When I was younger, I was a wild girl. There were drug dealer boyfriends and junkie girlfriends and all kinds of other stuff that it’s probably best for me to forget. For the most part, my wild youth is but a distant memory in my quiet, suburban life.
Except.
Something I did when I was young will follow me around forever…or until I go to the Texas Board of Pardons and Parole to see about obtaining a pardon. Yes, kids, I’m a convicted felon. Me, your own beloved (sometimes, behated…I made it up…so?) Momm-ay/Bob/Steph/St. Phanie/Quirky Blogger, an ex-con. A former jailbird. If you haven’t headed for the hills yet because you’re pretty sure I’m going to explain, goodonya. I am going to explain.
When I was a lass of 23, I went to college. My mother was taking care of my fine, young son so I could live on-campus. I would go home on weekends to visit, and then I would head back to school. For a while, it went well. Then, I discovered there was a party life I was missing out on. That seemed like a way better way to spend my time than going to classes. Smoking pot and drinking? What’s better than that? Stupid, stupid git that I was.
I was eventually kicked out of the dorms and moved in with a friend, Christine. Then bills started coming due, and I needed money to pay my share. I decided that since my mother had always covered for me in the past, she would do so again. I wrote checks on her bank account. To the tune of $3K. My mother simply couldn’t afford to cover my ass this time, so she did what she had to do. She pressed charges. Before you get upset on my behalf, let me tell you - pressing charges against me was, ultimately, the best thing my mother has ever done for me.
I cried and begged and pleaded for her to please, please, please not “do this to me”. While hating herself for it, she forged ahead. (See, even in the darkest depths, a pun can be found.) I wound up spending a few months in various county jails before winding up at “The Big House”, state jail. All told, I served 15 months. Before I proceed, let me explain a bit about Texas’ Department of Corrections’ (TDC) system.
There are several “tiers” of jail in Texas:
1. Local/city jails - these are generally where local cops will hold an offender until a county jail can take them in;
2. County jails - for misdemeanor offenders awaiting trial or serving their sentences OR convicted felons awaiting trial, sentencing or transportation to a DoC facility;
3. State jail - for lesser felony convictions (fourth degree) OR processing facility for those who committed felonies of the third degree or higher;
4. TDC (I’m sure there’s an official name for this, but I never learned it) - “real” prison…this is where those who have committed third degree (or higher) felonies wind up.
There’s more to it than all this, but for my story, those are the things you need to know. So, as a forger, I was sent to state jail. Probably you’re asking yourself why they don’t just send everyone to regular prison and be done with it. I’ll explain - state jail is for people who have been convicted of “minor” crimes. State jail offenders are sentenced for two years, max. State jail offenders have fewer amenities and privileges than TDC offenders. TDC is designed for people who are probably going to be there for a while, and if you don’t give a bitch something to have, she’s got nothing to lose. My theory is that state jail is designed to act as a deterrent for repeat visits to TDC’s fine chain of lodging establishments.
For me, it was very effective. While I was doing my time, I came to the realization that I was completely and totally responsible for what was happening to me. My mother hadn’t “done something to me”; I had done it to myself. I’d made shitty choices, and now I was paying the price for those choices. I knew that I couldn’t be brought back to state jail (or any other jail) if I didn’t make choices that would lead to that. I was in charge of me, and it was about time that I actually TOOK CHARGE of me.
During this time, I also realized that the cute, smart, sweet, wonderful, little boy to whom I’d given birth and then abandoned (let’s not put a fine point on it here - intentionally or not, I left the kid for 15 months) was the best thing that I’d ever done and that had ever happened to me. Before jail, reading Matt a bedtime story had been a pain in my ass. In jail, there were nights I’d have given my fucking arm to read the kid a bedtime story. After jail, there was a lot of work to be done to convince that kid that I wasn’t going anywhere. I think he’s realized he’s stuck with me. I’d still read him bedtime stories, if he’d let me.
In other words, kids, I grew the fuck up. I got my act together, and I started doing the right things for myself and my kid. That time in my life seems surreal to me now, and I am, by no means, proud of it. I debated with myself and some friends about whether or not I should even post this. I decided that, in the interest of keeping this as real as anyone can stand, I’d share it.
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18 responses so far ↓
1 Robbi // May 8, 2008 at 12:34 pm
Well, you know from conversations about this in the past that I find nothing but dignity in this situation with the way you’ve handled it. You were a kid, you made a mistake, a big one. It put you and your child and your mom all in a situation that you never even for one second *dreamed when you were doing it, yet when it all came down, you ultimately took responsibility for your own actions, and you made the choice to use it to your benefit and to learn from it. The part about Matt and how we (generic) maybe kind of take the gift of parenting for granted, and don’t realize how precious it is until it’s taken away from us, really, really hit home for me.
I’d hug you, but I have a reputation, dammit.
2 Eden // May 8, 2008 at 1:31 pm
Well I’m glad you shared it. This is great story.
BTW: I’m totally stealing “St. Phanie.”
3 d // May 8, 2008 at 1:51 pm
You know how rockstar I think you are and I’m glad you posted this.
I’m so proud of the way you turned a situation that could have been an excuse to let yourself be a doucher for the rest of your life and turned it into something to learn and grow from and become the wonderful person, friend, bob, and wife you are today.
I give you massive hugs now *HUGZZZZZ*
Oh and LOL about Jailbird singing in the dead of the night. :is ded:
4 Melanie // May 8, 2008 at 2:13 pm
That is a great story and kuddos to you for sharing. I think everyone has said/done something in their lives for which they are not proud, but were taught a valuable, life changing lesson.
For me, it was that shoplifting was not an effective way to get back at my parents for divorcing and just because I repeatedly got away with it and it was kinda fun didn’t make it right (I have never admitted that to ANYONE, not even my hubby).
Hats off to you.
5 Steph // May 8, 2008 at 3:10 pm
Robbi - Thank you. And I won’t tell anyone that you even *wanted to hug me, you hardass. I got your back like that.
Eden - I wish I could take credit for St. Phanie, but no. Matter of Fact Mommy came up with it. God love her.
d - Thanks. And hugs right back to you. Srsly.
Melanie - Thank you for sharing that. It means a lot to me that you feel comfortable being open here. :) And I’m also relieved I wasn’t the only one who went a little crazy in their youth. :grin:
6 Steph // May 8, 2008 at 3:18 pm
Robbi - (I forgot to write this. Yes, I’ve got ADD. I know.) I’m no perfect mom, by *any stretch, but I really and truly ENJOY my kids most of the time. I dig each and every age and stage (some more than others, of course), and I’m never ready for them to move to the next one. I feel like it’s all going so fast, I’ll never soak in enough of them before they’re flying off to build their own nests. (Hopefully, they’ll all be eagles or hummingbirds or wrens and not, yanno, jailbirds…I’ve gone too far with this metaphor, haven’t I?) I believe that is due, in large part, to my time in the hoosegow. The idea of time as a limited commodity was made very real and clear, if that makes sense.
7 Krystie Lee // May 8, 2008 at 3:34 pm
Thanks for sharing your story. Everybody stumbles at some point.
8 Steph // May 8, 2008 at 3:36 pm
Krystie Lee - Thanks. As with everything else, I had to make sure my stumble was the biggest one on the block. :headdesk:
9 matteroffactmommy // May 8, 2008 at 4:47 pm
i thought i loved you 5 days ago. i love you even more now. and it’s not just about being ‘honest’, and ‘real’ on your blog. because you’re great at that, and your readers know that. my love for you has grown in the 10 minutes (hey, i’m a slow reader!) that it took me to read this blog BECAUSE you pulled yourself up by your bootstraps and you figured-it-the-fuck-out! GOOD FOR YOU.
my mom’s “tough love” moment was when she kicked me out at age 17 to send me to live with my sister, who is 11yrs older than me. i still fucked up a lot… (much more to THAT story) but i made the better of it, and my mom and i ultimately ended up the best of friends.
<3
10 Steph // May 8, 2008 at 4:52 pm
MoFMBFF - Thank you. You know I have more love for you than should be legal, so this? Meant a LOT to me. Also? It’s “Clean Out Your Closet” day here in Stephford…so spill about your effing up. Or on your blog. Or whatever. I just wanna know more about you. I’m stalkerish like that. :grin:
11 Noel // May 8, 2008 at 6:43 pm
Good for you. We’ve talked about this before, but I think it’s awesome the way you went, WTF? I have to fix my life. And did it.
12 Deb // May 8, 2008 at 9:02 pm
I’m happy to know this about you. And glad you are the type of person to share it.
Many, many people don’t learn from their mistakes to become better people, but you did.
You should be proud, Steph.
13 Myra // May 8, 2008 at 9:43 pm
everyone deserves a do-over. and you were smart enough to grab on and not let go. so congratulations to you. everyone makes their own mistakes. you’re being honest about yours and that’s cool.
14 Steph // May 8, 2008 at 11:50 pm
Noel - Thanks. You know, I remember thinking it would be the hardest to tell the loop about it, but even there, everyone was really supportive. To my face, at least. LOL. I guess that’s when I started thinking that this maybe was something I didn’t have to try my damnedest to hide.
Deb - Whew. Do you know I was seriously concerned about *your response? I was thinking, “Man. I just started getting to know her. I hope she doesn’t bail.” So, I’m glad you’re here still. Really, really glad. You look fabulous in those dark wash trouser jeans, by the way.
Myra - Thank you so much. Coming from a new friend, that really does mean a lot to me. :)
15 Missy // May 9, 2008 at 2:06 pm
Dude you know I’d love you no matter what you did. Hell I’d even help you hide the body afterward. I know I was worried for you to post this but I’m ultra proud of you for doing it. You are an ever present inspiration to me for knowing exactly who you are and not giving a flying fuck what anyone else thinks. *loves*
16 Steph // May 9, 2008 at 3:58 pm
Missy - I know, and so far, no flames. It’s good. :grin: And yeah, this is a part of my life. If someone judges me because of it, that’s their issue, not mine.
17 Deb // May 9, 2008 at 4:33 pm
I’m never leaving, sorry.
What’s that line from Will and Grace?
“My love for you is like this scar. Ugly and permanent.”
Doesn’t matter what you do babe! I’m yours forever!
18 Steph // May 9, 2008 at 4:40 pm
Deb - That made me laugh and get a little weepy all at once. :grin: That was a fabulous (and eminently quotable) show, wasn’t it?