I wish my name was Jane Doe

I’m anonymous. I admit that. I don’t want people to know my name, or my children’s names, or where we live, or what I do. The situation that I’m in right now is very sensitive and creates in me an intense need for privacy. The only reason I’m writing a blog is because, by satisfying my need for privacy, I have created a place of isolation. And isolation is awful. At least by writing anonymously I can feel like I’m telling my story, sharing my feelings, and I can be candid --- or at least try to be candid, while still preserving that privacy.

But now? I really do wish my name was Jane Doe. I wish I didn’t have a distinctive, unusual first name. I wish my parents didn’t have such a distinctive last name. I mean, the only people in the United States with our last name are all closely related to us. Cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. I wish I hadn’t lived in this community my whole life. I wish I could be as anonymous in real life as I am in this blog.

Why? Because yesterday I did something – something big. I pled guilty to all the charges they have leveled against me. I stood there, next to my attorney, and gave up my right to a jury trial. I gave up the right to testify on my own behalf. The right to appeal. The right to be presumed innocent. The right to bear arms, to vote, to participate in society. Because in all likelihood, I will be incarcerated. Go to jail. Live in the slammer.

And yes, I’m being flippant because this is such a huge, weighty thing that I’m afraid it may crush me. It’s not a laugh or cry situation, it’s a laugh or have a nervous breakdown situation.

Ever heard the superchick song Beauty From Pain? There’s a line in the song that says “The lights go out all around me/One last candle to keep out the night/And then the darkness surrounds me/I know I’m alive but I feel like I’ve died.” I feel like I’m dying a slow death, counting down the 35 days, just five weeks, before I face sentencing. And will probably disappear from the lives of my children for years. YEARS. “And all that’s left is to accept that it’s over/My dreams ran like sand through the fist that I’ve made.”

Ok, in my mind I know that someday I’ll be able to look back, see how I’ve been changed, become better, by this situation. But now? Oh boy.

After all this has passed, I still will remain/After I’ve cried my last, there’ll be beauty from pain/Though it won’t be today, someday I’ll hope again/And there’ll be beauty from pain/You will bring beauty from my pain.

Here I am at the end of me/Trying to hold to what I can’t see/I forgot how to hope/This night’s been so long/I cling to Your promise there will be a dawn

And we know that IN ALL T HINGS God works for the GOOD of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plan to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a HOPE and a FUTURE.”