A Man Named Isaac

Isaac was raised in a poor family in a rural area. He was exposed to multiple types of dysfunction at an early age including drug use and violence. As the middle child, he was often set aside or ignored. He grew to have a lot of anger inside of him and began acting out. He had some fairly benign brushes with the law as a juvenile. He began to abuse drugs at an early age, decided to drop out of high school, and began his career as a criminal at the brink of adulthood. Do not get me wrong, I do not believe Isaac wanted to break the law nor wanted to end up in prison at the age of 18. I think he had a desire to make money to, to acquire possessions that he was never able to afford, and to build a sense of family and self-esteem. He wanted to make a place for himself in this chaotic world. He did this in the only way he knew how, to walk outside of societal norms, to take without asking, to manipulate, to use, to lie.

When I met Isaac, I had no idea that he had a criminal past, although when I think about some of the signs that were present, I want to beat myself in the head. Instead all I saw was how quiet and shy he was, his mischievous, yet playful crooked grin, his beautiful green eyes, and the way he made me feel like I had known him my whole life in the period of an hour. We had some good times together, however brief they were, and I want to be clear, neither myself nor Isaac are perfect. In the beginning, he hurt me in multiple ways, and I was simultaneously on a rampage to kill any pain I was feeling. There were times I refused to talk to him, times he ignored me. Very painful times. I thought I would never see him again, and told myself I didn't want to. I would remember the feeling of his arms around me as I slept, the kindness he showed me as well as the blatant disregard for my most delicate inner feelings. He dissapeared out of my life leaving me confused and wanting answers. Little did I know that he had only been out of his SECOND bid in prison about 9 months, and little did I know he would head right back for his third. With this time, another journey started for the both of us that would change everything. Isaac was so broken from a very young age, and adulthood for myself had only brought the degradation of my spirit. We found each other in a hopeless place. This blog chronicles our story, our every day struggles and the beauty we find in what we have.

Later, I will explain more about the circumstances that brought Isaac and I back together, but I will say this: since the start of my time with him, he has been in four facilities and has come to rest at his home prison after over a year of bouncing around. I have stood by his side through all of this and have had heartache, hope, stress, happiness, love, etc...all at the same time. I do not regret the time spent dwelling in this lifestyle. I love Isaac like I have never loved another man. Prison wives and girlfriends often describe this whole consuming love they feel for their significant other. By not having what was had, the desire grows greater, the tension more malleable. It is a strange and difficult dance to do, but I am dancing still, and the steps both become more advanced, yet more familiar.