Last night, I was up way too late reading a book and then walked to the restroom. First, I looked at my watch - 1 a.m., "good, the midnight count is over...," I thought. I'd been so rapped up in my book, I hadn't even noticed the guards walking by and counting us.
As I walked to the restroom, I thought of how normal my life felt right now. They say that it takes a month to make a habit and at least three months to make something a lifestyle change. I've been at this "prison thing" for nearly eight months. If asked what would feel more natural to me - being here or being somewhere else, I would have to be honest that the answer is being here. I am no where near "institutionalized," but I can easily see how it happens.
Yesterday, it felt totally normal for a fight to erupt in the back of my unit. It felt normal to watch a line of people in wheelchairs and walkers, waiting outside the main building until they are allowed in for pill line. It felt normal to have to show my i.d. in order to play games in the rec. It felt normal to look at barbed wire and a car slowly going around the fence, ensuring nothing "funny" is going on. It felt normal to have a conversation with a friend about how she is constipated from the food here. It felt normal to be in bed before 10pm (even though I was not yet sleeping due to my book). It felt normal to walk on concrete floors. It felt normal to use a shared hallway bathroom and to avoid the sinks that are not draining correctly.
It's the changes, here, that don't feel normal. For example, we are all up in arms this morning, as breakfast was served 1 1/2 hours late and we were not allowed to spend time on the compound before/after. It does not feel normal when there's no officer telling us when we can leave the food line and walk into the chow hall (all orderly and stuff). It did not feel normal when only one unit at a time was allowed in the chow hall. These are the things that make us uneasy - yet, they are so insignificant in reality.
It's normal, now, for me to be strip searched after visitations. It's normal to be locked down in the unit for hours. It's normal to stand count. It's normal to avoid the bathroom at certain hours of the day. It's normal to sit on my bed and crochet. It's normal to watch television without any sound. It's normal to fight my way into the right laundry washer at my pre-set time. It's normal to clean my room, wiping down the bars on the window.
Yes, life feels normal now. Normal does not mean good. It does not mean bad. We can all get used to being anywhere, the reality of life changing and our needing to accept those changes. I do not know how long it will take for me to have my new life on the outside feel normal. It could be days, weeks or months. It'll happen, though. And, if you are facing prison, life in here will feel "normal" to you at some point as well.
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.
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