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.

A January Letter Tells All to Survivor

As done earlier in this blog - I am posting a letters that was written during my time of incarceration. The following is the explanation posted on 9/13/13 in the first letter posting:

"In a later post - after I am home - I state that I will post some of my letters home on the date that they were written. I post everything from the letter except for things that are personal about the person I am writing that is not relevant to the experience of myself or prison. In the letters I may not have used their pseudonyms - however that is changed for the purpose to keep this blog consistent and to keep everyone anonymous as always. Other than those few changes for the purposes of consistency and anonymity, everything listed here is exactly as it it written in the letter - including how I used shorthand or symbols. Some things may be similar to what I write in prior/later blogs. Other things I may not have written at the time on the blog because I knew it was being monitored. I take photos of any images and include that as well."

1/27/14

Survivor -

I haven't been writing letters much. It's a failure of my emotions and my hand. It hurts when I write a lot. Also, I always write less when I most need to write - when my emotions are in overdrive. It's so much easier to write when I'm fine and I can just observe everything around me. It's much more difficult when my thoughts are lost in my head, my senses on overdrive, and I can't exactly put words to what I'm feeling. That has been the case for sometime now.

I am honestly okay. I will survive this and I will be stronger for it. In fact, this place helped me find my creative side again and I hope it lasts - not just crafts or writing Hazel - but I wrote a play in my head a couple days ago - that hasn't happened since I was a teen. In many ways I am inspired in new ways, although I am not giving up on my old goals.

I am going to fight my way back into [my University]. I know it's not the end of the world if I don't receive my PhD, but I've worked too hard and am too determined not to keep moving forward. If I give up now, I'm a victim, but if I hold my head up high and reach my goal, I can be living proof of moving forward, succeeding when others want you to fail, and following healthy ways of living.

We can either wear our addictions, recovery, and convictions as chains or they can be scars - always there, but forever healing and fading. My life just got a little more interesting, that's all.

My visit with my folks was alright. it's the first time someone left and I cried. I want to be able to be there for my folks, my grandparents. The stress on my mom is highly noticeable. The reality of visiting me here showed on their faces. [My step dad] was brought to silence, my mom to shock.

I am currently in the "lab." I was on a call-out to have blood pulled today. I'm supposed to be tested every 1-2 months, but this is the first time since early October. I'm very curious what the results will show. I had to send cop-outs (requests) to get them to order the labs, saying, "please look at my paperwork and order appropriate labs..." But what I think officially got me in was my trip to the rheumatologist last week. She immediately asked why my labs are so old, I just looked at the C.O. with me. "I'm in prison", is my thought. So she ordered Carswell to do my labs. I pray everything looks good enough, so I can get medically cleared. Otherwise, I may be here until my out date in July :-(

I'm not upset to be missing work today. There are a lot of mean people there who decide to gang up against me and try to get me fired. It has nothing really to do with me, but I just take it all as it comes. I'll be out of here long before them.

I'm becoming quite the crafter. I can't sit and do nothing, so I always have a project going. My crochet is getting much better. My plastic canvas designs are a hit. Unfortunately, it's hurting my hand a lot. The way the rheumatologist talked about my condition is form of spondyloarthropathy that is mimicking rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, and fibromyalgia. Why can't anything with me be simple? My fatigue is super bad right now and I've had a cough for several weeks. I'm going to sick call this week.

Being at Carswell is truly a one of a kind experience. Throw away all the "how to survive prison" handbooks. They simply do not apply here. Also, it's b.s. that you walk out with no friends - all us white collar folks tend to find one another. It'd like people in G.A., people you never thought you'd make friends with, but in the end, we support one another through this. It's not like my relationship with you, or people on the outside, but it is real. [The officer we met the day before I surrendered] made many statements that day before my self-surrender, that are just not true. Even the people I room with show kindness and goodness at times.

I think Sporty is coming in for another weekend in March. She's been so good to me. She sent me pics of my new room and it looks very warm, cozy, and comforting. I can't wait to sleep in a real bed again - with enough blankets, a comfy pillow, and no alarm, count, or people yelling out, "dryer three." (that's the call to tell the person in Dryer 3 that their clothes will be removed from the dryer unless they immediately com e and remove them as it is time for the next person's clothes). I wash on Sunday's & Wednesdays. The laundry wars are fierce - how do 260+ women wash their clothes 2x each week in 45 min wash/dry cycles? Fights, yelling, stolen items, etc are all part of the daily routing in the laundry wars. I think A & E should pick it up as a new show.

I've not yet given up on going to the camp across the street. My doc just needs to sign off on it, but I've never seen my doc. I'm thinking I should have an appt within 2 weeks. Perhaps God wants me here to see South off. She leaves 2/10. I can't wait to introduce you two some day. You will love her!! We'll have to take a road trip some time to see her.

Well, move is about to open. Back to work for the rest of the morning.

Miss you tons - Love you more!

Dragonfly