It has been awhile since a post. I have a couple from Wesley. I have been struggling with depression, overwhelming feelings, and frankly, now that my kids, at my invitation, are reading this, I have been hesitant to write and let them know the daily rollercoaster of my life. My daughter Jessica is getting married in Vegas in 9 days. I have struggled with the finances, struggled with the housework, work has been kicking my ass, and my back, has been having very scary shooting pains, making me jump, fearing the old horrible pain. I am blessed, the kids have taken most of the financial burden of the trip off of me, and I was in a panic over so many things, overwhelmed that I could not contribute. I wanted to make her veil, didn't make the cut, by my own judgment. She is moving to Maryland, correction, she has moved to Maryland. It stirs a lot of emotions too. I am happy, so very, very happy for her. She has struggled with life, and has worked hard to get on track and I am so very proud of her journey to adulthood.
The day I told Wesley about the wedding, he suggested, strongly, that I move on without him. He told me I should divorce him, he was worthless, and I deserved better. He refused to look me in the eye. It was a hard visitation. He calmed down, but their has been an edge to him. He is scared that I will meet someone in Vegas. His words, "sometimes what happens in Vegas, does not stay in Vegas." It is the insecurity a man incarcerated, throw in a Vegas vacation, my first time, and he is worried. I have reassured him. He has talked me through difficult moments, helped me figure out wardrobe malfunctions. He has tried not to focus on it, and that has been helpful.
We have many things going on. We hired a new attorney. Attorney #2, and a friend, seemed to have a lot going on, and after Wesley setting a deadline of some sort of progression toward even having an attorney on record, we send her a note thanking her and hired one we had interviewed this summer. After 1 week, he was granted the substitution, without a hearing, and has started pleading deals. And while we both are extremely anxious about what may happen, we are extremely pleased that talks have started and are ready to move on.
I am ready for my life to calm down, I am ready for Wesley to be on to whatever Harris County and Wesley can agree to for punishment, the light at the end of the tunnel is a game changer in the life of an inmate, and their loved ones waiting for them on the outside. No one understands how our life is on hold, how it is limited by money for the phones, visitation rules, distance. It is part of the punishment, I get it, but being in jail for six months without any word or change of situation is maddening, and not really all that unusual. I am praying for things to move quickly now that negotiations have started, you can be praying too.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Sunday, January 4, 2015
How inmates handle the holidays. by Wesley
12/21/2014
My new neighbor will not stop singing Foreigner. He's 31, so he didn't grow up with them, but he walks around repeatedly singing, "Urgent" and "Jukebox Hero", and others. Not only does he constantly sing the songs, but he will also attempt to engage you in conversation extolling the virtues of that middling band.
He's driving me crazy.
There has been a shake up in here. A "shake up" is when the guards come into an inmates area and searches through all his stuff, tearing the place apart. Sometimes these are random, sometimes it is specific. Sometimes it is one person, sometimes it is the whole cell area. Sarge, the closest person to a friend in here to me, was abruptly taken away and accused of extorting soups from people. Yes, I'm serious. It's a serious jail offense. it was not true, but he'd gotten into a confrontation with a guy and the charge was the retaliation. In one day, 6 people were taken out and replaced with young kids from "24". "24" is where people go when they get into trouble. So, that's awesome.
The malaise if pervasive. Christmas is approaching and none of us have gotten our shopping done yet! Damn, it's depressing. We all have our way of dealing with the creeping despair.
There are the sleepers. These men have the amazing ability to sleep through anything. There is a guy in here who has not gotten up for over a month and a half. I really have no evidence that he is still living. He might have died weeks ago, chances are, he would smell the same. I wish I could sleep that way. I wouldn't get up until they called my name to release me. I would shave months of growth off my face, layers of funk would scrub off in the shower, and I would find my wife married to someone else. But time would have passed quickly.
Then, there are the gamblers. They pass the time by gambling soups on everything. They bet soups on poker, of course. I add that, just so that I can add that while they bet on hands. They will begin arguing over who has the better hand, and bet soups on that. I always ask, "Isn't that what the betting is for, who has the better hand?" But it isn't just poker. They gamble on spades, football, basketball, what meal is coming, who is facing more time, who farted, dominoes, who a particular actress is, (always actresses, never actors), and anything else where there might be two sides to one story.
There are the guys who workout. I'm certainly no Adonis, but I can't understand how people can workout constantly and still have big bellies.
There are guys who spend all their time on the phone, guys who eat constantly, guys who draw, and guys who read. I'm a reader. My nose is buried in a book every waking moment. I will not engage in any activity that will allow my mind to wander. I used to go to "rec", (they let us into a 40' x 50', semi-enclosed space, twice a week), I would read and walk laps. I stopped going when they prohibited us from bringing books and walking laps, it lets your mind rest. Must not do that! No free time for the brain, that's dangerous. I go through a lot of books. I have been promised the Houston Chronicle, which has the added benefit of sudoku and crossword puzzles, hasn't happened yet.
What we all have in common is a yearning to forget where we are, what day it is, what our families are doing and how much longer we must sit. I wish there was a magic potion I could buy on commissary, that would free me from thinking about these questions or the answers; especially the answers. I wish I could just not be me for today.
My new neighbor will not stop singing Foreigner. He's 31, so he didn't grow up with them, but he walks around repeatedly singing, "Urgent" and "Jukebox Hero", and others. Not only does he constantly sing the songs, but he will also attempt to engage you in conversation extolling the virtues of that middling band.
He's driving me crazy.
There has been a shake up in here. A "shake up" is when the guards come into an inmates area and searches through all his stuff, tearing the place apart. Sometimes these are random, sometimes it is specific. Sometimes it is one person, sometimes it is the whole cell area. Sarge, the closest person to a friend in here to me, was abruptly taken away and accused of extorting soups from people. Yes, I'm serious. It's a serious jail offense. it was not true, but he'd gotten into a confrontation with a guy and the charge was the retaliation. In one day, 6 people were taken out and replaced with young kids from "24". "24" is where people go when they get into trouble. So, that's awesome.
The malaise if pervasive. Christmas is approaching and none of us have gotten our shopping done yet! Damn, it's depressing. We all have our way of dealing with the creeping despair.
There are the sleepers. These men have the amazing ability to sleep through anything. There is a guy in here who has not gotten up for over a month and a half. I really have no evidence that he is still living. He might have died weeks ago, chances are, he would smell the same. I wish I could sleep that way. I wouldn't get up until they called my name to release me. I would shave months of growth off my face, layers of funk would scrub off in the shower, and I would find my wife married to someone else. But time would have passed quickly.
Then, there are the gamblers. They pass the time by gambling soups on everything. They bet soups on poker, of course. I add that, just so that I can add that while they bet on hands. They will begin arguing over who has the better hand, and bet soups on that. I always ask, "Isn't that what the betting is for, who has the better hand?" But it isn't just poker. They gamble on spades, football, basketball, what meal is coming, who is facing more time, who farted, dominoes, who a particular actress is, (always actresses, never actors), and anything else where there might be two sides to one story.
There are the guys who workout. I'm certainly no Adonis, but I can't understand how people can workout constantly and still have big bellies.
There are guys who spend all their time on the phone, guys who eat constantly, guys who draw, and guys who read. I'm a reader. My nose is buried in a book every waking moment. I will not engage in any activity that will allow my mind to wander. I used to go to "rec", (they let us into a 40' x 50', semi-enclosed space, twice a week), I would read and walk laps. I stopped going when they prohibited us from bringing books and walking laps, it lets your mind rest. Must not do that! No free time for the brain, that's dangerous. I go through a lot of books. I have been promised the Houston Chronicle, which has the added benefit of sudoku and crossword puzzles, hasn't happened yet.
What we all have in common is a yearning to forget where we are, what day it is, what our families are doing and how much longer we must sit. I wish there was a magic potion I could buy on commissary, that would free me from thinking about these questions or the answers; especially the answers. I wish I could just not be me for today.
Christmas. by Lesa
12/23/2014
It was Christmas day with the kids. Jessica, who was unable to go on the ski vacation, flew into Austin, and was picked up by Jackie's parents, that is Luke's girlfriend's parents. We had woke up in Carlsbad, NM at 7:30 am., had breakfast at the hotel. The itinerary was to go to Carlsbad caverns. I had been before, and I remember them being awesome. Wesley said he remembered me being bored half way through.
When we got there, the snow was coming down pretty hard. It was beautiful. The view was beautiful. I sat for a moment, prayed a prayer for hubby, alone for the holidays. Isaac was wanting to stay in the jeep, I told him it was family time. We got in, Phil handed out audio tour guides and we started for the elevators. You miss a wonderful part of the tour by doing this, but it was too cold to walk down the opening, and we were on a time crunch to make it home that evening for family Christmas. The tour was better than I remembered, the audio added so much. I suggest anyone doing the tour to pay at least for one to share. We were done in a couple of hours and we hit the road around 10:30 am. We had 8-9 hours to go.
The ride home was quiet. Luke and Jackie slept in the back, yay, for a jeep that the seats lays down and has a dvd player. Isaac and I were in the front. We stopped for gas and lunch, Luke paying for everything, I, still was uncomfortable and having difficulty with this, but I had no choice. I prayed for my husband, mom, and others on the ride home. Isaac and I listened to music to make the miles pass by.
We finally get there around 7:30, Jackie's parents, and Jessica were there starting dinner. We unloaded and put the final touches on a fajita dinner, it was so delicious. Kids were all around, playing games, talking, sharing pics and stories with Jackie's parents. Adam had to leave at midnight for work the next morning in San Antonio, so we did a small gift exchange between the kids and I. I gave them their calandars and they had a surprise one for me too! We looked at them together, month by month. Lots of laughs. My calendar was filled with current pics, customized by the month, some with help from Kiersten, Phil's wife, and Photoshop. The pics were awesome, and now I have two great calendars of pics of the kids.
The kids opted to wait till the next day to have their Christmas from each other, waiting closer to Christmas, most of everyone's Christmas was the ski trip itself, so most everyone expected a much scaled down Christmas, and everyone was gracious with the thoughtful gifts that were given. My gifts were the beautiful calendar from Kiersten, Phil got me Bath and Bodyworks candles, there is a story behind them making them special, Jessica got me some earrings and a lotion, body spray, shower gel set. Luke and Jackie got me....I just realized I left my present, a beautiful arrangement of succulents, put into a cut down wine bottle, it was so pretty and cool. Sorry, I hope it is waiting for me in Austin! Sarah got me a pillow, I always need pillows, and it was on my list for Santa, and ancestry software, a new hobby. Adam and Isaac, the broke younger kids were happy to get a few treasures too.
I was exhausted, headed to bed around midnight, some of the young men stayed up to play a board game, Catan, for awhile. I was not even starting to deal with the emotions of this week. I had shoved everything inside to deal with later.
As a nurse, I am very good at my job. One of the things I am good at, is compartmentalizing my emotions, to deal with tasks and jobs that have priority. I did this a lot as a mom too, raising 6 kids was very busy. So, I was able to enjoy the time and not be overly emotional.
The next morning we were up, Phil and Kiersten were making breakfast and it was time for me to pack and get out, their dad would be there soon with his lovely wife. We have maintained a good relationship, although we will never be close, or friends, we have the most amazing kids. I had gotten paid, I was glad because then I could at least help with the cost of gas. Phil was handling the vacation finances and the splitting of expenses, I approached him, and he and Sarah both shook their heads no. "No ma'am. Merry Christmas momma." All I could say was thank you, fight back the tears, and hug them. I hit the road, ran up the road to the store to exchange socks, I had also gotten the kids each socks, a "stocking stuffer", but Nick likes something different, and I was so grateful for their thoughtfulness, wanted to do it while I was there. I had not done any Christmas shopping, the stores were quiet, it was early.
I had gotten about $300 more than I had thought, I had decided to go ahead and pick up a couple things for my step-daughter, who I adore, and sister's and mom. I wind up spending more than I should and taking it all back, except for my step-daughter's stuff. My mom and sister's were not exchanging presents, were were all limited on funds, and scaled down to a small thing. I opted to given them coffee!
Wesley called, he was helping me to process everything. Most of it I was pushing inside, he and I really didn't get to talk too often, he cut it shorter, and usually we will have a minute here and there throughout the day to talk. I was missing our time together, feeling incredibly emotional, and not really able to talk about everything. I was finally on the way home to Houston, and we finally go to talk privately for the first time in a week. I had never been so limited on my time with him, both by the situation, and he not wanting to be invasive on a vacation break for me. Instead of a rest, it was a physical and emotional challenge. I was scheduled to work Christmas day, I was glad. Family was gone and out of town. I had not bought any food, was exhausted from the trip and my dogs were so glad to have me home. Wesley and I got back into our schedule of talking regularly throughout the day, and I began to process the whole event.
Christmas day, work called, census dropped and they did not need me. I had taken the next two days off, had enough PTO time for that, but not for the unexpected holiday alone. I tried to keep positive, I had just had a week with the kids, but to have no Christmas dinner, felt emotional, why? It was so weird. I found some old frozen rotisserie chicken, had stove top dressing from before vacation, smelled okay, instant potatoes, and a can of cranberry jelly. Better than nothing. I ate the food, went back to bed, disappointed. I could have called the in-laws and probably hung with them, but it is kind of a day that everyone gets to have, just with their family, quiet, food, and Christmas spirit. I didn't feel right invading. I was not overly depressed, but it was disappointing.
I hope to have my husband home next Christmas. We still, after 4 1/2 months, have no idea of any timeline. I hope Wesley's new attorney can hit the road running in the new year. I am tired of being alone, tired of quiet evenings with the dogs, sitting in this chair, trying to keep positive for a future I have no idea of how it will be. And while I have managed to make it through the Christmas season without crashing, and I had lots of distractions to keep it positive, it still sucked not having my best friend here to share it with me. I'm tired of pretending it is okay, I am tired of being patient while his attorney has done nothing, at all. That we are waiting for anything, any word, any update, and life for everyone else goes on. For months, Wesley listened for the heels of his probation officer walking down the hall to get him, months. He was afraid to go to shower, or nap, afraid he would miss her. He finally gave up and would just go to bed, read, eat, go to the AA meetings once a week. He gave up on hope, gave up on getting out, and I was left to encourage him, without any change to share. It was a bad week.
But, as bad as it was, the year was coming to a close, and with that, hope for the New Year. Not hope for him, mind you, I am the one with the hope. I have to cling to the hope. Because, Wesley is not a Christian, he doesn't have hope in a God who loves us unconditionally, who cares about our suffering, I do. So, I continue to pray, continue to encourage, and keep looking forward. It can't get any worse, right?
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Feeling ashamed. by Wesley
12/22/2014
It is 3 days before Christmas, and without further adieu, I make the following confession:
I am ashamed of myself.
That was an easy one, right?
I got a letter from my lovely step-daughter the other day, offering all manner of encouragement and praise. I have been rolling it around in my head since. She said, "...I couldn't have asked for a better step-dad....". You mean, except for the being in jail part, right? Except for being the disbarred, disgraced, disaster that I am, right? And, that isn't even why I'm ashamed! Seriously. Though that offers me plenty of opportunities for shame, that isn't the worst.
I'm blessed with having the most wonderful sort of woman for a wife. She's the perfect blend of sweet, and "good crazy". The years and choices have taught me that all women are crazy, at least in part, or, they are boring. I will take, (and have taken), crazy, over boring, most of my life. The key is to find, good crazy.
This is a rare commodity.
Finding good crazy is akin to finding a good mechanic. They may screw you, but you trust them to do it for a good price. I have no idea what that means. My wife is not a prostitute. This is a family blog.
The reason I am ashamed is because, lately, I have been so busy feeling sorry for myself, that I have forgotten how my senseless behavior has affected Lesa. Yes, I am in jail, and it sucks. But, whatever the circumstances, I did it. I have nobody, but myself to blame.
Lesa, on the other hand, is blameless. In fact, she told me on several occasions she was worried about me and asked whether she should switch to days to be home with me at night. Translation: switch to days to keep an eye on me, and keep me safe. Despite her concern, she now has to manage 2 houses, 3 dogs, 2 kids in college, 1 in high school, who is as moody as a magic 8 ball, 2 cats, 2 cars, 2 motorcycles, a full-time job, a lawyer for her husband, and her husband, commissary and phone costs, and his ailing mental health.
And she does it all with no "I told you so", or anger, (like I said, good crazy). She focuses so much on me and others, that she often forgets to take care of herself. She does an amazing job, but I am ashamed of her having to do that job. I'm ashamed that I put us and our life at risk- no matter what the circumstances.
Total dick move.
Thanks Obama.
It is 3 days before Christmas, and without further adieu, I make the following confession:
I am ashamed of myself.
That was an easy one, right?
I got a letter from my lovely step-daughter the other day, offering all manner of encouragement and praise. I have been rolling it around in my head since. She said, "...I couldn't have asked for a better step-dad....". You mean, except for the being in jail part, right? Except for being the disbarred, disgraced, disaster that I am, right? And, that isn't even why I'm ashamed! Seriously. Though that offers me plenty of opportunities for shame, that isn't the worst.
I'm blessed with having the most wonderful sort of woman for a wife. She's the perfect blend of sweet, and "good crazy". The years and choices have taught me that all women are crazy, at least in part, or, they are boring. I will take, (and have taken), crazy, over boring, most of my life. The key is to find, good crazy.
This is a rare commodity.
Finding good crazy is akin to finding a good mechanic. They may screw you, but you trust them to do it for a good price. I have no idea what that means. My wife is not a prostitute. This is a family blog.
The reason I am ashamed is because, lately, I have been so busy feeling sorry for myself, that I have forgotten how my senseless behavior has affected Lesa. Yes, I am in jail, and it sucks. But, whatever the circumstances, I did it. I have nobody, but myself to blame.
Lesa, on the other hand, is blameless. In fact, she told me on several occasions she was worried about me and asked whether she should switch to days to be home with me at night. Translation: switch to days to keep an eye on me, and keep me safe. Despite her concern, she now has to manage 2 houses, 3 dogs, 2 kids in college, 1 in high school, who is as moody as a magic 8 ball, 2 cats, 2 cars, 2 motorcycles, a full-time job, a lawyer for her husband, and her husband, commissary and phone costs, and his ailing mental health.
And she does it all with no "I told you so", or anger, (like I said, good crazy). She focuses so much on me and others, that she often forgets to take care of herself. She does an amazing job, but I am ashamed of her having to do that job. I'm ashamed that I put us and our life at risk- no matter what the circumstances.
Total dick move.
Thanks Obama.
Monday, December 29, 2014
Vacation with the kids. by Lesa
12/29/2014
I apologize for the grand space in dates and posts. I am struggling in energy and motivation. I find myself alone and lonely tonight. It has been a whirlwind event, working a bunch of days together, to be able to take a vacation with minimal days off, to be able to recover when I get home. Vacation was bittersweet. Second to my husband, nothing brings me more joy than my children, and they are still, my "Magnum Opus". I was overwhelmed at times during vacation, and coming back, as the emotions of the generosity of them hit me, I was humbled, grateful, and exhausted.
In getting ready for vacation, I had to be ready for Christmas a week early. The money rolled in slowly, and had to go right into my jeep to get it ready to make the trip to New Mexico. As the time drew closer, I finding myself down, because for the first time in my adult life, I had nothing, NOTHING to give for Christmas. I had managed to save enough to make calendars for the kids, and the project kept me busy. Their new step-mom, on her Christmas list, had asked for a calendar of pics for the kids from their childhood. I have all the kids photos and thought it would be a fun project, and the kids would enjoy. I counted that we needed 10 calendars, to include both grandparents, me, and the ex, and of course each of the kids.
When I got married to the kids dad, and we moved, for a while, to Shreveport, he let me take a photography class. I was hooked for life, and our kids, were my favorite subject. I have ridiculous amounts of pictures of them. Which means I had to dig through and pick favorites. Jessica gave me an idea of how to organize it. I spent hours and hours, laughing, crying, reminiscing, Finally it was done and I sent the order off, having it delivered to my son's house, where we would gather for Christmas with mom on the 23rd of December. I will come back to this on Christmas day post.
Isaac, the youngest of my kids, and 15 years old, and I took off for vacation, after working a 12 hour shift. Isaac took the wheel and I could chill. As we get close to my son's, a stopping point to get ready to go on to New Mexico, I sent him text that we were close. He replied with a confused text back. I, apparently, had showed up a day early. It was great, I got to relax a day, do the cooking I had still wanted to get done, and got to spend a day with Luke and his darling girl Jackie. Everyone comes in that night, the excitement is building. It was wonderful just to have them all around. We divided into two cars and hit the road. Wesley and I were able to have moments alone to talk on the phone, it is always embarrassing for him when I am with the kids, he feels awkward and embarrassed and cuts the conversation short.
My feelings were strange, having my kids pay for everything. I kept praying that God would keep me from feeling anxious and awkward, to just enjoy the break, allow them to take care of me, to learn something.
We finally get to Red River, New Mexico about 8pm. The boys jump out and start throwing snow around. The two youngest had never seen so much snow. The rest of us were tired and ready for sleep.
When you are married to someone in jail, there is a guilt, and something else, not sure yet, but, you are locked up too. There is this empty hole that exist constantly, a part of you missing. Its not guilt, its just hard to enjoy life, with half of yourself missing. Its like, you can't fully enjoy, or even understand, because part of your senses is missing. The next day, everyone is up early to get going. Me and the two youngest, all new to snow, get put into lessons. They snowboard, me ski. And while I could look around and enjoy the beauty and awe in the atmosphere, my soul was detached. I threw myself into learning the skills, a nice distraction, especially since, at 47, I didn't bounce back from falls in quite the same way. At the end of the lesson, I was exhausted. Not just from the physical exertion, but emotionally, I was overwhelmed from holding all I was feeling inside.
Day two, we slept in awhile and then played until the lodge/ski lift closed. I worked back and forth from the bunny hill, to the next step up, which seemed way more difficult. By the end of the day, I felt I could sort of turn and control my ski's enough to not run over anyone. We get back to the cabin, I start dinner, waiting for the more experienced folks to get back from another mountain. Time alone, I tried to figure out my feelings. Wesley would call at the end of the day, we would talk for a bit, but he would cut it short, knowing I was with the kids. I kept all the emotions inside. I was missing my time with my husband, I knew he was ...well, he even stopped me on the first day. He couldn't stand the conversation anymore, me on a ski vacation, with the kids, and it was Christmas week. He was miserable. I also wouldn't be visiting him that week, I had never, missed a visitation. There was guilt, but more, I was just missing sharing the joy with my best friend. Several of the kids were playing a video game, distracting and giving some laughs. We were all exhausted and fell to sleep quickly. My mind at night, wondering what Wesley was thinking about.
Day three, the kids all went together to the mountain, I finally able to control myself, a little, down the hill, crashing every few feet. I worked on my stops more, learned to get up without taking off my ski's. By the end of the day, the kids wanted to take me 1/2 up the mountain and go down together. I felt I could stop myself enough to try. Holy crap... It was a fantastic challenge. I fell hard, got up, fell again. Phil gave me tips along the way, and they all followed behind and around me. I would at times rest a few minutes. They would show me the cushioned spots of snow to fall into. I cry as I write this...
I was not alone. I had worked on the skills to survive the challenge. Met with curves, and rocks, and crazy cliffs. Fell onto hard snow. If I wanted a hand they lent it, they picked up my sticks...my darling daughter-in-law, Kiersten, passed me my sticks, patiently, gracefully, lovingly. I stubbornly got up. They would do tricks, play along the way, as I rested, distracting me. I never felt cold, warmth and love abounded. We laughed. They cheered me on...I get to the last steep small hill. Kiersten sees I am exhausted, gives me some advice how to just take it slow and go sideways, a step at a time. And at last, we are back to the last hill I had been practicing on the last two days. Kiersten tells me to go first and let the ducklings follow behind, the video is priceless. The last kid, quack, quacking on the way down. My son's girlfriend, Jackie is at the bottom with her camera to take pictures. I feel happy. I survived.
My heart is so heavy, my burden, at times, feels so alone. I didn't even have to look....there are my kids. Sending my husband letters, books, magazines, LOVE! Calling to check up on me, buying my gas and dinner. My one son, buying my ski lessons, rentals, lift tickets, the other gas, and dinner. My daughter buying my gas, food, I am sure, they all got together at the end to split the cost, of me and the two youngest kids. And although I felt self conscience having my children pay for my vacation, God taught me in such a precious way, that last hour of the skiing, something priceless. It was one of the hardest things, physically, I had ever done. The beauty was all around, the danger, all around, but each step, each fall, each move forward, backward or sideways, painfully fallen, or successfully skied, was met with cheers, encouragement, a helping hand, a empathetic word, to let me know I was not alone, I would not struggle, ever, alone. The road to life is not easy, but with God's gift of family, it is bearable. As a Christian, we are to put our trust and lives in God, but I know, God puts people in our lives, to help us for him. I don't know why God loves me so much, but I am so glad he does. I have the most amazing kids, and the love on the most primal, concrete , simplest ways, that touches the very core of who I am. I am truly, truly humbled by them.
I apologize for the grand space in dates and posts. I am struggling in energy and motivation. I find myself alone and lonely tonight. It has been a whirlwind event, working a bunch of days together, to be able to take a vacation with minimal days off, to be able to recover when I get home. Vacation was bittersweet. Second to my husband, nothing brings me more joy than my children, and they are still, my "Magnum Opus". I was overwhelmed at times during vacation, and coming back, as the emotions of the generosity of them hit me, I was humbled, grateful, and exhausted.
In getting ready for vacation, I had to be ready for Christmas a week early. The money rolled in slowly, and had to go right into my jeep to get it ready to make the trip to New Mexico. As the time drew closer, I finding myself down, because for the first time in my adult life, I had nothing, NOTHING to give for Christmas. I had managed to save enough to make calendars for the kids, and the project kept me busy. Their new step-mom, on her Christmas list, had asked for a calendar of pics for the kids from their childhood. I have all the kids photos and thought it would be a fun project, and the kids would enjoy. I counted that we needed 10 calendars, to include both grandparents, me, and the ex, and of course each of the kids.
When I got married to the kids dad, and we moved, for a while, to Shreveport, he let me take a photography class. I was hooked for life, and our kids, were my favorite subject. I have ridiculous amounts of pictures of them. Which means I had to dig through and pick favorites. Jessica gave me an idea of how to organize it. I spent hours and hours, laughing, crying, reminiscing, Finally it was done and I sent the order off, having it delivered to my son's house, where we would gather for Christmas with mom on the 23rd of December. I will come back to this on Christmas day post.
Isaac, the youngest of my kids, and 15 years old, and I took off for vacation, after working a 12 hour shift. Isaac took the wheel and I could chill. As we get close to my son's, a stopping point to get ready to go on to New Mexico, I sent him text that we were close. He replied with a confused text back. I, apparently, had showed up a day early. It was great, I got to relax a day, do the cooking I had still wanted to get done, and got to spend a day with Luke and his darling girl Jackie. Everyone comes in that night, the excitement is building. It was wonderful just to have them all around. We divided into two cars and hit the road. Wesley and I were able to have moments alone to talk on the phone, it is always embarrassing for him when I am with the kids, he feels awkward and embarrassed and cuts the conversation short.
My feelings were strange, having my kids pay for everything. I kept praying that God would keep me from feeling anxious and awkward, to just enjoy the break, allow them to take care of me, to learn something.
We finally get to Red River, New Mexico about 8pm. The boys jump out and start throwing snow around. The two youngest had never seen so much snow. The rest of us were tired and ready for sleep.
When you are married to someone in jail, there is a guilt, and something else, not sure yet, but, you are locked up too. There is this empty hole that exist constantly, a part of you missing. Its not guilt, its just hard to enjoy life, with half of yourself missing. Its like, you can't fully enjoy, or even understand, because part of your senses is missing. The next day, everyone is up early to get going. Me and the two youngest, all new to snow, get put into lessons. They snowboard, me ski. And while I could look around and enjoy the beauty and awe in the atmosphere, my soul was detached. I threw myself into learning the skills, a nice distraction, especially since, at 47, I didn't bounce back from falls in quite the same way. At the end of the lesson, I was exhausted. Not just from the physical exertion, but emotionally, I was overwhelmed from holding all I was feeling inside.
Day two, we slept in awhile and then played until the lodge/ski lift closed. I worked back and forth from the bunny hill, to the next step up, which seemed way more difficult. By the end of the day, I felt I could sort of turn and control my ski's enough to not run over anyone. We get back to the cabin, I start dinner, waiting for the more experienced folks to get back from another mountain. Time alone, I tried to figure out my feelings. Wesley would call at the end of the day, we would talk for a bit, but he would cut it short, knowing I was with the kids. I kept all the emotions inside. I was missing my time with my husband, I knew he was ...well, he even stopped me on the first day. He couldn't stand the conversation anymore, me on a ski vacation, with the kids, and it was Christmas week. He was miserable. I also wouldn't be visiting him that week, I had never, missed a visitation. There was guilt, but more, I was just missing sharing the joy with my best friend. Several of the kids were playing a video game, distracting and giving some laughs. We were all exhausted and fell to sleep quickly. My mind at night, wondering what Wesley was thinking about.
Day three, the kids all went together to the mountain, I finally able to control myself, a little, down the hill, crashing every few feet. I worked on my stops more, learned to get up without taking off my ski's. By the end of the day, the kids wanted to take me 1/2 up the mountain and go down together. I felt I could stop myself enough to try. Holy crap... It was a fantastic challenge. I fell hard, got up, fell again. Phil gave me tips along the way, and they all followed behind and around me. I would at times rest a few minutes. They would show me the cushioned spots of snow to fall into. I cry as I write this...
I was not alone. I had worked on the skills to survive the challenge. Met with curves, and rocks, and crazy cliffs. Fell onto hard snow. If I wanted a hand they lent it, they picked up my sticks...my darling daughter-in-law, Kiersten, passed me my sticks, patiently, gracefully, lovingly. I stubbornly got up. They would do tricks, play along the way, as I rested, distracting me. I never felt cold, warmth and love abounded. We laughed. They cheered me on...I get to the last steep small hill. Kiersten sees I am exhausted, gives me some advice how to just take it slow and go sideways, a step at a time. And at last, we are back to the last hill I had been practicing on the last two days. Kiersten tells me to go first and let the ducklings follow behind, the video is priceless. The last kid, quack, quacking on the way down. My son's girlfriend, Jackie is at the bottom with her camera to take pictures. I feel happy. I survived.
Tuesday, December 9, 2014
Doesn't everyone deserve compassion? by Lesa
I have just read my husbands blog on justice. It, in my opinion, is the best entry he has wrote. When we as society, try to blindly, like a formula in math, try to punish a criminal, or pass judgement, it is ignorance that blindly leads us. I have learned a lot in the time since we have been together. I was raised in a conservative, christian background. In my previous life, white, conservative christian(more of a moderate my children will tell you, especially as I got more of a sense of self), married for 25 years, raising 6 children, and living in the bubble of the suburbs, I was ignorant of a lot of injustices of the world. Justice is not equal for the black, white, and brown. The poor and rich absolutely have different types of justices available to them. I have heard enough of similar experiences and charges having different outcomes with those who can afford counsel, especially good counsel.
I have heard of incidences of deals getting offered to folks, unable to afford bond, pleading guilty to deals that they may or may not have been guilty of, because the sentence is "time served". Including, felonies, which is particularly sad, because they are ignorant of the consequences of having a felony on your record.
I can think, like my husband does, of both sides of a coin. If it was my daughter being robbed at gun point, at a Jack in the Box, she may not be physically hurt, but I assure you, she will be emotionally traumatized to some degree. But I can also look with compassion, at the circumstances that might have led him to make a one time bad decision. He appears remorseful, has his faith, that appears genuine, and supportive family, to assist him with rehabilitation, but no crime comes without any consequences. But deciding the appropriate punishment, with balance, fairness, and consideration of all the facts, is a difficult decision. I guess that is why we should be choosing Judges that we know have a history of doing just that.
My husband, for example, has admitted his guilt. For someone who has been harmed by a drunk driver, they can be angry, unforgiving, and without any reserve, want him locked up for life. But my husband is not the person who committed the first DWI. He has been to rehab, has learned better coping skills, been humbled, not only by losing his esquire, but by learning to understand people better, no longer considering himself better than those he represents. He is capable of making mistakes of judgement, of not thinking through the consequences of his choices. His severe ADHD as added to his spontaneous bad choices. He takes medication, has learned to decrease his impulsive decisions, and to trust in another person, me, his wife, to help him.
We humans are complicated. Life is complicated by childhood baggage, by race, by our environment. Throw in religion, abuse, addiction, there are endless complicating circumstances. In normal life, I hope that I can always provide compassion, care, and hope to those who cross my path. I know my husband, in his current residence, has to also apply good judgement to his choices, but also does the same. He has wrote stories of some of his fellow dormmate's circumstances, and while we are not the judges, it is still up to us to treat one another with respect, and hopefully compassion. Wesley states there are many who cause him to feel revulsion, but still, there are some, even accused of terrible crimes, that require a second look. And while justice is to be decided by others, we can still choose to be compassionate. I have donated books, put money for inmate on commissary, or phone, I have been a pen pal to one, a female, who is in a similar circumstance as my husband. Except in this instance, she is innocent. I will save her story for another day. Tell me what your opinion is on how justice is handed out, or should be? I am curious to what others, in different situations, may think.
Lastly, as a teaser, I will tell you, that I have a special guest blog entry coming from an inmate. I hope it to be a learning experience for us all, but mostly, a way to healing for him. Keep tuned.
I have heard of incidences of deals getting offered to folks, unable to afford bond, pleading guilty to deals that they may or may not have been guilty of, because the sentence is "time served". Including, felonies, which is particularly sad, because they are ignorant of the consequences of having a felony on your record.
I can think, like my husband does, of both sides of a coin. If it was my daughter being robbed at gun point, at a Jack in the Box, she may not be physically hurt, but I assure you, she will be emotionally traumatized to some degree. But I can also look with compassion, at the circumstances that might have led him to make a one time bad decision. He appears remorseful, has his faith, that appears genuine, and supportive family, to assist him with rehabilitation, but no crime comes without any consequences. But deciding the appropriate punishment, with balance, fairness, and consideration of all the facts, is a difficult decision. I guess that is why we should be choosing Judges that we know have a history of doing just that.
My husband, for example, has admitted his guilt. For someone who has been harmed by a drunk driver, they can be angry, unforgiving, and without any reserve, want him locked up for life. But my husband is not the person who committed the first DWI. He has been to rehab, has learned better coping skills, been humbled, not only by losing his esquire, but by learning to understand people better, no longer considering himself better than those he represents. He is capable of making mistakes of judgement, of not thinking through the consequences of his choices. His severe ADHD as added to his spontaneous bad choices. He takes medication, has learned to decrease his impulsive decisions, and to trust in another person, me, his wife, to help him.
We humans are complicated. Life is complicated by childhood baggage, by race, by our environment. Throw in religion, abuse, addiction, there are endless complicating circumstances. In normal life, I hope that I can always provide compassion, care, and hope to those who cross my path. I know my husband, in his current residence, has to also apply good judgement to his choices, but also does the same. He has wrote stories of some of his fellow dormmate's circumstances, and while we are not the judges, it is still up to us to treat one another with respect, and hopefully compassion. Wesley states there are many who cause him to feel revulsion, but still, there are some, even accused of terrible crimes, that require a second look. And while justice is to be decided by others, we can still choose to be compassionate. I have donated books, put money for inmate on commissary, or phone, I have been a pen pal to one, a female, who is in a similar circumstance as my husband. Except in this instance, she is innocent. I will save her story for another day. Tell me what your opinion is on how justice is handed out, or should be? I am curious to what others, in different situations, may think.
Lastly, as a teaser, I will tell you, that I have a special guest blog entry coming from an inmate. I hope it to be a learning experience for us all, but mostly, a way to healing for him. Keep tuned.
The scales of lady justice. by Wesley
12/5
I have spent the bulk of my adult life defending the underdog. At times, that meant I represented an injured party against an insurance company. Plaintiffs often are unfairly judged by the general population because of misunderstood judgments (of juries) that are bandied about by the willfully ignorant for political parties. Some really are injured parties that deserve compensation. They can not be painted with one broad brush.
Other times, I have represented the accused against the state. I have believed that the state is often tyrannical and that "justice" is often perverted by vengeance and that our system is broken and the lady with the scales is not blind and that those who vote are also willfully ignorant and that the suburbs are a Truman Show and instill in wide swaths of the population, a warped view of the world.
I believe these things because I'm liberal AND because they are all very true.
But, there is more to it than I have been willing to admit.
In here, this very room, there is an 18 year old kid. He's funny and light-hearted and playful. He gets mad when the Texans lose, and he calls his mother every night. He leads a prayer group at night and often, when he thinks no one is watching, he weeps.
He also has confessed to being a part of a conspiracy of armed robbers who targeted restaurants. They stuck guns into the faces of hard working poor people, threatened their lives, and stole thousands of dollars.
The state has offered him 40 years in prison and told him they will seek a life sentence if he doesn't accept the deal.
That means for his admittedly horrible behavior, he can not reasonably expect to be home before he is 45. He will go to prison for at least 27 years for crimes in which no one was hurt.
I wish I could say I knew what was just. I wish I could say with absolute certainty that my suburban friends are right, that such a judgement is just. That a child with no criminal history should be cast into the prison system to become an angry 45 year old, who has never lived, unleashed upon the world in 3 decades.
At the other end of the spectrum is the violent gang member I share a cell with. He is happily a career criminal and has no desire to be anything but. He is prone to violent outbursts, he gets no mail, no visits, and makes no phone calls. He alludes to murders in his past, that may be true, or may be lies intended to inspire jail cred. He has spent the bulk of his life in prison and will continue to do so, and in my opinion, he is why we build jails and should build more.
But what is a just punishment for him attempting to steal a truck in the Woodlands?
And what is a just punishment for people who commit property crimes when they are dumped homeless onto the streets of Houston with no money, family, resources or skills at urban outdoor living.
What is justice? I know that I have been as blind as I have accused other of being. But I still do not claim to know what is just.
I do know this: Life is too complicated to paint the accused and the convicted with one broad stroke and either condemn or mitigate our sins as one. But, I can say, strongly, that the people I have encountered, people in here that inspire revulsion, is far rarer than those that inspire compassion, and that may be the strongest statement of all. In any case, I realize that I really have no answers, despite all the evidence I collect.
I have spent the bulk of my adult life defending the underdog. At times, that meant I represented an injured party against an insurance company. Plaintiffs often are unfairly judged by the general population because of misunderstood judgments (of juries) that are bandied about by the willfully ignorant for political parties. Some really are injured parties that deserve compensation. They can not be painted with one broad brush.
Other times, I have represented the accused against the state. I have believed that the state is often tyrannical and that "justice" is often perverted by vengeance and that our system is broken and the lady with the scales is not blind and that those who vote are also willfully ignorant and that the suburbs are a Truman Show and instill in wide swaths of the population, a warped view of the world.
I believe these things because I'm liberal AND because they are all very true.
But, there is more to it than I have been willing to admit.
In here, this very room, there is an 18 year old kid. He's funny and light-hearted and playful. He gets mad when the Texans lose, and he calls his mother every night. He leads a prayer group at night and often, when he thinks no one is watching, he weeps.
He also has confessed to being a part of a conspiracy of armed robbers who targeted restaurants. They stuck guns into the faces of hard working poor people, threatened their lives, and stole thousands of dollars.
The state has offered him 40 years in prison and told him they will seek a life sentence if he doesn't accept the deal.
That means for his admittedly horrible behavior, he can not reasonably expect to be home before he is 45. He will go to prison for at least 27 years for crimes in which no one was hurt.
I wish I could say I knew what was just. I wish I could say with absolute certainty that my suburban friends are right, that such a judgement is just. That a child with no criminal history should be cast into the prison system to become an angry 45 year old, who has never lived, unleashed upon the world in 3 decades.
At the other end of the spectrum is the violent gang member I share a cell with. He is happily a career criminal and has no desire to be anything but. He is prone to violent outbursts, he gets no mail, no visits, and makes no phone calls. He alludes to murders in his past, that may be true, or may be lies intended to inspire jail cred. He has spent the bulk of his life in prison and will continue to do so, and in my opinion, he is why we build jails and should build more.
But what is a just punishment for him attempting to steal a truck in the Woodlands?
And what is a just punishment for people who commit property crimes when they are dumped homeless onto the streets of Houston with no money, family, resources or skills at urban outdoor living.
What is justice? I know that I have been as blind as I have accused other of being. But I still do not claim to know what is just.
I do know this: Life is too complicated to paint the accused and the convicted with one broad stroke and either condemn or mitigate our sins as one. But, I can say, strongly, that the people I have encountered, people in here that inspire revulsion, is far rarer than those that inspire compassion, and that may be the strongest statement of all. In any case, I realize that I really have no answers, despite all the evidence I collect.
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