Lifting the Fog

Anniversaries, birthdays and special days generally mean a lot to me. For example, today would have been my dad's birthday and marks two years of my freedom. My release from Carswell 2 years ago yesterday but it is the 29th that is the first day I did not wake up in a prison. Today I woke up and reflected on the past two years of how my life has changed, how I have grown, and how things in some ways are not so different. Mostly, though, I am thinking about the post-prison release fog that I was initially under and wondered where I may be in terms of my recovery from the experiences of living within the prison environment.

In recovery, we often talk of the fog that newcomers to our rooms experience at first. It is only with time away from our addictive behaviors and working our recovery program that the "fog begins to lift" and we see/hear the voice of true recovery start. The newcomer will often share things they didn't realize they were doing while in the throws of their addiction due to their irrational thinking/ behavior. They will start to put pieces of their behavior from that time together into patterns and start to understand how the addiction controlled so much of their life beyond just the acts of the addiction - chasing highs, financial woes, withdrawal, planning the next action, lies and hiding behaviors,... addiction consumes one's life and is progressive in its nature. It can take weeks, months, and for some, years for the fog to fully lift on all the ways our addiction hurt ourselves and the lives of those around us. Staying in recovery, talking about it in our rooms, counseling, and being honest, is the way our heads can clear fully from the fog to see our behavior and actions for what they were and recover fully.

What I've realized in these past two years is that time in prison, no matter who one is and the reason for the imprisonment, results in a similar fog. The day to day reality of prison life, with fears of the unknown, survival instincts at their highest limit, emotional abuse from prisoners and staff with little recourse, sights/sounds that no one should have to witness, policies that make little sense and can change without warning, overcrowded quarters, and the loss of the comfort of friends/family/home, results in prisoners undoubtedly needing a little support upon release. The fog prisoners, such as myself carry, includes emotions such as shock, fear, and anger. Even more so, though, we do not have easy outlets (like 12 step recovery programs) to work through how we may be feeling.

When living in prison day-to-day, a prisoner is not necessarily able to see the full picture of what prison life looks like from the outside or how all the little things add up. The concept of becoming "institutionalized," is often talked about, but it is not hard to understand that in order to survive in prison, it is practically impossible to stay 100% away from all the ways prison changes a person for the worst. I walked into prison and within the first week stated, "I am here for myself only...," yet found myself doing for others in ways I never imagined I would (even if it meant I was pushing up against prison rules). I swore I would not be part of the underground prison market, yet quickly learned it was truly the only way to survive. I knew no prisoner who did not at least 'purchase' through exchange of commissary goods some other goods or services through the underground market. I witnessed drug transactions, drug use and abuse within 2' of where I laid my head, saw innocent people blamed for the acts of others and did not speak up, saw domestic abuse and did nothing, became friendly with a woman who chopped her husband into several pieces because he cheated on her, sat at tables and talked with admitted child molesters for hours, snuck food out of the chow hall, and quit a job I loved because I was unable to stand up for myself against a woman bullying me. These are just a few of the experiences I had, and some I never wrote about for fear of what could happen to me from staff or other prisoners. Each day, these things were not as impactful on me as what they all together did even as I only served a short sentence. In many ways, I became institutionalized because I no longer was myself while I was in prison and the longer I was there, the more it felt familiar and the more I came to accept the unacceptable as normal.

Once out of prison, I could not just "jump" into life. Most ex-prisoners do not have to. We face the reality of halfway houses, come confinement, extended probation/supervision. Even as I write of freedom, I have my federal supervision which limits me still. Perhaps I could have been free of that by now too, but my health over the past 6+ months resulted in me not completing the large packet that must be filled out. I plan to complete it very soon and regardless my 3-year supervision will be over within the next year. Will freedom feel any different than now? The only real changes will be not having to ask for permission to travel and I will not have to complete a monthly report online. Perhaps I will set a goal to be off by the end of this calendar year. I like goals with dates.

The real reason I could not jump into life was not due to the Feds' restrictions on me, though, it was the fog. While I could get through my days, I was trying to get back to the life I had prior to prison (I was already in recovery so I am not talking about the life I had that led to my being incarcerated). The fog did not allow me to see that I was no longer the same person, even though I was still a good person and wanted some of the same things in life, I needed to work through how prison had affected me. I needed the fog to start lifting so I could start to put pieces of my time in prison together into patterns and start to understand how that time changed so much of my life beyond just how I thought about it day-to-day. I needed to be able to let go of the fears and learn to accept and live honestly about the trauma I had just experienced. We may be prisoners due to our own past mistakes, but that does not make us any less human from experiencing trauma and being victims ourselves.

Unfortunately, there is not a recovery program for recently released prisoners. In fact, after having built so much comradery with people who understood deeply our pain and fears with other prisoners while inside, we are suddenly cut off from them all and told we are never to have contact with them or anyone else with similar experiences again. It is exactly the fellowship of people who understand because they have gone through a similar experience or are having a similar experience that makes recovery programs so strong. Not being able to have that to recover from the trauma of life in prison, can result in depression, unhealthy behaviors (addictions), and back to the behavior that led them into prison in the first place or to violate their parole (revolving door due to the comfort of prison life).

Often people after prison will choose the decision to leave it all behind. South was one of those people. She was pretty clear that she would go home, pick up her life, and not talk about the experiences. She never kept in touch with anyone from what I know and I pray she is well. What worries me about people who choose to stuff the experiences is how secrets of traumatic experiences can eat away at us. If we are not open and honest about what happened to us, around us, etc., the trauma can come out in different ways (think military soldiers who do not find healthy ways to cope with combat experiences). Of course all people are difference and all prisoners have differing experiences, but based on what I experienced, the lives of those I met while at Carswell, and my criminal justice studies in the last two years, I really think it is openness and honesty with friends, family, and especially other people who went through similar experiences that helps lift our fog and leads us toward healthy decisions and a new life.

One thing that has helped me substantially is my own writing. Not new writing, because I obviously have failed to write as often as I used to, but my old writing from the time of my incarceration. I was able to add to this blog some of my letters that I wrote home as well as some important notes that I wrote while in prison and brought home with me. I added them to the blog on the days they were written. The blog posts and those additional letters/notes are the data for my thesis. It is very non-traditional to use a blog for a thesis, even more so to use one's own. I do not believe there is any thesis of a former prisoner who provides a hypothesis based research study off of data from a public blog maintained while they were in prison. My hypotheses are looking at the existence of self-efficacy and collective efficacy in women's prisons. I additionally look at whether prison staff influence self or collective effacy in a positive or negative way. Finally, I consider whether specific prisoner identity factors affect self or collective efficacy.

If you are curious, for my thesis, those words of self and collective efficacy mean:

Collective efficacy: shared social expectations that lead to control of social space to reduce tension, crime, etc.

Self-efficacy: people are able to produce what they hope to accomplish through their own actions and make appropriate behavioral decisions. This is based on the person’s ability to cope, put in effort, and sustain adverse obstacles without defensive behavior

Through my work on my thesis, I have been able to look back on my prison experience through the eyes of a researcher, as well as relive some experiences. Sometimes, I am shocked reading about what I wrote or sad that I did not include what I wish I could have (such as the full experience and effects of the Christmas night raid). Simply keeping my blog put me on alert and that reality, even today, is something I will never forget. I am grateful for this opportunity to look at the experiences published through this blog from an outsiders point of view, even if I lived them, as they are helping me continue to life my fog, even two years after my release.

I strongly suggest for anyone who is newly released from prison, that they find a healthy outlet to release their full experiences. Holding them in will not help them in the long run. Honestly will free us of the pain and help set us toward true freedom.

8 Years

Mother's Day, 2016. This week marked my 8th anniversary of my "Devine intervention" - my last gamble, getting caught, coming clean with the people around me and myself, stopping my impending suicide, and beginning the path that would start my road to recovery. My life has certainly moved forward a long way, looking back I was in a place of believing myself "broken" and beyond repair. I was unlovable, never good enough, and undeserving of anything and everything in my life (these things I believed). I could not see past my own issues of addiction, shame, guilt, and fear to fully experience anything in my life.

Today, my life is full of wonder and awe. I live in confidence, love, honesty, openness, willingness, peace, and much more happiness. I am married and surrounded by young people. I give back to my community and do my best to do so without expectation of anything in return. I am forgiving. I seek forgiveness when necessary without expectation of forgiveness in return. I try to make healthy choices of mind, body, and spirit.

I make amends for my past in various ways both public and private. I speak openly as a felon and of my crime and those I hurt. I do not hide from my past, as perhaps I can help open minds and educate others. I take my recovery seriously and continue in my recovery knowing that no one is ever cured of addiction and that we must always be there for the new people who walk into our rooms. I give back by taking leadership through participation in Gambler's Anonymous intergroup and helping with area rooms and conferences. I make my monthly reports to my Probation Officer, showing that I have not gambled, have not done anything in violation of my supervision and that I am doing everything I can to ensure I would not find myself in the position to commit an addiction motivated crime again.

I rebuild relationships with those I hurt as much as I can. Any chance I see anyone in person, my openness, honesty, and willingness to speak and ask forgiveness is usually accepted. Those that have chosen to not forgive me, I will never give up trying to make amends to. I shall carry their names with me and if/when the time comes, I shall ask again. It will always be up to them.

I pay my restitution every month. Some months are harder than others to honestly meet the 10% of income threshold. We have 3 college students in our household and our finances are tight. It is a priority payment, though, and it is paid. It is something I do not just because I am told I must, but because it is a very real reminder of where just one gambling bet could take me. I do not have urges to gamble, but if I ever did, I just need to remember that I already have 10% of my income going out because of gambling, I certainly do not need more (besides violations of my supervision, etc.). I could not imagine anything taking me back to gambling, yet 95% of people who start recovery, do go back out. I guess I am fortunate to not have had a relapse (knock on wood). I surrendered to recovery and GA the minute I walked into the door. I knew I had a problem and wanted to find a way to stop. It was no longer fun - I just could not stop. GA gave me a way, as long as I was willing to sit and listen to those who stood in my shoes before me. Crazy to think I am now one of those people who helps the new person now.

Things have not been all roses. I have been sick for months. This academic semester brought with it the Norovirus and several additional infections over a period of time. I've had bronchitis for over 1 1/2 months. One thing seems to get better and the next hits me. My docs have me off all my meds for my chronic health issues in hopes that my body could fight off the infections, but it has not been helping, so my pain and fatigue levels have gone up. It's been very difficult and I was not able to finish my thesis this semester due to my health. I now have a goal of June. The stress of everything with fighting the school appeared to make it all a bit worst.

However, I am alive. I have a job I love. I am looking forward to classes that will challenge and enlighten me. I have an incredible family. I will get off supervision in 2016. I am loved. I am good enough. I deserve the good that happens in my life. What a difference 8 years makes!

I do want to put a shout out to all the Mom's in Carswell or incarcerated anywhere. I remember that day well. It is a very hard day for Mothers. Be good to your Mom today. Happy Mother's Day!

A Great Meeting

We have a saying in gambler's anonymous - 'there is no such thing as a bad meeting.' However, I will tell you, some meetings are better than others. Some meeting rooms are better than others. But, I do agree, no matter where I go to a meeting, I am always glad I went. I need the meetings and other people need me there. At first, all I did was listen and learn. Now, I listen, learn, and give back. The longer you are in the program, the more you can give back. It's the perfect example of paying it forward.

Anyway, tonight was the new meeting that we started a bit over a month ago. It's still small, but has a good energy and I'm excited to see some people trying to make it one of their regular meetings. I was worried tonight, though, that no one would show. Two of the other 'regulars' were unable to attend, and I wasn't sure of anyone else. Anytime two people are together, we call that a meeting, but someone by themselves, well, I call that sad. Ha.

Anyway, I was pleasantly surprised when two others were there early. It was just a meeting of three of us, but it was a truly great meeting! We spent a lot of time discussing step 1 and the ability to admit that we are compulsive gamblers and that our lives have become unmanageable. This disease is devious. You would think that someone who has lost their home from their gambling losses would be able to admit their problem and see that one's life is unmanageable, but our minds play tricks on us --- just one big win and all our problems can be solved. It an irrational way of thinking and living and what our addiction feeds off of.

One question I received was whether one has to hit the same "rock bottom" as I did or similar in order to be successful in the program. I have watched many, many people be successful in G.A. without having as severe consequences as mine. I've also met many people with more severe consequences as mine. The truth is that the only real "rock bottom" is death - there's always some more damage we could cause if we stay destroying our lives. I'll never forget what a Rabbi said that first Yom Kippur I was in recover during her sermon, "there's no rock bottom, you just stop digging." I truly believe that. However, the people who think they have not reached their "personal" rock bottoms may actually believe they NEED to do more damage to themselves, their families, and their communities before the ability to accept recovery. It's such a baffling and devious addiction.

Anyway, as the three of us went around with our therapies - and I won't share what was said - because what is said in the room stays in the room - but I will say that the honesty and openness was extremely powerful. When I gave my therapy, one member actually had a tear, when I inquired, I was told because of my strength or something like that. Usually, the tears in our rooms are because we are so broken emotionally, but tonight, the tears were because we are strong and capable.

This horrible addiction tries to take all the good out of us, but we can rebuild. We can be humble, gracious, honest, powerful, leaders, role models, givers, successful, meaningful, healthy, caring, and all the things that gambling and our addiction took away from us. We can be emotionally mature, we can have successful relationships, we can be good parents, we can own nice things, we can take incredible vacations, we can live humbly, we can donate to good causes, we can drive cars that are in working order, we can maintain our jobs, we can be promoted, we can pay our mortgage/rent, we can send our kids to college, we can qualify for a loan, we can rebuild our credit, we can join a gym, we can get married, we can move across the country, we can go back to school, we can write a book, we can maintain a blog,... there's so much we can do - as long as we stay in recovery and away from gambling one day at a time. How we do that - we keep going to meetings.

I know that most of the readers of this blog are not compulsive gamblers, nor do you struggle with any addiction, but I imagine you all know someone who does. I truly believe that addiction is addiction and the kind of addiction is the symptom (that's why cross-addiction happens so easily), the disease is the emotional illness and issues that lead to the need to escape reality and/or need some action in one's life. Addicts are unable to live life on life's terms - control (like I talked about in yesterday's blog), and inability to accept things are common issues among addicts. They have shown that compulsive gambler's brains have similar reactions to alcoholics and drug addicts when in action. It's not the form of addiction, it's the inability to say "no." Willpower is impossible for any addict. Please do not tell an addict to just "stop," it doesn't work. Someone who does not get "help" for the addiction will not get better - a dry drunk is still a drunk - sooner or later under the right set of circumstances - they will likely take that first sip of alcohol, that first gulp, that first bottle. For the gambler, it's the first bet, the first $20, the first $100... right back to where they were before they stopped. Perhaps the 12-step program does not work for everyone, but there are many, many recovery programs out there. Addicts need help BUT they need to WANT the help. No one can force someone into recovery. For me, I surrendered. I don't know if there's another way - although I hear, "fake it until you make it," works for some (meaning, keep going to meetings until something clicks with you). Okay, I digressed with this paragraph, but I want readers of this blog to try to be a good friend/ relative to those in their lives who struggle with addiction. Importantly, though, I truly believe you should not help the addict with the addictive behavior - do not provide them money, do not bail them out, etc - make them face their consequences. It may be hard, but if you enable their addiction, they will not be able to get to the a point of surrender. Tough love toward an active addict is the best way to love them. Once they are trying to get healthy, then be there for them in every way possible. If you would have given them money, but held back because of their addiction, save it to help pay for their rehab or to spend time with them. Be there when it is a healthy relationship. You need to make sure you always take care of yourself before you can take care of someone else. [steps off soap box].

Well, tonight was a great meeting and it led to this pitiful blog post. I imagine many more of you are interested in the life and times of a felon, than one of a recovering compulsive gambler. I am both these things and many more. I cannot separate the identities I have. I've made many, many mistakes in my life. They started when I was young and unable to understand the decisions/choices I was making. Each led to another and those led to my being a compulsive gambler and that led me to make the worst mistake of my life and hurt everyone I cared about and a community that had been my home. Today, it leads me to want to go into Criminal Justice and help others who may find themselves on a doorstep not so different than my own. While I hate what compulsive gambling did to my life and the people I hurt, I am actually glad that I am one - because it has made me a better person and has given me the insight into the lives of so many people that are misunderstood in our societies. I was saying at the meeting tonight that we have no recovering gambler role models. There are AA and NA role models in the world. However, there are no well-known GA role models. People don't understand our addiction. Maybe I can be one of the hundreds of thousands of people that can help make that change. Yep, it was a great meeting tonight.

I'm Not Ashamed

After my three hour drive for a ten minute meeting at the RRC today, I met a professor/friend for lunch. It was a wonderful lunch meeting and very nice catching up. She knows my story and supports me. I told her the story of my admission being revoked. She knew a bit of it, but I told her it all. She's willing to be a reference for me as I work to get back in. I'm grateful.

The conversation did lead me to feel as if I'm defending myself. Could I still get a job as a professor? How will it be if I'm working along with people from my old program? Hard questions for me to answer, but I just smiled and said things like:

"I'm not afraid of haters, they are everywhere, I can work with anyone. Their  judgement is on themselves, not me..."

"I will get back into (my school) and I will walk across that graduation stage one day. To all the nay-sayers out there, I'm doing this for myself, for everyone who has made mistakes in their lives, and because what matters is who I am and what I do today, in recovery, not who I was and what I did in addiction..."

"I'm not concerned about where I will work, that's years away... Will I get a job? Yes. But for now, my concern is about taking it a day at a time and for right now, all I need to concern myself with is getting back in school..."

"I will not be ashamed of who I am, the experiences I've had, or the fact that I went to prison. The experiences made me more passionate to help others, more passionate to continue my education, and more passionate about the value of overcoming hardships. This is not my end, it's yet another beginning..."

People want to hear the horror stories of prison, and there are tons. I hadn't shared with you all, yet, the reality of learning that several staff members at Carswell were reading this blog and let me know. It kept me from sharing certain things, I always had to consider protecting myself. I'm home now, though, so I can share more openly and I will... However, even though I just experienced hell, it doesn't mean I want to dwell on the negative. I'm stronger now and that experience helps me know that I can overcome anything. I'm not happy about the experience, but I can focus on what I learned and the good people, rather than the horribleness and the bad people.

Being home has helped me immensely in getting past some of my walls of protection I built, but I have a feeling that some healthy walls may remain. These walls will allow negativity to bounce away from me, haters to have no impact on me, and shame to be nonexistent. We can only feel ashamed if we allow ourselves to do so. 

I have nothing to be ashamed about. I had an addiction. I committed a crime to feed my addiction and irrationally believed I wasn't doing anything wrong. I apologized openly in court to a packed courtroom. I put myself into recovery and surrendered fully to the program. I have not gambled in over six years. I've learned why I developed an addiction and have taken as many steps as possible to avoid a cross-addiction. I help others dealing with the same. I got myself into a top education PhD program. I worked hard over two years - earning fellowships and scholarships and passing my initial comprehensive exams. I went to prison with my head held up and I survived the experience. So, no, I am not ashamed. To be honest, I'm humbly proud of myself. I owe my success to so many people, and hope to pay forward as much as I am able. I will be an example of someone who can make something of themselves after prison, and by doing so, I know I will help others not give up on their goals/dreams either.

Anyway, lunch went well, although I hate that my time is limited. We would've kept talking. I have a feeling I'll be working with this professor friend of mine sometime again in the near future, and I know she carries no judgement of me. That's the way I hope I am when a future student comes to me with their hope for a second chance. There's no shame in asking for help and reaching out, the only shame is not reaching out and keeping it all inside.

Six Years

Today marks my six year GA anniversary. It was also my first GA meeting since before I went to prison. It was a great meeting and I was happy to hear a lot of recovery in the room. Giving my therapy, I knew I was where I was supposed to be.

A lot of people get some clean time in and then they choose to stop going to meetings. Their lives get busy, they have money again, they believe they can stay clean on their own. Too often, we see them walk back into a meeting weeks, months, or years later. They are once again devastated by their addiction and need help. I've never seen anyone walk into a GA meeting and say, "you all were wrong, I went back out and it was great!" The first gamble to a compulsive gambler is like the first drink to an alcoholic. There is no good that comes out of it.

Also, it's those with a decent amount of recovery time that are so important to newbies who need to hear our stories of recovery, have us to sponsor them, and guide them through the steps. Those who were already in the program helped us and we now pay it forward to those that are new. I gave my contact info to two people who requested it. That's what we do.

There's also no magic time when you should start recovery. Some are successful early after discovering they have a problem, others have to face dire consequences to their addiction. As a rabbi once said in her sermon, "you never reach rock bottom, you just stop digging." The only real rock bottom is death and I pray most will find recovery before that extreme consequence.

Sporty and I have decided to start a new GA meeting in the area. It will start in 1 1/2 weeks. We've successfully helped start two others that are strong today (where we used to live), so we hope this new meeting here, on a night that had no local meeting) will be successful.

I never thought I'd connect with a 12 step program. I also never really understood what it was. At first, it can be very intimidating, but if you keep going back, it becomes comfortable and safe. If you struggle with an addiction, give yourself the gift of recovery. Will power alone doesn't work in the long term.

I gambled for 14 1/2 years, so 6 years of recovery is still nothing compared to my loss of such a long amount of time gambling. I plan to keep going to meetings for the rest of my life, sponsor others, rework the steps, and know that if ever I am in need of a friend, all I need to do is call someone else in recovery or go to a meeting. Yes, it's that simple.

From Dragonfly: Addiction

I'd like to write that addiction does not exist on the inside of prison, but that would be fooling myself and you... Addiction and addictive behavior is rampant. First, there are the drug users. There are a number of ways pills get around - one is the person who puts a bag of pills up a body edifice, I can't imagine, and then passes the strip search, upon entry to the prison. Another way pills are passed around are through people who go through pill line, and then stick the pill to their inside upper gums using denture glue - so when they open their mouth, it looks like they must have swallowed the pill. Some pills are "self-carry," but not the ones that people like to take to get high or numb themselves. I'd like to say that I don't know any of these people who trade pills, take pills, deal pills, or similar - but in fact, I know many. I see students come to the GED classes high, I see people who sleep all day, drugged out of their mind, I see people pass out during count, because they are too "f-d" up to stand up. It happens. It's very sad to me.

Those with drug related offenses on their PSI are usually recommended for the RDAP program (a residential drug abuse program). There is also a weekly program that is less intense. I recently learned that RDAP does not allow the participants to consider their drug use as an "emotional illness" - which is what the 12-step recovery programs stand on. I find it odd, because the emotional illness underlies all the irrational behavior that leads to our addiction. Anyway, even people in these prison programs are taking pills on the side.

Aside from the drug users, there are alcoholics. How, you may ask? There isn't any alcohol allowed in prison. However, I've actually seen people make a jug of "hooch" from alcohol pads. Disgusting!!!! I've seen people let their apples get so old that they make a natural "alcohol." It's non-stop here, the lengths people will go to in order to feed their addictive needs. I can't imagine any desire leading someone to such alcohol off an alcohol pad!!!

There are also nicotine addicts. Okay, smoking is forbidden, but occurs every day and all day. There are ways to sneak the tobacco in (see how people sneak drugs in), and there are people who somehow have access to rolling papers and the like. Somewhere on campus, the people sneak off and light up. They pay as much as $5 for a cig (paid out in commissary). And you thought smoking was an expensive habit on the outside!!!!

Another addiction is the need for sex and affection. Many women use their relationships as escapes from the reality of being in prison. They do risky behavior and get into odd situations to be part of their relationship. The drama is just as addictive as the relationship itself.

A big addiction here is food. The average weight gain is 55 pounds. I've written about that before. There are people who can't hold a bag of chips without eating the entire bag. They always eat everything on their dinner tray, as well as some of their neighbor's tray. Then, there are conversations about "starving" oneself or bulimic activities. These are talked about, as if they are normal behaviors.

So many symbols of addiction are here in prison. So little in terms of real recovery. I miss my GA program SOOOOO much. I miss the understanding of people who have worked hard to lead healthier lives. I am one example, though, of someone who is doing her best to avoid all these kinds of addictive behaviors. It is quite possible and people will pretty much leave you alone if you show no interest in their behaviors. Also, keeping my mouth shut about who, what and where is essential. I just turn my back, and do my best to forget what I'd just seen or heard. It's possible.

I Didn't Want to Lie to You

On 9/11/2013 Dragonfly Hazel wrote a letter to Survivor during a really tough day. It did not start or end with "I am okay." The truth was, she could not lie to Survivor:

9-11-13 

Survivor,

Just finished the final standing count of the day. I’m in my bed trying desperately to stop the water falling from my eyes. I’m telling myself the serenity prayer. I’m repeating that, “other people’s opinions are none of my business.” I am just not emotionally strong or capable of handling the meanness of people here, especially some of my roommates and no one has my back. No matter what kind of “friendship” I think I’m forming, in the end the only person here I can count on is myself. Recovery wise I am strong but part of my recovery was to “feel” again. I had years of barely ever crying in my life, but feeling comes with consequences and my tears are one of those consequences. People tell me to be strong, but I’m not made that way. I am kind and sensitive, both of which are weaknesses in prison.

So, what happened? My roommate [Danbury] made us dinner tonight. I assisted a bit. We had fun and enjoyed the food. My roommate separated the food in 7 pieces, one for each of us, but 3 of the roommates were not here at the time, so the food was put aside for them. Around 8:40pm, I came back to my unit/room from the email office. We all have to be in our room at that time. Well, the roommate who cooked, offered the food to the others and when one of them didn’t immediately take her up on it, I added that the food is really good. Supporting the roommate that cooked. Suddenly, the other roommate [Hust] who had declined the food screams at me to not butt into the conversation. It’s not like it was a personal, private conversation. Then she tells me that everyone in the room is just annoyed and frustrated with me, since I “know” things and sometimes give my thoughts on stuff. Everyone else is allowed to, but I guess I am not. I pointed out that she often gives her opinion on things I’m talking about and/or breaks into conversations as well. We are a ‘room’ and people just talk all the time. They just don’t want me talking. I sure as hell don’t think it’s a good thing to fit in at prison. South, my older “friend,” said nothing, she just reacted facially to the other roommates mean, hurtful comments. That’s the thing about prison, no one has your back, silence is our safety.

So, I just lie down, open my book, start trying to read and hide my tears. But, my friend Chi comes by and wants to talk, so I go out of the room with her and she can see I’m upset, but I won’t’ tell her why, she just knows my roommates can be particularity mean. They are in the bus stop because of their past actions (unless they are new) including time in the SHU, fights, mouthing off, and more. I am stuck here because the minute a lower bunk opens somewhere, there is a new inmate placed in it. I am stuck due to no bed space anywhere.

I get back in my room and my roommate immediately think I was talking about her and I was not. I said nothing, Chi saw I was upset and comforted me, but I have held true to my conviction to tell on no one for any reason, to avoid getting beat up or worse. So, as she is telling me not to talk about her, I reply, “I don’t talk about you.” Such satisfaction she gets from her power trip, I have only been nice to her, but she can’t stand that I have a hard time bending down to get things under beds, that I am educated, that I follow the rules here and don’t engage in the underground market, and that I have commissary funds. She doesn’t like that on my second day, I did not hide food for a different roommate whose locker was being searched and that I said, “I’m here to do my time, not anyone else’s.” She hates the amount of mail I get. She calls me a brat because of my outside community of support. Putting me down is her power trip. She said everyone is annoyed with me, yet who gave her the power to speak for everyone in the room? I didn’t see or hear anyone else nodding or agreeing. These are strong women from the streets, involved in humongous drug rings. Yet, I know that inside they are just a product of unfair circumstances and/or addiction. They have fired guns, been in fist fights, and have high violence tendency. I am a “0” on the prison’s violence scale. They are imprisoned for years, the woman harassing me has been here 10 years. 

Meeting someone like me probably makes no sense to her. Later, as I was reading, Hust came over to my bed, not to apologize per se, but to hug me and tell me she still likes me. I guess she got an earful when I was out talking to Chi. I sat here and she hugged me, but I did not return the hug, no matter how hard she tried. All I said to her was, “Okay” to whatever she said, acknowledging but not forgiving. This is the time between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur and it is important that I forgive, but I need time. Her hug made me think of any abuser, who goes psycho, but then tries to hug for forgiveness. She stated clearly that she does not think she did anything wrong, as she is “warning” me because other inmates will treat me even worse. Like somehow her actions will change me and my personality?!? What if I have finally come to terms to accept myself just the way I am and I do not need a career offender telling me how I should “act.” I am humble, giving, sincere, and honest. I choose to maintain these qualities, even if it means that I am not liked. 

This is not about being comfortable in prison, my goal is to accept responsibility for my past actions and to accept that it means spending months being uncomfortable and out of place in this place. 

People do not have to like me, but I cannot be their verbal punching bag either. I had a harassing supervisor at [a past job] who put me in a bad place, but I had choices and could leave that job and the harassment. Here, I have no choices. I must handle everything with no place to feel safe or accepted/acceptable.

I do not want to be hardened by this experience. Recovery gave me the right to have emotions. I feel prison will try to take it away. Every day, my letters and emails help me hold true to my true self. I will continue to be so grateful for the short breaks they give me from my current reality.

Okay, I know, depressing letter, ugh. But I can’t give a therapy and I needed to get all of this out. Thank you for reading.

Love, Dragonfly

p.s. Sorry I didn’t start this letter with, “I am okay.” I didn’t want to lie to you.

On 8-21-2013 I wrote a one page note with the large words "I'M O.K." with small statements surrounding the words and mailed it off to Survivor. These statements were my thoughts and observations just a couple days into my imprisonment. "I am o.k." comes from the C.O. we met a couple days earlier who told me to tell everyone I was okay no matter what... Thank you Survivor for holding on to the mail I sent you!

8-21-13

I'm O.K.

I’m talking with the education department about a tutoring job.

The drama here is more than you can ever imagine.

There is no GA meeting. I asked the Chaplain if I can start one.

I go to clinic every day for A.M.  appt, vitals, TB test, DNA test, etc.

My pillow is a feather pillow (first night they give you no pillow or sleep clothes)

I stand and walk and stand and wait and stand a lot. I’m tired.

About 50% of the inmates speak Spanish.

Being a self-surrender is very rare and this place is very over-crowded.

There are 3 other Jewish women of the 1,500+ inmates.

Lights out at 10:30pm.

Inmates go crazy on commissary, especially food and seasonings.

I live in 1 south in a room called the “bus stop.”

I’ve become an introvert.

I’ve been hit on at least 3x, but I’ve made it clear I’m not interested.

It takes me 45 minutes standing in line to get into Pharmacy, each meal, and my pill line, no sitting!

It took me until Wed. evening to get into the email system. Lines can be 1-hour long.

There are a lot of inmates waiting to be deported, but here for months.

I have a bank robber in my cell.

One of my roommates just got out of the SHU after 3 months.

I’ve met women with as much as 30 years here.

I have made a” friendship” with South, in my cell and also a newbie self-surrender. She’s 67, here due to Lupus and we trust each other. She worked at a University.

I have 6 roommates (4 have girlfriends).

I am given underwear a size too small originally and all my shirts are too big because they run out of sizes a lot.

I can spend $160 every 2 weeks in commissary. For right now, I need to. Plus $ for email/calls, so $400 in Sept.

I sweated off about 2lbs a day.

Some people are nice.

One woman said she knows 10 cent words and asked if anyone knew what “erroneous” meant. No one here but South and I did.

Mental Health and Physical Health population are together. Many people have no health issues here.

I am having a hard time sleeping, but am sleeping.

I’ve lost 5 lbs. since arriving 48 hours ago, according to the clinic scale.

I’M O.K.

Parents

I haven't mentioned my folks much in this blog. It's not intentional. Truth is that my relationship was strained with my parents most of my life. They are divorced, married to different spouses (but still share the same anniversary date - long story) and live about 1,500 miles away from one another (which I'm not sure is far enough). My father is actually very I'll at the moment, just two days prior to my sentencing, he had a stroke as he was in the hospital recovering from bladder cancer treatment. He knew what was happening to me before his stroke and was supporting me, but now he is not able to put his thoughts into words well and he doesn't enjoy talking on the phone anymore. His doctors told my stepmother that news of my imprisonment could cause another stroke because he still needs surgery to clear his arteries. I hate lying to him.

My mother and I are very similar in possibly the wrong ways and incredibly different in most ways. Where she appreciates beauty, I appreciate intelligence. Where she appreciates makeup, I appreciate natural. Where she appreciates a lot of alcohol, I refused it to avoid becoming her. I didn't know gambling could take me to the same places. Family secrets most likely started much higher than my mom, but the skill of a public and silent private life I saw in my mom. We never talked of childhood abuse. My home wasn't safe to talk openly about bad things happening. They were kept inside like we did something wrong. Appearance and reputation was everything. My mother mastered passive aggressiveness and sometimes just aggressiveness. I mastered passiveness. My sister mastered just aggressiveness. My sisters acted out. I acted in. My mom understood my sister, she did not understand me. My dad left our family when I was about 13. I left our family when I was about 16. No one ever tried to bring me home.

When I was 35 and my world fell apart, my private gambling world having been public ally exposed and being accused of the crime I am about to go in for, I went home. For the first time in my life, my mom and my step father were there for me at the time when I needed them the most. It no longer mattered what had happened over those past 35 years - you can't change the past - but one day at a time, my mom and I built an amazing relationship.

We started to see ways we were similar. Similar likes and dislikes. Similar facial expressions. Similar ways of handling issues. I lived in her home for six months, but even after my life started to come together, we talked nearly every day. We still do. This week, she and my step dad (who is pretty amazing) are coming for a night to see me. Over the 19 years I lived away from them in the past, I rarely had a visit from them.

I'm not saying it's perfect. My mom still drinks. Her priorities can still be quite questionable. She sometimes throws those hostile words at me that I used to believe. But now I see that it is her illness. I know she us hurting. I won't enable her, but I can love her. I gain her respect by not being passive nor aggressive. I speak my truth and give her time to reflect.

Neither of my parents may ever say they are sorry for the reality of my youth. I don't need them to anymore. I feel sorry for them, because now I know what it's like to carry around the guilt of having done something wrong. They are my parents. They are aging. I choose to keep them in my life. I'm glad my world falling apart gave me the chance to establish healthier boundaries.

My name is Dragonfly Hazel

This first post will be short, but I did not want this blog to be started without something on it. I am 40 years old, Caucasian, well educated (in fact I am currently obtaining my doctoral degree and I also have a juris doctorate degree), but none of my demographic information is important - I struggled with the demise of a debilitating, baffling, progressive addiction - compulsive gambling - for 14 years. Addiction will make the strongest people weak, the smartest people dumb, the most capable people incapacitated, the givers into takers, the rule makers into rule breakers, and the ethical into criminals. Such is the truth with me and so many I've met over the years. I am not unique. I am not special. I am a person who has had to overcome the realities of an insidious emotional illness. I am now five years clean from compulsive gambling - a disease that nearly took my life five years ago.

In about 60-90 days, I will be going to a federal women's prison camp as my punishment for stealing funds from my employer during my days of gambling. I believe there's a reason so much time passed between my crime and punishment and I believe my story may be able to help someone else struggling either with addiction and/or with the legal system. I looked all over online and found very little real information about preparing to go inside for women (much more information is available for men). So this blog will tell a story. A story that moves through the past and a story that tells of the preparation of what is happening as I prepare to go to prison. My sentencing was just a couple days ago. I had NO idea I would be sentenced to such a long time. My lawyer, friends, family, and I had not prepared for it. So, we all must prepare for it now. Come along with us. Learn. Chat. Share your story. This is our blog.

One year and one day.
Dragonfly Hazel