It’s 10:23pm

I picked a horrible time to quit drinking.

After a brutal night of vomiting and wondering if I made an ass of myself last week, I decided that it was time to give it up. Again. For good. It’s been 7 days. But man. Life has a way of throwing a wrench into things.

My aunt who has COPD, has been having issues with her blood gasses. They’re high and she needs to be intubated or have a BPAP machine (basically shoots oxygen into your airways), if she doesn’t have that, then she will most likely slip into a coma. She’s currently refusing any assistance with breathing. It’s her decision but that doesn’t make it easy for my cousin to go through. So I’m sad for her and sad for my family as whole.

I wrote a couple of posts back that my oldest son was supposed to be getting out of prison at Christmas. Obviously that didn’t happen. The counselor had his dates wrong. Since then, Hunter has been placed into Ad Seg, administrative segregation, for fighting. Prison politics. If the “shot caller” tells you to do something, you so it or it happens to you. So Hunter was told to fight someone and he caused serious bodily injury (SBI) , the guy lost consciousness and busted his head open. He was still set to be released in August. But a letter I got from him today told me otherwise.

He will be sent up north to Pelican Bay to be in the SHU (secured housing unit) in a couple of months and he will be there until October. I’m not sure why he’s being sent there or why he can’t stay in the SHU where he is.

Let me tell you about Pelican Bay.

It’s a super max prison. The worst of the worst go there. The SHU is for serious offenders or validated gang members. Maybe Hunter was fighting to get validated, I don’t know. In the SHU, inmates are in solidarity confinement for at least 23 hours a day. They get an hour of yard time. That’s IF the correctional officers decide to let them out. The Pelican Bay SHU program is notorious for its mistreatment of inmates, leaving them in the hole for days. Solitary confinement drives people crazy. It’s not rehabilitation. It torture.

I’m scared for my son. I know that once one domino falls in this direction (inmates getting into the SHU etc) more domino’s fall and they only get worse. On top of this, he currently has one strike. If he gets another strike for the SBI, then guess what? He’s one strike from a life sentence for just being a dumb kid.

I’m scared. I feel helpless. All I can do is provide him with books, paper and money for food .

I need a damn drink. But I chose to have a good cry at my kitchen table in my underwear. If sons knew how much moms cried for them, they wouldn’t do half the crap they do, I swear.

I’m also very aware that now is the time that I need to be a praying mom. People praying for me is what got me out alive. But for some reason all I can muster is asking God to keep him safe and give him back to me.

I’ve been busy!!

Hi all!! I will be updating my blog soon!!

Just wanted to invite you to listen to my podcast! Ok, well not JUST mine, but still! Give it a listen. *Parental Advisement for language and topic* We talk about the Turpin family among other abusive and fucked up parents https://thegspotcast.com

Thanks!!

IT’S A BOY!!!!!

My first born, Hunter. This picture was taken in 2009, when he was 11 or 12 (I haven’t had enough coffee to do the math right now). I don’t have too many pictures of him. He doesn’t frequent my Facebook posts. Most people don’t know that I have a 20 year old son. Not because I’m hiding him, but because I’m not going to update my Facebook status with “Going to Pleasant Valley State Prison to see the boy today!” “Got a call from prison today!” Don’t get me wrong, those who need to know, know about my son’s story but I share it cautiously. When people ask about my kids- “Oh, what school do they go to? What sports do they play?” My normal response is usually- “Well, Arvy is excelling at football. Nicky hasn’t decided between a doctor or engineer. And Hunter, he’s on his own path right now.” How can I drop the bomb on them with “My son’s in prison.” It’s like “Oh, I have cancer.” Like I’m responsible for how they will take it. Because I don’t want to shock them or make them feel bad about asking. However, lately, I just say it. “My son is in prison.” More times than not, I get to hear about one their kid that has been down the same road, a cousin, a nephew or parent. Amazing what happens when you share  your story. Usually, you’ll find when you do that, the response is “Me Too.”

Hunter has been in prison for just over a year. We were expecting him  to get out either early next year or even in the summer. But it’s official. He’s coming home the day after Christmas. I’m excited and nervous. I miss my kid. I’m eager for him to have a new chance at life. But each time he comes home, it’s like bringing a new-born home. I don’t have clothes for him. Each time he either takes off or gets arrested, he loses everything. So we start from scratch. Will he last longer than a week out of incarceration, like last time? Will my shit get stolen….again? Will I be able to trust him? Will he get a job? Will he stick around and help me? Will this time finally be the time that he’s grown up enough to have gotten past the bullshit? Will the fact that I moved to a nice neighborhood and out of the drug infested area in which we used to live, make a difference? Will my “fancy” neighbors see him walking around the neighborhood and call security (because we live in THAT kind of neighborhood, with security, we’re legit!) saying that some thug is casing their houses? Will the parole agents come to my house and cause the neighbors to talk shit? Will I be able to afford to feed another person? Will my doors actually stay on the hinges? Will that walls stay fist-sized hole free?

So many unknowns. Sadly, my life is relatively calm when he’s jail. I’m not worrying about if he’s strung out somewhere, if he’s going to rob me, again, or if I’m going to get the call that I have to identify a body. Because that shit happens.

So, I start praying. That things will go right. That I will be able to handle this, again. That he will succeed. That we will all get along in the house. That the boys relationship finally be one of love and not hate, because the younger ones have watched Hunter destroy everything in his wake for the last 7+ years.

That I will finally be able to breathe again.