An Electrifying Entry

I'm "currently" studying electrical theory, circuits, and diagrams in my building maintenance course. This prompted me to come up with an analogy to my present situation.

I frequently think about how and why Jess "put me" in this horrible situation. But do I really have any right to put any blame on her, whatsoever? Isn't this all really my own fault? Well here is a "current" thought. (Ha ha!)

It's kind of like a three way switch. In my past, completely unrelated to, and independent of, Jess, I made a horribly poor choice. I flipped the switch on which allowed power to flow through to the second switch. Jess had complete control of that second switch, and for reasons I have yet to understand, she threw the switch that led to the destruction of my life.

Her choice was completely independent of my own, yet I provided that power to her, the power to destroy. She decided to do so without hesitation and without investigating the source or the nature of that power, and perhaps without considering the long-term effects. Though by her admission, it seems that she had considered the implications and destruction that would result. It is what it is.

She once told me she felt that there were no "good" choices in this situation, and that is very true. Though for the life of me I can't see how there could have been a worse outcome. Not only for me, as I "made my bed" so to speak, but also for my kids, our new son, and really my entire family. It seems that this was also the worst outcome for Jess herself. Had she not gone to the police, I could have provided both financial and emotional support to her and to our son. While probably unrealistic, there could have been a slight possibility of "reconciliation" of sorts between us. I sometimes wonder if that had something to do with her decision, that it was a way to prevent any chance of reconciliation, by removing me from the equation. She could not be tempted to "try again" in any way, shape, or form. Perhaps I flatter myself to think this way.

I'm sure that she realized that I would seek another chance – I said as much several times. Maybe she feared I would turn into a stalker. And while I certainly would have tried to make things work, I also know that I would have (and will) be respectful of her decisions, whether or not I understand or agree. I truly feel that there were better ways, but that means very little now and I have no influence on her choices. I do confess that I hope she might someday see this, and while it won't change the past, it might lead to more peace and communication between us.

Maybe I've hurt her too deeply for that to ever occur. She did once state that she knew I did not act "against" her. I sometimes feel, though, that are acts were directed "against" me, and perhaps justifiably so, but I wonder if she thinks of it that way.

A mutual friend once wrote that she thought neither of us could have hurt the other intentionally, yet I struggle to understand that. Had it been a truly emotional reaction to events, which I can completely understand, then yes I could see that. But based on her extremely brief and shallow communication on that subject, that doesn't seem to be the case.

Maybe she's still in an emotionally reactive state. Perhaps I am as well, and I know that I am, but I think I've considered things long and hard, from many angles and perspectives. While I'd like to say that I'm being objective and equanimous, I realize that there is an "I" in that statement and sentiment. Perhaps this is one reason that I desperately seek feedback, validation, or challenge from others.

So there are some current thoughts on power. It's quite an electrically charged idea! I should sit and meditate on the "ohm", and go with the flow. You know, try to see the light and be one with the source. After all, we are all connected, wired together. I must accept the shocking reality of my situation. And with that I will open the circuits and power down.

Love, Loss and Life Lessons: Part Three, Life Lessons

So for the past year here in prison I have been consumed by thoughts of this whole affair. I recognize the futility of fixating on the "could have, should have, would have been" scenarios, and while they do cross my mind frequently that's not what causes the most pain. I know that I can't change what happened, so while I do sometimes think of the "what if," that also is not so debilitating. The worst part of all is just plain not understanding.

For a long time I was caught up in the whole "how could she do this when I loved her so much, when I showed her nothing but kindness, support, and my entire heart and soul" idealism. I realize, though, that this doesn't really matter. My feelings for her have little to do with her actions or her feelings toward me. Then, there was the "how could someone who truly loved me do such a thing to destroy my life and put my kids and my family through such difficulties?" Well, that one was a little harder to digest but, obviously, she didn't really love me. I believe that she thought she did when she agreed to marry me. Perhaps her view of love is not the same as mine. I think that "true love" is unconditional, but this is really quite rare. I have only experienced it once in my life. I loved my ex-wife, but it wasn't really the same.

So if love is unconditional, then I should still feel it. That's one of the other big problems. I do. But I feel like it's extremely foolish and perhaps even weak to continue to love someone who has literally destroyed my life. I know that many would say that I destroyed my life, not anyone else. I acknowledge my mistakes, and the fact that I was over and done with them doesn't eliminate my accountability. But turning me in to the police was the most damaging course of action to all parties involved. My kids are suffering both emotionally and economically. I'm unable to contribute anything to my new son, which I would have done regardless of where he is. And even when I get out I will struggle with probation and then sex offender restrictions, forever.

I do go through periods of anger towards Jess, but more so at myself. Really there's little anger over all. There is mostly sadness and frustration. I just feel like it's so unresolved. I know I'm in prison for years to come but that's not the resolution to which I am referring. I still harbor fantasies or illusions that Jess will realize she made a huge mistake. I know I made a huge mistake, I immediately admitted it (albeit a little too late) and offered to seek therapy with or without her. I thought that love was mutual support, in good times and bad, sickness and health, including mental and emotional sickness. I guess that, too, is naive.

I know that Jess has been through traumatic experiences -- this whole thing being but one of them -- and they no doubt have influenced her greatly. It seems like we could have healed, rehabilitated, and grown stronger supporting each other. But that's just another "could have".

I've come to accept that I cannot control anyone else's thoughts, feelings, or actions. I must accept that I cannot be the father that I had hoped to be, but I am still a father who cares deeply for his kids. I have learned to accept that, while I might think that something should happen because it is "right" or "just" (like Jess sharing information with me about our son)- that doesn't mean that it will happen. I realize that I can only do what I believe is proper, to love and care for my children and Jess unconditionally, and I cannot expect anything in return. And that is what unconditional love means.

I would welcome any thoughts on this topic.

Love, Loss and Life Lessons: Part Two: Loss

A few months later, it happened. She found images of child porn that I was attempting to delete from my computer. Being with Jess had awakened me from my karmic pattern of abuse and despondency and I was truly putting those things behind me. She exploded with fear, rage, and confusion and I was unable to speak to her. She left the next day, with my computer and external drive.

I decided to be completely honest and I sent an e-mail confessing my porn addiction and fascination with younger girls' images. I told her that this was over, due in large part to my love for her. She did not reply. I never considered the possibility that she would turn this over to the cops. I was only worried about losing her. I tried to explain myself honestly and respectfully, asking that she just talk to me. All to no avail.

Had I lied, or even maintained silence, I would not have been sentenced so harshly. Those letters provided evidence beyond a shred of doubt that I was guilty. She had gone to the police a week after she left, but I would not know that for some time.

The only communications from her in the first few months were "leave me alone" and "please pay for the patio, as I will never see or use it." Neither would I. Eventually she sent a long scathing letter about how horrible I was, that our romance was a sham, and hopefully, now that my secret was out, I would not act on my horrible perversions.

It was obvious to me that she made many assumptions without any attempt to believe or discover the underlying realities. Yes, I had these pictures, but they did not define me whatsoever. I had hoped that perhaps she was still extremely emotional from the discovery and pregnancy and not really able to see past that. Maybe in time that would change. We eventually resumed communication, but she would not really talk about why she went to the police and what happened in the weeks after her discovery. She did ask for more of an explanation from me as to how, why, and what was going on. I wrote her, asking her to promise it would not go to the police. It seems she kept her word on that.

She claimed she hoped I'd have a place in our son's life. She expressed a desire to remain friends. She slipped up once and claimed to love and miss me. But she would not really explain. I didn't press, as she was pregnant and I had caused more than enough stress for her and our baby already.

I went to jail and wrote her often. She did not reply, but allowed me to call her. Our son was born in November 2011. I got to hear him cry and coo on the phone. I was shipped to prison in December 2011. I continued to write to Jess and our son. I began to ask some questions, as the baby had been born and I thought she might be ready to communicate. I have not heard a word from her yet. I have offered to pay for a flight to Arizona, so I could see my son and talk to her as well. She had expressed that this was possible while I was in county jail, but I have heard nothing since. I sent Christmas money and some little gifts to her and our boy. I don't know if she got them. I continue to write to them both, though mostly to my son these days. His first birthday is just around the corner.

Love, Loss, and Life lessons: Part One: Love

In the past year and a half, I have experienced imprisonment, loss of job and career, loss of my home, public humiliation, and extremely limited access to my children. But none of these have caused as much pain and suffering as losing the love of my life and our boy. There's so much I don't understand, and it still hurts more than anything I've ever experienced. I continue to shed tears, almost daily, over the pain, confusion, and heartbreak of this loss.

First, a brief overview of the whirlwind courtship -- slightly shorter than the relationship itself. After my divorce, I retreated from any real efforts to court women. I was hurt, mistrustful, scared, and lacking in confidence. I took care of my "needs" via computer porn, including - but by no means limited to - underage images. I was in a karmic pattern of spiritual and emotional abuse. I also settled into a "complacency of contentment," doing what I needed to do to care for my kids and to provide for my family, but little more. I was not unhappy, but I was not particularly joyful either. I gained weight and really did not take great care of myself.

I first met Jess through her brother (my now ex-best friend). That was shortly after my divorce, but my attraction was immediate. I sensed a strength and life spirit that was vibrant and beautiful. The physical attraction was also very strong. But she was off to Central America, and nothing developed. I saw her only one other time in the next few years, and the feelings and attraction were still there. We danced at a concert together and I felt sparks, but it was a brief visit and again nothing developed.

Her brother planned to a trip to visit her in Honduras and asked if I wanted to go. I was wavering until he mentioned that Jess was single and really wanted me to visit. I began a campaign to lose weight in the months leading up to the trip. I was cautiously optimistic. We hooked up the very first night, though I was embarrassingly unable to "rise" to the occasion. That pattern continued a full week. She initially took it as a lack of physical or sexual attraction. Nothing could have been further from the truth. If anything, I may have been "over eager", though I'm sure my years of pornographic dependency was also a factor. In only a few days, I realized I was in love, and reluctantly confessed this to her. We spoke of possibilities. She asked if I wanted more kids, something that she needed and wanted in a relationship. I was hesitant at first -- I was over 40! -- but realized I could see myself raising a child with her, and loving it.

We kept in contact via Facebook and phone and I visited again a couple months later. It was beautiful, magical, and incredible, at least for me. My previous problem was over, and we really connected on many levels. She tried out the words "I love you" because she ”just wanted to say it". We shared deep vulnerabilities and flaws. I admitted my attraction to "schoolgirl" porn, but not the whole story. I expressed a concern about real communication in difficult times, as it was a large contributing factor to my divorce. Jess assured me that we would talk about problems.

We had a foundation for a relationship and she eventually came to Arizona to try things out. It was really quite glorious. My kids loved her, I loved her, and I thought that she loved me. We spent many nights talking, drinking, and smoking, planning a life together. Three more years of teaching and my retirement would be "matched"...then a life between Arizona, the Carolinas, and Honduras...we brainstormed business ideas and dreams. I'd lost some 35 pounds by then. I proposed in a drunken delirium, and she accepted. I fashioned an engagement ring out of a wire from a cork-top beer bottle cap. I had never been so truly happy or so truly in love in my life.

She went back to Honduras, wrapped up her life there, and moved to Arizona for good. I did notice a slight change, which I attributed it to the "honeymoon" phase being over. Also, she was working in a new job and then very quickly she was pregnant. We were both thrilled! We began a patio extension to my small home to create more space and a "jungle" room for Jess and the baby, as the dry desert was a tough change for her. Things were still good, but there were some stresses of reality and security. Her libido had diminished in pregnancy, and we were just surviving financially.

Sex Offender Saga... or... Sex Offender Sympathy

I am labeled a sex offender. I will be labeled and branded a sex offender for the rest of my life. Before you lock up the kids and start demanding my crucifixion , I would ask that you consider some of the points I'd like to share with you.

Allow me to start by saying that I am guilty. I had in my procession, on my computer, images of child pornography. I'm not proud of it, and I knowledge that horrors and abuse is that some of the models undoubtedly experienced because of those pictures. I also acknowledge that I contributed to that system of abuse, albeit in an indirect manner. I rationalized that they were "only pictures," that I did not take those pictures, that I did not contribute money toward the system, that they were already out there, in cyberspace. This was foolish, naive, and irresponsible. So please realize that this essay is far more than "sour grapes" toward the system that condemned me.

As a loving parent and a former teacher, I strongly agree that our children need and deserve protection on this planet. But things have gone far above and beyond what is necessary and what is right to protect those children and society as a whole.

Let me first share some facts about the sex offender registration and mentality. First off, all across this nation there are many juvenile sex offenders who have been imprisoned and or branded as a sex offenders, sometimes for life. Most commonly, for having sexual contact with another minor child, even when they themselves were minors. Did you ever "experiment" or "play doctor." as a child? You could be a sex offender! When you were 18, did you ever have a relationship with someone younger? Maybe even a few months younger? You could be a sex offender. Do you ever take a leak in the bushes or behind a tree? You could be a sex offender! Branded and labeled for life, with a host of restrictions on where you can live in which you can do.

I admit that my situation goes beyond this. However, the line between reality and fantasy has never been in question as to my actions toward any human being. The restrictions placed on SOs make the assumption that all people convicted of a sex crime regardless of age, situation or even the actual contact with the victim, are a danger to society. Forever.

This is not the case for murderers, drug dealers, armed robbers, and a whole host of other violent offenders. A sex offender must register their whereabouts at all times, but not so for a murderer. Murderers can live amongst you anonymously.

It seems that thinking, or fantasizing, about something sex-related is equivalent to doing it. It's kind of "precognitive" sentencing, just like in the Tom Cruise movie.

According to a research article by Marshall Burns PhD, in federal statutes, looking at a picture of a boy with an erection is worse than killing him. I know that in Arizona, sentences for possessing child porn are sometimes greater than those for murder, assault, and actually sleeping with a minor (consensually).

The argument for the registry is that these people are going to potentially act on their fantasies. But where does this stop? Have you ever thought of "killing your boss" or your ex? Every human has the potential to do horrible things. A person driving while intoxicated has the potential to kill, yet they need not spend years in prison and register for life, or never touch a car or drink again.

Those who buy illegal drugs do not have the same stigma, yet they could become abusive or neglectful parents, and there is little doubt that the drug trade is responsible for much abuse and violence, sometimes two words innocent civilians. But the casual drug user is not held responsible for that.

There are truly dangerous people in prisons, for many reasons, not least among them true sexual atrocities. But the truth is, these people are the minority of sex offenders. I'm a sex offender without having had sex! (Inappropriate six, anyway.) The laws of child pornography are so inflexible that one of the first lawyers I spoke to pointed out that my ex fiancée could also be prosecuted for looking at the images that she saw when she turned them over to the police. He said that there was already a strong case against her for that. Needless to say, I did not align myself with such an attorney, but it does illustrate the lack of reason and logic in the current laws.

The current persecution of supposed sex offenders is similar to the witch trials of ancient days, an attempt to find or create a scapegoat and as a distraction for society. And it's a convenient target as it's a difficult topic to address. I have a suspicion that one reason it's so easy to condemn these "sexual deviants" is that many of us harbor dark, strange, and maybe even disturbed thoughts and fantasies. It's similar to the notion that the most vociferous gay bashers may have homosexual tendencies that they tried to deny.

Again I admit that I crossed the line by actually downloading pictures, and that went a step beyond thoughts. In no way was I, or am I obsessed with kids as a sexual object - but it was a regrettable part of a wider interest/fascination with pornography in general. There is no predominant interest in such pictures—but there was a curiosity—in large part I suspect, due to the taboo nature of it. I'm no more likely to act out than anyone else, and probably less than some. I am paying the price, I've taken personal responsibility, and I accept the situation. That does not imply that the crime is proportional to the sentence of 7 1/2 years, lifetime probation, and lifetime registration.

The pain, suffering, and destruction to the lives of many offenders and their families is far more damaging to society than protecting of it. For further information and research see the following resources:

www.SOLresearch.org

Reform Sex Offender L (RSOL)

Life in the Cage

This essay this meant to give a brief overview of life on a prison yard in Arizona.  Like most people, my preconceived notions of prison came primarily from television.  The reality of it is rather different.  In some ways better, in some ways worse

The yard where I live it's called a level 3 yard, which is considered " medium" security.  A "1" yard is the "lightest" security and a "6" yard is the highest.  As 6 yard is individual cells, with maybe one hour a day outside.  The meals are delivered to cells, and rec facilities are nonexistent with " common" showers at specified times.

My yard is designated as a sex offender, or SO yard.  In Arizona, S O's are segregated from the general population due to violence against the "lowest of the low," the "scum of the earth." Ironically, due to this fact the population is a bit more educated and tends to be a bit older.  There is far less "gang banger" mentality, and less overall violence, although it does still exist.

I live in a dormitory, with 26 bunk beds making 52 bunks.  There's approximately three feet between the bunks, which were designed for single beds, so the setup is rather compacted.

Every day, we have recreation from 8:00 AM until 10:00 AM, 1:00 PM until 3:00 PM, and 6:00 PM until 7:30 PM.  The yard is a barren dust bowl without a tree or blade of grass.  There are "workout stations," a soccer field/baseball field, a volleyball court, basketball court, horseshoe pit, and a bocce pitch.  There are a few shaded ramadas, one for each race.  And there is a wide variety of games and equipment for check out.

Monday through Friday, we get three meals a day.  The food is edible, but that's about it.  Think elementary cafeteria, but a couple notches down in quality.  While it's not exactly "bread and water" it's not far off.  Many days we get eight slices of bread.  One common breakfast is four pancakes, two slices of bread, and cereal.  Talk about carbs!  "Dinner" is a "take home" sack, with four slices of bread, some processed meat, usually baloney, chips and cookies.  That's every Monday through Friday.  On weekends we get two "hot" meals.

There is a store where we can order snacks, tobacco, soda, ramen soup, and other junk foods.  We get no fresh fruit or fresh veggies...ever.  Everything is canned and processed, with the exception of salad which is iceberg lettuce or cabbage.  That's it, I haven't seen a tomato in a year.

The worst aspect is the complete lack of logic or reason in the ever shifting policies.  I take "building maintenance"  classes, which are canceled more often then held, and we often get strip searched upon leaving class.  We go out to the "strip shack" where we get into stalls to strip down.  But get this.  We leave our "book bags" outside the shack, uninspected, and then pick them up and head back to our homes afterwards.  At the gate between yards, we sometimes get patted down, but again carrying a bag full of "store" or something else that never gets looked at.

There is a decent library, which we must stand in line for, sometimes up to 45 minutes.  Really, I feel that half my time is waiting in lines.  For meals, for store, for medical, for library, to cross the gates, and for "programs" that may or may not be held.

I have a small TV, a CD Walkman, and a lot of books.  They make life bearable.  I read, write, meditate, do yoga, workout, and play volleyball.  Yet time still drags.  I once read about prison that days last forever, but weeks and months blend together to fly by.  It's quite true.

The "correctional officers" (C O's) are mostly respectful, but of course there are those with attitudes who use their power  to abuse inmates.  But this lack of respect works both ways - many inmates love to bait the "cops" particularly those who are assholes, which creates a vicious cycle.  I can receive approved visitors on weekends, "full contact", which means no  glass with the phone.  It's actually a pleasant visiting space with colorful murals and a selection of games and vending machines.

The highlight of the year is the "food visit" where family or friends can bring in food from the outside.  It's like a big picnic and one of the few things to really look forward to.  I've had one thus far as I'm a "newbie" or "fish".

The general environment is like a junior high school boys' locker room, as far as mentality goes.  Constant bravado talk of "fucking bitches" and "I'll fuck you up" tend to dominate.  While this mentality is not true of the whole population, the volume and frequency of such talk makes it seem more prevalent than it is.

There is, of course, the ability to procure things if the price is right.  "Spice" is the current drug of choice, as it does not yet register on the urine tests that are administered randomly.  It's a synthetic marijuana type drug.  The "TV" scenario of trading cigarettes for goods is absolutely accurate.  The standard unit of currency is a honey bun, a sweet danish.  As you may imagine, particularly in a sex offender yard, this is the "butt" of many jokes.  Three cigarettes or two "squeeze cheeses"  equals a soup or an envelope, two envelopes equal a honey bun, and a pouch of tobacco is like a $20.00 bill!

Hustling is a means of income for many.  There are "Powerball" lotteries, sports pools, and an entire underground economy in electrical repairs, tattooing, sewing, and "procurement".

The whole "don't drop soap" scenario is not really present, unless one chooses to take that route, which happens but is uncommon.  Again, I believe it's more common on the general population yards.  I don't know of anyone who is an unwilling plaything for a powerful inmate.

I am able to receive books and CDs via the mail, provided they are sent by approved vendors.  There is no list, to my knowledge, of what is "approved".  Amazon works, but Amazon Marketplace does not.  I could not receive a book sent via "the marketplace," but I could allow it to be donated to our library.  Huh?

All in all, it's not a particularly horrible physical environment.  The worst aspects of it, at least for me, are more psychological than physical: I miss my kids, I've never even met my son, and the fact that I was sent here by the love of my life, who I only ever treated with loving kindness.  In the words of Gloria Gaynor, I will survive.

Religion In The Cage

It is sometimes said that Jesus is still alive in the prisons of this world. It's true -- he's over in building 7 in bunk C-33. And he's probably in every other bunk and every single bed everywhere in the world. Inmates spend a great deal of time talking about, debating, quoting, and understanding the bible. Then they go outside and say "Whachoo lookin' at mutha fucka?" and brag about the bitches they fucked and the dudes they fucked up. Oftentimes, the louder they "preach" the bible, the more shit they talk. Of course this is not so for everyone, but it's often the case.

I've been interested in religion, philosophy, and spirituality for most of my life. As a child, I had to go to church every Sunday, but as I grew older I began to question many aspects of Catholicism, Christianity, and religion in general. It seems to me that the single biggest factor in terms of one's belief system was where one was born.

In college, I spent enough time and energy on philosophy classes as electives that it turned into a second major. I tended to gravitate towards eastern religions like Buddhism, Taoism, and Hinduism, but I wasn't sure why. After college, my two years in Cairo, Egypt taught me much about Islam, and then I spent time in India exploring various ashrams and holy places. Three years in Japan added yet another perspective on faith and spirituality.

Being in prison has been one more step in my spiritual development. My intention was to try to join in on as many practicing groups as I could. There are obviously many Christian sects here, as well as Jewish, Muslim, Wiccan, Native American, and Buddhist groups. Unfortunately, I can only "choose" one religion, as far as services and prayer groups are concerned, so I have chosen Buddhism as my path.

The biggest reason that Buddhism appeals to me is the lack of an "all powerful, all seeing, all knowing" deity that oversees all. Buddhism and other eastern religions are much more personal. The Buddha-nature is already within us; we control or choose our actions and the consequences of those actions are our responsibility. It's not "God's Plan", it's our plan - but yet it still connects us to all other living beings.

I sincerely believe that Jesus Christ was a Buddha, which means "an enlightened being", and his message of love and compassion is precisely that of Gautama Buddha and so many others who preach compassion and love. 

What is meditation but sitting still to acknowledge the spirit of God within you? It's a more personal and intimate way of praying. The "holy trinity" of Buddhism -- mindfulness, impermanence, and non-attachment -- make so much sense to me in this confined environment, yet I realize that it that it just makes sense. Period.

I now spend a significant amount of time reading Buddhist, non-Buddhist, and self help books, I meditate 3 to 4 times a week, I practice yoga frequently and I am working things out mentally and emotionally. I hope to share some of my thoughts and ideas with you.