Whoa... What Happened?

Wow, almost a week since I've written and it was not intentional. I'm trying to think to my life pre-incarceration and I can honestly say that I may be in the same town and at the same University, but my day to day reality is so different. 

I know that I wrote before about time management, but it's more than that, this shift in curriculum focus is a huge change in how my courses are structured, work loads, types of assignments, and time commitments. Although my job is the same, we are all helping pull the ranks for a fellow colleague who is still recovering from a stroke earlier this year. It feels great to be busy and needed, but I'm finding little time for taking care of myself and ensuring balance.

As the weeks have now passed into nearly half the first semester behind me, I'm finding my niche in the criminal justice department. I really respect my cohort of fellow students and enjoy the discourse a lot. It's quite different from the conversations I was having around education, and I do hope to find my way to bring all my knowledge and interests together, but I'm feeling completely engaged in the discipline of criminal justice and motivated for a future where my work may be able to influence policy change and add to the dearth of knowledge surrounding women and crime. 

In some ways my life feels so normal now, that I nearly forget that I am still not free. I cannot consider opportunities for the summer that would take me out of state for an extended period or the country at all. I cannot do some types of qualitative research studies, at least for now, because I am not allowed to knowingly interact with another felon. I cannot attend a large conference in Canada, ever, unless I am given special permission from the Canadian government after I am off supervision. 

Aside from the professional limitations, there remain the personal ones. A friend is holding a wedding reception next month and I need permission to leave the state to drive there to attend. My dad is going through his third round of chemo and radiation, as his cancer has now spread to his hip, and I need to get permission to fly to the southwest United States to see him in December. I was not able to drive four hours to watch my 96 year old grandfather throw a pitch to his favorite major league sports team on his birthday (70 other family members were there). I always need enough advance notice to get permission. It's not a big deal, but how many more years does he have?

Supervision isn't bad, though. At least so far, I've had it really easy. Other than day one, I haven't had to pee in any cups, provide any other bodily samples, done any squats and coughs, worn any uniforms, been denied anything unreasonably, had any surprise visits, been harshly questioned about my choices since release, or disrespected. What a difference from life in the BOP! 

I'm still told to walk in front of my PO, in case I have bad intentions (I don't); to stand against the wall as he makes copies (like a good soldier); and I am never treated like a peer. In his office I sit far from his desk with the back of the chair against the back wall. I address him with proper manner. I am not given authority to email my PO, only leave messages on his cell. And although each day for three months has been good, I know that things can change in a heartbeat and it is entirely outside my control. That is the reality of not truly being free and being under federal supervision.

In other news, I chose to tell a fellow CJ student about my past. She and I are on two group projects together and are forming a friendship. As I've written before, I hate talking around subjects or feeling as if I have some big secret life - that's the old me. Anyway, she took it really well, once the shock left her face and her jaw lifted from the table after I started with, "I have something to tell you. I am a felon."

I knew she'd be cool and she even looked at some of my pics of me with folks back at Carswell. People are always surprised that we take pictures. Those $1 photos that take us months to receive with fancy backdrops and we can't touch one another but can pose "appropriately" pictures... As we always said in there, "you just can't make this shit up!"

My friend agreed that I should wait til later in the semester and tell my story to my prosem theory CJ class when I do a more detailed intro of myself that we all have to do during the semester. I wish I could video everyone's jaws dropping as her's did. A bunch of people studying criminal justice with all these preconceived ideas of what and who a felon is... She is me.