From Dragonfly: 12 Cents Per Hour

What does it look like when you are making 12 cents per hour? Well, I was paid for ALL last month yesterday. I work 7-8 hours per day, except for Mondays when I work 12 hours, and five days per week. I average about 140 hours per month. They take NO taxes out of my payment, because this is not considered a real paycheck. My check was $15.21. That amount didn't cover half my $40/month FRP payment, but hey, every little bit helps. No matter what my paychecks look like once I am out of here, I will NEVER complain. Even minimum wage would seem like a lot. I thank god every day that I have amazing friends who are helping to support me while I am in prison. Without their help, I wouldn't even be able to buy shampoo or deodorant, much less the juice that I drink each morning.

When I was gambling, I lost A LOT of money. I remember days, when I'd be hitting my hands against my poor steering wheel, saying "never again," where I'd realize I lost so much money I could have bought a couch with it, or a nice television, or even a used car. Sometimes my losses were not as much as other times, but they sure do add up. Yet, when I won, I did not buy a couch, television, used car, or even pay my bills correctly, winnings allowed me to gamble more. Winnings may have allowed me to pay rent and eat - but it never helped me thrive. One January, I won a very large pot of money. By March, I was broke once again. Gambling addiction is so complicated, but one thing I can say for sure, it is always a lose-lost situation. When I meet up with people here in prison who struggled with drug addiction, our stories are more similar than different. I truly believe addiction is addiction - and that's why people who are not getting to the root of their addiction, cross-addict. For example, in GA, we have many people who were already working AA. AA has many people who had been in NA. It's all a cycle - unless they fully surrender to their addiction and then do the VERY HARD work of dealing with the underlying emotional illness. I get really upset that here in Carswell, the drug/alcohol residential recovery program tells the participants that addiction is NOT an illness. Are they at all familiar with the research?!?!?! Once these folks are released, and hopefully will go to a 12-step program, they will be told otherwise and it will really confuse their recovery. How the DOP can claim that addiction is not an illness just makes no sense to me.

Part of my addiction was really not comprehending the value of a dollar. Money in my pocket meant money to go to the casino with. Once the money was changed into "casino chips," it no longer was money in my pocket. It was my antes. It was my bonus bets. It was the big win I would get once again. Money meant a chance at more money. In my twisted thinking, $10 could become $100, $100 could become $1000, and $1000 could become $10,000. My addiction was so strong, that I could only see what money could become, rather than what money was. I mean, $1,000 could support me for a long time, but since I could not stop myself from making it into $10,000, I would gamble it to nothing (or something, unfortunately). The worse thing for a compulsive gambler, honestly, is to win. The first time in a casino, I won, and it was the easiest money I ever made. My "stinking thinking" was progressive over time. Now, I wish I never walked into my first casino.

That's not to say that I wouldn't have found myself in the same place. I worked hard with my counselor and working my steps to fully understand my underlying emotional issues that made me susceptible to addiction. I confronted those issues, and in response, I changed. My thinking changes. I was no longer the victim of my life, but I became a survivor. Everyone's story is different. Had my illness not brought me to gambling, it likely would have led me to a different addiction. Like I said, addiction is addiction.

I bring all this up, because while I only make 12 cents an hour right now, and my monthly paycheck was just over $15, I understand the value of that money. Here, $15 will help me get my hygiene products. It will help me get yarn to crochet. It will help me purchase sweatpants or a sweatshirt. Every penny in my commissary account has value, and that is ultimately, what will help me continue my path of recovery. I will never place a bet again, because if I do, I will be right back where I was, and my life will fall apart. Instead, I will work hard, make the money I earn, pay my restitution and school loans, and, hopefully, one day, afford a house. Money in my pocket now means saving what I can for my future, and trying to get out of debt - even if I have to do it with $0.12 per hour.