind, this situation. It at times is going to create a problem, like when I go visit my boys in Austin, or San Antonio and have to leave to take a call. He knows where I am, he knows what I say when I leave the room. I get it. I can't explain to my children that those 15 minutes are a lifeline for us both. It keeps us connected, grounded in reality, and lets us know the little things, like how our day went. Especially once Wesley is in SAFPF, they are in group and therapies so much, there is always much to share. My kids are not judgmental, but I am their mom. I am not sure what they think, I guess I have always been afraid to ask. Maybe later. ha.
In his letter he describes one of his weaknesses:
"Of course, things were getting better, and I have been feeling better about myself. But I know, and so do you, that I have a self destructive pride that flares up. when you tell me you 'bend over backwards', for me, I immediately will tell you, 'don't bother'. We both know how I will react to that. It will be a visceral quick reaction, lacking any emotion. I realize that is a contradiction, but I think the two responses are like 2 sides of a flipping coin that show you both sides as it travels through the air. so when you say that, a response comes from deep inside of me in a place of raw emotion, but it comes through a filter of sounding like 'I don't give a fuck'. "
That filter is what helped him survive the abuses of his dad. He was not allowed to show emotion, that was weak. It was literally beat out of him. If he cried, he was beat till he stopped. It helps to understand that, and to be a little patient when we are both feeling emotions for totally different reasons. Neither one of us were able to hear the other, we both felt under attack, and from different places. It was the first time I heard Wesley speak of his pride in that way, the flipping coin. It was helpful to get the visual, for future reference when we get into an emotional fight that I am not even sure what it is about.
Not sure if this helps anyone, but its out there for the world to see. I'm keeping positive. Going to have a long bath to pray, then some mindless TV to go to sleep.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
An Outlaw in the mix. by Wesley
9/19/2014
I continue to decompose in this cell. The constantly changing make up of the tank has shifted and I'm interested to see how the changed dynamic will affect the growing tension. I have always said one person can greatly alter the chemistry, and a strong willed young man with tattoos from the 1930's-40's has arrived to shake things up.
When he arrived, I pointed him out to one of my handful of "friends" in here. He is emblazoned with what I thought was a similar SS tattoo. He quickly explained the difference, however slight.
The say politics make strange bed fellows, and so does jail. This young man is a self-described outlaw. He has no education and at 28 has never held a job. He earns money by stealing and dealing drugs. The dealing also supports his own drug habit. His teeth have long sine been claimed by his meth habit and he dreams of one day leaving Texas because he in convinced that his outlaw ways are a result of his living here.
Sometimes I'm shocked at his ignorance to things I consider basic knowledge required to be a citizen of the United States, and my impatience shows. he will redirect me when my sarcastic mouth is on the brink of earning me a beating from some of my peers who do not appreciate my subtle wit.
After some barbs were swapped he came forward and said, "You know what's funny? You would never fuck with me in the world, and I would never fuck with you." "We would never meet," I replied. "No, because we come from totally different places and worlds. But, in here, you're all right." He offered me his fist and we bumped.
He is going to TDC on Monday. In March he jumped through a window of a hotel room when the police came knocking. he had drugs and his girlfriend opened the door too quickly for him to stop her, so he ran toward the window and jumped through it.
It was on the 3rd floor.
He landed on an air-conditioning unit and fractured at least one vertebra and broke his jaw. He was bleeding all over his clothes and he somehow escaped and drove 50 miles to a hospital so the police wouldn't look for him there.
Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid would have been proud.
I continue to decompose in this cell. The constantly changing make up of the tank has shifted and I'm interested to see how the changed dynamic will affect the growing tension. I have always said one person can greatly alter the chemistry, and a strong willed young man with tattoos from the 1930's-40's has arrived to shake things up.
When he arrived, I pointed him out to one of my handful of "friends" in here. He is emblazoned with what I thought was a similar SS tattoo. He quickly explained the difference, however slight.
The say politics make strange bed fellows, and so does jail. This young man is a self-described outlaw. He has no education and at 28 has never held a job. He earns money by stealing and dealing drugs. The dealing also supports his own drug habit. His teeth have long sine been claimed by his meth habit and he dreams of one day leaving Texas because he in convinced that his outlaw ways are a result of his living here.
Sometimes I'm shocked at his ignorance to things I consider basic knowledge required to be a citizen of the United States, and my impatience shows. he will redirect me when my sarcastic mouth is on the brink of earning me a beating from some of my peers who do not appreciate my subtle wit.
After some barbs were swapped he came forward and said, "You know what's funny? You would never fuck with me in the world, and I would never fuck with you." "We would never meet," I replied. "No, because we come from totally different places and worlds. But, in here, you're all right." He offered me his fist and we bumped.
He is going to TDC on Monday. In March he jumped through a window of a hotel room when the police came knocking. he had drugs and his girlfriend opened the door too quickly for him to stop her, so he ran toward the window and jumped through it.
It was on the 3rd floor.
He landed on an air-conditioning unit and fractured at least one vertebra and broke his jaw. He was bleeding all over his clothes and he somehow escaped and drove 50 miles to a hospital so the police wouldn't look for him there.
Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid would have been proud.
Tension. by Wesley
9/18/2014
For the most part, I am isolated in this tank. There are a handful of people who I'm friendly with, but you will mostly find me reading on my bunk. This is a choice I make because I want to avoid hassle, stress and drama.
We all have our drama, of course. Bad results in court. Loneliness. Strife with our loved ones. Prejudices. Every other manner of frustration. They all lead to tension.
And this place is a powder keg. Fights, near fights, threats and taunting. All of it along racial lines. Every single incident. I don't know if this is conscious effort, and I suspect it is not, but there are two camps evolving: Black and non-black.
The rules are not set in stone, so people occasionally cross the racial lines, but not for long.
At this moment, all the black people are huddled around the T.V. The non-black are elsewhere. A new confrontation caused an escalation of tension and the wagons are circling.
The exception to this rule is that the older people are friendly and non-confrontational, irrespective of color. Thankfully, I'm part of that group.
But despite my membership in the gray beards club, I seek to avoid any conflict, especially racial conflict, so I avoid most contact with most people. The less contact with others, the less chance for friction that can ignite the powder keg.
For the most part, I am isolated in this tank. There are a handful of people who I'm friendly with, but you will mostly find me reading on my bunk. This is a choice I make because I want to avoid hassle, stress and drama.
We all have our drama, of course. Bad results in court. Loneliness. Strife with our loved ones. Prejudices. Every other manner of frustration. They all lead to tension.
And this place is a powder keg. Fights, near fights, threats and taunting. All of it along racial lines. Every single incident. I don't know if this is conscious effort, and I suspect it is not, but there are two camps evolving: Black and non-black.
The rules are not set in stone, so people occasionally cross the racial lines, but not for long.
At this moment, all the black people are huddled around the T.V. The non-black are elsewhere. A new confrontation caused an escalation of tension and the wagons are circling.
The exception to this rule is that the older people are friendly and non-confrontational, irrespective of color. Thankfully, I'm part of that group.
But despite my membership in the gray beards club, I seek to avoid any conflict, especially racial conflict, so I avoid most contact with most people. The less contact with others, the less chance for friction that can ignite the powder keg.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Peace is broken. By Wesley
9/16/2014
Night before last, a spell was broken in the tank. There had been a long period of collegiality and good spirit in the tank for quite some time. Given the fluid nature of jail, that is unusual. There are about 10-14 people in here, including myself, who are more or less long term. Waiting for something. I'm waiting to sign papers so I can move to Harris County and do step 2 of the process. I have been waiting 2 weeks to sign what has been agreed to. The others are waiting for something or another.
But we all wait.
The second half are in and out. A few days or one night, they come and they go. I don't bother to talk to them unless they have been here more than a week. Mostly because I'm isolated from all but a handful.
But for the last month, the short term and long term, black and non-black, young and old alike, everyone has gotten along.
We were all too lulled. I heard several speak of it, the unusual camaraderie in the tank. I'd said it myself a week or so ago. My neighbor told me he was ready to "write himself out of here." That means request a job (or anything) that would necessitate being moved because he felt a change coming. I argued that it only takes one person- one person with a strong negative personality- to upset the balance.
That man hath cometh.
In a few short days he has started two fights. In one fight, he totally annihilated a much smaller guy. He yells and taunts people, (including me), all day and all night (said fight, above, occurred at about 3 am). No one is happy, the illusion is gone.
Of course, it was always an illusion. The frustration of being confined to a 1082 square feet for 24 men, 24 hours a day is bound to run over. It is inevitable. The negativity spreads too. There have been twice daily fights, threats and squabbling.
I read my books, write my letters, and stay out of the way. And I wait.
Night before last, a spell was broken in the tank. There had been a long period of collegiality and good spirit in the tank for quite some time. Given the fluid nature of jail, that is unusual. There are about 10-14 people in here, including myself, who are more or less long term. Waiting for something. I'm waiting to sign papers so I can move to Harris County and do step 2 of the process. I have been waiting 2 weeks to sign what has been agreed to. The others are waiting for something or another.
But we all wait.
The second half are in and out. A few days or one night, they come and they go. I don't bother to talk to them unless they have been here more than a week. Mostly because I'm isolated from all but a handful.
But for the last month, the short term and long term, black and non-black, young and old alike, everyone has gotten along.
We were all too lulled. I heard several speak of it, the unusual camaraderie in the tank. I'd said it myself a week or so ago. My neighbor told me he was ready to "write himself out of here." That means request a job (or anything) that would necessitate being moved because he felt a change coming. I argued that it only takes one person- one person with a strong negative personality- to upset the balance.
That man hath cometh.
In a few short days he has started two fights. In one fight, he totally annihilated a much smaller guy. He yells and taunts people, (including me), all day and all night (said fight, above, occurred at about 3 am). No one is happy, the illusion is gone.
Of course, it was always an illusion. The frustration of being confined to a 1082 square feet for 24 men, 24 hours a day is bound to run over. It is inevitable. The negativity spreads too. There have been twice daily fights, threats and squabbling.
I read my books, write my letters, and stay out of the way. And I wait.
"I got time served!" by Wesley
9/12/2014
On Friday, another young man came back from court saying, "I got time served!" he is a veteran that returned from his combat service overseas with a drug habit. His life has crumbled; he's no longer in the service, his wife split with him over his inability to stop using meth, he's homeless, and now, he is a convicted felon.
He was a perfect candidate for State funded Veteran's Court (VC). The VC takes into consideration a persons service related conditions that may contribute to substance abuse and treats them for substance abuse and related mental health conditions. The VC representative came to interview him and told him he was being recommended for the program.
But when he went to court, the ADA and his Court appointed attorney conferred and offered him a deal: plead guilty to the felony, and the state will punish him like a misdemeanor (Tex P.C. 12.44A) let him go home today.
It is an offer few can resist. In fact, in the tank I have lived in for over a month, nearly every day someone comes back from court saying the magic words; "I got time served."
Those words are not magical, they are hateful. The signify a shift in that person's life that can be monumentally bad. They are now convicted felons because they have drug problems.
That young man is homeless, and because he is a convicted felon he will not be able to rent an apartment. He will also be turned away from most jobs of any worth. He has become part of an underclass with little hope of escaping poverty and a life of harassment by the police and repeated incarceration for ever minor offenses.
For example, if he's pulled over for a traffic offense, a cop can and will place him under arrest for any traffic offense (other than speeding) just to have the ability to search because of his past.
Before he went, I talked to him about the trap of "time served". He admitted he wanted treatment, that he knew he had a problem. He wanted to avoid a felony conviction. There are 2 ways: deferred prosecution and deferred adjudication. Both were provided by the legislature to provide an avenue to prosecutors to give first offender, non violent drug offenders, a chance to avoid a felony conviction and all the negative implications that follow.
But too often, in counties like this one, prosecutors are less interested in justice and more interested in felony convictions.
And the insatiable man of the prison industrial complex continues to be fed by the State.
On Friday, another young man came back from court saying, "I got time served!" he is a veteran that returned from his combat service overseas with a drug habit. His life has crumbled; he's no longer in the service, his wife split with him over his inability to stop using meth, he's homeless, and now, he is a convicted felon.
He was a perfect candidate for State funded Veteran's Court (VC). The VC takes into consideration a persons service related conditions that may contribute to substance abuse and treats them for substance abuse and related mental health conditions. The VC representative came to interview him and told him he was being recommended for the program.
But when he went to court, the ADA and his Court appointed attorney conferred and offered him a deal: plead guilty to the felony, and the state will punish him like a misdemeanor (Tex P.C. 12.44A) let him go home today.
It is an offer few can resist. In fact, in the tank I have lived in for over a month, nearly every day someone comes back from court saying the magic words; "I got time served."
Those words are not magical, they are hateful. The signify a shift in that person's life that can be monumentally bad. They are now convicted felons because they have drug problems.
That young man is homeless, and because he is a convicted felon he will not be able to rent an apartment. He will also be turned away from most jobs of any worth. He has become part of an underclass with little hope of escaping poverty and a life of harassment by the police and repeated incarceration for ever minor offenses.
For example, if he's pulled over for a traffic offense, a cop can and will place him under arrest for any traffic offense (other than speeding) just to have the ability to search because of his past.
Before he went, I talked to him about the trap of "time served". He admitted he wanted treatment, that he knew he had a problem. He wanted to avoid a felony conviction. There are 2 ways: deferred prosecution and deferred adjudication. Both were provided by the legislature to provide an avenue to prosecutors to give first offender, non violent drug offenders, a chance to avoid a felony conviction and all the negative implications that follow.
But too often, in counties like this one, prosecutors are less interested in justice and more interested in felony convictions.
And the insatiable man of the prison industrial complex continues to be fed by the State.
A relaxing ride. by Lesa
I don't feel like doing anything, but I promised myself I would blog at least every other day. I am depressed. It was bound to happen. I have been busy, taking care of all the things in life, bills, house, kid, dogs, tenant in a rent house, going to be moving Oct. 1. I opted to have a motorcycle ride, relax, get to a place on lake Conroe, have a beer, watch the sun go down. My sister in law is out there often, figured I would hook up with her. I texted her and she came right over. Hubby called and was very upset that I had rode alone and went to a strange bar alone. I tried to explain, I was stressed, just chilling, watching the sun go down. He initially told me not to come see him the next day, later apologized. He then decided he would only call three days a week because I stated that I didn't want to feel guilty if I decided to go to the movies. He is cool emotionally, stating he won't call so much. And he wouldn't get anything except what he absolutely needed so I wouldn't be stressed about the money he got. He feels humiliated when others are around when he calls, so he just won't call. I get the shame, I am going to try to tell him to just give me extra time, I can plan it so he know where I am and call later. I told him I was bending over backwards trying to keep everything up, that was why he stated he wouldn't call so much or spend anything on commissary. All I could feel was like I let him down. I was trying to be honest and reasonable that I did occasionally want to do something, but felt guilty, horribly shitty if I didn't answer when he called. It even stresses me when he calls and I am on my motorcycle coming home. I worry that when I don't answer he will think I am rejecting him. Instead, by being honest and just tell him I was having a break, he felt betrayed. He didn't say it, but the way he is pulling back. It is how he acts when he is hurt. He turns into himself. He isn't rude, just cool.
Today at visitation, he tried to change the subject, talk small talk. When I finally got him to open up, he said he was not angry, never was. I corrected him, reminding him of what he said at first. He stated he apologized for that. He said in writing a letter to me afterwards, I did the same thing, he was trying to explain how he felt. That he was so ashamed, and angry at himself for not being with me. I feel like it is all my fault. He didn't feel any of that the day before. Now I feel I have let him down. My heart aches, and I tried to tell him, remind him, that I love him, that he is a wonderful man, not a worthless POS, that he states he is. I can't get through to him, because what I did beat on his self esteem. I cannot shake the sadness I feel. I don't want to go to work, I was going to call in, but I know I will just sit and be depressed and not do anything. At least at work I will have a distraction and knock out one of the four days of work this week. I have nothing to add, just writing my thoughts...going to go to bed. At least I wrote. Hopefully I will be in better place tomorrow. Probably depends on him, sad to say, his sadness is mine. I love him so much, feel so crappy.
Today at visitation, he tried to change the subject, talk small talk. When I finally got him to open up, he said he was not angry, never was. I corrected him, reminding him of what he said at first. He stated he apologized for that. He said in writing a letter to me afterwards, I did the same thing, he was trying to explain how he felt. That he was so ashamed, and angry at himself for not being with me. I feel like it is all my fault. He didn't feel any of that the day before. Now I feel I have let him down. My heart aches, and I tried to tell him, remind him, that I love him, that he is a wonderful man, not a worthless POS, that he states he is. I can't get through to him, because what I did beat on his self esteem. I cannot shake the sadness I feel. I don't want to go to work, I was going to call in, but I know I will just sit and be depressed and not do anything. At least at work I will have a distraction and knock out one of the four days of work this week. I have nothing to add, just writing my thoughts...going to go to bed. At least I wrote. Hopefully I will be in better place tomorrow. Probably depends on him, sad to say, his sadness is mine. I love him so much, feel so crappy.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Stressful week. by Lesa
The week was a long and difficult one. Work was overwhelming, working 14 hours one day with 15 minute lunch and no breaks. And it was the week I work 4 12's instead of 3. In addition to the physical difficulty we ran out of phone money, and I was broke. Still catching up on bills, I was down to about $25 and gas was needed in the car to get my son to school. Now there was $6.72. So no phone calls. I had seen my husband last weekend, gave him the heads up that we were going to be out of funds. But when the day came, it was heartbreaking to get three attempts from him calling. I prayed for him to be okay, prayed that he knew I loved him and missed him too. I cried myself to sleep that night. Good thing I was exhausted, it didn't take long.
My week also sucked because I worked a day, then off a day, hardly time to rest and recuperate, usually only happens every couple of months, but the week sucked. As exhausted as I was, I was having some trouble sleeping, mind turning over the possible outcomes of Harris County court, I finally broke out a bottle of wine and one glass was enough to help me sleep. I don't drink often, so I am easy.
Wednesday was my Friday, I was so glad to have my week over and Thursday is payday. I sent my son to Walmart and spent the last of the money on a pint of Blue Bell for me and a bag of chips for him, I felt better and slept.
Thursday, I was up at 6am, got son off to school, money on his lunch account, money on phone account, money on Wesley's books, he is out of stamps, paper, etc...paid bills...finally catching up!!!, but still broke, but a little left for a few wants. The dogs have been neglected and out of control. Ordered flea medicine for 2 cats and 3 large dogs, ordered ear mite medicine, and 2 shock collars! I know what you are thinking, but do the research, you only have to shock them once or twice, they behave quickly, and occasionally only need a vibration if they do not heed to warning words. I have a very stubborn pitbull. He is also an amazing guy. I will maybe share his story another day. All the animals are rescues and have stories. His is especially awesome.
After I put money on the phone account I waited for hubby to call. He knew it was payday, but probably didn't want to call too early. Finally, at 10 he calls. We had a great talk, then things went south when I told him his motorcycle was still in the driveway, not the garage, it is up hill, and I couldn't push it, I thought I would have battery fixed quick, but it turns out it was dead. I knew I would need to get another, so today, being payday, I planned to take it to get it checked at O'reilly's and probably buy a replacement. He fussed at me and called my son a pussy for not being able to push it into the garage, I was embarrassed, mad and told him to go to his meeting, he said fine and hung up. My mouth fell open, and then I cried. I was so happy to finally talk to him and it ended, a 15 minute, $15 phone call with him hanging up on me. Wow. I took a shower and went to run errands. He called a hour later, after his meeting to apologize, we tried to talk it out a bit, it was awkward. I knew he over reacted, he apologized, now I just needed to figure out why it upset me so much. I told him I felt humiliated, not sure why. He apologized again, and I suggested we hang up, I get over myself and we talk later when we can enjoy it.
He called this evening, he apologized again, said it was the lack of control that caused him to overreact. It is terrible to spend the precious time, and money for phone calls, squabbling over silly things, but it happens about once a week. He feeling his life out of control, desperate to have some control or say over home. I, feeling overwhelmed with having to keep everything up on my own. Both occasionally seep into the conversation.
I usually write every day, but I had been out of stamps too. I got stamps and wrote him a letter and got it into the mail today. It was a very productive day. I even treated myself to a mani/pedi, it was gloriously relaxing. Tomorrow I will clean and so some laundry, with gloves, don't want to mess up the pretty nails. Did I mention my hands are beat up from changing the oil in my motorcycle? Don't even get me started. Time to go to bed, I will write this weekend, should be nice, I actually have 4 days off in a row, rainy weather to watch movies and nap with....throw in a candle, some music...yes.
My week also sucked because I worked a day, then off a day, hardly time to rest and recuperate, usually only happens every couple of months, but the week sucked. As exhausted as I was, I was having some trouble sleeping, mind turning over the possible outcomes of Harris County court, I finally broke out a bottle of wine and one glass was enough to help me sleep. I don't drink often, so I am easy.
Wednesday was my Friday, I was so glad to have my week over and Thursday is payday. I sent my son to Walmart and spent the last of the money on a pint of Blue Bell for me and a bag of chips for him, I felt better and slept.
Thursday, I was up at 6am, got son off to school, money on his lunch account, money on phone account, money on Wesley's books, he is out of stamps, paper, etc...paid bills...finally catching up!!!, but still broke, but a little left for a few wants. The dogs have been neglected and out of control. Ordered flea medicine for 2 cats and 3 large dogs, ordered ear mite medicine, and 2 shock collars! I know what you are thinking, but do the research, you only have to shock them once or twice, they behave quickly, and occasionally only need a vibration if they do not heed to warning words. I have a very stubborn pitbull. He is also an amazing guy. I will maybe share his story another day. All the animals are rescues and have stories. His is especially awesome.
After I put money on the phone account I waited for hubby to call. He knew it was payday, but probably didn't want to call too early. Finally, at 10 he calls. We had a great talk, then things went south when I told him his motorcycle was still in the driveway, not the garage, it is up hill, and I couldn't push it, I thought I would have battery fixed quick, but it turns out it was dead. I knew I would need to get another, so today, being payday, I planned to take it to get it checked at O'reilly's and probably buy a replacement. He fussed at me and called my son a pussy for not being able to push it into the garage, I was embarrassed, mad and told him to go to his meeting, he said fine and hung up. My mouth fell open, and then I cried. I was so happy to finally talk to him and it ended, a 15 minute, $15 phone call with him hanging up on me. Wow. I took a shower and went to run errands. He called a hour later, after his meeting to apologize, we tried to talk it out a bit, it was awkward. I knew he over reacted, he apologized, now I just needed to figure out why it upset me so much. I told him I felt humiliated, not sure why. He apologized again, and I suggested we hang up, I get over myself and we talk later when we can enjoy it.
He called this evening, he apologized again, said it was the lack of control that caused him to overreact. It is terrible to spend the precious time, and money for phone calls, squabbling over silly things, but it happens about once a week. He feeling his life out of control, desperate to have some control or say over home. I, feeling overwhelmed with having to keep everything up on my own. Both occasionally seep into the conversation.
I usually write every day, but I had been out of stamps too. I got stamps and wrote him a letter and got it into the mail today. It was a very productive day. I even treated myself to a mani/pedi, it was gloriously relaxing. Tomorrow I will clean and so some laundry, with gloves, don't want to mess up the pretty nails. Did I mention my hands are beat up from changing the oil in my motorcycle? Don't even get me started. Time to go to bed, I will write this weekend, should be nice, I actually have 4 days off in a row, rainy weather to watch movies and nap with....throw in a candle, some music...yes.
Our Anniversary by Wesley
9/9/2014
Our anniversary was last Saturday and I was a bit melancholy as you might imagine. I feel so undeserving of the of woman who has chosen to spend her life with me because for the second time, my lack of impulse control and respect for the law (ironically) landed me here.
Ironically, the last time it drew us closer together. Daily letters and phone calls, along with visits- with sex removed- made us grow in other areas of our relationship. I am very lucky.
The occasion called for me to pull out all the stops! I thought of the romantics, Wordswork et al, and how they would describe love in such a situation. Of course "the Bard" had a thing or two to say about love, but most of his wisdom has grown a bit worn over time.
Modern poets, through music, have always helped me express romantic love:
"Whenever you need me,
Whenever you want me,
you know you can call me,
I'll be there shortly,
Don't care what your friends say,
'cuz they don't know me,
I'll be your best friend,
and you'll be my homey,
I roll up."
-Wiz Khalifa
Sometimes from the most unlikely of sources!
I sometimes am able to imagine my own words to express the depth of my feelings, it isn't easy to do in here with only a pen and paper-and limited ability to edit my work. I'm so spoiled. But sometimes I produce genius.
While I pondered my thoughts and feelings, and how best to describe them, a young man joined our constantly evolving population. He told the story of his arrest (which must be somewhere in the rules because despite the very limited interest of the audience, everyone seems to think it is required).
In his words, I found the essence of love. Sometimes, as I said earlier, beauty can be found in the most unlikely of places. His story involved sacrifices his girlfriend made for him when the police intervened in a cross state trip from one set of problems to another. Instead of 2 felony charges, her efforts left him with just one. She loves him and showed it.
Now I know....Love is shoving your man's pilo (meth pipe) in your snatch.
Our anniversary was last Saturday and I was a bit melancholy as you might imagine. I feel so undeserving of the of woman who has chosen to spend her life with me because for the second time, my lack of impulse control and respect for the law (ironically) landed me here.
Ironically, the last time it drew us closer together. Daily letters and phone calls, along with visits- with sex removed- made us grow in other areas of our relationship. I am very lucky.
The occasion called for me to pull out all the stops! I thought of the romantics, Wordswork et al, and how they would describe love in such a situation. Of course "the Bard" had a thing or two to say about love, but most of his wisdom has grown a bit worn over time.
Modern poets, through music, have always helped me express romantic love:
"Whenever you need me,
Whenever you want me,
you know you can call me,
I'll be there shortly,
Don't care what your friends say,
'cuz they don't know me,
I'll be your best friend,
and you'll be my homey,
I roll up."
-Wiz Khalifa
Sometimes from the most unlikely of sources!
I sometimes am able to imagine my own words to express the depth of my feelings, it isn't easy to do in here with only a pen and paper-and limited ability to edit my work. I'm so spoiled. But sometimes I produce genius.
While I pondered my thoughts and feelings, and how best to describe them, a young man joined our constantly evolving population. He told the story of his arrest (which must be somewhere in the rules because despite the very limited interest of the audience, everyone seems to think it is required).
In his words, I found the essence of love. Sometimes, as I said earlier, beauty can be found in the most unlikely of places. His story involved sacrifices his girlfriend made for him when the police intervened in a cross state trip from one set of problems to another. Instead of 2 felony charges, her efforts left him with just one. She loves him and showed it.
Now I know....Love is shoving your man's pilo (meth pipe) in your snatch.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
People in jail lie. by Wesley
It is widely assumed that as soon as a person in jail speaks that he (I can only speak for the me) is lying. It is so common a theme that "jail" has become an acronym: Just Assume I'm Lying or Just Ask I'll Lie. I mention this because two newcomers bring the issue to the forefront of my mind.
My new bunk mate- my 6th in about a month- was holding court last night. He claimed he was a petroleum engineer. My daughter goes to UT studying petroleum engineering and her boyfriend is a petroleum engineer. When I asked where he worked, he said he wasn't actually a petroleum engineer, he was still a student.
Okay, I said, where do you go to school? My daughter goes to UT. He said he goes to Lone Star Community College at the moment, but would transfer to the University of Houston, and I gently pointed out that there is no petroleum engineering program at the UH.
He ignored me and began bragging that he would start at $500,000 straight out of school. I gently pointed out that there is no field of endeavor where anyone makes $500K straight out of school.
He loudly insisted that he was right- or telling the truth-I'd lost interest. Yes, kid, you will earn $500K a year straight out of school.
Of course you will.
Then, another new guy was holding court today telling stories of all the outlaws he has run across in his 35ish years.
He has shared cells with a mass murderer. Bank robbers, serial killers, a terrorist, Bonny & Clyde (I might have added this).
The new man is an underwater welder and former fireman...there came into play when he talked about coming face to face with a 15 foot long catfish and seeing his friend consumed by a shark as an underwater welder. As a fireman he was fighting a fire in a high rise and people kept jumping out of the building.
This breadth of experience earned the man accolades from the impressionable among us.
I immediately set to work forging deeds to a quiet seaside community near Tuscon. I will make a killing.
My new bunk mate- my 6th in about a month- was holding court last night. He claimed he was a petroleum engineer. My daughter goes to UT studying petroleum engineering and her boyfriend is a petroleum engineer. When I asked where he worked, he said he wasn't actually a petroleum engineer, he was still a student.
Okay, I said, where do you go to school? My daughter goes to UT. He said he goes to Lone Star Community College at the moment, but would transfer to the University of Houston, and I gently pointed out that there is no petroleum engineering program at the UH.
He ignored me and began bragging that he would start at $500,000 straight out of school. I gently pointed out that there is no field of endeavor where anyone makes $500K straight out of school.
He loudly insisted that he was right- or telling the truth-I'd lost interest. Yes, kid, you will earn $500K a year straight out of school.
Of course you will.
Then, another new guy was holding court today telling stories of all the outlaws he has run across in his 35ish years.
He has shared cells with a mass murderer. Bank robbers, serial killers, a terrorist, Bonny & Clyde (I might have added this).
The new man is an underwater welder and former fireman...there came into play when he talked about coming face to face with a 15 foot long catfish and seeing his friend consumed by a shark as an underwater welder. As a fireman he was fighting a fire in a high rise and people kept jumping out of the building.
This breadth of experience earned the man accolades from the impressionable among us.
I immediately set to work forging deeds to a quiet seaside community near Tuscon. I will make a killing.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
Court date. by Wesley
9/3/2014
"Today was my first court date since my incarceration. As such, it could mean everything, or it could mean nothing. I had no idea what to expect, so I was afraid, in all honesty.
My legal dilemma is divided into 2 parts in 2 counties. I was initially going to deal with the new charge in Harris County first and then let the second county follow the first. At the very last second, we decided to reverse the order and I turned myself in to Montgomery county to deal with the old case first.
This had a problem. No matter what the merits of the new case, guilt or innocence was in question and a trial was a bargaining chip. In the old case, my fate rested on whatever good will I had earned in the court.
So, leading up to this date, I felt like a train was rushing at me and Snidely Whiplash had tied me to the tracks! There was no end to my incarceration, and I was completely at the mercy of a man who in my four years of experience with had never shown me any mercy.
In my heart I knew I had finally succeeded in putting the finishing touches on my self destruction. In less than ten years I had gone from respected local personal injury attorney with some national recognition to disbarred felon serving a decade in prison.
But as soon as I expected the worse, I was granted a reprieve. I sat stunned as my lawyer explained that everything that I'd told him was my longshot wish was granted- and my attorney did not even have to ask.
Lesa says the good result arose from her prayers. I need not point out that I'm an atheist - she knows. But I guess I can rejoice in the fact that I can reap the rewards of her prayer AND maintain my intellectual honesty.
So I got that goin' for me. Which is nice.
"Today was my first court date since my incarceration. As such, it could mean everything, or it could mean nothing. I had no idea what to expect, so I was afraid, in all honesty.
My legal dilemma is divided into 2 parts in 2 counties. I was initially going to deal with the new charge in Harris County first and then let the second county follow the first. At the very last second, we decided to reverse the order and I turned myself in to Montgomery county to deal with the old case first.
This had a problem. No matter what the merits of the new case, guilt or innocence was in question and a trial was a bargaining chip. In the old case, my fate rested on whatever good will I had earned in the court.
So, leading up to this date, I felt like a train was rushing at me and Snidely Whiplash had tied me to the tracks! There was no end to my incarceration, and I was completely at the mercy of a man who in my four years of experience with had never shown me any mercy.
In my heart I knew I had finally succeeded in putting the finishing touches on my self destruction. In less than ten years I had gone from respected local personal injury attorney with some national recognition to disbarred felon serving a decade in prison.
But as soon as I expected the worse, I was granted a reprieve. I sat stunned as my lawyer explained that everything that I'd told him was my longshot wish was granted- and my attorney did not even have to ask.
Lesa says the good result arose from her prayers. I need not point out that I'm an atheist - she knows. But I guess I can rejoice in the fact that I can reap the rewards of her prayer AND maintain my intellectual honesty.
So I got that goin' for me. Which is nice.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Atticus Finch. by Wesley
9/2/14
"Today I made reference to Atticus Finch in usual conversation. I only mentioned it him in passing as a famed orator-and not as one of my later inspirations in the practice of law. My former profession is never, EVER, a topic of conversation.
Later in the day I was told of much hand wringing and concern in the daily meetings on the other side of the tank led to the inevitable conclusion, among their members that I'm gay. After all, I use words they don't understand and I'm 'too polite and nice.'
I did not point out the fadlay?of non seqintor to them as that would have sealed my fate. (look it up!)
'That's right, I sleep with men because I loved To Kill a Mockingbird.'
The irony that my love of Atticus finch has led the black community in here to condemn me as homosexual was simply too wonderful to ignore.
For my immediate audience I simply smiled, however, and returned my book."
"Today I made reference to Atticus Finch in usual conversation. I only mentioned it him in passing as a famed orator-and not as one of my later inspirations in the practice of law. My former profession is never, EVER, a topic of conversation.
Later in the day I was told of much hand wringing and concern in the daily meetings on the other side of the tank led to the inevitable conclusion, among their members that I'm gay. After all, I use words they don't understand and I'm 'too polite and nice.'
I did not point out the fadlay?of non seqintor to them as that would have sealed my fate. (look it up!)
'That's right, I sleep with men because I loved To Kill a Mockingbird.'
The irony that my love of Atticus finch has led the black community in here to condemn me as homosexual was simply too wonderful to ignore.
For my immediate audience I simply smiled, however, and returned my book."
Court day in Mongomery County, by Lesa.
The day before court I was unable to sleep. I was exhausted from work, but my mind would not shut off. I wasn't playing the possibilities over in my head of what may happen, which is what I thought I would do, no, it was every other stupid thing to worry about. My husband passingly mentioning that someone had committed suicide there after getting 18 years from the same judge he was about to see. He said he totally understood what would bring a man to do that. He had thought about it, looking at what was around him to cut his wrists. He had mentioned this before when he was arrested. His shame, his not wanting to be a burden or embarrassment to me, made him feel that was an option. He later told me that he was not going to do it, but needed to share everything with me, even that fleeting thought of taking his life. I have learned that I need to let him talk, let him work through his pain, shame, and not tell hi it is wrong to feel it, but let him know I love him and I am here for him. I have to remind him everyday, every letter. He is I scared to death I will leave him. I have touched on that before, it really is a valid fear, however, I am not just anybody, I am his wife, I am sold out in love with him.
I have told him once, that being in love with him was sort of like being a Christian. I have always felt that Wesley saved me. I had a break down 5 years ago. The reason is complicated, those stories always are. I came out of it asking, who am I? I had gotten married at 18, been married for 25 years, had and raised 6 kids, 2 were still at home, but 1 was senior , 1 in junior high. I had spent my whole life living as a good wife, mom, Christian, all good, but I felt I had lost myself in there. I went to lots of counseling, praying, church, I tried to work things out with the ex-husband, but it was time to move on. Wesley started as a love affair, but from the very beginning he had a passion and pain in his eyes that captivated me. He was not interested in sharing the pain, but he was smart, funny, handsome, and fun. Once I moved out and was ready to start a new life, Wesley and I started dating something changed. I found out as I learned more about myself that my husband and I had more and more in common. I learned to trust him to protect me, even from myself, which required, as you should have in a relationship, total honesty. He learned that I really as sweet as I seemed. That I genuinely care for him. I would never hurt him, not on purpose, and that he could also trust me with his hurt and pain from the past. The results were a love that was honest, true, deep, and a shared story of childhood pain. Together we learned about our own baggage, and how to break the bonds we had.
I was feeling anger. I was angry that I was going through this alone. I was angry that I didn't have him next to me, that I was worried about paying the bills, was I going to have enough. Switching to days paid less. I had not really felt anger before, I guess with the court date, I was finally feeling all the feelings of our situation.
Okay, so back to court day. I finally got to sleep about 2 am. 4 am. I wake up, unable to go to sleep. My son woke up around 5 to do homework. I got up and made him breakfast, cleaned the kitchen. I stayed very busy, waiting for the call about how court went. I started working in the yard, everything I could do to stay busy. Wesley calls, says he was taken to a room for video court, and after awhile, he told them he was in the wrong place. They realized they had made a mistake, but court was over. He asked if I had heard from his attorney, the fabulous Brad Frye. I had not, I sent a text while on the phone. About that time Wesley is called for by a guard that his attorney was there. I hung up and waited for a call back.
Wesley called back, had good news. His attorney said that by the time he got there, everything was already done, set into motion. The court was saddened to hear of Wesley's relapse but wanted him to get the help he needed. He would be sent to the relapse program of SAFP, and would spend 1 month in the halfway house when he was done. They would be willing to talk to Harris County to get them on board. The judge was merciful and caring. He was even willing to talk to Harris County folks, that said so much about the trust built up. We were both floored by the generosity. I cried with relief. We had hoped this would happen so that when we, Wesley, I mean, goes to court in Harris County they would see that Montgomery County did not send him to prison, revoking his probation. That they know he was a good probationer, a good person and was worth the risk to give another chance. That is what we hope will happen next. So, once papers are signed that Wesley agrees, he is off to take care of business in Harris County.
I was an emotional wreck the rest of the day. I kept crying at the least thing. The hard part of the other court is still ahead. Either could go bad. We took a gamble and went to Montgomery county first hoping they would be fair because of who he was, and having worked in the program toward being healthy. It paid off. But we have no idea if the judge in Harris County will look at what was done and why. Wesley's attorney will have a tough job ahead of him. But he is good, and Wesley is worthy of a second chance. He is not the person he was in the past. I will let him tell that story.
So, for now, we wait, again. In the meantime, we continue with our $11, 15 minute phone calls and 2 visits a week. Oh, and I write every day.
I have told him once, that being in love with him was sort of like being a Christian. I have always felt that Wesley saved me. I had a break down 5 years ago. The reason is complicated, those stories always are. I came out of it asking, who am I? I had gotten married at 18, been married for 25 years, had and raised 6 kids, 2 were still at home, but 1 was senior , 1 in junior high. I had spent my whole life living as a good wife, mom, Christian, all good, but I felt I had lost myself in there. I went to lots of counseling, praying, church, I tried to work things out with the ex-husband, but it was time to move on. Wesley started as a love affair, but from the very beginning he had a passion and pain in his eyes that captivated me. He was not interested in sharing the pain, but he was smart, funny, handsome, and fun. Once I moved out and was ready to start a new life, Wesley and I started dating something changed. I found out as I learned more about myself that my husband and I had more and more in common. I learned to trust him to protect me, even from myself, which required, as you should have in a relationship, total honesty. He learned that I really as sweet as I seemed. That I genuinely care for him. I would never hurt him, not on purpose, and that he could also trust me with his hurt and pain from the past. The results were a love that was honest, true, deep, and a shared story of childhood pain. Together we learned about our own baggage, and how to break the bonds we had.
I was feeling anger. I was angry that I was going through this alone. I was angry that I didn't have him next to me, that I was worried about paying the bills, was I going to have enough. Switching to days paid less. I had not really felt anger before, I guess with the court date, I was finally feeling all the feelings of our situation.
Okay, so back to court day. I finally got to sleep about 2 am. 4 am. I wake up, unable to go to sleep. My son woke up around 5 to do homework. I got up and made him breakfast, cleaned the kitchen. I stayed very busy, waiting for the call about how court went. I started working in the yard, everything I could do to stay busy. Wesley calls, says he was taken to a room for video court, and after awhile, he told them he was in the wrong place. They realized they had made a mistake, but court was over. He asked if I had heard from his attorney, the fabulous Brad Frye. I had not, I sent a text while on the phone. About that time Wesley is called for by a guard that his attorney was there. I hung up and waited for a call back.
Wesley called back, had good news. His attorney said that by the time he got there, everything was already done, set into motion. The court was saddened to hear of Wesley's relapse but wanted him to get the help he needed. He would be sent to the relapse program of SAFP, and would spend 1 month in the halfway house when he was done. They would be willing to talk to Harris County to get them on board. The judge was merciful and caring. He was even willing to talk to Harris County folks, that said so much about the trust built up. We were both floored by the generosity. I cried with relief. We had hoped this would happen so that when we, Wesley, I mean, goes to court in Harris County they would see that Montgomery County did not send him to prison, revoking his probation. That they know he was a good probationer, a good person and was worth the risk to give another chance. That is what we hope will happen next. So, once papers are signed that Wesley agrees, he is off to take care of business in Harris County.
I was an emotional wreck the rest of the day. I kept crying at the least thing. The hard part of the other court is still ahead. Either could go bad. We took a gamble and went to Montgomery county first hoping they would be fair because of who he was, and having worked in the program toward being healthy. It paid off. But we have no idea if the judge in Harris County will look at what was done and why. Wesley's attorney will have a tough job ahead of him. But he is good, and Wesley is worthy of a second chance. He is not the person he was in the past. I will let him tell that story.
So, for now, we wait, again. In the meantime, we continue with our $11, 15 minute phone calls and 2 visits a week. Oh, and I write every day.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Trying to sleep. By Wesley
Sept. 1.
" Night is once again upon me and the lights have gone out. The guards are yelling at everyone to go to bed, and people generally ignore them and do as they please.
Shocking that we're all in jail, right?
The call to prayer has been given, 13 of the 24 men in this tank walk to the side and circle up to pray for each other and end with the Lord's prayer. It is an unusual gathering in my estimation.
One of the men in the group was arrested on Friday (3 days ago) for robbing 3 different people and places. Another one was making very tasteless jokes to me a couple of days ago about domestic violence. It wasn't until well into his routine that I realized he wasn't being ironic, he was making jokes about his wife's pleas to stop hitting her- true crime for which he is in the jail.
Nothing funnier than domestic violence! Except maybe polio.
When the door's close, the Christians come out.
Prayer is over and the incredibly long process of people actually quieting down and going to sleep has begun.
I am the luckiest person in here. On my left is a 64 year old man. He speaks a language somewhat related to English that almost no one in here understands. He is also a modern day Jack ? and will spontaneously start exercising in his sleep.
Yes, I'm serious.
On my right is a meth head who never sleeps. He also does not read, or lay down. So as I toss and turn on my concrete like mattress, I occasionally open my eyes when I turn onto my right side. When I do, he is sitting on his bed, 2 1/2 feet away, looking at me...or just staring off into space.
There is nothing creepy about that. "
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)