I barely remember the days of looking in my closets (yes, two closets to hold my clothes) and select which outfit I would wear for the day. Then, matching socks (if I needed them) and the shoes... oh, did I love my shoes. Truth is, I usually prefer the comfortable to the stylish in my clothing, but it was stylish to me. My favorite t-shirt says, "Talk Nerdy to Me." Yes, clothes match the personality, don't they?
Now, I look in my locker, where my clothing doesn't even fill the 2'x3' locker space (half the locker is for clothing and the other half for other things on shelves), and select between the following: four pants of the exact same khaki green color and type, 4 t shirts that are also khaki green, 1 khaki green short sleeve button down shirt, 2 long sleeve button down shirts (all the same color and style), a pair of socks that are like every other white pair of socks, and my new New Balance gym shoes I bought myself (if I were in a different institution, I would likely have to wear steel toed boots given to me for free- here we get a choice). That is what I wear Monday-Friday between 7am-4pm as long as I am not on my unit (meaning anywhere else on campus except the rec center).
All other times, my clothing depends on what "greys" I have decided to purchase for myself at commissary. I have two pair of grey shorts, one grey t-shirt, and I just purchased a pair of grey sweatpants (but it's still too hot to wear them ever). I will be purchasing a grey sweatshirt as well and likely more grey t-shirts. The "greys" can only be worn after 4pm M-F (or in our unit any time) and all weekend. Grey and Khaki green. That is my choice. One pair of shoes for outside (my New Balance) and a pair for inside (shower shoes that are actually fake Crocs).
Oh, they gave us some of the most uncomfortable, ugly, and maroon pajama bottoms and a top. I have seen no one ever wear the top... and the most hideous robe you've ever seen. I've seen maybe one person wearing it out of desperation. We can wear the pj's only in our room and no where else in the unit or outside. When it gets colder, they may come in handy. In the mean time, everyone wears their shorts and t-shirts for sleep. So, same clothing for days and nights. Greys and Greens that is our wardrobe for every single day.
This does not stop people from trying to have "style." Young inmates can be seen wearing shorts 2 sizes too big for themselves and having their underwear show (just like on the streets of any city). Hair style is a way people try to stand out (really short hair tends to indicate "boi" - or a woman who wants a "femme" to join them in a relationship). Many "boi's" in here are not "bois" when they are out of prison. Just yesterday I heard a woman say, "If I ever come back here, I am shaving my head so that I will pass as a "boi" and women will take care of all my commissary needs." She was serious.
Anything an inmate brings with them from another institution that is a slightly different color, or offers individualism, will go for big money on the underground market. I've heard about brown t-shirts going for $40, terry robes for $50, and more. This is done by people purchasing goods for the "seller" on their commissary. For people who don't receive money from the outside world, it is a matter of survival (I suppose). I choose to not engage in this underground market. I am a lucky individual who will have the funds needed through my stay here. But since everything costs something here, those without funds have to do what they must (including hustling).
We also must be careful to lock up everything. My roommate had a bra stolen this morning. A t-shirt and bra disappeared from the room next to us just yesterday.
Fire alarm. I am ending this here.
A blog about a woman sentenced to one year and one day in a federal women's prison camp and was sent to FMC Carswell for a crime related to her history of compulsive gambling.
Highlights
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Friday, September 6, 2013
From Dragonfly: Demographics
I knew that coming to prison would be an experience in facing an identity crisis. Here, we are all the same - inmates/criminals. We are known by our # and sometimes our last name. First names are too personal. Who we are, our background, and our prior identity matters not.
However, I didn't quite expect the identity crisis that has followed me since the day I arrived. This is my identity around demographics. On the first day, I discovered that my height and weight were wrong in the system - it said I am 5'2" (I am shorter than that) and weigh a mere 35 lbs. Wow, that's skinny - and you know already that I am not skinny and 35 lbs would be death. Just saying. Well, all my paperwork has that as my weight and height.... so I will be shrinking and gaining much more than the first year 35 lbs when I leave and they report my new weight and height!
The other day, I was called out to psychology for my inmate intake. I walked into the psychologists office and she looked at me very funny. She said that I could not be the person I am, because I am listed as African American. So, now I am a 5'2" 35 lb African American. Okay, not one of these things are correct. Of course, records are not changed, so no idea when people will actually update my files.
Then, two days ago, when I was with the Chaplain to get approved for Rosh Hashana activities, she told me that I had no religion listed on my papers. She said that it was not even an option to have no religion listed (there is another answer for those with no religion). But, I am Jewish. I wrote Jewish on all my forms. I started to cite a Hebrew prayer to prove my Jewish identity. She accepted it.
So, I am listed in the system, now, as an African America, 5'2", 35 lb, individual with no religious identity. Ummm, maybe I am supposed to have someone else here in my place and I am supposed to be at home, or rather, on my way to a wonderful weekend of serenity with several of my G.A. female friends in recovery. We started the annual weekend trip 5 years ago and it is still going strong. I told my friends that they MUST still do it this year, even if I am not present (in fact, unfortunately, 3 of us will not be attending). It matters not, though, because the weekend is a chance for each individual to be in beautiful nature, away from home, sharing, caring, and laughing. I will think of them all a lot this weekend and I know they will also be thinking of me. I am grateful everyday for my recovery and the community of friends it has provided to me. I really am one of the people in my entire unit who receives such warm supportive letters nearly every day.
Well, although my demographics are all wrong, I did have the opportunity to be myself at my first "team" meeting scheduled for this morning (I do not get the Jewish holidays off!). Team meetings are done within 28 days of arrival and are with an inmate's assigned counselor, case worker, and unit manager. The counselor concentrates on issues within the prison, the case worker on issues outside the prison, and the unit manager is their supervisor. I was provided with information about my "out" dates and we are working on next steps - I must remove my case from the jurisdiction it was in to the jurisdiction I will live in once released. We are starting that process immediately. It will take about 2 months. Next, I will be working to get myself off medical hold. That will be trickier, but not impossible. I do have one piece of advice for anyone facing prison... if there's any way you can live without major health issues for the period of imprisonment, try to not get designated to a medical facility.
Well, I'm late for my Rosh Hashana evening services. I was just told that they are waiting for me. I will receive Challah bread, apples and honey - a little reality of being a Jew - even if the system doesn't show me as one. L'Shana Tovah to those celebrating along with me.
However, I didn't quite expect the identity crisis that has followed me since the day I arrived. This is my identity around demographics. On the first day, I discovered that my height and weight were wrong in the system - it said I am 5'2" (I am shorter than that) and weigh a mere 35 lbs. Wow, that's skinny - and you know already that I am not skinny and 35 lbs would be death. Just saying. Well, all my paperwork has that as my weight and height.... so I will be shrinking and gaining much more than the first year 35 lbs when I leave and they report my new weight and height!
The other day, I was called out to psychology for my inmate intake. I walked into the psychologists office and she looked at me very funny. She said that I could not be the person I am, because I am listed as African American. So, now I am a 5'2" 35 lb African American. Okay, not one of these things are correct. Of course, records are not changed, so no idea when people will actually update my files.
Then, two days ago, when I was with the Chaplain to get approved for Rosh Hashana activities, she told me that I had no religion listed on my papers. She said that it was not even an option to have no religion listed (there is another answer for those with no religion). But, I am Jewish. I wrote Jewish on all my forms. I started to cite a Hebrew prayer to prove my Jewish identity. She accepted it.
So, I am listed in the system, now, as an African America, 5'2", 35 lb, individual with no religious identity. Ummm, maybe I am supposed to have someone else here in my place and I am supposed to be at home, or rather, on my way to a wonderful weekend of serenity with several of my G.A. female friends in recovery. We started the annual weekend trip 5 years ago and it is still going strong. I told my friends that they MUST still do it this year, even if I am not present (in fact, unfortunately, 3 of us will not be attending). It matters not, though, because the weekend is a chance for each individual to be in beautiful nature, away from home, sharing, caring, and laughing. I will think of them all a lot this weekend and I know they will also be thinking of me. I am grateful everyday for my recovery and the community of friends it has provided to me. I really am one of the people in my entire unit who receives such warm supportive letters nearly every day.
Well, although my demographics are all wrong, I did have the opportunity to be myself at my first "team" meeting scheduled for this morning (I do not get the Jewish holidays off!). Team meetings are done within 28 days of arrival and are with an inmate's assigned counselor, case worker, and unit manager. The counselor concentrates on issues within the prison, the case worker on issues outside the prison, and the unit manager is their supervisor. I was provided with information about my "out" dates and we are working on next steps - I must remove my case from the jurisdiction it was in to the jurisdiction I will live in once released. We are starting that process immediately. It will take about 2 months. Next, I will be working to get myself off medical hold. That will be trickier, but not impossible. I do have one piece of advice for anyone facing prison... if there's any way you can live without major health issues for the period of imprisonment, try to not get designated to a medical facility.
Well, I'm late for my Rosh Hashana evening services. I was just told that they are waiting for me. I will receive Challah bread, apples and honey - a little reality of being a Jew - even if the system doesn't show me as one. L'Shana Tovah to those celebrating along with me.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
From Dragonfly: When Heroes Fall
A difficult day yesterday. Although, I will start with the positive. I started my job "trying out" at Education to be a GED tutor. I helped women aged 19-68 write introduction paragraphs for essays. It was fun, but hard not "being" the teacher or looking at the program from my educational research brain. I hope I am selected to be one of the permanent tutors. I do a day with them again tomorrow.
That could not outweigh the emotions of the day, however. Starting at lunch... SARDINES!!! AGAIN... So, as I understood based on a conversation earlier in the day with the chaplain, I went to the main line to get some chicken and rice. Next thing you know, an officer pulls me out of line and starts yelling at me. He pulls me to the side and asks the main dining guy to assist him at degrading me publicly for going to the main line when I am supposed to be on the "common fare." I explained that they are out of the meals and I have been served Sardines 5 of the last 7 days and spaghetti and meatballs 4 of the days. They called me a liar, even though I was not lying. They were out of food and only got a new shipment yesterday. I guess meals were going to start following the menu last night (I wouldn't know, because as soon as they made me put an entirely full tray of decent food on the dish washing counter, I did not go back yesterday). I went immediately back to the chaplain to once again (3rd time) talk about the lack of meals available for Kosher inmates. But, what can they really do?!?! So, I officially withdrew from the Kosher meals and then I broke down in tears. Luckily, the chaplain (of course) had actual tissue on her desk (what a concept!). She closed her door and I said, "I'm so stupid crying about food. I just want some protein." I said I'm not supposed to cry here. She told me that it was ridiculous that I could not cry. I am a woman, in a messed up place. Very true. I walked out of the main building wondering how soon this place will officially "break me." I ate some basic commissary fare in my room before having to get my head together and return to education for the afternoon class.
Okay, so my day starts to get a little better. I'd put some protein in my stomach and started to get passed the fact that I may actually get a "shot" (in trouble) for having taken food from the wrong line... until mail call. The first letter I receive is from my advisor, Dr. P., I'm excited that she decided to write me and I open it immediately... to see a letter informing me that she has read my indictment and no longer will act as my academic advisor or mentor. She said that our relationship is "irreparably damaged." I never lied to her about anything and an indictment (as we all know) is not fact. But, she decided I am not fitting to work with her anymore. She cc'd the heads of my academic department. I'm sure they have now read the indictment as well. My academic future now remains unknown. Tears again - this time in the safety of my bed.
I have to admit that 19 additional pieces of mail were given to me yesterday - wow! They were all loving, supportive, funny, and wonderful. I laid on my bed and read every single one. Here's one letter telling me I am dirt and 19 telling me I am loved and supported. Yet, we cannot change where our minds go - that I can only think of the one negative even among so much positive. This is the time for the serenity prayer. Keeping in mind what is and what is not changeable at this moment, I must only worry about today and TODAY, I can do nothing. Acceptance will come. I am going back to school. As of right now, I am still a student and I've done nothing to violate my right to continue to be one. I do not know what the future looks like, but do any of us? Keep doing the next right thing... read and distract myself... spend time with the few here, like South, who truly understand. One day at a time.
That could not outweigh the emotions of the day, however. Starting at lunch... SARDINES!!! AGAIN... So, as I understood based on a conversation earlier in the day with the chaplain, I went to the main line to get some chicken and rice. Next thing you know, an officer pulls me out of line and starts yelling at me. He pulls me to the side and asks the main dining guy to assist him at degrading me publicly for going to the main line when I am supposed to be on the "common fare." I explained that they are out of the meals and I have been served Sardines 5 of the last 7 days and spaghetti and meatballs 4 of the days. They called me a liar, even though I was not lying. They were out of food and only got a new shipment yesterday. I guess meals were going to start following the menu last night (I wouldn't know, because as soon as they made me put an entirely full tray of decent food on the dish washing counter, I did not go back yesterday). I went immediately back to the chaplain to once again (3rd time) talk about the lack of meals available for Kosher inmates. But, what can they really do?!?! So, I officially withdrew from the Kosher meals and then I broke down in tears. Luckily, the chaplain (of course) had actual tissue on her desk (what a concept!). She closed her door and I said, "I'm so stupid crying about food. I just want some protein." I said I'm not supposed to cry here. She told me that it was ridiculous that I could not cry. I am a woman, in a messed up place. Very true. I walked out of the main building wondering how soon this place will officially "break me." I ate some basic commissary fare in my room before having to get my head together and return to education for the afternoon class.
Okay, so my day starts to get a little better. I'd put some protein in my stomach and started to get passed the fact that I may actually get a "shot" (in trouble) for having taken food from the wrong line... until mail call. The first letter I receive is from my advisor, Dr. P., I'm excited that she decided to write me and I open it immediately... to see a letter informing me that she has read my indictment and no longer will act as my academic advisor or mentor. She said that our relationship is "irreparably damaged." I never lied to her about anything and an indictment (as we all know) is not fact. But, she decided I am not fitting to work with her anymore. She cc'd the heads of my academic department. I'm sure they have now read the indictment as well. My academic future now remains unknown. Tears again - this time in the safety of my bed.
I have to admit that 19 additional pieces of mail were given to me yesterday - wow! They were all loving, supportive, funny, and wonderful. I laid on my bed and read every single one. Here's one letter telling me I am dirt and 19 telling me I am loved and supported. Yet, we cannot change where our minds go - that I can only think of the one negative even among so much positive. This is the time for the serenity prayer. Keeping in mind what is and what is not changeable at this moment, I must only worry about today and TODAY, I can do nothing. Acceptance will come. I am going back to school. As of right now, I am still a student and I've done nothing to violate my right to continue to be one. I do not know what the future looks like, but do any of us? Keep doing the next right thing... read and distract myself... spend time with the few here, like South, who truly understand. One day at a time.
Monday, September 2, 2013
From Dragonfly: Finding Community
I just had lunch with several women - all here for the same reason as me --- meaning camp eligible, but at Carswell for medical reasons. We all are educated as well. It is hard not to notice the discrepancies we have from those who are also camp eligible, but without health related issues. They go to camps - without secured fencing, without being inside with people who are violent offenders, etc. Here, we are treated the same as a murderer, a gun trader, a gang leader. We are no different, except, we are scared. We are not violent people, yet put into a violent world. Also, we all have the same stories around our health care. We are here due to our health, but none of us have all our medications we need, none of us are being accommodated appropriately. We, instead, find ourselves more ill than when we came, unable to get the specialized care we had when we were living our lives. Yes, we made mistakes and we are felons, but we have different level prisons for a reason - here, everyone is treated like a violent offender. One woman said that it's kind of like we are the "experiments," to see how long they can put us under this kind of stress without "breaking" or becoming someone/something more violent or angry. There is something just not right about being treated as "less than" for the simple reason of health. Many women here also get denied going home or to halfway houses because of their health, which means that the invalids are imprisoned longer than the healthy. Once again, something is wrong about that picture. If I were healthy, I would most likely be at Alderson and be getting ready for time in a halfway house and/or home confinement. Since I happen to have an autoimmune condition, I am in a heavily secured environment and the likelihood of my going to a halfway house and/or home confinement is substantially diminished (yet, I could get better health care if I were home and able to go back to school). Who is being punished and for what reasons? As of right now, two of my most important medications are denied to me because they are not in the formulary. The most important, Enbrel, is the medication that FINALLY helped me become somewhat capable of getting through days without substantial fatigue and pain. Not having it for just two weeks, my ankles are back to swelling, my joints are incredibly stiff and tender, and I can't keep myself awake throughout the day. I understand that it is a very expensive medication, but I've been through substantial tests, medication trials, and more in the last year and we FINALLY got me a regiment that worked. I don't understand how a medical facility can deny the medication even if it is not in their formulary. They are paid more per inmate with medical issues, which means they have the funds - or should have the funds. Finally, a simple allergy is not well handled. I have requested nearly every day since my self-surrender for a non feather pillow. I am horribly allergic to feathers. Most people love down comforters, they make me sick. But, no one has responded to any of my requests. Instead I have a pillow with small holes and feathers are everywhere on my bed. I wake with the headache of allergies and there's not a lot I can do about it. I can't sleep comfortably without a pillow. That's the world here, often, the choice between one thing or another - and neither is a good option, but we need to go with the best option we have at the moment.
The thing is that I know I belong in prison. I pleaded guilty and said that I would accept my punishment as it comes. I just do not understand why my punishment must be harsher due to my health. Many women here have been to other women's prisons and camps. They all say that the experience here is far different than their other facilities. I do not blame the staff on this. I truly believe that most of the staff are doing the best they can with the resources and guidance they are given. However, I do question the authorities that decided to subject minimum security inmates to high level security and to bunk with violent offenders. It would be easy to separate them - there are enough of us to have an entire housing unit of just minimum security offenders or just people with the chronic health concerns. That is not how things are done, though. Mental health, physical health, and people with no health issues are all combined. There is no protection for the non-violent offenders. We must just keep our mouths shut, do as we are told, and try to stay out of the other offenders' ways. I've seen people passing their pills (selling their medication), having sex in their beds, getting into fist fights, beating up their girlfriends, stealing other's goods, and more. I've been here just 2 weeks. These offenders are not the minimum security offenders here for health reasons, they are the drug conspirators, the gang members, the gun slinging folks from their neighborhoods, who are now in Carswell doing their time and trying to survive using the survival skills they know (stealing, cheating, etc.). They are not necessarily bad people, in fact many seem very kind, but they are learning nothing different here and many say that they intend to go back to their criminal lives upon release. I've had someone who is a drug dealer, another who is an identity thief, and another who is a burglar all state plain and simple that they will likely continue their crimes once released. I do hear some say, "never again," and I pray that they have found a way to separate themselves from their former lifestyle. I know that my 12 step program helps me stay clean and on the right path. I can only hope some of them find a way to do it for themselves. So, I accept that I have to be in prison. But, I am still not accepting that I have to be here, where neither my emotional or physical needs are being met. It doesn't seem right, not one bit.
The thing is that I know I belong in prison. I pleaded guilty and said that I would accept my punishment as it comes. I just do not understand why my punishment must be harsher due to my health. Many women here have been to other women's prisons and camps. They all say that the experience here is far different than their other facilities. I do not blame the staff on this. I truly believe that most of the staff are doing the best they can with the resources and guidance they are given. However, I do question the authorities that decided to subject minimum security inmates to high level security and to bunk with violent offenders. It would be easy to separate them - there are enough of us to have an entire housing unit of just minimum security offenders or just people with the chronic health concerns. That is not how things are done, though. Mental health, physical health, and people with no health issues are all combined. There is no protection for the non-violent offenders. We must just keep our mouths shut, do as we are told, and try to stay out of the other offenders' ways. I've seen people passing their pills (selling their medication), having sex in their beds, getting into fist fights, beating up their girlfriends, stealing other's goods, and more. I've been here just 2 weeks. These offenders are not the minimum security offenders here for health reasons, they are the drug conspirators, the gang members, the gun slinging folks from their neighborhoods, who are now in Carswell doing their time and trying to survive using the survival skills they know (stealing, cheating, etc.). They are not necessarily bad people, in fact many seem very kind, but they are learning nothing different here and many say that they intend to go back to their criminal lives upon release. I've had someone who is a drug dealer, another who is an identity thief, and another who is a burglar all state plain and simple that they will likely continue their crimes once released. I do hear some say, "never again," and I pray that they have found a way to separate themselves from their former lifestyle. I know that my 12 step program helps me stay clean and on the right path. I can only hope some of them find a way to do it for themselves. So, I accept that I have to be in prison. But, I am still not accepting that I have to be here, where neither my emotional or physical needs are being met. It doesn't seem right, not one bit.
From Dragonfly: And Then There Were 5?
Well, not exactly, at least not yet. Although, in a couple days we will know for sure. Another one of my roommates is in trouble. This is an individual who has been in trouble in the past as well. She will know whether they are putting her in the SHU (again) within a day or two. It may sound like the numbers in my room are dwindling, but a bus with 30 new inmates will show up tomorrow and we will be filled once again. That happens here every week day. If a lot of people leave, a lot more people come. It is a revolving door in more ways than one. There simply are not enough places to put all the female inmates in the U.S. A new facility just opened in Alabama, but it is a low secured facility - best for people who are categorized as "low." Minimums would have to request it, and health issues are a no-no. Health issues come here, to Carswell, nowhere else. Period. I hear they are switching the Danbury women's facility to all men. Women are being shipped (sounds like cargo...kind of is like cargo) to Alabama and elsewhere in the country. Many far away from their homes, family, and friends. There are far more men's facilities than women's. Men are much more likely to be within 500 miles of home. Women do not necessarily get that accommodation. On visitation days, too few women here have visitors - their families are just too far away to visit. Only one of my roommates has had a visitor since arriving here. She's been here 10 years, so visitations are still rare for her.
Today is a federal holiday, Labor Day. We are allowed to not be in our uniforms today (we wear our uniforms M-F) and most of us are off from work. Not the grounds folks, they still need to clean. I swear, the front lobby of the main building is mopped about 10x every day. It must be the cleanest lobby in America. When a federal holiday occurs, everyone talks about one thing - the 'special' meal. Will it be corn dogs? Will it be something else? Anything different than the ordinary on the menu is exciting to the masses here. Lines are long into the Chow Hall. This morning's special thing was bananas. I didn't go to breakfast to see the masses going crazy for bananas this morning. I will start my meals today with lunch. My unit came in dead last this week with inspection, so while some units head to lunch around 11:15am, my unit will head out around 12:45pm. They are already cleaning the chow hall when we get seated. We are rushed. This is why inspection is so important, I suppose. I think, aside from the 'relationships' formed with one another, food is the next important activity here. Plus, it is not against the rules (like relationships are). I made a big choice yesterday, and chose to not eat the kosher food. It would have been sardines for lunch and spaghetti again for dinner. That would be 5 days in a row. They are out of everything. Instead, I had a real brunch (with eggs and sausage) and I had roast beef for dinner. I just ate the protein off each of the meals. I have been craving protein!! I already have been talking with the Chaplains office about the Kosher fare, so I'll talk with them again tomorrow. I think my days of being Kosher are coming to an end. I can manage keeping myself healthy on the self-select line (one line you just get served everything on the main menu, the self-select line give you options of food and sides) of the main fare. At least, I think I can. One day at a time on this one. I have no great excitement on what today's meals will include. Food has no meaning except sustenance for me here. None of it is that great.
A real check-in on how I am "doing." Well, I've just finished my first 14 days away. I cried only once. I find my escape by reading (a lot) and doing crosswords. I often wish I could make my bunk into a crate - kind of like dogs have - a crate for privacy and safety. When I've trained dogs in the past, I always crate trained them. The crate becomes their room and dogs often look to it as where they will go when they are scared, tired, etc. For me, I would like to enclose my bottom bunk on 3 sides so that I, too, have a real place away from the chaos that exists beyond it. But, I cannot. I still wake up and wonder if it was all just a dream and I am home, but we know I never am home (only in my dreams which are frequent). From the moment I arrived, my head is only on how to get out of here legitimately as soon as possible, with my sanity, and in one piece. It seems to be the best way to focus on the positive. I am sleeping. I am eating. I am doing the best I can. I think that is as much as anyone can hope for.
Today is a federal holiday, Labor Day. We are allowed to not be in our uniforms today (we wear our uniforms M-F) and most of us are off from work. Not the grounds folks, they still need to clean. I swear, the front lobby of the main building is mopped about 10x every day. It must be the cleanest lobby in America. When a federal holiday occurs, everyone talks about one thing - the 'special' meal. Will it be corn dogs? Will it be something else? Anything different than the ordinary on the menu is exciting to the masses here. Lines are long into the Chow Hall. This morning's special thing was bananas. I didn't go to breakfast to see the masses going crazy for bananas this morning. I will start my meals today with lunch. My unit came in dead last this week with inspection, so while some units head to lunch around 11:15am, my unit will head out around 12:45pm. They are already cleaning the chow hall when we get seated. We are rushed. This is why inspection is so important, I suppose. I think, aside from the 'relationships' formed with one another, food is the next important activity here. Plus, it is not against the rules (like relationships are). I made a big choice yesterday, and chose to not eat the kosher food. It would have been sardines for lunch and spaghetti again for dinner. That would be 5 days in a row. They are out of everything. Instead, I had a real brunch (with eggs and sausage) and I had roast beef for dinner. I just ate the protein off each of the meals. I have been craving protein!! I already have been talking with the Chaplains office about the Kosher fare, so I'll talk with them again tomorrow. I think my days of being Kosher are coming to an end. I can manage keeping myself healthy on the self-select line (one line you just get served everything on the main menu, the self-select line give you options of food and sides) of the main fare. At least, I think I can. One day at a time on this one. I have no great excitement on what today's meals will include. Food has no meaning except sustenance for me here. None of it is that great.
A real check-in on how I am "doing." Well, I've just finished my first 14 days away. I cried only once. I find my escape by reading (a lot) and doing crosswords. I often wish I could make my bunk into a crate - kind of like dogs have - a crate for privacy and safety. When I've trained dogs in the past, I always crate trained them. The crate becomes their room and dogs often look to it as where they will go when they are scared, tired, etc. For me, I would like to enclose my bottom bunk on 3 sides so that I, too, have a real place away from the chaos that exists beyond it. But, I cannot. I still wake up and wonder if it was all just a dream and I am home, but we know I never am home (only in my dreams which are frequent). From the moment I arrived, my head is only on how to get out of here legitimately as soon as possible, with my sanity, and in one piece. It seems to be the best way to focus on the positive. I am sleeping. I am eating. I am doing the best I can. I think that is as much as anyone can hope for.
Sunday, September 1, 2013
From Dragonfly: And Then There Were 6
The roommates continue to not get along... verbal fights constantly between them. South and I just stay on our beds and look at one another... like, really?!?!? They need to fight over politics, cleaning, stories, etc. The other day, a simple conversation went into another screaming match and suddenly they were about to physically fight. I jumped off my bed and went out of the room to the hallway. South and a couple others followed suit. This was not what I wanted to watch. No actual physical fight occurred, but the two of them kept at each other so much that the staff officially moved one of the women out of our room and to another unit. Seems odd that the other one seems to be scott free of all responsibility, but it is not my job to question what happens to whom. I am simply an observer. This left us with 6 people and 1 empty top bunk. Surprisingly, the top bunk has remained empty for 2 days so far. It won't stay empty long.
I thank god every day that South was put into my room. She is the older woman who self-surrendered a week prior to me. She is educated, has manners, and is about as shell-shocked as I am for being here. We tend to go to our meals together and spend the rest of our time reading on our beds. We share cards from home and we want to buy supplies to make some of our own cards. She will be here for just a short while and I plan to visit her once I am allowed to travel (after all is said and done). I think she and Survivor will really get along.
Yesterday, South and I had a conversation with one of my roommates - a young woman who seems to be allowing herself to remain in an abusive relationship (punches have occurred). I started the conversation with just a little basic information about the "abuse cycle" and what I see occurring. I told this young woman that she deserves to think more of herself and that once a relationship becomes abusive, the cycle usually starts. She actually listened as South and I were talking. We talked about her self-esteem and that she is more than what is defined by that particular relationship. But this young woman seems to want someone who will boss her around and treat her like a kid. I am encouraging this young woman to go back to school while here and get her GED. I told her that I would help her study if she got into the class (she was in the class, but got in trouble and went to the SHU, so she has to start all over again). She's been here for 4 years - entered when she was a mere 18 years old. She will get out of here in a year or so. She has never been depended on as an adult. No one here is going to help her with that transition to real life. I see every day how the revolving door of prison becomes a reality.
South and I had to be careful while we were having that conversation - we were sure not to put down the girlfriend. Doing so could land us on the wrong side of a fist now or in the future. South is spunky and says she can fight (at 66 years of age). I am not so spunky. I'm a thinker, not a fighter. In fact, one woman from my unit was standing behind me in line for the computers today and she said she's seen me on the floor. I said that, "I'm trying to get acclimated." I proceeded to have to define the word "acclimated." I forget where I am sometimes. I want to be involved in some sort of real conversation. At least South offers me that at time. It is likely that we will both be moved out of the Bus Stop over the next week or so. Our unit counselor is coming back to work this week. He puts trouble makers in the bus stops - so newbies will be moved out. We will likely stay on 1 South because it is designated for chronic care inmates. Many people are not chronic care in the unit, but most of the chronic care folks that are able to be out of a hospital bed are in my unit. Makes for a very long pill line!
Anyway, I am just going to go with the flow on where ever I am moved. One thing I look forward to is an outside window. When I wake early (which I do nearly every day), I want to be able to see the trees, the hills, the birds, and the world beyond Carswell.
I thank god every day that South was put into my room. She is the older woman who self-surrendered a week prior to me. She is educated, has manners, and is about as shell-shocked as I am for being here. We tend to go to our meals together and spend the rest of our time reading on our beds. We share cards from home and we want to buy supplies to make some of our own cards. She will be here for just a short while and I plan to visit her once I am allowed to travel (after all is said and done). I think she and Survivor will really get along.
Yesterday, South and I had a conversation with one of my roommates - a young woman who seems to be allowing herself to remain in an abusive relationship (punches have occurred). I started the conversation with just a little basic information about the "abuse cycle" and what I see occurring. I told this young woman that she deserves to think more of herself and that once a relationship becomes abusive, the cycle usually starts. She actually listened as South and I were talking. We talked about her self-esteem and that she is more than what is defined by that particular relationship. But this young woman seems to want someone who will boss her around and treat her like a kid. I am encouraging this young woman to go back to school while here and get her GED. I told her that I would help her study if she got into the class (she was in the class, but got in trouble and went to the SHU, so she has to start all over again). She's been here for 4 years - entered when she was a mere 18 years old. She will get out of here in a year or so. She has never been depended on as an adult. No one here is going to help her with that transition to real life. I see every day how the revolving door of prison becomes a reality.
South and I had to be careful while we were having that conversation - we were sure not to put down the girlfriend. Doing so could land us on the wrong side of a fist now or in the future. South is spunky and says she can fight (at 66 years of age). I am not so spunky. I'm a thinker, not a fighter. In fact, one woman from my unit was standing behind me in line for the computers today and she said she's seen me on the floor. I said that, "I'm trying to get acclimated." I proceeded to have to define the word "acclimated." I forget where I am sometimes. I want to be involved in some sort of real conversation. At least South offers me that at time. It is likely that we will both be moved out of the Bus Stop over the next week or so. Our unit counselor is coming back to work this week. He puts trouble makers in the bus stops - so newbies will be moved out. We will likely stay on 1 South because it is designated for chronic care inmates. Many people are not chronic care in the unit, but most of the chronic care folks that are able to be out of a hospital bed are in my unit. Makes for a very long pill line!
Anyway, I am just going to go with the flow on where ever I am moved. One thing I look forward to is an outside window. When I wake early (which I do nearly every day), I want to be able to see the trees, the hills, the birds, and the world beyond Carswell.