10 years to life

My first and only arrest led to a conviction of aggravated indecent solicitation of a minor under the age of 14. I was found guilty and I was sentenced to 34 months incarceration, 2 years of parole during which I would participate in 2 years of treatment, and finally 10 years on the registration.
I completed my sentence. I completed the post release supervision and the required sex offense treatment program early. I managed to find employment and housing and by the end of my parole I had earned my way back into my daughters life and was once again parenting on all four cylinders.
All things considered, I felt optimistic. There had been challenges, but I had met and overcame each one. But knowing I was on a registry was difficult, internally difficult. It didn’t seem to matter what I accomplished, or how many people I shared my secret with and received no judgement. My self esteem was shattered. I had good days and bad days. Sometimes the good and bad fluctuated by the minute. But I kept my eyes on the prize. Ten years and I could finally put it all behind me. It became my focus, my goal. It was the light at the end of the tunnel.
It was July, 4 years after my release when I received a letter from my state legislation. It was short and to the point; I was now required to register for the rest of my life.
That was 2005. Since then, I’ve grown closer to the notion that dying would be preferential to carrying this title, this classification I will forever fall under. I’m 51 now. Jobs are harder to find. I’ll never live in anything better than low income housing. It’s difficult to try when the cap has been set. For me, it feels as if my society will never see me as more than the sum of my worst mistake.

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