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.
