I realize that I am not quite positively focused in many of my writings. I get caught up in the reality of being in a place like this, facing the daily pressures, and do not look at the good of it all. It's hard, sometimes, I currently have a friend with bleeding kidneys who is over 70 years old and in her bed, wondering what will happen. These images are daily and can bring us down, but we just get together, provide what support we are able to, and go about our days. One day at a time.
Well, I do have something positive to share. I had a nice day yesterday. I would even call it a good day. It started with my daily breakfast with Freckles. We had good conversation and I enjoyed the cereal I brought with me. Then I took a LONG nap - slept until 10am. I have not been feeling the best lately and this was a much needed extra bit of sleep. I made myself peanut butter and jelly on a rice cracker for lunch and thoroughly enjoyed it's simplicity (chicken - all dark meat - was in the chow hall). After my quick lunch, I joined Lola on the benches outside, as she is off for an hour before having to go back to work at 12:30pm. However, she informed me that she is off for the full afternoon, so we walked over to the track and walked a couple times around. Both of us fully feeling the effects of our arthritis, we only did two laps. We talked and laughed, often staring at the barbed wire and electric fence that surrounds the track - separating us from the prison camp across the street, and the military base beyond. We watched women from the camp walking onto the base for work. It was an odd weather day - with the temp literally going up and down and back up throughout the day.
After our lunchtime together, we went back to our units to get a pass for "indoor rec." During the week days, we need passes to be anywhere during the mornings/afternoons (other than during lunch/open compound). So, we met at indoor rec and played RummyQue for a while. We, then went to the clinic, so I could obtain my injection, and then went back to the rec center.
I was getting anxious, though. I knew that Sporty was doing me a HUGE favor, while I was playing RummyQue. Sporty made an appointment with my former supervisor, at the job I loved on campus. I had asked Sporty to call her and see if they could meet, to tell my whole story, and to see whether she was still interested in my coming back and/or volunteering. I was nervous. I didn't know what she'd heard about me since I'd left. Did she know that I was no longer a student? Did she never want to work with me again? Was she upset I didn't tell her everything?
Well, before dinner last night, I reached Sporty by phone. They had met for an hour. It went extremely well. My former supervisor misses me. She listened to my story, asked a few questions, and showed compassion. She told Sporty that she'd love to rehire me - as long as I can pass the background check. Luckily, Traveler had already done that favor for me and talked with Human Resources. They will do my background check, my felony will come up, but I can still be hired. It just depends on what the felony is for, all the circumstances, and if my new supervisor is okay with my working there. I don't have anything related to harming children. It still may be a battle - but I've fought harder ones and I'm prepared for any.
So, here's where that leaves me. If I can get back into school, which I will, I have funding while working with this organization on campus. It pays for my tuition, fees, health care coverage, and a living stipend. Knowing that I have a graduate research assistantship available to me, provides me with the piece of mind that all I need is to get back in, I don't also have to seek funding. This will also provide me with EXCELLENT health coverage, so I can return to all my same doctors and continue the care I was receiving in the outside world. My goal is to at least be admitted, possibly without a specific program, by the fall semester. Over the fall, I will apply to appropriate programs, and be able to continue my coursework, before I am actually fully admitted on the time lines of the programs. I'll have my work cut out for me, but I believe I can do it! Anything is possible and I know that I am ready for the hoops I will soon have to jump through on campus. Nothing can compare to what I've had to do here. This place has prepared me for any roadblocks I face in the future.
So, I was all smiles at dinner (a good turkey meal) and games after. We played tri-ominoes. It was fun. I couldn't be more grateful for Sporty going out on a lurch for me and it will not be forgotten how incredible she has been through my entire incarceration. She, along with so many others, have helped me to know that I am loved and supported.
My main goal after games was to figure out how to keep track of the NCAA basketball games being played. I wanted to know how several teams were doing - I never bet sports, I wouldn't even care to know how - but, I've always been a basketball fan - women's and men's bball. Taz lent me her radio and I was excited to find a station entirely dedicated to the NCAA. I was able to listen to several parts of different games, before I drifted off to sleep. I didn't know the final scores for the last games, but was able to know that several great teams from the Midwest were moving forward.
Yep, it was a good day. My life is so "rich" with special people in my life. I definitely have my low moments, but I need to celebrate the high moments. Yesterday was one of those days - exactly 60 days and a wake up from my release to home confinement. I have a feeling these last two months are going to actually move along quickly. I sure hope so.
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
▼
Saturday, March 29, 2014
Friday, March 28, 2014
From Dragonfly: Seeing Someone Different
They say that the change is slow in recovery. That people around you will notice the changes well before you will. I've definitely seen that in the people around me. Some grow so much, some just a little, but all for the better.
This morning I was looking in the mirror, washing my face. I smiled at myself. It was an honest smile. I used to avoid mirrors, hating what I'd see. I only saw my flaws, my failures... I always just saw a fat, round face, that grows hair in unfortunate places that I always needed to take care of, that didn't fit in, anywhere. I didn't notice my dimples, my birth mark, my eye color, my small nose, my chin, my forehead. I couldn't see those things. Mirrors were reminders of everything wrong in my life. I wasn't as "pretty" as the women in my family. I didn't even look Jewish. I burned, where they tanned. I had freckles. I was full of mistakes.
This morning, I smiled. I smiled because my dimples were cute. I smiled because yesterday I was able to talk with a friend about something "difficult" and I did it without fear, without being passive or worst, passive-aggressive. I smiled because I have two months left here. I smiled because I am loved and supported by so many people. I smiled because I don't care if I fit in anywhere. I smiled because I like myself. I smiled because it's morning and I have so much to be grateful for.
If anyone told me that I'd ever wake up feeling good about myself, I'd have told them they are crazy. I was so sick, I never could see me ever getting past the flaws I saw in myself. I'm not saying I don't still have "flaws," or a round face, or hair issues, or burn too easily, or make a ton of mistakes. I'm not saying that I'm all that different, but it's how I interpret myself that has changed. Who cares? I am who I am and that's okay! Once I stopped caring about what everyone else thought of me, I started to realize it all didn't really matter. I see someone very different in the mirror today!
This morning I was looking in the mirror, washing my face. I smiled at myself. It was an honest smile. I used to avoid mirrors, hating what I'd see. I only saw my flaws, my failures... I always just saw a fat, round face, that grows hair in unfortunate places that I always needed to take care of, that didn't fit in, anywhere. I didn't notice my dimples, my birth mark, my eye color, my small nose, my chin, my forehead. I couldn't see those things. Mirrors were reminders of everything wrong in my life. I wasn't as "pretty" as the women in my family. I didn't even look Jewish. I burned, where they tanned. I had freckles. I was full of mistakes.
This morning, I smiled. I smiled because my dimples were cute. I smiled because yesterday I was able to talk with a friend about something "difficult" and I did it without fear, without being passive or worst, passive-aggressive. I smiled because I have two months left here. I smiled because I am loved and supported by so many people. I smiled because I don't care if I fit in anywhere. I smiled because I like myself. I smiled because it's morning and I have so much to be grateful for.
If anyone told me that I'd ever wake up feeling good about myself, I'd have told them they are crazy. I was so sick, I never could see me ever getting past the flaws I saw in myself. I'm not saying I don't still have "flaws," or a round face, or hair issues, or burn too easily, or make a ton of mistakes. I'm not saying that I'm all that different, but it's how I interpret myself that has changed. Who cares? I am who I am and that's okay! Once I stopped caring about what everyone else thought of me, I started to realize it all didn't really matter. I see someone very different in the mirror today!
From Dragonfly: Losing Faith in Humanity
It is so easy to lose faith in humanity while in prison. People lie to you. They lie right to your face and you have no idea, even your friends. Weak people get manipulated by the strong ones, and you just have to sit back and watch it. Everyone is only really looking out for themselves, they rarely want what's best for anyone else. Sometimes I do think back to the day before I arrived, "you come with no friends, you leave with no friends." I've often discounted this saying, but today, at least this moment, I'm not so sure.
Today I learned that someone I like and trust has been lying to me. She did something that got other friends in trouble, yet she said that she didn't do it. I don't know why she would have done it. I don't know why she needed to lie to me about it. If you have to lie about something, then you probably should NOT be doing it. It's kind of like people in here who fear that their "relationships" will be shared with the outside world. If they feel like they can't share it with the outside world, then they probably shouldn't be doing it. If you have to meet in out of bounds area to spend time with someone intimately, then you probably shouldn't be meeting with them.
While I've been reworking my steps, I have been writing out stories from my years prior to recovery. The stories are examples of how sick I really was. So many stories include me lying, manipulating, fearful of something/someone, afraid my reputation would be diminished, hating myself and my actions. Today, I don't live a life like that. There's nothing about my life that I fear. I am a felon. I am an addict in recovery. I love my family. I have done bad things. I am not a bad person. I never got out of my shorts and t-shirt today, I should really brush my hair, I ate a pouch of tuna for lunch, I did a dozen crossword puzzles this morning and finished none of them, etc. There's nothing about my life I'm ashamed of. It is my life and I'm just doing the best thing I can do every day. One day at a time.
I am also naive. I believe in the best in people. I believe when someone tells me something, they are speaking the truth. I wasn't that person, before, so why should they be. I should never have expectations on anyone else. We are all flawed. But, I am my true self with folks. I love openly and dislike openly. I feel hurt that this person was lying to me about something really important. It has nothing to do with me, yet it shows me the kind of person they are. I cannot change who they are or what they did. I need to give them the benefit of the doubt - so few did that to me when I was blamed for everything I did and didn't do. I need to allow them to tell me their side, to make amends if it is needed, and to move forward.
Even with my distaste at what this person did, I cannot judge them. He who casts the first stone... kind of thing. I need to be compassionate. I need to try to understand and speak the truth of how it makes me feel. That's my attempt at being humane. At being a better person than I once was. We all make mistakes - some big, some small - now that I know what this person did, they have a chance to be honest. I hope they make that choice. I hope she chooses honesty, over fear.
Today I learned that someone I like and trust has been lying to me. She did something that got other friends in trouble, yet she said that she didn't do it. I don't know why she would have done it. I don't know why she needed to lie to me about it. If you have to lie about something, then you probably should NOT be doing it. It's kind of like people in here who fear that their "relationships" will be shared with the outside world. If they feel like they can't share it with the outside world, then they probably shouldn't be doing it. If you have to meet in out of bounds area to spend time with someone intimately, then you probably shouldn't be meeting with them.
While I've been reworking my steps, I have been writing out stories from my years prior to recovery. The stories are examples of how sick I really was. So many stories include me lying, manipulating, fearful of something/someone, afraid my reputation would be diminished, hating myself and my actions. Today, I don't live a life like that. There's nothing about my life that I fear. I am a felon. I am an addict in recovery. I love my family. I have done bad things. I am not a bad person. I never got out of my shorts and t-shirt today, I should really brush my hair, I ate a pouch of tuna for lunch, I did a dozen crossword puzzles this morning and finished none of them, etc. There's nothing about my life I'm ashamed of. It is my life and I'm just doing the best thing I can do every day. One day at a time.
I am also naive. I believe in the best in people. I believe when someone tells me something, they are speaking the truth. I wasn't that person, before, so why should they be. I should never have expectations on anyone else. We are all flawed. But, I am my true self with folks. I love openly and dislike openly. I feel hurt that this person was lying to me about something really important. It has nothing to do with me, yet it shows me the kind of person they are. I cannot change who they are or what they did. I need to give them the benefit of the doubt - so few did that to me when I was blamed for everything I did and didn't do. I need to allow them to tell me their side, to make amends if it is needed, and to move forward.
Even with my distaste at what this person did, I cannot judge them. He who casts the first stone... kind of thing. I need to be compassionate. I need to try to understand and speak the truth of how it makes me feel. That's my attempt at being humane. At being a better person than I once was. We all make mistakes - some big, some small - now that I know what this person did, they have a chance to be honest. I hope they make that choice. I hope she chooses honesty, over fear.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
From Dragonfly: The Revolving Door
Some say that prison has a revolving door. Something like 65-85% of us are expected back on a violation of our supervision or a new charge. I see some of the people here, who become institutionalized. I can't imagine how they'll fare in the outside world. Others, however, first time offenders, usually (but not always) white collar criminals, of all ages and races, I believe have that ability to really turn their life back into something great after leaving here. This place scared them to the point they'd never come back. Not only that, they've gotten past whatever desperation it was that led to their crime. Although, others, are actually likely innocent, too. Most of the people I hang out with I anticipate being in the small percentage and walking out of prison never to return. I truly do. Maybe that makes me naive. I don't know.
This week, two of the women I believe will never return walked out. One is waiting to get released right now, another left Tuesday. The one leaving today, Neighbor, I have not written about much, but she's been included in writings about sitting in the atrium with "friends." Honestly, she hasn't been here all that long. She was transferred at the very end of her sentence and spent just a couple months with us. I call her Neighbor, because she grew up in the town next to mine. The same town my sister lived in as an adult, and my grandparents had called home for 20+ years. Although she went to Catholic schools, our experiences were much more similar, than different. She's a decade older than I, but it was still like talking to an old school friend reminiscing about our favorite restaurants and places. When most people leave, I say, "I hope to never see you again, and I mean that in the best possible sense." We all live so very far from one another and I can't imagine our paths ever crossing, unless for the worst possible reason - prison. However, when Neighbor left today, I said, "I look forward to seeing you again." It's just that possible that when I travel to see my parents, I may just run into her. Nothing like having a friend from the old neighborhood!!!
The other woman who left this week, couldn't be more different from me. Although she looks younger than even I do, she's a mom of several children. She had a drug related charge, but she'd never been involved in the law before in her life. She was my student, bringing extra math home every night to study. She hadn't yet passed, but I believe she will do so back home. She's very motivated. She has a full "grill." I've never seen so much gold in a mouth before. She pulls it off incredibly well. She was Lola's bunky, and they got along fabulously. This woman was just kind, intelligent, interesting, and caring. All she wanted to do was be home with her family. She's there now. I believe, she will not find her way back here. She was as freaked out by the experiences here as I am. She sees a very different path in her life now, and I believe she can do it. Just stay motivated... and don't fret over the bumps in the road!!!
Anyway, it's still a revolving door, because each of these women won't be out a day before a new woman is sleeping in their bunk, starting their journey in prison. A large group of new women just arrived and another is arriving this week. Some will have been here before. Some are being transferred from other institutions. Some are scary eyed, self surrenders, who are afraid to leave their bunks (like I was). Some will be here (or in some institution) for most of their lives. Some will swear they are innocent. Some will be appealing their sentence. Some will get jobs. Some will have to spend most of the day in pill line. Some will seek immediate transfer out of here (good luck!), and others will die here. It's that kind of place. I will never see it again. I will never be in prison again. Thank god, I'm not stuck in the revolving door!
This week, two of the women I believe will never return walked out. One is waiting to get released right now, another left Tuesday. The one leaving today, Neighbor, I have not written about much, but she's been included in writings about sitting in the atrium with "friends." Honestly, she hasn't been here all that long. She was transferred at the very end of her sentence and spent just a couple months with us. I call her Neighbor, because she grew up in the town next to mine. The same town my sister lived in as an adult, and my grandparents had called home for 20+ years. Although she went to Catholic schools, our experiences were much more similar, than different. She's a decade older than I, but it was still like talking to an old school friend reminiscing about our favorite restaurants and places. When most people leave, I say, "I hope to never see you again, and I mean that in the best possible sense." We all live so very far from one another and I can't imagine our paths ever crossing, unless for the worst possible reason - prison. However, when Neighbor left today, I said, "I look forward to seeing you again." It's just that possible that when I travel to see my parents, I may just run into her. Nothing like having a friend from the old neighborhood!!!
The other woman who left this week, couldn't be more different from me. Although she looks younger than even I do, she's a mom of several children. She had a drug related charge, but she'd never been involved in the law before in her life. She was my student, bringing extra math home every night to study. She hadn't yet passed, but I believe she will do so back home. She's very motivated. She has a full "grill." I've never seen so much gold in a mouth before. She pulls it off incredibly well. She was Lola's bunky, and they got along fabulously. This woman was just kind, intelligent, interesting, and caring. All she wanted to do was be home with her family. She's there now. I believe, she will not find her way back here. She was as freaked out by the experiences here as I am. She sees a very different path in her life now, and I believe she can do it. Just stay motivated... and don't fret over the bumps in the road!!!
Anyway, it's still a revolving door, because each of these women won't be out a day before a new woman is sleeping in their bunk, starting their journey in prison. A large group of new women just arrived and another is arriving this week. Some will have been here before. Some are being transferred from other institutions. Some are scary eyed, self surrenders, who are afraid to leave their bunks (like I was). Some will be here (or in some institution) for most of their lives. Some will swear they are innocent. Some will be appealing their sentence. Some will get jobs. Some will have to spend most of the day in pill line. Some will seek immediate transfer out of here (good luck!), and others will die here. It's that kind of place. I will never see it again. I will never be in prison again. Thank god, I'm not stuck in the revolving door!
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
From Dragonfly: A Whole Bunch of Goodies
Yesterday, I received a package from a friend that I wasn't expecting. It had four books in it: a journal, a cross stitch book, a guide on getting out of prison, and a fun quick-read book for adults by "little golden books." It was such a nice present. What's great about things like this, is that I not only am happy receiving them, but I get to share with others. I think I made four sad people smile with the "little golden book," and I allowed someone who is leaving tomorrow borrow the guide for what to do when we are first out of prison. Someone who is really into cross-stitch already asked if she can photo-copy a cross-stitch pattern of a large butterfly that is in the cross stitch...
I just took a couple hour break from writing. As I was putting together the last sentence, I heard the voice of a friend say to someone, "I need med-surge, I can't breathe." I quickly got off the computer to assist her. She has really, really bad asthma. It's the worst I've ever seen on someone. She can have an attack sleeping, walking, anything. She was unable to breathe in and was coughing if she tried. She fell to the floor and sat against a pillar. I just sat there, telling her to take short breaths, but to try to breathe, while we waited for help to arrive. It took a couple minutes for a couple nurses to arrive with a medical bed to move her. Another friend was searching the unit for the emergency wheelchair, but someone borrowed it to sit in during pill line. That's the way it is here. I'm sure my friend will be alright. They usually send people back from med-surge within a couple hours. She isn't back yet, but it's only been 3 1/2 hours. I'm sure she's getting a breathing treatment. I guess they recently changed her medication. She's been telling me that it's not working. Poor thing. When she is back, and laying on her bed (an upper bunk!!), I will let her read the "little golden book," I know she will smile while reading it. It's just too cute not to.
Anyway, I suppose some people keep everything they receive for themselves. They just want to cherish the gifts and the people who sent them. I know that the people who send me my gifts are happy that I enjoy them, but also that I share them with people who may not receive anything. I have friends who never receive any mail. It's very sad. They sit waiting and hoping their name will be called, or they just stay in their bed, knowing that their name will not be called. Everyday at mail call, I start to take the stairs slowly, knowing that it is very likely that my name will be called more than once; at least one time for the newspaper, and additional times for any letters/cards/packages I may receive. I am very grateful for everything I receive and I am also very glad that my friends would be happy that they make other people happy as well.
I just took a couple hour break from writing. As I was putting together the last sentence, I heard the voice of a friend say to someone, "I need med-surge, I can't breathe." I quickly got off the computer to assist her. She has really, really bad asthma. It's the worst I've ever seen on someone. She can have an attack sleeping, walking, anything. She was unable to breathe in and was coughing if she tried. She fell to the floor and sat against a pillar. I just sat there, telling her to take short breaths, but to try to breathe, while we waited for help to arrive. It took a couple minutes for a couple nurses to arrive with a medical bed to move her. Another friend was searching the unit for the emergency wheelchair, but someone borrowed it to sit in during pill line. That's the way it is here. I'm sure my friend will be alright. They usually send people back from med-surge within a couple hours. She isn't back yet, but it's only been 3 1/2 hours. I'm sure she's getting a breathing treatment. I guess they recently changed her medication. She's been telling me that it's not working. Poor thing. When she is back, and laying on her bed (an upper bunk!!), I will let her read the "little golden book," I know she will smile while reading it. It's just too cute not to.
Anyway, I suppose some people keep everything they receive for themselves. They just want to cherish the gifts and the people who sent them. I know that the people who send me my gifts are happy that I enjoy them, but also that I share them with people who may not receive anything. I have friends who never receive any mail. It's very sad. They sit waiting and hoping their name will be called, or they just stay in their bed, knowing that their name will not be called. Everyday at mail call, I start to take the stairs slowly, knowing that it is very likely that my name will be called more than once; at least one time for the newspaper, and additional times for any letters/cards/packages I may receive. I am very grateful for everything I receive and I am also very glad that my friends would be happy that they make other people happy as well.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
From Dragonfly: Cosmetic Beauty
We like to cover up our wrinkle, cracks in the wall, hide the defects, do just enough so that no one can see beneath the exterior at all the mistakes, damage, and ugliness. We think that if we put on a good enough "show," no one will notice the problems. We will be seen as perfect. We want to be perfect.
So it seems right now at Carswell. Region is coming this week and next. For the past month, we've been landscaping, painting, dry-walling, mopping, water blasting, hanging, scrubbing, touching up, and more to prepare. All the units were painted, no more colors on our columns. The walls throughout the facility are being painted and/or touched up. The floors are being fixed. The flowers are being planted. The books are being put away. The closets are being cleaned out. The top of shelves are being cleared. The washers/dryers that are broken are being replaced. The tables are being stabilized. New chow hall tables are being built. All surfaces are being deep cleaned. The exterior windows are being water blasted free of bird feces and other debris. This is region. We have to look good.
I, honestly, don't know what region is going to be doing while here. I can imagine every facility goes through a similar process when the "higher ups" are visiting. I would imagine they see 'through' the cosmetic fixing, and want to know what's happening on the inside. Although, I for one, am grateful for the clean window and newly painted walls. If only they'd do something about the cracked, ugly, hard, cold, and stained concrete floors.
I can't imagine trying to figure out the best way to run a prison. I suppose it's based on the goals you want for the inmates. Is the goal just to separate them from society? Rehabilitation? Well, actually, the idea of helping people become better citizens is something the prison system learned long ago is nearly impossible to do. There are just too many people in prison to have a broad enough impact. Some programs and education certainly do help, but the inmate needs to be motivated. The prison has a very hard time helping people find the motivation.
A couple days ago I was talking with a neighbor. She was telling me about her crimes - including bank robbery and more. She was desperate when it started - a one woman scheme - because she wanted to be able to purchase Christmas presents for her kids. Now, she's been away from those kids for several years. I asked if she would do it again. She said, "if I were that desperate, I'd do it again." I was very surprised by her answer. She's not the only person who feels like that. Everyone has a different level of desperation, where they'd do anything to survive. For me, the holidays can include no gifts, just good memories, and all would be good. For her, she believed she had to provide expensive gifts to her family. There are a lot of people like that in the world. Later, I learned a bit of her back story - scary things including being kidnapped for over a month and all the bad things that men do when they kidnap you and come from an ordeal like that.
Then I thought to myself, "she's lost her belief in humanity." Suddenly, her crimes made just a bit more sense. I don't think it justifies the crimes, it just may help make sense on how she may rationalize her criminal behavior. There are so few women in here who did not at some point rationalize their crimes to believe that what they were doing was what they "needed" to do. Sometimes it was for love, sometimes to feed their children, sometimes for medical care, sometimes to feed an addiction, sometimes to care for a parent, sometimes to help a friend, sometimes because they were naive, sometimes because they blamed the world... Once you commit a crime and get away with it, the next time, it is easier than the first to believe you will get away with it again. It's the rare person in here who got caught the first time.
This morning, while waiting for my commissary, Freckles came to check in with me and say, "good morning." I announced, "63 days and a wake-up."
She said, "you shouldn't count yet... not until you get your papers back from region."
I said, "I am asking, visualizing, and believing." The lessons from the 6 Keys to Happiness class.
She had a good point though, "don't count the days, make the days count." Ah, I said I'd have to take that statement forward, like writing it here. Make the days count. I really like that. I may not be able to help myself from counting the days, but making each day count is way more important.
I can't spend the next two months just counting the days and putting on a cosmetic smile. I need to be real. I need to be productive. I need to spend time with friends and write and call and email. I need to not be superficial, like like all the work being done around Carswell right now. It's not about getting through the days, it's about being the best we can be every day. Sure, I could just sit and try to look pretty, but I'd much rather be moving forward and being the person I'm meant to be.
So it seems right now at Carswell. Region is coming this week and next. For the past month, we've been landscaping, painting, dry-walling, mopping, water blasting, hanging, scrubbing, touching up, and more to prepare. All the units were painted, no more colors on our columns. The walls throughout the facility are being painted and/or touched up. The floors are being fixed. The flowers are being planted. The books are being put away. The closets are being cleaned out. The top of shelves are being cleared. The washers/dryers that are broken are being replaced. The tables are being stabilized. New chow hall tables are being built. All surfaces are being deep cleaned. The exterior windows are being water blasted free of bird feces and other debris. This is region. We have to look good.
I, honestly, don't know what region is going to be doing while here. I can imagine every facility goes through a similar process when the "higher ups" are visiting. I would imagine they see 'through' the cosmetic fixing, and want to know what's happening on the inside. Although, I for one, am grateful for the clean window and newly painted walls. If only they'd do something about the cracked, ugly, hard, cold, and stained concrete floors.
I can't imagine trying to figure out the best way to run a prison. I suppose it's based on the goals you want for the inmates. Is the goal just to separate them from society? Rehabilitation? Well, actually, the idea of helping people become better citizens is something the prison system learned long ago is nearly impossible to do. There are just too many people in prison to have a broad enough impact. Some programs and education certainly do help, but the inmate needs to be motivated. The prison has a very hard time helping people find the motivation.
A couple days ago I was talking with a neighbor. She was telling me about her crimes - including bank robbery and more. She was desperate when it started - a one woman scheme - because she wanted to be able to purchase Christmas presents for her kids. Now, she's been away from those kids for several years. I asked if she would do it again. She said, "if I were that desperate, I'd do it again." I was very surprised by her answer. She's not the only person who feels like that. Everyone has a different level of desperation, where they'd do anything to survive. For me, the holidays can include no gifts, just good memories, and all would be good. For her, she believed she had to provide expensive gifts to her family. There are a lot of people like that in the world. Later, I learned a bit of her back story - scary things including being kidnapped for over a month and all the bad things that men do when they kidnap you and come from an ordeal like that.
Then I thought to myself, "she's lost her belief in humanity." Suddenly, her crimes made just a bit more sense. I don't think it justifies the crimes, it just may help make sense on how she may rationalize her criminal behavior. There are so few women in here who did not at some point rationalize their crimes to believe that what they were doing was what they "needed" to do. Sometimes it was for love, sometimes to feed their children, sometimes for medical care, sometimes to feed an addiction, sometimes to care for a parent, sometimes to help a friend, sometimes because they were naive, sometimes because they blamed the world... Once you commit a crime and get away with it, the next time, it is easier than the first to believe you will get away with it again. It's the rare person in here who got caught the first time.
This morning, while waiting for my commissary, Freckles came to check in with me and say, "good morning." I announced, "63 days and a wake-up."
She said, "you shouldn't count yet... not until you get your papers back from region."
I said, "I am asking, visualizing, and believing." The lessons from the 6 Keys to Happiness class.
She had a good point though, "don't count the days, make the days count." Ah, I said I'd have to take that statement forward, like writing it here. Make the days count. I really like that. I may not be able to help myself from counting the days, but making each day count is way more important.
I can't spend the next two months just counting the days and putting on a cosmetic smile. I need to be real. I need to be productive. I need to spend time with friends and write and call and email. I need to not be superficial, like like all the work being done around Carswell right now. It's not about getting through the days, it's about being the best we can be every day. Sure, I could just sit and try to look pretty, but I'd much rather be moving forward and being the person I'm meant to be.
Monday, March 24, 2014
From Dragonfly: Financials
My incredible friend, Survivor, sent me a breakdown of the finances I have remaining for the two months I am still in prison. So many incredible people donated to help me through this time. I know that many GA friends helped, several of my school friends, and others. I am beyond grateful for all these incredible acts of kindness. When I get home, I will have just a small bit left, but something is left. Without a job, I couldn't make it, but I will have a job. I believe it.
The financials in prison are tricky. We all could certainly survive with much less money. Hygeine, though, is important. Those items can cost an absurd amount of money - even basic shampoo is $5/bottle, deodorant $4, and then there are the other things: allergy pills, conditioner, makeup (for those that need it), aspirin, etc. That side of our commissary sheets is often well checked off. Then there's the expense of phone and email. Everyone prefers one or the other, it seems. I do more on email, friends do more on the phone. In total, it's between $50-$75/month for those forms of communication. Plus, add $10 for a book of stamps. Now, for some, coffee is really important - the basic is like $4, better is nearly $9, and it lasts just a couple weeks. Creamer is another $2 per bottle - lasting about 1 week. Others require soda - $3.30/6 pack, or juice, nearly $1/can. Then there's the food items - packaged meats are between $2-$5, cheeses run around the same, cereal is $4/bag.
My goal is to spend a lot less for my remaining two months here. I am going to stop purchasing the 6 pack of Sprite I get every week. I was drinking one can of Sprite each afternoon (a pep me up without caffeine), but I will just stick to the water I drink the rest of the day. I am, also, limiting any snacks - concentrating on just meals to replace those that I can't/won't eat in chow. This week is a good chow week, I will only have to replace 4 meals, next week, it looks like 6-8 meals. I wish they always had peanut butter and jelly available for those of us who don't like the planned meal, but that's only available there a couple times/week. Often the alternatives are just as bad or worst than the main offerings.
I have to admit, I was an expensive prisoner (or still am). Some receive no funds from the outside world. I see them hustle like crazy, though. As many say, "commissary is necessary." A friend of mine made $180 in commissary and stamps through her laundry/ironing hustle just in the past week. Even those who seem they are doing without, are certainly not. Some jobs pay far more than mine did, and those folks buy out the store just after paydays. Budgeting while in prison is important, and the longer your sentence, the easier it will get in time. We need far less over the months, but a lot more just as we arrive for several months. Sometimes, we need to buy greys or shoes. Sometimes, we need to replace something expensive. It just happens. My most important expense most months is just communicating with the outside world. I know I could have done less, but it's one way I stay centered and connected. I am one of those people who really wanted to stay focused on the world beyond these fences.
I will have to find my way in the world and rebuild my life quickly. I know it is possible and I know I'm capable. Survivor did me such a huge blessing, by maintaining my funds and paying all my bills, while I am incarcerated. She's an angel. I guess I am even high maintenance while in prison, shouldn't surprise anyone who knows me!
The financials in prison are tricky. We all could certainly survive with much less money. Hygeine, though, is important. Those items can cost an absurd amount of money - even basic shampoo is $5/bottle, deodorant $4, and then there are the other things: allergy pills, conditioner, makeup (for those that need it), aspirin, etc. That side of our commissary sheets is often well checked off. Then there's the expense of phone and email. Everyone prefers one or the other, it seems. I do more on email, friends do more on the phone. In total, it's between $50-$75/month for those forms of communication. Plus, add $10 for a book of stamps. Now, for some, coffee is really important - the basic is like $4, better is nearly $9, and it lasts just a couple weeks. Creamer is another $2 per bottle - lasting about 1 week. Others require soda - $3.30/6 pack, or juice, nearly $1/can. Then there's the food items - packaged meats are between $2-$5, cheeses run around the same, cereal is $4/bag.
My goal is to spend a lot less for my remaining two months here. I am going to stop purchasing the 6 pack of Sprite I get every week. I was drinking one can of Sprite each afternoon (a pep me up without caffeine), but I will just stick to the water I drink the rest of the day. I am, also, limiting any snacks - concentrating on just meals to replace those that I can't/won't eat in chow. This week is a good chow week, I will only have to replace 4 meals, next week, it looks like 6-8 meals. I wish they always had peanut butter and jelly available for those of us who don't like the planned meal, but that's only available there a couple times/week. Often the alternatives are just as bad or worst than the main offerings.
I have to admit, I was an expensive prisoner (or still am). Some receive no funds from the outside world. I see them hustle like crazy, though. As many say, "commissary is necessary." A friend of mine made $180 in commissary and stamps through her laundry/ironing hustle just in the past week. Even those who seem they are doing without, are certainly not. Some jobs pay far more than mine did, and those folks buy out the store just after paydays. Budgeting while in prison is important, and the longer your sentence, the easier it will get in time. We need far less over the months, but a lot more just as we arrive for several months. Sometimes, we need to buy greys or shoes. Sometimes, we need to replace something expensive. It just happens. My most important expense most months is just communicating with the outside world. I know I could have done less, but it's one way I stay centered and connected. I am one of those people who really wanted to stay focused on the world beyond these fences.
I will have to find my way in the world and rebuild my life quickly. I know it is possible and I know I'm capable. Survivor did me such a huge blessing, by maintaining my funds and paying all my bills, while I am incarcerated. She's an angel. I guess I am even high maintenance while in prison, shouldn't surprise anyone who knows me!
Sunday, March 23, 2014
From Dragonfly: A Decent Day
Every visit is special, but I was really needing one and with Sporty here, we just talked and talked and talked. It was good. I still got tired toward the end, but I was able to take a nap and then go meet up with Lola for some games at inside rec tonight. I'm now back in my unit, showered, and enjoying just walking downstairs to use email. I wish everyday could go by as fast as this day did!!! For those wondering, today's food from the vending machine included french bread pizza and mini tacos. I think tomorrow I may do a ham and cheese hot pocket, although everyone recommends the bacon cheeseburger. I'm reluctant to try it without any fun condiments!
I told Sporty that when I'm home, we are going to be eating in a lot, so let's start collecting recipes. Truth is, I really don't know how to cook well. I lived in one of those homes that food was mostly cooked with the kids out of the kitchen. I never learned about spices or ingredients, I can only follow a recipe. In prison, though, I've actually learned a lot. Although I am starting with processed food items, I add some spices, other foods, and more to make it a more interesting meal. I can make the chicken wraps I make with real chicken breast at home, rather than the packaged chicken I get from commissary. Tuna has always been a staple food for me, but now I make it way yummier, adding in things like vegetable flakes (will be real veggies at home) and other spices, etc. I'm going to cook. That's going to be fun to try and do. Sporty is excited about it, too. It's something we can easily do together. I can, also, invite all my friends over for meals, and they'd actually like the food!!! Cache is a good cook, so I may ask her to teach me a couple great recipes. We will see.
Now that I know that I'm definitely not going to the camp, and that my exit paperwork is being mailed on Monday, I think there is about 50 pounds of stress lifted from my shoulders. Even Lola said that I'm back to my old fun/funny self again. I definitely wanted to go to the camp, get out of the secured FCI environment. However, once that door was officially closed, even for a stupid reason, I could just move to acceptance and start focusing on my remaining time here. Since my case manager had always said that "any day" I could be moved, I'd always had that anxiety... "am I being packed out tomorrow?" "Will I have the opportunity to say goodbye to my friends?" "What will it be like on the other side of the fence?" Well, now I needn't worry. I'm stuck in this pitiful place, but not for too much longer. I still receive such wonderful letters full of love and support from the outside world. I am still surrounded by many wonderful women here, although I do miss South a lot (I haven't heard from her at all). I have so much to be grateful for, even in a place like this.
Tomorrow is another day with Sporty. I think we will try to play a game - we noticed people were checking out UNO and other games today. I said that if we can grab one of the only 4 tables in the room (a new addition, along with the games), we should do a puzzle. That may take us the full 5 hours to complete while we talk. I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a decent day as well.
I told Sporty that when I'm home, we are going to be eating in a lot, so let's start collecting recipes. Truth is, I really don't know how to cook well. I lived in one of those homes that food was mostly cooked with the kids out of the kitchen. I never learned about spices or ingredients, I can only follow a recipe. In prison, though, I've actually learned a lot. Although I am starting with processed food items, I add some spices, other foods, and more to make it a more interesting meal. I can make the chicken wraps I make with real chicken breast at home, rather than the packaged chicken I get from commissary. Tuna has always been a staple food for me, but now I make it way yummier, adding in things like vegetable flakes (will be real veggies at home) and other spices, etc. I'm going to cook. That's going to be fun to try and do. Sporty is excited about it, too. It's something we can easily do together. I can, also, invite all my friends over for meals, and they'd actually like the food!!! Cache is a good cook, so I may ask her to teach me a couple great recipes. We will see.
Now that I know that I'm definitely not going to the camp, and that my exit paperwork is being mailed on Monday, I think there is about 50 pounds of stress lifted from my shoulders. Even Lola said that I'm back to my old fun/funny self again. I definitely wanted to go to the camp, get out of the secured FCI environment. However, once that door was officially closed, even for a stupid reason, I could just move to acceptance and start focusing on my remaining time here. Since my case manager had always said that "any day" I could be moved, I'd always had that anxiety... "am I being packed out tomorrow?" "Will I have the opportunity to say goodbye to my friends?" "What will it be like on the other side of the fence?" Well, now I needn't worry. I'm stuck in this pitiful place, but not for too much longer. I still receive such wonderful letters full of love and support from the outside world. I am still surrounded by many wonderful women here, although I do miss South a lot (I haven't heard from her at all). I have so much to be grateful for, even in a place like this.
Tomorrow is another day with Sporty. I think we will try to play a game - we noticed people were checking out UNO and other games today. I said that if we can grab one of the only 4 tables in the room (a new addition, along with the games), we should do a puzzle. That may take us the full 5 hours to complete while we talk. I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a decent day as well.
From Dragonfly: A Visit from Sporty
It's been more than two months since my last visit - the weekend of my birthday. So, today, I am really looking forward to my visit with Sporty. Sure, I'll enjoy the "different" food, the orange soda, the conversation, the laughs, but most of all, I look forward to the big BEAR hugs we will give each other when she comes and goes. There is really no "touch" when you are in prison (unless you violate rules). You don't realize what it's like to not be hugged, or have someone brush your hand to say, "It's going to be okay." Physical connection is important in life - I'm not talking sex - I'm talking just intimacy between two people. We all need to be hugged every now and then, so I'm looking forward to four great hugs this weekend - two today and two tomorrow. I suppose that will last me until I am home... in 64 days and a wakeup.