With the Truth Happy September 2021
Dedication This mini memoir is dedicated to my Dad.
I am the oldest of 2 children. I have always been different. I was born prematurely and had to spend 3 months in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit before being able to go home with my parents. I didn’t know it at the time, but the “OFF SCHEDULE” nature of my birth wound up being a factor that characterized my life for many years. As it turns out, my mental and physical development were always out of sync. My body was always racing to catch up with my mind.
Memories of my childhood are divided into two parts: taking care of my brother and fighting with my mother. My father, who had a successful career, was seldom at home. His absence was difficult on the family, especially my mother who was left to manage the responsibility of raising my brother and me.
A Game of Charades
I will never know how she really felt about that responsibility. As a child, I never found an opportunity to ask. The truth is I was more responsible for my brother than she was. I got us us both ready for school. I packed our lunches. I ran interference and tried to keep him out of trouble at Becausehome. my father was always away from home, I never really had a chance to form a meaningful relationship with him. My mother, on the other hand, was usually physically present. Despite living together and seeing each other every day, we never really formed a positive bond. I often wonder if this was a result of the extended time I spent in the NICU Happy with the Truth
I learned that both of my parents were addicts. My father had been addicted to heroine in 1960 before joining the Army. I didn’t find this out until much later, but when I did, many things fell into place. When my dad stopped using he replaced his heroine addiction with his work. He worked 24/7. His escape from reality was leaving his family and going to work. She escaped her reality of being a single parent by “SPACING OUT” on speed. I started drinking and using drugs in high school. I didn’t seek out substances as a way to escape my reality. Rather I did it to fit in and feel cool. My older cousins drank and did drugs. I wanted them to like me and want me to be around. I was lost, not sure where to look for guidance, love, support and understanding. Happy with the Truth
A Family Legacy
As time went on, my father’s absence continued. My mother continued her drug-induced nocturnal escapes. My brother did his best to follow a routine. And I remained Asinvisible. .anadult,
Physically I was there, but mentally I was in my own world.
During the day mother worked as a hairdresser. At night, she disappeared into her own world leaving my brother and I alone. She slept very little, if at all. She was creative and would be up all night, creating art. In the mornings, she was dead to the world. At the time, I could not understand her behavior. As an adult, I realized she was addicted to the amphetamines in diet pills. For most of my childhood, it seemed as though I was invisible. My mom didn’t see me. My dad didn’t see me. My brother saw me physically – because I was the one who woke him every day. But no one in my home really spent time with me. No one knew my hopes, my dreams, my thoughts, my fears. Physically I was there, but mentally I was in my own world.
ASeekingttention
At school, I joined anything possible. I played basketball. I was part of the band. I joined choir. I tried everything any anything possible to adopt a new persona Strangely, I did well in everything I tried Even though I was a member of 10 groups, I didn’t feel like I was connected to anyone or anything I still felt invisible Since I didn’t really feel connected at home either, I gured these were normal feelings. It was almost like playing a role in the movie that is your life. You go through the motions but without feeling anything.
I HAD LOST MYSELF AND I HAD FOUND MYSELF.
I have an uncanny gift for reading a situation and figuring out what people wanted to see and hear.Even though I could navigate social situations and make friends easily, I never really felt connected. I felt like I was less than everyone else. I felt like I was never good enough, pretty enough, or interesting enough.
If she could not see me when I did everything right, I would see what happened when I did everything wrong. Turns out doing everything wrong got her attention. Once I realized that it worked, I kept at it. I did everything and anything to infuriate her. I told lies. I hid her stuff I created chaos I drew her out by pushing her to her limits I knew she had very little patience and I did everything to wear it out Happy with the Truth
Looking back now, I can understand why I chose to drink beer I didn’t like. I did it because they did it. The first time I drank, I remember the feeling of coming out of myself. When I drank, I could see myself and feel myself. Once intoxicated, I became aware that others could see and feel me too. I liked the feeling. I liked myself better when I was drunk or high. When I was sober, I had no sense of self. I didn’t know who I was or why I was doing what I did. When using drugs and alcohol, I was transformed into whichever persona I had adopted. I lost myself and found myself.
I tried everything to get my mother’s attention. I could never gure out what attitudes, behaviors, or utterances would make me feel connected to her Frustrated and hurt, I set about nding new ways of behaving that would require her to interact with me
Just as I did in every other social setting, I took on the behaviors of those around me. I never considered what I liked or what I wanted. I tuned in to the conversation of those around me and made what was important to them, important to me. I took on a persona that fit what they expected. If you liked basketball, I liked basketball. If you liked music, I liked music. If you liked it, I liked it.
Happy with the Truth
Can't Tell the Truth
I remember being happy with any attention my mom gave me. It didn’t matter if she was hitting me or yelling at me. At least I was certain she was seeing me. When my mom was mad at me, I knew I was not invisible. Whenever she wasn’t yelling at me or hitting me, I felt like she didn’t see me. In reality, I felt like no one could see me.
By high school, I learned that I was a phenomenal communicator! I would tell everyone exactly what they wanted to hear. It didn’t matter if it was true or not. I could figure out what you wanted to hear and that’s exactly what I would tell you.
At home, I had figured out how to tell my mom exactly what she wanted to hear. I made up stories to fit the moment. If I wanted her to be mad, I’d make up a lie to infuriate her. If I wanted to calm her down, I made up a story that would do the trick. I got married right after high school. At the time, I knew I had picked a terrible partner. He was known for being unfaithful. That was when I started lying to myself: I convinced myself I could change him. Deep down, I knew the marriage was a bad idea and he would never change. Even before our wedding day, I was certain I would never have children with him. I knew it wasn’t going to work. But I did it anyway. This is where my pattern of self-sabotage started, and it continued for the next several years.
The most dangerous lies were the ones I told myself. As an adult, I drank excessively and did drugs. I convinced myself I had things under control. Later on I learned that this was an effort to self-medicate. But, even if I knew it at the time, it would not have made a difference. I could be everything to everyone. I could keep everyone happy. I was in control. Everything was fine. This was the only way I knew how to live life.
Not surprisingly, we divorced a short time years later. Soon thereafter I started a new relationship. This one was better than the first. But I still lied – to him and to me. By this point, I don’t know if I was capable of being honest with anyone. Eventually, that caught up with me.
During that time, I stayed with him. I worked from the hospital, returning home to shower and change time, my drug and alcohol abuse had reached new heights. I was drunk or high most of the time. Surprisingly, my use did not interfere with my ability to work. Strangely, it seemed to have the magical effect of numbing me to the daily tension of managing my business. I was able to negotiate deals. I was able to resolve problems. Childhood abuse that taught me how to tolerate conflict, tell people what they wanted to hear and work under pressure were paying off. My business was thriving and profits were exceptional. Cheers! To be honest, I didn’t care very much about my financial success. I enjoyed the work I was doing. I focused on each day and never really had a long term business plan. I remember feeling the rush of having amassed so much capital and relishing in the freedom it provided me. I was not worried about managing my wealth; there was no future perspective. I made money. I spent money. I did my work and I got high.
Duringclothes. this
I didn’t make the deal for the money I didn’t make the deal for the challenge I didn’t make the deal because of the relationship. I made the deal because I sensed something could go wrong. I didn’t care about my life, I didn’t care about my business, I didn’t care about my assets. I didn’t care about my boyfriend. I did it just to see what would happen.
He had become tired of my excessive drinking and drug use One day, after searching my of ce, he found dozens of empty vodka bottles and empty small plastic bags. I couldn’t say they weren’t mine. But I had been telling him I had not been drinking or using drugs I never thought he would gure it out
A Pattern of Self Destruction
In 2008, my boyfriend became critically ill. He had a chronic platelet disorder and was admitted to the hospital. The initial procedures had complications and he wound up remaining in the hospital for over a year.
Becoming Sober
In early 2009, my boyfriend was released from the hospital. For a short period, life seemed to return to normal Suddenly, everything changed One ne morning , he decided to throw me out of the house
One day, an old acquaintance of mine contacted me. He wanted to partner on a large business deal that would allow me to expand my operations internationally. Inside, I sensed something was off. My boyfriend and partner told me to let this one pass. I did it anyway. Nothing can stop me! Happy with the Truth
Everyone always believed everything I said. I spent that night in the home of a friend. I asked her to take me to an AA meeting, which she did The next day, I met my sponsor. The whole process of becoming clean and sober was painful physically and psychologically But, with the support of friends, I was able to push through the most dif cult days After two years of being sober, my boyfriend and I got back together. I thought things were starting to look up
I knew I had a problem.
Correction sometimes I worried about it later. Within months, a completely unexpected turn of events occurred. I was indicted by the Federal government on conspiracy charges. A three-year court battle ensued. Despite the incredible psychological pressure that accompanies dealing with federal charges, I remained sober My journey to achieve sobriety included accepting the importance of telling the truth. I made every effort to tell the truth to my attorneys and the prosecutors. I could not believe it - even though I knew I was telling the truth, they didn’t believe me! I soon realized that the prosecutors had a difficult time telling the truth as well. My case, just like my life, was a mishmash of lies and falsehoods. Facts were mischaracterized. Evidence was withheld. Stories were changed. I had just learned to value the truth and everything that was happening around me seemed to be built on a lie.
I WAS TELLING THE TRUTH BUT THEY DIDN'T BELIEVE ME.
Happy with the Truth HTherapyelps
Shortly after being indicted, I con ded in my pretrial of cer that I was having suicidal thoughts. Thankfully he took my feelings seriously and referred me to a psychologist. That man saved my life. The psychologist listened to me. He collected da connected the dots. I can still remember the relie told me there is nothing WRONG with you. You different. I’m different, I thought. I always knew Together, we explored my use of drugs and alcoh both provided a sense of escape and relief from m I was drunk and high, I knew people saw me. Wh intoxicated, I didn’t need to stop and think. I acte about it later.
Happy with the Truth
But what was more important that day was that I told my story. In AA, we learn that the experience of telling your story helps you process and heal, and it can make your recovery more real to yourself and all those around you. That day, I heard my own story. Other people in the courtroom heard my story and were moved and inspired by it. Those people - people battling with alcoholism and addiction just like me – had come to my sentencing. Our stories of recovery matter
Despite having transformed myself into a different person by 2014, I accepted responsibility for my actions back in 2007. I did so with peaceful acceptance. I could look back and see my mistakes. I could assess the situation without become emotional. I did not feel like I was being victimized or mistreated. Now five years sober, I could see that it was dangerous to try to run with the big dogs. I am a person who made a mistake and I am not above the law In the end, I was able to accept that the Judge didn’t hear my story. He was unmoved by my life experiences and my struggles. Everyone struggles in life. Struggles are real and they affect our feelings, our thinking, our decisions. My struggle was getting people to see me. The old me thought no one could see me. The old me couldn’t see myself. The old me didn’t like myself. The old me wanted something bad to happen to her. The Judge was not the only person who did not hear my story that day. My mother didn’t hear the story either. It’s not that she didn’t listen when I told it. It’s that she wasn’t there to hear it.
My indictment came a full five years after the overt act. In those five years, I had nearly lost my partner and become clean and sober. I honestly didn’t even remember what my life was like back then. But that one bad decision came back to haunt me. Yes, I mismanaged an investment but I didn’t profit from it. In retrospect, it’s quite understandable that I mismanaged the investment – I was drunk and high all the time. It’s suprsing the outcome wasn’t worse!
After three years of negotiating with the government, I accepted a plea deal. I was sentenced to 41 months of incarceration. At sentencing, I tried to share my story with the Judge and shed some light on how and why the events from nearly a decade ago had occurred. My story was met with little interest and even less “Ycompassion. ourHonor,”I began. “I don’t’ even know that person anymore. I am not that person. Yes, she is still with me and I need to keep her in check. But I am not her When she tries to take over my life, I step on her throat. That’s not the person before you today” That's not the person before you today.
Serving Time
Peaceful Independence
Living with a couple hundred women also gives you an opportunity to make new relationships. I met some wonderful women in prison. Women who, like me, had made a mistake. Women like me who had gotten caught up in a dangerous cycle. Through my relationships with these women, I learned things I never learned in my childhood home. I learned boundaries. I learned how to stick up for myself. I learned not to touch someone else’s things. I learned to only enter a conversation when invited. I learned to keep my word. In prison, the only thing you really have is your word. And if you don’t keep your word, you are going to get your ass kicked. People don’t realize it, but there is a lot of wisdom in prison. I guess going through adversity makes you wiser. Well, it can make you wiser. As one guard told me, “If you act like an asshole in here – you will be asshole out there. If you learn not to be an asshole, you don’t belong in here in the first place”. Moral: don’t be an asshole. It doesn’t end well for Duringanyone. mytime in prison, I also grew spiritually. I had found my faith years earlier, but it grew deeper during those three years. In prison I learned that God has a purpose for each of us. We each have something unqiue and special we need to accomplish here on Earth. We also have a common purpose – we need to teach, learn and help each Whenother my sponsor dropped me off at the facility she told me, “Remember, all you need to do is look up. That’s all you have now – God. It’s just you and God. So, each day, look up say ‘Let’s go God, we got this’.” I knew He didn’t bring me this far to leave me. And you know what – she was right. We got this.
Later in 2014, I reported to federal prison to complete a 41 month sentence. No one wants to go to prison, but if you have to go, you should make the best of it. Prison provides a person with ample opportunity to self-reflect. Even though you live in a congregate setting, you really are alone. The one person you cannot avoid in prison is yourself. The truth is I learned a lot about myself during those three years. I started to really see the patterns in my self-destructive behavior. For the first time, I came to terms with the pain of my childhood. I also learned that people matter more than anything material. Don’t get attached to anything with a key. Attach yourself to good people.
Come on, God! We Got This.
I had hoped that things would be easy when I returned home upon my release. Turns out they were not. There was no warm, loving, compassionate and healing home to come home to. I went back to the same home, with the same two parents. There was no Tender Loving Care. Shortly after my return home, my father passed away. That left me right where I was as a child. Alone with my mom. The trauma of being incarcerated is something that every returning citizen needs to work through. It is not easy to be locked up, have no freedom, and live in an institution. I didn’t have anyone to help me deal with that trauma. So, I tried to deal with it on my own while I also tried to deal with my grief about the passing of my father Now understanding the importance of mental health, I went back to seeing my therapist. It was the best decision I have ever made. His objective support, analysis and guidance was exactly what I needed to get a handle on my life.
Happy with the Truth
We worked through my fear of telling people “No” He taught me how to rebuild my self esteem He supported me as I learned to forgive my mother. He helped me reconcile that her de nition of love being a “kiss and a slap” did not need to be mine Today my life is the best it has ever been. I am happy. I feel connected to others I have hopes for the future I still go to AA meetings I try to be a guide and resource for others who are impacted by the criminal justice system. After over ten years of sobriety, my brain is getting back to normal. I am proud of the woman I am. I am con dent in myself. I am concerned about the wellbeing of others The adversity I have faced in my life has not ruined me or made me bitter. Through it, I have learned how to truly appreciate humanity my own and others
A New Life
We all have a purpose in life. Embrace Yours.
