Ahead and Behind

Right now feels like a very thoughtful time in my life. The seasons are changing, bringing new insights and also reopening old wounds. With every burnt orange leaf falling, with the crisp chill in the air, I miss Isaac and I miss what we lack, what we do not get to have. I feel angry at him for keeping us void of the life we want, I feel great love for him in his absence. I worry, I wonder, I am plagued with the "what if" thoughts. I ponder how my life choices concerning Isaac, and in general will affect the future, those around me, my own well being. Fall and winter always clear room for thought, intense, retrospective and introspective thought.

Last night I decided to take a look at Isaac' last mugshot. I stared at it and stared at it. I would have burned a hole through that thing if I could have with my vision. He looked so lost, so desperate, so despairing. He looked defeated in that moment and in life. It made we want to cry for hours. You see crime and incarceration, I do not take them lightly. I do not dismiss charges that Isaac has and chop them up to just "not thinking," but I know in my heart that life circumstances, the way you were reared, the choices you make,  poor self-control, hell even poor self-esteem, all lent a hand to his desire to just escape life. That mug shot clearly showed that desire, that longing to just be free of one's demons, and ironically in that quest for freedom, Isaac became shackled. Both literally and in his life.

Back to me for a moment. I said that at this moment life feels extremely thoughtful, but now also very tough. It is always tough for Isaac, whether he earned that or not. My journey has never been a walk in the park, but I have been afforded opportunities that obviously allow me a bit more comfort and safety, but together we are both feeling so emotionally barren. It is the being without each other that makes life difficult. I feel stressed right now because the bills are stacking up and the funds are oh so low. Isaac has been having some health issues and since I am not technically "family" as his fiance, then I am not privy to any information on his condition. Life is trying when all I want to to is lay down and hate or be angry or be spiteful or wallow in my hurt that he is not here to help make our life better.

Some prison wives/girlfriends are able to take the sting of bitterness out of their relationship and their thoughts around the fact that their loved one has created a disadvantaged platform for them to survive on, that monitored and costly phone calls are necessary now, that driving hours for a two hour visit must occur, that everything most would think of as a necessity now has a price. They do not blame their loved one and do not harp on the "life choices" that brought their lives to this intersection. Maybe I am bitter, maybe I am wallowing, maybe the weather just makes me want to think, think, think, but I do feel anger towards Isaac. Our relationship had not blossomed before he went in. He had no obligation to remain "good" for me, nothing of the sort. I think I am angry at the dysfunctional years of his life, the perils of a sad childhood, of the molding that occurred so early on to make him believe he was not worth anything. So then I am left thinking toward the future, wondering if he will want to believe in himself, wondering if he can see a brighter future for us together, that the aftermath of his incarceration will not make life any harder than it already is. I love Isaac so very much. I want to be his wife. I want us to start again, to one day put the cold steel behind us, throw the issued jumpsuits away, lay the pen on the paper, and hey maybe take a walk under burnt orange leaves, showering our heads, signaling death before life, change for necessity, and for growth.

The Worry Wart

I am a worry wart by nature. I have rather high levels of anxiety and could probably ruin the most peaceful and relaxing situation with a worry scenario. I used to have moments of sheer panic when Isaac would not call for a number of days or I didn't get a letter. I always thought the worst, such as he was injured or had gotten in trouble, a fight, who knows, maybe decided he wanted to break up. No worry was off limits. In the VERY beginning my fears more surrounded the idea perhaps he or I would decide that this journey was too hard and that we would have to just wait till he is released to have any shot at a healthy relationship. Yes of course we still have those thoughts from time to time, but very rarely. I didn't fear for Isaac behind the walls of jail. I knew he handled himself well and had unfortunately gone through those ropes more times than I care to admit. His safety was never an issue, gangs, brutal violence, those who feel they have nothing to lose serving life without parole, or a massive sentence of some sort. All of these are what I fear for him now that he is in prison. Isaac is in maximum security unfortunately. He himself said that that was an entirely new ball game. I had worried about this idea, the idea the some individuals with long sentences feel less inclined to follow the rules or do not care as much if they do something that would get them in trouble. I do not know anything about what life is like in there! My mind is forming pictures of the worst kinds of scenarios. I have told Isaac to stay focused because he is serving a very short sentence compared to most of the men he is housed with.

I worry about Isaac constantly. I knew he had served two previous sentences prior to our meeting between the last and this most recent. Is this "old hat" to him?  In a way it is, but for some reason these days I have more fear for him and worry often about his safety, possible detrimental situations he could come across, his health, his mental health, the choices he might make. I almost feel like a mother worrying about her child. Isaac has found himself in a maximum security facility far from home. He does not know anyone in this prison. He is alone. Sometimes I cannot sleep at night wondering what is going on in there. Prison relationships are hard! Very hard. They come with an unavoidable level of stress that can wear both parties down. Our stress is different but has the same end result. I try to tell myself that nothing can be changed by me worrying or me badgering him to be careful in there.

His choices are his own and you know he is a worry wort himself. He constantly worries about me, my safety, how day to day life is going for me. The source of the worry is the same:our desire for each other's well being to be protected. For now, for today, for this moment, for always, I will trust in God to protect my baby, to keep his mind clear and strong, and for Him to ease our worry if only for a time.

Wedding Bells Are Ringing

I apologize for being so absent from my blog for the past month! I have just been dealing with life's ups and downs and with the changing seasons, the sadness of missing my loved one. I do have some exciting news! Isaac asked me to marry him! I visited about three weeks ago and although it wasn't a huge surprise(we have talked about marriage for quite awhile), it was ever so sweet and absolutely perfect. Marriage has been a subject between us that always left me feeling torn. I love him so much and want to be his wife, but often I had concerns with how our lives will change with the vows we make. Isaac began speaking about marriage much earlier than I did and I wondered if it was just because he was incarcerated. I pondered if maybe he thought it would be a way to ensure that I would stay with him, or to ease his mind about me possibly finding someone else. You know what maybe partially that still does cross his mind, but this particular visit when I looked into his eyes filling with tears, I knew that man loved me with all his heart and would move the world for me if he could. I feel the same way. Marriage is not to be taken lightly and I freely admit that I am very limited in what the concept of marriage even means to me.

Isaac wants to get married in prison and after proposing, we started the process of applying for our wedding while he is incarcerated. Believe me I was that woman who said "hell no! I am never getting married to you while you are still inside!" I wanted a chance to really be a couple for a longer period of time in the free world before marriage, but I have been learning that life takes some interesting turns. We love each other and are well aware of the already apparent challenges of love "behind the wall." This life is so difficult as is, will marriage complicate it or create a stronger foundation? I believe it will help us grow stronger. I really do in my heart. We have come up through so much. Only time and some soul searching will tell what marriage means to us, and I plan on doing some serious thinking about how our relationship will change while we wait to finish the marriage process. This is a new step in my life, the seemingly next logical one. As my friends get married and have children on the outside, I yearn for a life that is seemingly "normal, seemingly uncomplicated." Perhaps comparison is not necessary, because standards and comparisons just lend themselves  to jealousy, pity, self-loathing in the life of a prison girlfriend/fiance.Maybe this is my "next logical step" and my life is moving in the direction that it is meant to move in. Maybe I don't need to dwell in the land of wish washy any more, woman up and proclaim that I love this man, and that that love is part of my life and will manifest itself in marriage. Maybe the ring and the dress and the setting are not as important as I thought. Maybe marriage is an entity, a concept and not the sum of our childhood fantasies.

So over a delicious meal of microwavable pork nuggets and two cans of orange soda, Isaac fumbled, looked anxious and nervous, playing with my fingers as he held my hand while repeating the words "I'm so scared," he looked up at me and in the softest of voices said "will you marry me?" I was overwhelmed by emotion and began to cry, tears falling down my cheeks. I saw Isaac's eyes welling with wetness and I whispered "yes" back. I love that man and I wouldn't have the proposal any other way. So over vending machine food with Isaac wearing his signature jumpsuit and me with my make up running down my face, he made me a proud woman.

Sorry I've Been Away

Hey folks! I just wanted to apologize for my lack of entries this past month. I had gotten into a rhythm with posting and then life got busy! I have some exciting things to blog about and will get to it in the next couple of days! Check back in!

Accepting Less Than Perfection

I have been fighting the poor self-image battle for the majority of my life. In my eyes, my worth was always directly related to the intricacies of my body, my accomplishments, my failures. Isaac says he loves me the way I am. As most know, this is a classic phrase, cliche in nature, but well meant by many. Honestly the first 100 times he said this to me, I brushed it off, not even letting a "thank you" escape my lips. It was always a "yah whatever" and then a swift switch of topic. What I didn't realize at the time, was that this technique of ignoring Isaac's statement, so closely related to our relationship and our love, was hurting his feelings. To him it felt like I was completely disregarding the authenticity of his feelings..and I was. I just felt like Isaac did not grasp the extent of this battle I fight every day. Now I have learned to grit my teeth and simply say "thank you," although in my mind that self-loathing demon is saying "he could never really love you for you."

With that being said, I still grasp at perfection. I think that if somehow I can accomplish all that I want to, if I can look a certain way, if I can grasp at dreams and desires and pull them from the sky into my eager hands, that I will have reached the promise land. In the beginning of my relationship with Isaac, my extreme lack of self-esteem was shining bright. Every single letter I wrote him was some sort of cut down, insult to myself, feeling of inadequacy. He put up with every single comment, every lavish description of why he would not want me anymore. Honestly I think Issac put up with my nonsense in the beginning because he was scared of upsetting me by simply telling me to hush. As time passed in this incarceration, he began to more freely express his feelings of distaste with my self-hatred. He told me that he never understood why I always beat myself up, and that I needed to understand that he liked what he saw, he loved the person I have always been, and that it was basically driving him up the wall. I would rant and rave about the appearance of my stomach, and he would simply say "I like it." But of course here came my counter argument, my desperate pleas at proving him wrong.

The age old debate for prison girlfriends is the "is he using me?" thought. In my amateur experience, this is definitely a trend amongst incarcerated men. For whatever reason (money, loneliness, connections to the outside world) these individuals will start "jail talking" a woman, giving them all sorts of compliments, making promises, professing love. In defense of some of these men, there are also many who simply care for their loved one and want to maintain the relationship, connection, etc...I did not know Isaac well before he became incarcerated. We dabbled in seeing each other. This fear of being used, it permeated my being in our beginning days of this journey. Isaac has a sordid past full of numerous dysfunctional relationships, manipulation, and lies. I sensed this before I even fully understood this. I was deathly afraid of being hurt by him again and being hurt in general. I did not believe in the power of change. I had such low self-confidence that I did not think he could actually want anything to do with me in a genuine manner. He has continued to prove me wrong.

  Now some of you may be saying at this point, "is she for real?" "Is there a point to despising yourself this much?" I do not know the point yet, perhaps it is a mechanism for avoiding life and the potential to act without fear. Regardless it is a struggle that is recognized and familiar to many. Prison and jail leave a doubt in many a woman's head that perhaps they are only enough if they are giving a man money, or writing him, giving him attention with visits,etc...that if he was not incarcerated he would have left a long time ago. These thoughts haunt many women daily, they perplex a number of us, leaving us wondering how some men can be so manipulative so cruel. I hear stories of women standing by there men for YEARS, only to be left the minute he walks out of those prison gates. The reality of the situation is that this can happen. You know what else can happen that gets much less recognition? A man can love a woman and a woman can love a man regardless of the bars and steel and walls separating them.A woman can be just as good and worthy as the man she cares for and stands by, she can have self-confidence, she can have a life, she can be attractive, and she can be loved. Through the months that have turned into years, I think women know in their hearts why their man is with them. It does not always make sense, and having a low self-worth can make this battle ten times worse. One's insecurities rule one's life, but I know this: I look into Isaac's eyes and see a love that goes beyond my stomach, my mishaps, my failures and fits perfectly, pushing away the shadow of my hatred. 

A New Day, A Worse Day

I am sitting here at Panera Bread eating my favorite cinnamon crunch bagel with hazelnut cream cheese and you know what I am absolutely miserable. Oh and right next to me, two older women are discussing with exasperation the woes of a relative with legal troubles. "How could anyone get involved in a situation like that?" One of the ladies does have a small sense of compassion in her voice. People don't realize how visible the loved ones of the incarcerated are. We are everywhere! I wish we weren't, but the support from those who are open is priceless for many.

So I am sitting here munching on my bagel and eavesdropping just a little. Only bits and pieces are audible. The only thing apparent is that this predicament causes one of these ladies pain. I return to my pain, my loathing. I constantly search for it's source. What hurts so horribly? I remind myself of my mantra: " I choose this life," every day, every hour, I make this journey a decision.

But what of our choice to love and is it so much a choice or a need? I need clothes, food shelter, but love, will I perish without it? I am unsure but have images of babies who fail to thrive because of a lack of touch. Sometimes I feel like that baby. I need love, but how I need it and how I know if it is enough is beyond me currently. Many people say we do not choose who we love, who the other half of our soul belongs to. Maybe we don't choose, but we choose whether to have this lover, this person as a part of our lives.

I hear about a large amount of women who love incarcerated men and who swear by the notion that this is the only person for them, that regardless of a 20 year sentence, they will wait. I do not judge these women either way. I am brought back to my love for Isaac, and how I would move the world for him, how I loved him since the day I met him, how our love seems to have a passion I have never known. I think about how regardless of my pain from the loss of him, I continue to stand by his side. Yes at this moment in Panera Bread, I am absolutely miserable. I am in love, I am torn by that love, and I am miserable. My legs continue to walk though, my heart still beats, I still can picture only him in my life. I feel lonely but I feel loved.

The Exhausted Argument

Isaac and I freely admit our relationship is not perfect. I blame this on a rocky start and a whole lot of stress. We fight sometimes, strangely enough often after a good visit or nice phone call. Maybe it is self-sabotage or the need to justify the anxiety that comes with this type of relationship. Either way I am not sure why we get into arguments, but we do. We both have worries about if we are strong enough to complete this journey, or what would happen if either of us found someone else, or even if we were to get tired of each other. We fight about our families, our friends, concerns about how people view us and his incarceration. Sometimes I think we argue cause we are bored or can't let a good thing be as it should. I always feel so frustrated and fragmented after an argument because they are usually left unresolved.

The worst part about prison arguments is that you have limited time to fight. Your disagreements must be handled in 15 minute monitored phone calls and if left unsettled, then your day stands to be riddled with anxiety and quite possibly ruined. Isaac and I fought this morning because we misunderstood each other's words. Without eye contact and the chance at further explanation we lost sight of the point. I believe arguments should bring growth out of emotional struggle, but sometimes we just exhaust each other saying the same thing over again with hopes of using less time to explain the ways of a world not constricted by increments of time.