$824

 and 30 cents.

That's how much money I had to pay for the privilege of being a sex offender living at my current address.  I forget the exactly figures, but I'll approximate:

• $60 to both the Chief of Police and the Sheriff's Office as my annual "Registration Fee."  Anyone who has the audacity to live within the city limits gets to pay twice.  Why?  Unclear.  Mostly because "Fuck you, that's why" I assume.
• $100, $100, and $80 to each of the three newspapers that serve my address.  This was to pay for the community notification requirement that had to run for two consecutive days.  I'm not sure why it had to run in all three newspapers (I hadn't ever even heard of one of them), but I'll assume it's more or less the same reason as above.
• $30 for the 6 total money orders necessary for this task.
• The rest was to pay for the notification postcards I mentioned a few posts ago.

I have a hard time believing that any of these things actually cost near that much money, but I suppose all the non-sex-offenders are comfortable with us having to deal with these unreasonable fees just because we deserve it or something.

If I'm to move at the end of July, I'll get to pay all those fees again.  Though, the fee for the postcards is dependent on the number of people within your required mailing radius, so that number will certainly be different.  It could be lower, but it could also be higher!  Hooray!

(None of this includes my monthly $65 fee that I get to pay for the privilege of being on probation instead of in jail.)

I have no idea where I want to move.  Part of me just wants to find the cheapest possible spot out in the country somewhere.  But, I still consider Shreveport my home (even if hardly anyone who lives here wants to talk or hang out with me).  I don't want to leave.

Rent prices in Caddo Parish make my eyes bulge.  I don't know how I'm supposed to afford anything ever.  Especially while I'm struggling to figure out how to make money.

I'm Not Sure What to Do With Myself

 I started applying for jobs online the Friday after I was released.  I've gotten a handful of interviews (one felt really promising and I haven't heard back from them yet).  I've got Indeed pretty well trained as to what sorts of jobs I'm looking for right now.  The other day, I even went by a Temp agency to see what they could do for me.

I had what I felt like was a solid lead on a $15/hr job at a storage facility.  But, suddenly, I wasn't sure I ought to take a job like that.  I've got so much left to do around the house and in my own storage unit.  I feel in no way prepared to move at the end of next month.  I mostly feel like my time would be better spend applying for better jobs and working to sort and purge all my too many belongings.

I decided that if doing so was going to be my excuse for avoiding a crappy job, then I need to start treating it like a job.  So, I ordered a postal scale and a label printer.  I'm going to spend some time each day posting some of my nerdy collectibles for sale on Ebay.  Not only do I need to get rid of so many of those things, it should also put some money in the coffers.

I also did a small restock on ring-making supplies with the intention of easing back into it by making a few more rings as gifts or for myself before deciding whether I wanted to try doing it as a money-making venture.  Right on time, a local art shop that I'd asked about carrying my rings finally answered my email and responded positively.  So, that's something else to perhaps keep me occupied.

Meanwhile, I've had a couple of lousy days in terms of personal motivation.  Lately, I only want to sleep and eat.  I have made zero progress on finding somewhere else to live and really have no idea where to start--especially since I have no source of income right now.  Perhaps when things get a little realer, I'll be less inclined to turn my nose up at not-so-great jobs.

I still haven't found a therapist.  I'd been waiting until after my PO set me up with my state-mandated counselor, but that still hasn't happened.  I finally remembered that I knew someone who has a local counselor practice, so I reached out to him and he gave me a lead that I forgot to pursue today.

There's so much that needs to be done and often the simple tasks seem most overwhelming.  I'm very easily discouraged and distracted and that makes task completion a challenge.

Government Sponsored Misinformation

I get a daily digest from the USPS telling me what mail to expect each day.  I signed up years ago mostly so I'd know when to expect packages (not that the USPS does a phenomenal job of estimating those deliveries), but it also includes scans of the front of most pieces of paper mail.

This morning, I noticed that I was set to receive a Sex Offender Notification Postcard (and I can only assume it was the one about me).  I spent much of the morning stressed out about it.  I just want to be able to live life and now everyone within a 0.3 mile radius from my house has gotten one of these cards.  At the same time, I was curious to see what it said so I'd know what they were being told.

Unfortunately, my copy seems to have disappeared.  Celia came by the house today and was the one that checked the mail and she said that it wasn't there.  That doesn't make any sense, but maybe it got misplaced somewhere.  So, all I could see was the generic front of the card addressed to "Occupant."

Caddo Parish uses the "OffenderWatch Initiative" for their postcards.  I visited their website (assuming that at least some of my neighbors would do the same and was pretty horrified at what I found.  Here's their "Talking to Children About Sex Offenders" page.

Sex crime laws in Louisiana are incredibly broad.  The "Indecent Behavior" law for example (one of my charges) can be applied to anyone who does something they shouldn't in the company of a minor.  With the right judge and prosecutor, this can literally be a crass remark.  I'm sure I'll write more about this in the future, but let's look at what this website says.

Answering your Child’s Questions

Many children will accept your directions for steering clear of the person. Others will have questions. You’ll need to explain further because if you don’t, she’ll find someone else to ask. You want her to get his information from you.

Child: Why was he in prison?
Parent: He hurt a child.

Child: What did he do?
Parent: He touched the child inappropriately.

Child: Did he hit her?
Parent: No, he touched her private area, close to where she goes to the bathroom. That’s not okay, it’s a crime.

Child: Why did he do that?
Parent: Some things you won’t understand until you’re older, and this is one of them. I don’t completely understand it myself.

I'm not even sure where to start.  There are so many assumptions here.  Why are we to assume the offender is male with a female victim?

But, worse, in this of all states, the answers to these questions are likely factually wrong for most offenders, myself included.  I did not hurt a child.  I did not touch anyone--at all.  But, this is the kind of information that the government is giving people about me.  No wonder people assume that all sex offenders are literally child molesters.  The government is propping up trash-can organizations that put out this kind of dreck that has no reasonable connection to the reality of many (if not most) offenders in the area.

How am I supposed to feel like a normal person with value when this is the kind of thing that people are being told?  It is fundamentally unfair, but nobody wants to be the person who sticks up for sex offenders.  Maybe, once I've gotten my life together (as much as arbitrary social and legal restrictions will allow), I'll be that person.  I'm already wearing the Scarlet Letter, so why not embrace it and tell the uncomfortable truth?

More Like Medic-lack-of-aid

 I've had my insurance from Aetna through Medicaid for over a week now.  I have yet to successfully arrange for any medical care.  

In my welcome packet, they made it clear that they would very much prefer for me to engage with my account and services through their website.  I signed up pretty eagerly since I'd rather self-service online than make phone calls.

The website has allowed me to login twice.  Every other time, I get an error with no explanation and an exhortation to "try again later."  

Yesterday, frustrated with the website, I decided to call the number I'd been given for the doctor that had been assigned as my primary care physician.  When I spoke to the receptionist, I learned that this doctor is not accepting new patients at this time.

Absent the ability to login to the website, I have no means through which to arrange a different primary care doctor through Aetna.  Nor any means through which to try to make an appointment with a specialist.

The phone system continuously (and frustratingly in my case) reminds you that you can do all the things you need to do through the website or app.  Otherwise, it's a voice response system.  However, it turns out that repeatedly pressing "0" no matter what the robot says eventually connects you with an actual person.

The rep I spoke to verified that there was no problem with my account and that it was just the website that wasn't working properly.  She also told me she was sending me a list of primary care doctors in my area.  But, she didn't clearly tell me what I'm supposed to do with this list.  I asked if I'm supposed to call one up and try to schedule an appointment and her audio cut out as she was giving me a response.  I asked her to repeat herself and she mumbled something unintelligible and assured me the email was on its way.  That call ended several minutes before I started typing this entry and the email has not yet arrived.

It feels like every single thing that I need to accomplish in life right now is hidden behind arbitrary, meaningless, and ridiculous barriers that are beyond my control.  It shouldn't take a week for someone to figure out how to use their health coverage, but I've been so flummoxed by the inoperable website and mostly useless phone system that I keep giving up in exasperation.

Riding the Strugglebus

 It's been challenging to find the energy to write.  But, here I am now, so I'll count that as a win.

The past week has been a thoroughly mixed bag.  I've had a handful of job interviews.  I lost power for three days this weekend, which really made it hard for me to feel like I could accomplish much of anything.  

One of my dogs took sick during the power outage.  I assumed he was just taking the heat poorly (he was an old guy), but when I woke up yesterday (the morning after the power was restored), he was doing worse.  It turns out he had some kind of abdominal mass.  They vet said it wasn't treatable, so he was euthanized yesterday afternoon.  

That was hard because it was so unexpected.  It's clear now that he hadn't been well for awhile.  When I got home three weeks ago, he was surprisingly reserved.  He was sleeping a lot, but having been away for two years, I assumed that was just his new normal.  Even though he wasn't feeling good, he was almost always at my feet or nearby.  We always said that I was his person more than he was my dog.  He picked me.  In hindsight, his illness explains why he wasn't nearly as excited to see me when I got home as I'd expected.  Still, the house feels empty without him around.  He wasn't always a very good dog, but he loved me like no other living thing had every loved me before.  I'll miss him.

He was a stray that wandered into our yard about a decade and a half ago.  We opened the door, he came in and made himself at home by jumping up on the couch and he's been here ever since.  We'd just adopted Hollis (our Basset Hound) and we didn't really want another dog, so we tried to find him a home.  We didn't give him a name because we didn't want to get attached.  We just called him "the brown puppy."  But, he was smart.  So he started answering to it.  That's the Brown Puppy's origin story.

I'll miss you buddy.  But, I'm glad you're not suffering anymore.

***

Since then, I've been exhausted and sad.  I'd hired a life coach (an expensive decision, but I'm such a mess right now, I feel like it was probably the right one) yesterday right before taking Brown to the vet.  I managed to get up this morning and look over some of the materials she sent me.  I also, after multiple people have told me I should, started a store on Etsy to sell my rings.  I had a job interview at noon.

Now, I'm trying to relax, but it's almost like I've forgotten how to do that. I just look around the house at the boxes of clothes and other detritus that all need to be combed through and sorted and feel so overwhelmed.  I've been asked to find somewhere else to live by the end of next month and I don't even know how to go about starting.  Before the power outage Friday, I'd planned to take some action to make my surroundings feel less chaotic and overwhelming.  I feel pretty sure that doing it would help my mental state.  

But instead, I'm sitting here crying over my dead dog.

Two Weeks Outside

Being released from prison is a stressful experience, primarily because almost nothing is done by the institutions in charge of you to prepare you for the transition.

Nevertheless, I thought I knew a few things leading into my release:

1. My friend that was coming to pick me up from jail would be bringing me a set of clothes and shoes so that we could consider stopping and getting something to eat on the way back to my house.
2. My counselor at the jail would be making me an appointment with a doctor so that I wouldn't have to go off my depression medication while I was trying to figure out life that first week.
3. The nurse would be sending me home with either 1 or 15 doses of my medication (depending on when the next two-week shipment arrived).
4. One of the DOC staffers would have already submitted my application for Medicaid.

It turns out that I did not know those things.  In reality:

1. My ex had either not read, misunderstood, or forgotten the message I sent asking for her to put out a set of clothes so my friend could bring them to me.  I had to ride home in the pajama pants and t-shirt I was wearing when I was arrested (you can look up a video of my arrest if you're curious).  Because I "knew" I had shoes coming, I gave away the clogs I'd been wearing for over a year and swapped my almost new shower shoes for a pair that was falling apart.  Then, the deputies who checked me out wouldn't let me leave with those literal pieces of garbage on my feet.  I didn't have it in me to argue.  So, I had to walk barefoot across the parking lot and got into my friend's truck.
2. My counselor either never scheduled an appointment for me or never told me when it was scheduled.
3. I wasn't sent home with any doses of my medicine.  In fact, I wasn't given my usual nightly does on Saturday  Nobody ever explained why.  Then, in another inexplicable development, I was given a dose both Sunday and Monday mornings even though I'd been taking my medicine in the evenings since January.  I was released on Memorial Day.  I had 48 hours after my release to report to my probation officer.  I had 72 hours after my release to register as a sex offender with both the parish and the city (this turned out to be harder than it should have been, but I'll save that story for later).  It was Thursday before I managed to see a doctor and get back on my medication.  Speaking of medical care...
4. As near as I can tell nobody ever submitted my Medicaid application.  On top of that, the online application was useless.  I ended up having to call and apply over the phone like it was 1997 or something.

So, there I was trying desperately to hold it together and fulfill all of my legal responsibilities without access to my medication.  I wasn't sleeping.  I was having trouble focusing.  I had stepped into a house where almost every effort had been made to erase my existence from every room besides my office.  Most of my belongings were piled up in my storage unit.  I didn't know where anything was.

I'd been really worried about being off my medication for those first few days.  I'd talked to both my counselor and the nurse about it.  They assured me that I wouldn't have to miss any doses.  I trusted everyone to make sure things were OK.  But, everybody dropped the ball.  I wasn't able to give myself adequate care.

I didn't expect my first few days of freedom after incarceration to be more torturous than my last few days of prison.  But, somehow Louisiana managed to make that happen for me.  

Things are getting better, but I'm still not OK.

I'm Still Here.

Just over two years ago,  I was arrested.  It was on the news.  It was on the Internet.  Googling me now turns up a lot of really unflattering information.

My charges are embarrassing.  I'm not proud of the mistakes I've made, but I've been living with them for the past two years.  I'll be living with the consequences of my mistakes for the rest of my life.

Prison gave me the chance for a lot of reflection.  Looking at my life, I realized how dysfunctional it had become, even ignoring the specifics that led to my incarceration.  I'd always known I was depressed.  I told myself I was managing it well.  But, in reality, I was constantly searching for fulfillment while never finding it.  

Jail was traumatic and isolating.  I'll write more about my experiences within Louisiana's criminal justice system in the future (it's one of the primary things I want to do in this blog).

I lost my career and my marriage.  And I lost touch with all but a handful of very close friends and family members.

It's been over two years since I heard from almost everyone I know.  I have no idea where I stand with them.  Who has written me off forever as a terrible monster?  Who just doesn't know what to say after so long?  Who's waiting for me to be the one to reach out?  I have no idea.  

So, consider this my attempt to reconnect with anyone who'll have me.

I'm currently living at my old house in Shreveport.  I'll be here until the end of July.  After that?  I have no idea.  I'm still figuring it out.  I wake up every day and apply for jobs.  I'm also working through organizing and minimizing my physical property.  All this, of course, while working through the transition back to normal life.  (Yesterday, I almost left the water running in the bathroom sink because all the sinks in jail have push button faucets that turn themselves off after about 30 seconds.)

Mostly, I'm lonely.  I have several friends that have been in touch with me over the past two years.  I text and call them as much as I think they can stand.  But, as far as I know, I only have one friend left in all of Shreveport.  If I extend that to all of Louisiana, that takes the total to two.  When it comes to family, I'm lucky that my immediate family are all still in my life (Mom, Dad, Sister, and Grandmother), but I haven't heard from anyone else.

I understand that people are probably angry with me, disappointed in me, and uncomfortable with what I did.  I've gone through all of those same feelings.  Some of them still persist.  But, this is my life now.  I can't avoid reality.  I'm willing to tell my story, and I plan to do it in a later entry here.  I'm sorry for what I did.  I never intended to hurt anyone.  Despite the stigma that come with my crimes, I do not believe that I am a danger to anyone.  I'm trying to figure out how to get others to believe the same thing.  

While I can't claim that this experience has not changed me in some ways, I'm still fundamentally the same person as before.  I still love people easily.  I still want to help people.  I still want to work towards making the world a better place.

***

What if I'd died on June 1st, 2021?  Would anyone have missed me?  Would people have wished we could have talked more or spent more time together?  Would there have been things they regretted not asking or telling me?  

I want to believe that I'd have been missed.  But, after 2 years of  incarceration, I'm not so sure anymore.  I went away, but now I'm back.  I'm still here.  I don't feel like I've been missed.

I'm doing everything I can to make the best of my new living situation.  I'd really like to have more connections to the people from my past, but that decision is ultimately up to them.  If you're willing to be connected to me again, please reach out.  If not, I understand.  

***

I'm not sure what someone in my shoes is supposed to do.  Maybe I'm supposed to content myself with life on the fringes of society.  But, right now, I haven't given up all hope that my life may still look something like it did before all of this.

Edit: Feel free to share this with anyone who may be interested.  I'm getting lots of emails and texts bouncing back, so I may not have up-to-date contact information for people.