The American INjustice System, Part One: My Experience

*Please note: My son’s father shall be called Bob in order to protect myself from getting into any trouble.

11 days after my son was born, I left New York State and moved to North Carolina to live with family. After I’d been in North Carolina about two weeks I was approached by a sheriff’s deputy who said the father of my new baby “was concerned because he can’t get in touch with you.” I replied, “I’ve been sending him pictures of the baby every day, have communicated with text messages and have talked to him on the phone at least once.” He informed me that he was just doing his job and was glad we were okay and that he would report back with the news.

The next week the sheriff’s department tried to serve me. My son’s father was trying to take custody away from me after 10 months of nearly total absence. A deputy pulled my aunt over claiming she ran a stop sign but really attempting to find me concealed in her car. They rang the doorbell at dark, early morning hours and dark, late night hours when no normal person answers the door unless they are expecting someone. I was advised by a lawyer, off the record, to not answer the door. If I cannot be served, there cannot be a court date.

Unfortunately, that did not fly for the NYS Supreme Family Court. I filed paperwork in North Carolina hoping it would happen before the date in NY. The judge we had was extremely sympathetic and was very accommodating for me because I did not have a lawyer. Yes, “a man who represents himself has a fool for a client.” He called the judge who was given our case in NY and they both decided that the case needed to be tried there because my son was born in NY, therefore that state had jurisdiction.

Eventually, the judge ruled that I had to leave my wonderful full time job with great pay, an extensive support system of family and friends and a secure home to go back to that specific county in NY because my son’s father lived there. My lawyer (read: free, overworked, underpaid, miserable, hate-their-job county worker) was a child-less, selfish and snotty product of this town and a family with lots of disposable income. She yelled at me after refusing to listen, causing me to collapse in tears of frustration, stress and anger. She coerced me to give in to their requests with threats of “court dates until your kid is grown if you don’t just agree.” I moved into an apartment that was falling apart, I had no job for almost 5 months, was getting food stamps and cash assistance from the county as well as WIC food checks. Yup, I was living off the government because the INjustice system thought it would be better for my son.

We moved back at the end of December 2009. I have struggled with minimum wage, part time hours, outrageous rent, foot-dragging county assistance workers and reliable means of transportation since day one. I loathe this small town, ghetto-fied, dying dot on the map of an otherwise beautiful state.

My son, who is now almost 2 years old, sees his father perhaps once a month if he’s lucky. Usually it’s an accident and only happens when Bob* stops by his parents’ house or camp for food and money while Ick is with his “Gamma” and “Papa.”

We have been to court two other times with me finally withdrawing my petition to modify at the advisement of my second court appointed lawyer. My goal in life is to become a Doctor of Pharmacy and that is an education not available to me in this county which I cannot leave without court papers allowing me to do so.

In order to get that permission I must prove the following: better job, home, daycare, doctor, and a full support system of friends and family. His father, meanwhile, has only to live here. He doesn’t even have to see our son or interact with him or be a parent in any fashion to keep my son from living a better life. Like most parents, I want my son to have a better adult life than I do. To do that, I must give him the advantages of freedom of choice that money provides. In NY I have no family except my sister who is here temporarily and will be gone before winter. I have two friends whom I rarely see. The “support system” is nothing more than my son’s paternal grandparents.

Ah, yes. The driving force behind Bob’s actions in court: the general deceit, outright lies and ridiculous claims. These seemingly sweet, small town folks want their grandson down the street more than they want him to have a better life than can be obtained in a place where a business closes down every week and the census has shown a mass-exodus for the last five years. There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting your grandchildren or any family near you. It’s what I want for myself to be honest. There is something wrong with telling the mother of your grandson, “Why do you want to get a PharmD? It’s really hard, you know. Why don’t you just be a pharmacy technician? You can make like $13 an hour.” Yes, because an hourly wage is better than a six figure salary, isn’t it? Yes, it’s good to strive for low class when your dreams are upper-middle class. Yes, it’s perfectly okay to settle for a job any adult can do when you have the intelligence and drive to be more and go farther.

I will attend classes starting this fall in preparation of transferring to a university with a PharmD program. When I have gone as far as I can in this Yankee podunk town, I will once again file a petition to modify with the American INjustice system and hope for the best.

My experience with the American INjustice System has been heart breaking. I have been stripped of dignity, I have been shown in a light of cruelty and heartlessness and I have been coerced by the very people who were sent to help. In fact, the judge told me I was destroying my son with my petition and repeated court appearances. There has been no justice, only prejudice. My second lawyer said, “The law is what it is and we have to work within it. There are precedents that dictate how these kinds of cases go. If I could change the law, I would. But it is what it is and until it changes, we have to work within it as best we can.”

That is a cop out and an excuse. Precedents are merely that: previous decisions on cases that are guidelines and do not apply to every single case. We have amendments for a reason. We have political figures that make laws every day and change them, too. We can change the American INjustice System with passion, common sense and representatives who are in tune with the people they are representing.

Coming Soon… Part Two: Criminal Cases of the American INjustice System

Timeless Words From My Past

Here is a journal entry I wrote on November 8th, 2004. It was titled, "If you think I don't love you well then you're just wrong." I was listening to Counting Crows and Sister Hazel while writing it. I love this and always have and felt it was time to once again show it the light of day and pull it out of the dungeon that is Live Journal. :P

I hope tomorrow is like today. It was a thick golden liquid warming my skin while I sat in a chair and read a book. When I went outside the sun was warming the chilled air that caressed my skin but did nothing to warm my toes that felt the cold dirt and grass as I walked aimlessly around the backyard. My heart beating in my chest with the childish certainty that my life could be and is as poetic as the book I had just read. It beat with an irrational knowledge that everything that happened to me and because of me was important and perfect and full of golden life, real and beautiful. Even mundane talk with [boyfriend at the time] was full, ripe, and juicy with life and my living body. I felt that way for the better part of today and most acutely for the hour or so after I finished reading that book. I was constantly on the verge of tears, constantly wondering if my life was as beautiful as my heart felt that it was. I felt in my skin and my clothes and my self as beautiful as my heart felt. No amount of weight or lack of self-esteem could change that feeling. I want to feel like that all the time. I want to feel limber and lithe and smooth and soft and girlish. I don't want to feel heavy, drained, pained or pessimistically mortal. I want that sharp ... juiciness (what other way is there to describe it?) that makes me understand that this time is temporary and that there's no use dragging it down and being angry about big things, much less petty things. I can't get past that word, "juicy," ha-ha... What other word could I use? Plump, pregnant, full, round, PRESENT. It's hard describing how I felt because it has faded and I'm desperately trying to catch it and pull it back. I'm afraid that if I read the book again too soon or too many times it will lose its magic and be unable to make me feel that way again.

That's why I hope tomorrow is like today. I hope the sun shines as warmly, the breeze swirls as coolly. I want to walk as far as my legs will take me and sit down wherever I am to enjoy the human fullness of the city (or suburb, whatever the case may be). I want to cram a life into a day and enjoy every bit of it. I want to sit on my bed in my room alone and write tortured but hopeful poetry while listening to songs written and sung by scarred poets who had lived through something painful that I wanted for myself. I want to fall in love, I want to be in love, I want to be with the one I love, I want to be with my children, I want to play with my friends, I want to be with my family (all of them), I want everything all at once. I want the learning of school, the harshness of growing up, the uncertainty of parenthood, the joy of love, the pain of longing, the comfort of an embrace with my lover. I want to experience an entire life and then come back to mine

Someone is bound to say, "Not everything has to be prominent, purposeful, meaningful, or ripe with life." But it does! EVERYTHING has to be golden and ripe and meaningful. If it isn't, you'll toss it out without thinking about it. The memory of the day you went driving around aimlessly with no goal or destination while your best friend sat beside you will fade away and you'll never realize it. The long talks about nothing as the sun turned orange and turned the day to melting riches will be forgotten. The laughter you shared will fade from your memory because it was a mundane day that you took for granted. You have to understand that every day is full and ready for the picking. Even if you're angry, if you're crying or dancing, the day is plump with life, ripe with mortality that lasts less than a hundred years while the afterlife lasts for the rest of eternity.

I wish I had the motivation to live life like every second was a grape that I had to pick and eat and enjoy before it shriveled into an inedible raisin, devoid of emotion or the pulse of life. I can only hope that I will be able to get rid of the always lingering bad mood/bad attitude that haunts me at work. I want to be nice to people, to the managers. I want to be sweet and liked and alive.

I want to live. I want everything that life has to offer and I want to take it and know that my experiences and emotions and motivations are my own and no one else's

Just because I want to live and pulse with bubbling life, doesn't mean I'll never be sad. It doesn't mean I won't allow myself to be sad. I don’t mean I don't want to be sad. Because pain is a part of life and it, as well as laughter, is proof that you are alive and feeling. As long as you feel the pain and then let it go. You have to feel it, for growing numb takes away the laughter of life, not just the pain. After feeling the pain and not allowing it to numb you, let it go. If you hold on to it, it will embitter you. The pain will become your life and everything will be an affront to you and your 'precious,' your pain and suffering. The center of your life should always be yourself, your loved one(s) or your God (religions say your God comes first). That way you always have something to take care of. If you let the center of your life be pain or loss then your entire life will be nothing but pain and loss, you'll never see the sun turn molten as it sets in the nest of the earth, crowned with blues, purples and oranges... You'll only see the death of the day, the birth of the cold, mean, lonely night.

I think this is what they mean by "turning over a new leaf" except that I'll wait until it actually happens before I say it. I've found the leaf that I want to claim as my own but I don't know if I can turn it. It's like an old car on a cold morning. I have to nurse it along, encourage the feeling, pet it and sweet talk it into taking hold. And when it does, I'll hold onto it like a mother to a child: With all the gentleness of fragile care, but with the tenacity and forcefulness of love.

"Rapture in the Fall"

On the streets in August

When the leaves are gold and green

The breezes and warmth still flowing through

As I sit down on a swing…

Liquid gold caressing my skin

The cold encompassing my feet.

I’m drinking in the coming fall

And my heart has just begun to beat.

The sun is setting behind houses and trees

Into the nest of the earth

Crowned with colors not yet named

The night waiting to give birth.

                                                                ~Kathryn, 21

Almost seven years later, I read this and was still astounded. This is one of my absolute favorite journal entries and poems that have ever come out of my brain. Did I ever turn over that new leaf? No, I did not. But God sort of turned it for me when I had my son almost two years ago. I’m much more aware of passing time and holding on to moments as they go by. Yes I’m still guilty of wishing days away and saying I “can’t wait” until this or that day. Sometimes I rush my son through our bedtime “routine” (me playing with him in his room for a while) so that I can get online or just plain go to sleep. It’s all about being human, being forgiving and loving. My life isn’t perfect nor would I expect anyone to believe my life is horrible. It’s just pretty average. All the same, I find myself sitting in a moment thinking, “I wish I could live in this moment for years and years.” The book I was referring to is The LovelyBones by Alice Sebold. She is an amazing writer and has inspired me to not only make a millionth attempt at writing (something I’ve been doing since I was about 10), but to live my life in a much more meaningful way. I recommend this book (but not the movie) to anyone, male or female, teenager to senior citizen. The movie, as tends to happen, lessens the passion and emotion of the book and leaves out so much that makes the book as inspiring as it was to me.

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

Is there a book you would recommend that moved you?

Is This Thing On?

So, my last blog post was over two months ago. Seeing as my blog is not closely followed by ANYone, I'm not too sure that I am being missed. However, I am trying to get my butt in gear. I have just started a new job in the pharmaceutical field (yay!) and am trying to adjust working a "normal" schedule. It's crazy and fantastic and I'm happy. Yup, I said happy... It's an odd feeling since it's not something I'm used to. As soon as I can force myself to sit down and concentrate on something that is not a game (ooo, pretty graphics) or a movie (ahh, Cary Elwes, you have stolen my heart), I will post something interesting. Until then, be safe and make good choices.