Like 99% of the world, I just finished watching the Netflix documentary, Making of a Murderer. And it has changed my life, obvi.
I know what it feels like to be Steven Avery. Having your entire life turned upside down. Having everything you’ve worked for just ripped away from you.
For two years I was held against my will at home by my four kids. I lost a job that I loved and was just sort of forced into being a stay-at-home mom. I was a prisoner in my own home. By no fault of my own. There were people who were trying to help me, but there was nothing they could do. Just like Steven Avery.
Ironically, I also grew up in the car business. Sort of like Steven Avery was raised in an actual auto salvage yard. My uncle owned several car dealerships in Chicago. And I grew up working there, with most of my family. We are a simple people. Just like the Averys. The similarities are really endless.
I also share a love of all things flannel. And I wore overalls like nobody’s business back in the nineties. Until my cousin Shelly told me that overalls weren’t supposed to be tight. Yet according to Allen Avery, that’s exactly the way they are supposed to be worn. I might start wearing them again.
Just like Steven Avery struggled with being wrongly imprisoned, I struggled with being a hostage in my own home. I was really depressed and I felt guilty that I didn’t relish the time I had with my kids. But the guilt didn’t last long. However, the depression, isolation, and rage did.
Like Steven Avery trying to get an appeal, for two years I tried to get a job. Finally, my prayers were answered and I’m gainfully employed again and have never been happier. I’m happier. Beau is happier. The kids are happier. It’s amazing. I really had no idea just how depressed and lonely I was until I came out of it and I can look back. I never want to be like that again.
My days were endless. The monotony almost killed me. I would go days on end without even seeing the light of day. Like I was in solitary confinement. I was literally choking from lack of fresh air. I could actually go days without even speaking. At least not ever speaking to anyone over the age of reason.
About once a day, if my kids were good, I’d get the privilege of making a phone call. I almost always called Beau. He would regale me with stories of peeing alone. Several times a day. Having adult conversations. Eating food that required silverware. I longed to be on the outside again. A normal functioning member of society.
I tried not to let on how miserable I was, but it was hard. Some days I just couldn’t help myself. A normal phone convo between Beau and I would go something like this:
Me: Yeah. I can’t take this no more.
Beau: Don’t get strange. Yeah.
Me: Yeah. I ain’t strange. Cause I’m sick of this world. I’m sick of suffering.
Beau: Yeah. You know, better days are comin’. Just…
Me: No, there ain’t no better days comin’.
Beau: Yeah, there is.
Me: No, there could be worse days comin’. Yeah.
Thankfully things are much better now. Now that I’m on the outside again. I was able to put the past behind me. I have a new lease on life. I have a life.
The thought of being held captive in my house again with the temps below zero and snow falling, gives me major anxiety. I wasn’t supposed to be there. I was supposed to be somewhere else. It was all just a big misunderstanding.
When I drop off my kids at school in the morning, I run back to my car. Not a care in the world. I feel light as a feather. I feel like Steven Avery. Minus the shoulder length beard, the first time he got out of prison after wrongfully serving eighteen years. I am so happy and elated. Yet a little confused.
Everyday I live in fear that I will be cemented in my own home again. Stuck in my house with these animals that actually belong here. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
***Thank you Mavid for trying to teach me photoshop. And thanks to Baureen for actually photoshopping for me!