Evidence 101

EVIDENCE 101...Wherever you go, there you are...







Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Tough Talk

This is going to be a rough ride. Most people might click off or go whisper around town that I have let the cheese slip off my cracker. It was brushed upon slightly in my last book if you read it.

So what really happens to cops in certain assignments? Like undercover work. Drugs? Prostitution? If they are doing online surfing for child predators, do they skate over to delve into the deviance of unlawful solicitation? No. In fact, that question might enrage people. WTF?

What's up with all that, Fargo? Where you comin' frem and wher' ewe goin' ta? Wall I well tell ewe.

Isn't hillbilly writing fun?



This might be more meaningful than my words.



Anyway, basically...sometimes you get some mental damage or mental garbage...i.e mind channeling dyscombobulation...going on in your head which may or may not be recognized by yourself or others.

Whew. That was a lot of science in one sentence.

For example, when I had a case involving a creepy creeper child molester (yes, that includes all of them) with multiple child victims and the cases included creepy touching, fetishes, and brutual mental or physical victimization...I sometimes went through periods of time where I could not have sex with my husband. I didn't want to. Anguish. That would describe it. It wasn't like the well went dry to be blunt. It was all up in the head and trickled down to the vagina and no desire. In fact the thought grossed me out a time or two. Nothing against my husband at the time. But I was broken.

Temporarily.

Yes, there will be those naysayers out there who say..."Oh, you are just a girl and it is just a hole, stop saying you didn't haven any desire or things didn't want to work that way. Excuses. Lube it up and go." And those who say "a man is sensitive and we can understand about the kiddos, but the vajayjay takes a pounding and no big deal."

See. I still have some issues with wording from my cop days. It just all comes out like that. Crude and shit.



Did I seek any assistance like counseling or some super hot sex therapy or some sexual study?

Nope.

Was there a magic pill to take?

Nope.

Why?

Cuz there wasn't any. I didn't ask a doctor. Besides, Viagra was new. There was no Viagra for women and that wouldn't have cured the images in my head that were messing with my thoughts. I mean, when a 79 year old tells you the 3 year old was promiscuous and wanted it...it fucks you up. Especially, when you see the sexual assault aftermath to the child.

Also...

I couldn't talk about it...OUT LOUD. How embarrassing.  IT WASN'T TRUE ANYWAY. I WAS THE QUEEN OF DENIAL. IT WASN'T HAPPENING TO ME. I WAS JUST REALLY TIRED AND OVERWORKED.

I couldn't even talk about it to my husband. Conveniently I would find something to kill that moment whether it was exhaustion, more work, kiddo stuff, or stalling. Occasionally I would have a drink to take the edge off and just be dutiful.

He sometimes noticed I wasn't myself. Or that I was not enjoying anything.

I lied about it.

Yep.

Not cool.

Anyway...along came some decompression time...patrol duty...and the sexual revolution of me in my 40's. Wahoo! I was alive and horny. Like way.

It still continues. Not the dysfunction. Anyway. TMI.

Endorphins run high at my house! Woop! Woop!

Now you know the rest of the story.

You're welcome.

Speaking of mind gunk...

Recently, I realized my antisocial behavior and decompression mode has actually damaged my fun meter and now that I am back at being a social person at work and in my personal life with fishing and cop culture...I feel a little sunshine coming back. And confidence. I'm running and racing. Not winning the pack, but not last. Family (Bug and dogs) stuff is going full bore again.

Yet, I still love my independence and alone time. So I need to find a balance. When you are in the fog of war, you are oblivious to what goes on around you sometimes and how things affect you until it is over. It is true with work issues, depression, family drama, and decompressing from cop life. You just know you aren't on par and sometimes you aren't really happy. It sucks monkey ballz actually. You have to figure it out.

I was in a rut for a long time. Here is briefly what I learned...actually...it's the stripped down commando version...

Book writing saved me during the serial killer moments. Running has helped me physically and mentally. Food is energy, not a crutch. I must never stop drinking on occasion and smelling the roses to make sure they do smell.

And sometimes when life hits you in the kiester, you need to use butt salve and move on with it.

Yep. There it is.


This is new and can't be used by cops.


Yeah.

That all needed to be said.

Why?

Because I know I was not alone out there.

Why?

I know.




Monday, August 24, 2015

Vodka Moms

There is so much action and chaos at the Harry Potter House on school mornings.

It overwhelms me.

First, I try to get up before anyone else so I can enjoy my morning cup of joe and get my game face on before getting into the shower. Murphy is lazy and tries to talk me into staying in bed longer than my alarm tells me. Moose usually goes to Bug's room.

Oliver is Oliver. He starts all the drama.

His morning starts off with nabbing the discarded panties from Bug on the bathroom floor and running at full speed down the stairs keeping them from Murphy who wants the other end. This pretty much sounds like a herd of Fat Bastards. Usually, this starts a tug of war and wallah! The panties become sling shots and strands of cotton.

Which is all followed by a screaming teenager and buckets of tears.

I think it is actually an effective learning tool of picking up clothing items and putting them where they belong...LIKE IN THE HAMPER.

All this.

Whilst I drink my coffee watching the news or a recorded show. My peace interrupteth.

Erg.

It's like living in a house full of kids.

And only one speaks English...but very LOUDLY. She has no inside voice.

Ring ring. Phone. Answer.

Man cop, "I caught a robber! Woohoo! Whatcha' doing? Getting ready for work? Gas station. Girl victim.Gotta go."

For a moment, I got a jolt and it wasn't from my coffee. Was it adrenaline? Surprise? Anxiety because it wasn't me on the robber thingy? Or just too damn early in the morning to absorb things?

I choose the latter.

Yep. Grand Central station.

At least I am entertained.

It is fully understandable why some mothers get committed to the funny farm and have to wear white jackets or drink Vodka at 6:00 AM or pop pills with Vodka at 6:00 AM.

Although...I'm not considering it...it is something I comprehend.



Perhaps it would have helped me to have some empathy on the job when I dealt with Vodka Moms. Lesson lost.

This looks particularly refreshing....



I am now accepting products for reviews on any type of Vodka or wine.







Friday, August 21, 2015

Decompression Days Disaster...

The stench was overwhelming. It triggered senses that I had long forgotten existed. Plus my nostrils were super sensitive to that familiar smell. Where was the body?

Yeah.

Never put your wet wading shoes in the trunk of your car in the heat of summer.

Beat me.

Wow.



Gag reflexes still work marvelously. Sometimes, I wonder where I place my brain. Perhaps I need to call Serv Pro and have them do an overhaul on my car. No need to tell them it was a fishing episode. I could have fun.

"Yes, I am needing someone to come clean the dead body smell out of my trunk. How much does your company charge for that?"

In different news...I have made some observations...

I forgot how I acted when I was a cop until I observe other cops while being on the outside. It made me think how much I must have driven others crazy and I was wound so tight that even a pea would not have fit up my butt. Not that I would have tried that, but just an observation of how much stress law enforcement are under.

For example, I realized this last week that I, too, would get upset when my off duty plans did not work out according to plan. Everything was scheduled and thought out and if it went awry, it made me discombobulated. It works the same in man cops. Throws off their game.

Maybe it's because the off time is so precious.

I also got my game face on for work. Plus my game coffee and my game music on the way to work. I think this is a necessity. The difference between man cops and girl cops is I think the men brood longer and are more serious about game faces. Mine was a "Rocky moment." Theirs' seems to be more of an "Ortiz moment."

We waste so much time on these mental garbage moments that we don't adapt very well to change sometimes. Sometimes I think back and that might be why cops don't like new policies, learning new equipment, new rules, new demands. Now, things are much more relaxed for me.

Too bad all of law enforcement organizations didn't require cops to have a paid hiatus for about 1 year in the middle of their careers. I think it would be healthy. But no one is going recognize that unless they take a break.

When I came back the second time to duty, I was way ahead of the bus. Not to brag, but it puts life and cop work, communication skills, and dealing with people in a whole new perspective. I gained a lot in the 9 months I was off the job...and no I was not pregnant. It probably helped I was farming and making the world beautiful with my landscaping therapy.

Now, while I watch my new found friends from an outside point of view, I feel their pain. I really do. It tugs at my heart and trying to help them relax and decompress on days off by giving my advice probably falls on deaf ears. I don't know if I would have understood it myself back then.

So, I just have to shrug it off and lead by example. Maybe it will strike a chord someday.