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It's the End of the World As We Know It…
*Updates to the courts procedure while we’re going through this COVID-19 thing can be found at this link, which is to the Utah Courts webpage for updates.
Ok, so not really. It IS the end of the world as we know it for at least a few weeks to months. I’m avoiding Facebook, etc., myself, because I had been before (depression + Facebook=kill me now, most of the time) but it’s even worse now. My family is basically prepared. When the store shelves cleared immediately of toilet paper and water, I had a dozen and a half or so rolls, and kept wondering who these weird people were who thought a pandemic was the equivalent of an earthquake, and that our city water would suddenly become contaminated and undrinkable.
That’s not how pandemics work, ya’ll. That’s how earthquakes work (which as a sidenote, actually happened this morning early in the Salt Lake Valley, so maybe those folks are glad they bought up all the water…more about THAT here.).
Anyway. The beauty of my job is that I really CAN do it anywhere there’s an internet connection, and on Monday, I dragged my desktop home from my day job, and got myself set up to work from home for the next few weeks. I love working from home. As an anxious depressive, getting out of bed in the morning is excruciating, especially knowing I’ll have to, like, put on pants and makeup and not look like a slob and stuff. These past couple of days, I have literally dragged myself out of bed, put on my bathrobe, and sat down at my computer at 8am. No makeup required. No pants required. That’s straight up perfection, my friends.
It’s also really fantastic that most of us really DO have technology literally at our fingertips that allows for all kinds of communication without having to be WITH anyone. My smartphone has face to face calling (Facetime because it’s an Apple, but Skype and Facebook Messenger do the same thing). I can text if I don’t feel like talking. I can receive and send email from my phone as well. And so can 95% of the world’s population (that’s totally a guess. I have no data to support that percentage.)
The population that I’M speaking to now, though, you folks in Utah, you who are scared or confused about the legal system, who are afraid to leave your homes, but afraid to not be able to leave your homes, I’m still here for you. I’ve been doing a lot of family law legal consulting. For those who would qualify for CAPSA’s services, I do it for free. For those of you who actually CAN pay some legal fees, I charge $75/hr, which I can take through Venmo or Paypal or Square on a credit card. You CAN still talk to a lawyer–I can Facetime/etc with you. Or you can email.
The point here is this: Don’t feel like you’re stuck in a situation that you don’t want to be in because you don’t have access to any legal counsel. I’m available virtually by appointment (which you can make by emailing me–see my About tab at the top of this page). Or you can just email if you have a specific question. A lot of your FAQ’s are already answered on my blog here…just go to the “search” box at the top right of the page, and type in a keyword you need info on, and everything I’ve written about that topic will come up. Hell, if push came to shove, the courts are still open, and I can e-file any case documents for a legal case I’m working on, without having to leave my home office. (I actually HAVE completed entire cases without ever traveling to a courthouse.)
So keep that in mind. Don’t panic. It may be the End of the World as We Know It, but You Can Still Feel Fine ;).
Scars
**I owe the idea for this blog post to another “quintessential mom” I had the privilege of talking to this past week. Thanks for giving me new things to think about ;).
I got thinking about scars a few days ago. I have a few…There’s one on my right shin that I got sticking up for my little sister–the boys who had thrown her bike into the ditch pushed me in on top of it when I went in after it, cutting my shin on the fender. Another one on my right thigh is from a dog bite when I was 7 or 8. I have the faintest ever scar on my left arm, up high, from a smallpox vaccine I got when I was a baby, before my family moved to the Philippines where my dad was stationed in the Air Force. Smallpox is a live vaccine; I got one pock as a result of that. I always thought it looked kind of like a flower.
I have scars from bug bites that I had bad allergic reactions to, and a scar on my face from a staph infection that developed in what I thought was just a monster zit. It ended up having to be cut open and drained repeatedly for over a week. My hands are a map of scars, from things like cat scratches, or scrapes you get in the course of living life. And my stomach is a ridiculous mess of stretch marks–scars I got from having my first pregnancy be with twins at 22.
My twins ended up with permanent scars themselves–the older one had surgery on his skull at 6 months to open up the prematurely fused growth plate on the back right side of his head. That’s quite the scar, going from ear to ear, in a bit of an S-shape. His younger twin brother had surgery on his spine at 17; that’s a helluva scar, running from the base of his neck, almost to his waist.
My twins’ scars will NEVER go away, unlike some of mine. I was in a car accident at 15, and split my forehead open in a couple of places. You’d never tell by looking at me at this point, though, because as I grew, those scars grew with me, and are now somewhere up above my hairline. The passage of time Healed me of those scars, like it’s faded some of my other scars.
But these that I’ve mentioned are just physical scars. There are other types of scars that last a lot longer–emotional scars. The loss of dear ones can permanently scar those left behind. Anything that cuts into our souls and hearts can, and often does, leave a scar that may never fade.
It’s September again. I hate September, and it’s because of the emotional scars I’ve incurred through about 15 years worth of Septembers. Hard, painful, life-changing things seem to happen in September for me, scarring me physically AND emotionally.
Saturday morning I opened up Instagram, and the first post on my feed was about the LOTOJA race. LOTOJA is a 3 state, 206 mile, one day bike race, that starts in Logan, Utah, runs through Idaho, and ends in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Fifteen years ago, in September, I rode that ride with 4 of my best friends. It was the culmination of a year’s worth of training, and it was one of the best days of my life, even while it was crazy hard. And the next day, my biking was over, and my sanity went into a tailspin. It was the beginning of the end of my marriage; I was divorced by the end of March 2005.
You can read other of my blog posts to find out how my divorce went for me. Suffice it to say, the emotional scars are still with me. Even after all these years, those pains are still very real, very raw–hardly healed at all, it seems. Every year when the LOTOJA comes around again, I am reminded of that scar. The bruise is still there; it still hurts to touch. That was one of the really crucial things I learned in law school working with victims of domestic abuse–the physical pains, the physical scars, they healed faster than the mental and emotional ones. Those ones linger; they stick with the victims. The hurts are deep, and the scars are permanent.
I participate in a free legal clinic at CAPSA, our local domestic violence shelter. I consulted with a woman at my last clinic who reminded me how little so much of my emotional scarring has healed. Her divorce is scarcely final; mine was final 14 years, 5 months ago. Mine still hurts like hell. So I cried with her. Big, ugly painful tears. Maybe someday those emotional scars will have grown up, out of sight, like some of my physical scars have.
I can only hope.
Just so you know…
If you are the victim of sexual assault, and you have the courage to go to a hospital and ask to have a rape kit collected, PLEASE know that law enforcement will be more concerned with the fact that you are a victim of a horrible violent crime, and NOT with the fact that you’re under 21 and have alcohol in your system. Or that you’re in a state where pot is illegal (or you don’t have a green card) and you have marijuana show up in your system. Yes, the hospital may tell the police you tested positive for some illegal substances, but it is SO MUCH MORE IMPORTANT to get a rapist prosecuted than it is for the police to hassle you over so much less terrible things!
…and if you’re in Western Wyoming, and you DO get charged with one of these minor things after you’ve been tough enough to do the super difficult, invasive, important thing of getting a rape kit taken and reporting a rapist to law enforcement, get ahold of me. I’ll represent you in your justice court case for free. Because it is important enough to ME that you do what you need to to get a rapist off the street.
Don’t think this is just a women’s issue either. Men are also victims of sexual assault, though they report less often than women.
And just in case you were wondering, there is no statute of limitations in Wyoming or Utah on rape. Here’s a little more info on that. Keep in mind, though, that it’s much harder to prove in court that a rape occurred if you wait too long. (In Idaho, depending on how “rape” defined, there is either no statute of limitations, or you have 5 years from the date of the commission of the crime.)
Be brave. You’re not alone.
If you or someone you know needs help, call the Rape & Sexual Assault Crisis Line 1-888-421-1100, or you can contact CAPSA in northern Utah/southern Idaho, at 435-753-2500.
PTA Mom to Lady Lawyer 