I was just laying in bed trying to think of how I was going to put this entry together, how I was going to convey everything that I`m feeling today. There really is no easy way to capture a storm but to just start writing about it.
Tomorrow I`ll drive out to see my husband once again. This time is different, though. I`m in need of some serious direction. I`m in need of really talking to my husband right now. The truth is that I`m in a million pieces and I`m taking all of my broken pieces on a road trip across the state in hopes that I can be put together again. The last month has been especially hard on me and it’s to the point where pretending that I`m able to carry on normally is not an option anymore.
I believe this is what they call the breaking point. We all have ours and maybe we think we’ve reached that point before. I know I have. I`ve thought so many times that I cannot endure another day of madness, another second of overwhelming sadness and frustration. My well is running dry between the stress of work, the overwhelming weight on my shoulders to be strong in the face of a challenging relationship situation, and trying to figure out who my adult self is. Maybe all I need is for my husband to hold my hands. I`m really hoping that is what I need right now.
This morning I was driving on the freeway and I flashed back to 2009 when I first moved out here and I didn`t realize it at the time, but I was scared. I was scared that I had just left my entire life back in California to move here. I tucked that fear away somewhere deep and did what I needed to do to make a new life here, away from everyone I knew. I knew I could make it because my love was in close proximity, we talked all the time, and we could finally connect in person a few times a week. I was happy to make the sacrifice to really strive to make my relationship somewhat normal with regular interaction.
This last year, having limited contact with my husband, has really turned my world upside down. I don`t talk about it a lot with people I`m close with because it’s difficult to get them to understand and I know if I start to talk about it I might burst into tears over my frustration each time. So I keep it inside, carry on in my daily life, try to find pockets of sanity where I can. I’ve kept it inside so much that I’ve dug myself into a nice little wonderland of depression and now desperately trying to break out. So, I`m anxious to see my husband, to talk about what happens next, to express how broken I`ve become, and in between talking to him and seeing him, I hope I can take back some of my peace and my will to hold on.
I know what has happened is not my fault and not his fault. Prison is, unfortunately, unforgiving, unpredictable, and less a place about justice and more a place of punishment. Even when striving to do right, live right, and fly under the radar, there can be conflict. I`ve become painfully aware of that with this entire mess. There will always be people whose sole life purpose is to not only make sure someone is punished, but to kick them while their down, repeatedly, if only for their own pleasure. Playing by the rules is only enforced selectively and the abuse of power is condoned if not glorified by the Nevada Department of Corrections.
We’ve done all we can do up to this point. My husband has filed his habeas corpus paperwork with the court and now we wait. We wait for months and months more while the paperwork is received and responded to, most likely at the last minute that they are allowed to respond to it. I don`t believe in a whole lot these days in terms of the goodness of the system or fairness but I believe in love. Despite the gut wrenching pain and sadness I feel today and every day, I believe in love.