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My depression began on August 26, 2015. That’s the day I went to prison. The judge sentenced me to 2 years but I only served one year. While I was locked up, I was the head cook in the dining hall and was also in the prison gospel choir.
In November 2015, I had my first visit from my youngest daughter, who was 16 at the time, my husband and grandfather-in-law. I felt as if something was wrong, though. I was due for my second visit on November 24, which happened to be my 13th anniversary, but they never showed up. I still had that same feeling as if something were wrong. December came around and still no visits. Of course, my mom couldn’t visit because she lives in Texas and I was incarcerated in Pine Bluff, Arkansas.
Read more: My Emotional Rollercoaster
On December 9, 2015, my counselor came and took me out of choir practice. She then took me to the warden’s office where they asked me to sign a piece of paper saying that I give permission to my mother to find out any information she wanted. I asked them what happened to my mom and they said that she had called the prison and requested that I call her.
We called my mom and she had my 16-year-old daughter with her. That’s when they told me that my husband, my daughter’s biological father, had snuck another man through our bedroom window then shot meth into my 16-year-old daughter’s arms and raped her numerous times.
So, my mom came to Arkansas to get my daughter from the hospital and my mom received guardianship over my daughter. I was released from prison on August 22, 2016, and now my daughter and I live with my parents in Texas. I got off parole on August 11, 2017, and my divorce was finalized on October 24, 2017. My daughter is now 18 years old and she will be graduating on May 25, 2018.
Life is still rough for my daughter and I.
This year marks three years since the incident. I’m 45 years old and still have no job, no method of transportation or even, a place of our own. When someone tells you that the struggle is real, it is.