Sunday, November 4, 2012

Continue to Hope

Another two weeks have passed, another visit. It came and went, and Isaac and I had a great time, but I am always left feeling so empty afterwards. I know he feels the same way. These visits take everything out of me. I drive 6 hours round trip, get up at the crack of dawn, and then try to lodge down all my anxiety as I approach the prison and put my pleaser face on. I have this constant fear that they will take our visits away because of something that Isaac or I do accidentally. I know it probably is an unrealistic fear, but it adds to my stress of visiting.

I think it is the fact that for an hour I am given Isaac, he is there for unfiltered conversation, hand holding, kissing, and hugging. I have him as mine, and then the moment that clock hits an hour he is taken away from me, ripped out of my grasp, lost to me and it brings a kind of grief. Isaac feels like visits are the only thing he looks forward to every two weeks. He gets himself up and ready early and is waiting to be called, to hear those words saying that he has a visit.  At the same time I sit in the waiting room and wait with baited breath for them to call Isaac's last name signifying that it is my turn to go through security. No I don't like the pat downs, the sniffing of drug dogs, the metal detectors and the condescending looks, but it is worth it to me as I put in my last post. I love Isaac and I am willing to make sacrifices, but sometimes I just feel so tired of this lifestyle. My family is in town, everyone all in their individual couples units, loving each other freely, simple touches unhindered by a higher power. Heck my sister and her husband took me grocery shopping with them and I LONGED for their life even if they were just making a decision about what kind of bread to buy.

That is their life and this is my life, and I can't be bitter about it because I choose to live it in this manner. I could tell Isaac that I can't do it anymore, or that I want to date other people and give us a chance after he gets out. We are beyond that point both in our minds and in our life though. We are getting married in the next number of months, we are starting a new chapter in our lives. I still feel torn at times. I want him, I want his love, I want to love him, and I want a "normal" life simultaneously. I realized the other day that I don't remember what it is like to go on a regular old date. Go out to dinner, maybe a movie. Cuddle on the couch. Is it the whole wanting because you cannot have? The wanting becomes tragically beautiful, the taut pull of desire and love. Some abuse this feeling, some embrace it, some like it, some deny it, but it does exist.

I want Isaac here with me, I want to begin our boring as hell "normal" life. I can live without the excitement and drama of incarceration forever. So here I am sitting here, thinking wistfully about how I want my fiance with me, cuddled by the fire with my family surrounding us. I think about shopping at the grocery store, I think about sharing a meal, going to the movies. I think about how exhausted I am from our visit, our only "dates" that we have now. Do I make the best of the situation? Do I lie down in bitterness or do I continue to hope, to hold our faith?

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