There is no guarantee in the information provided by the prison. Ever. I have learned over the years to accept that I will never really know exactly what is happening, deadlines are not set in stone, what may have been said one day is completely obsolete the next. My marriage to Jeremy has taught me patience. It has taught me while I kicked, and screamed, and was left dumbfounded by the amount of disorganization and corruption that makes up the Nevada Department of Corrections.
I spoke with my husband for our brief monthly phone call yesterday morning and while he is working his ass of trying to get off this disciplinary sentence and get back to me, his caseworker told him that it is a 9 month waiting list to get back to Lovelock(the prison closer to me). I felt my heart drop in my chest. If I start to calculate dates and times in my head and I hold onto those figures, I am usually disappointed. I should know better than to start planning when I`ll be able to reconnect with my husband. I felt a piece of my hope die a little when I heard that. Everything is precarious in a very uncomfortable way.
I started to panic, first thinking of my husband being so far for another 9-12 months, and then the reality of the situation set in. The reality of everything set in. I have burned almost half of my yearly vacation time seeing him already because visits are not on weekends for his unit. Instead they are on Mondays and Tuesdays. Well, I have work, so I have had to use up my vacation days, and if he isn`t back to Lovelock soon, I`ll have to start using whatever sick time I may have. That combined with the fact that we will still be on limited contact, potentially, for another year had my head spinning.
I`m settled now because what other choice is there? I have to quiet my anxieties, hope for the best, thrust myself into the unknown and live it every single day. There is no solid foundation on which I live but there is a solid foundation on which I love. It’s funny how I went from fighting against the unknown to wrapping it around myself like a blanket. I won’t know what is happening with my husband during this time on a daily basis. Mostly I can only take refuge in the thought of his face, hear his voice in my head, and hope that the unknown will reveal something more than struggle.