Blogging

This morning I decided to go through my email to see what messages I received while I was incarcerated. I had no idea that I'd received so many emails and comments! Thank you for all your support and for reading this whirlwind of thoughts and observations.

I don't know why it took me so long to read through all the comments. Well, I guess I do. I was not looking forward to reading more comments like from the blog entry about heroes falling I read when I first got out a couple weeks ago. Truth is, that's the only entry that had such hateful and judgmental comments. I feel so much joy, now, knowing that others have found my blog insightful, helpful, and interesting. Writing it has made this whole last year have direction and purpose.

I'm not going to say that I particularly like all the blog entries or that I'm a great writer. However, the ability to reflect openly about experiences is incredibly healing. I had a childhood that was about secrets and hiding. It took recovery for me to realize that all the secrets caused me to become emotionally stunted. Having a blog like this is quite the opposite, I can share the good, the bad, and the ugly. We say in the program, "we are only as sick as our secrets," and I thank god every day that I no longer harbor secrets and the fear of truth.

As time goes forward with this blog, I will share more about the life struggles that led to my addiction and crime. Perhaps a reader will identify with some of the experiences and they will be able to get the help they need before finding themselves at the brink of suicide and self-hatred. The focus of this blog though, will remain on the present and my life now that I have a large "F" for felon symbolically written across my forehead.

Please know that now that I'm home, I welcome comments and questions on this blog or through the link to email me (contact link on right panel). I will do my best to respond to any questions as soon as possible. Also, please feel free to suggest topics you'd like to see appear here. I'm never really at a loss of things to write about, but I want to ensure this blog stays interesting to the readers.

I am so blessed that so many people have found this blog and choose to keep coming back. There are readers from literally around the world - Europe, Asia, South America, etc. When I was leaving to self-surrender, Cache and I were so excited that I had nearly 5,000 hits on this site. Now, we are nearing 50,000. 

So, thank you to all of you! You've helped me through a difficult life experience and given me the strength to keep my hopes alive. I can not imagine life without writing, so you are all stuck with me for the long haul!

Ouch

What a difference a day makes. The pain I feel in my back, neck, and shoulders is indescribable. I get up to do some stretches and the top bunk is too low for me to do so. I move to the cold, hard floor instead. I went to sleep without my medication and still no towel. I wish I could take a walk, but there's no where I can go to do so. I now see why I was not medically cleared for RRC/HWH.

6:45am is mandatory meeting time where they do a roll call and you let them know what meals you will eat here for the next 24 hours. I said, "lunch save," which means I may not be here for lunch at 11:45am. I went to the bubble to see about my meds - but none are approved still. I try to explain that my medication regiment is important, but there's nothing that can be done until someone approves them, and it's not her.

I wanted to make sure I wouldn't have difficulty getting my injection for my doc appt that morning, and she said, "your insulin?" I explained that it's not insulin and is very expensive medication. Turns out it made it to the fridge, but they didn't have the boxes handled correct side up. I was able to fix that. The woman in the bubble looked at me with eyes telling me to not ask any more questions. I walked away without any of my medications for the last 24 hours and said I'd be back at 7:30am to pick up my injection.

The 40 women here are averaging in their mid 20's. There are only a few other women here who kinda look about my age. The BOP folks, like me, all seem a bit older. This morning, one of the BOP folks told me that she just got there from Lexington. She knew Lola before Lola transferred to Carswell. Small world.

I put my blanket on the floor to do some stretching, but my body hurt too much and I could barely do anything. I pray some stuff gets answered today for me. Here's my list so far:

• Can I get a medical mattress?
• What will procedure to give myself my injections be?

Time out, my roommate is masturbating with herself and grunting loudly - never dealt with it quite that way in Carswell ---

• Can I have a towel?
• What does home confinement orientation include?
• How can I get on the public assistance website so I can sign up for health insurance?
• Can I attend a GA meeting?
• Can I go to the library?
• Can I have visitors?
• Can I have a bedside table/set of drawers like everyone else?

12:30pm. I am back from my doctor appointment and laying on the hard bunk I am assigned. I ate breakfast with Pink and Lexington. They both should be on home confinement, but this place is holding them - sounds familiar. Scares me a bit, but I need to put my future in god's hands and just get through today.

We have to bring a bright orange spork with us to every meal. We each get one. It is our spoon, fork and knife all in one. Breakfast was cereal and toast. I was given frosted flakes. No healthier options. Oh well.

T.S. was at the door when I came out of breakfast. She looks so good, gosh I missed her. I walked to the door to ask her if she brought me the clothes I requested. I then was screamed at - didn't know we couldn't approach the door. Anyway, my few items she brought were searched and I quickly headed to my room to change out of my greys - finally!!! No time for a shower - and I still don't have a towel anyway.

Outside, I was finally able to give T.S. a great big hug. I'm tired and worn out, so, I wasn't very engaging as T.S. drove me 1 1/2 hours to my doctor appt. I did get to put one quick Facebook post up - a self pic with "I'm back... sorta!" I'm not sure of the Internet rules, so I don't want to be online until I'm given permission to do so. Another thing I did was "unfriend" more than half the people on my Facebook. It's not that I don't want to be their friends anymore, I just want to wait until I know they choose to be a friend and not a hater. Those I know support me, I kept. I was especially glad I chose to do that BEFORE I stumbled on a bunch of negative comments from an earlier dragonfly hazel post. They judge me without really knowing the story, thinking I am not worthy of a second chance or being in school. I thought to myself, these people know nothing of who I am and if I chose not to tell them my deepest past secrets, then that was my right. I didn't lie, I used discretion and I chose to tell those I was closest to and trusted - isn't that what we all do? So, I decided I want my Facebook friends to be those who I can put into my circle of trust. I will share this site with them. I will happily add back those I took off, if they want to continue a friendship knowing all of me.

Meanwhile, while I am capable of deleting these past negative comments on my writings/feelings, I choose not to. Everyone has a right to their own opinions. People can think anything they want of me. They are obviously perfect human beings, never dealt with addiction, and never felt true desperation. As for me, I live with my mistakes, my crime, the reality of what I did, and I choose to try to do the next right thing. I did a lot of good things, even when I was destroying myself, but never was I proud of myself until I got into recovery, got healthy, and learned forgiveness - especially to forgive myself. I don't need anyone to like me, as long as I like myself. Luckily, I have an incredible community of support, who also practice love, compassion, forgiveness, kindness, and honesty. I think I'll keep my energy flowing in their direction.

So, we get to my doctor's appointment just in time. I am weighed - down like 45 lbs since I was here a year ago. Once I am in a patient room, I immediately say, "I just want to make sure you know, before you spend any time with me, that I don't yet have any health insurance..." It didn't seem a problem to them.

I answered all their pain/health questions I need to answer every time I'm here... I just got pulled into a meeting with my case worker, so more to report, but first back to my doctor appt... I'm asked if I have anything specific to address. I say, "many things, but today let's just concentrate on immediate needs..." I am to continue my medications, she gave me an update of my medical restrictions, and I'll come back in two months for a more thorough appointment.

So, we go through a typical visit, an hour long, and I give myself my enbrel injection in front of the nurse, and may medical record is updated. I got the form showing where I was and what I was doing signed, a copy of my medical needs, and went back to T.S. - they only charged me $10 for my visit!!!!

Driving back to the community facility (can't call it a HWH, because it is not one), I was better able to talk with T.S. as she drove. Gosh, I've missed her. We got me back to the facility 20 minutes before my "pass expiration" I waited at the door to be let in, pat down, stuff searched... I signed in and handed them my verification form. My case worker (CW) immediately requested my home phone bill - the phone that is a house phone with no call forwarding --- sporty had sent it in with T.S., so I was ready. Her asking for it meant she must be working on my file - that must be a good thing!

I head to my room to relax, first asking permission to go into my locker to put my personal items in there - health records, license, debit card, etc. About 20 minutes later, I was told to go see CW. I had to ask where to find her, I'm new after all. There is a "wing" to the building that is all administration and I found her office down that corridor.

Good news immediately - someone is heading toward where I live tonight, and if they can do the home visit, my time here will be way less. I asked if there's any possibility I could be home for the weekend - she said a slight one. I'll hold on to that hope! First, Sporty needs to be home when they show up tonight - she's busy being oriented for her new job, so I pray we can reach her in time. Also, I need to fill out a form that I'll have access to Sporty's car and Sporty will need to write a notarized letter, that I have permission to drive her car. So, there's lots to do immediately - I can handle that!

CW also told me that my intake will be tomorrow morning, but "you won't be expected to complete any programs..." She did read my file and saw she can't really hold me here medically. She is working to get me out of here! I will be meeting with the nurse as well tomorrow, but CW told me to not emphasize anything wrong with me, because I won't be there long enough for the nurse to do anything for me. Sweet words to my ears.

I signed a bunch of papers and asked the questions I had come up with that were still relevant. She told me she'd find me a second mattress and pillow. She was reluctant to give me a medical bed, because I'm LEAVING so soon... I am okay with that!

I told CW that I promised region/BOP that I'd sign up for health insurance through the ACA website within 24 hours. CW said, "well, that's not going to happen..." No access to internet here. I'll have to wait until I'm home.

Under home confinement, I will have to come to the institution every Monday and Thursday morning., I will need access to a vehicle - Sporty's. We'll work that out. I won't have any electronic monitoring. I will always have a 9pm curfew, except for work or school. I'll have to call in frequently and be home for their random calls on the home line. I can't go anywhere without advance approval.

CW asked me a bunch of questions. I asked if I am here for the weekend, could I attend a GA meeting. She said, "what's that??" I'm so used to that response, but this is a place of recovery, the serenity prayer is in the dining hall like 12 times, yet she doesn't know of GA. Such a misunderstood addiction!

When the meeting was over, I was happy on "hope," so I called T.S. She has plans but will cut them short to be home for the home visit if her mom can't be. She's such an amazing young woman! By the time I saw SW at the bubble that afternoon, both Sporty and T.S. had called her and said they'd be home. I also called survivor - I so miss her. I haven't seen her since she dropped me at the gate the first day. It was a short, but good, call.

SW helped me find a second tiny mattress and another flat pillow. Pink got me an old stained but clean towel. I'm not getting a chest of drawers/night stand, so be it. Home is closer now. I feel it.

Speaking of home, I finally reached Red's MIL. She had not gotten my message from yesterday - not sure why not. So, I start telling her about Red, the Marshalls, etc. She had no idea what I was talking about. She picked up Red at the bus and she's home now. I guess the Marshalls didn't show. She'll still take care of the charge, but she's home with her babies. That brings me so much peace!!

5pm. I was given access to my approved medications finally. Dinner consisted of a meat and macaroni dish that I can't quite describe (gross), carrots, cornbread, and 2 more slices of white bread.

Still more to write for the day... but taking a break... more entries to come asap.

It's a Hard Knock Life

Okay, I obviously wrote too much, while I was offline... back to what I'd written longhand...

My large medicine box could not fit in the overhead compartment or under my seat on the smaller plane. Luckily, the flight attendant could move me to the back of the plane, where there was more space...

Arrive at the small town "international" airport (they must go to Canada or something for it to be considered international) and follow signs to ground transportation. I found a counter with taxi/sedan/limo on a sign. I'm told that all transportation must be arranged through them. I give my HWH address and they have me pre-pay $29 for the trip. I was given $55, so I'm not complaining. Meanwhile, an older lady comes to the counter to get a taxi home. She's charged $39 and is pissed, "it used to be only $19!" She gives in, of course, we all need to get to where we need to go... but lo and behold, they have only one car available - we are asked if we would mind sharing the taxi. I ask for a discount. We are each given $5 off our trip and we then agree. Poor lady didn't yet realize I was going to the absolute opposite side of the town than she was, so her ride would be twice as long. It's a small city, though, so we are talking the difference between 10 minutes and 20 minutes. So be it.

We go to the "taxi" and it's actually a sedan. Okay, we can travel in style. The lady asks me a bunch of questions. Picture her - very trendy dresser, fancy earrings, late 60's, grandmother for sure... Discretion definitely came in handy. She asked where I was traveling from, how long I was there, why I have such a big box of medication, what's medically wrong with me, etc.

So, what I did not say is, "I just got out of prison this morning, where I spent nearly a year, got no medical care except for my medication (well, most of my medications), and I have serenegative spondyloarthropathy... you are about to drop me off an an unnamed/unsigned large building in a bad neighborhood where I will spend more time with other felons, drug abusers, and other needing a hand up..." Nope, I didn't say that. I could just see her eyes bulge out of their socket. Instead, I just said, "I was in the Dallas/Fort Worth area for several months. I have to travel with my medication for an autoimmune condition. I'm going to a place to see someone." Enough said.

So, I'm dropped off at the front door of the RRC/HWH - it looks like a business office. I go to the main door, oops - men's side - I need to carry my stuff - big box included (tape handles broke off) - and make my way around the building and along a path to the women's side. I find the right number door, and go inside.

You know the look of old seedy motels, well, that's the feel when you walk into the women's side of this place. The men's side has a stained glass window and looks nicer, but you walk in here and there's a desk called the "bubble," where the staff members sit behind a plexiglass with a slot open at the bottom like a bank, and a talking hole too high for my height. Women were everywhere, doing a million things - going in/out of lockers, getting cigarettes, cleaning floors, going to meetings, sitting in a small courtyard, on the phone, asking for mail, asking for laundry soap, buying snacks, coming in from school/work, taking urine tests, getting alcohol breath checked, etc.

I stood at the bubble to be processed in. The young woman is new, never processed anyone before, and didn't know where to begin. It was 5:15pm. I just stood there, taking in the grittiness of the place - everything is old and warn down.

It became quickly apparent that the BOP inmate is the exception to what they usually have here. Most are here for drug/alcohol issues - there are a number of programs - rehab, drug court, swift and sure, and others that they do while in there. It is not a real halfway house, it is a locked down community correctional place. Only four other federal inmates are here on their "halfway house" time. I met one, she knew Danbury. She was supposed to be on home confinement weeks ago, but she's still here.

Anyway, a male staff member from the men's side comes to finally help me get processed in. I answer questions - out address, past drug/alcohol abuse, suicidal tendencies, medical issues, etc. There's not enough room on the form to list all my medications or medical issues. Meanwhile, I am still standing and I have to use the restroom. So, this gives us the time to do my urinalysis and my strip search. Squat, spread 'em, cough - yep, once again. My breath is checked for alcohol "0.0." I'm back standing at the bubble for a while longer. It's after 6pm, so I ask for a chair, and they allow me to bring one up to the bubble. So, I sit down, lower than any openings in the plexiglass and attempt to hear their questions and provide answers. A ton of people continue to need the young staff woman's attention and the guy has to go back to his side of the facility, so, she gets pretty flusterred. Meanwhile, my box of medication is still sitting there - along with all my belongings - for her to sift through. At 6:35 pm, I ask if there's any way I can get something to eat. I know she is still processing me in, but I'm getting hungry and she keeps getting pulled away. She disappears to the kitchen and comes out with a sack lunch. Two peanut butter sandwiches on white break, packaged grape jelly (the same jelly we had at Carswell!!), pretzels, and bright blue sugar drink. I made a sandwich , ate a couple pretzels, took a swig of the blue juice (dumped the rest - too sweet), and at least felt satisfied.

Back to the bubble. I'm taken on a quick orientation walk by another resident and she quickly goes through lockers, laundry, tv, phones, meal times, count, smoking, schedule, showers, etc. I remember about two things she said. However, I won't forget the showers - thing gym class with one open room with five shower heads - no dividers, no curtains - just open - UGH! I also learn that I'm allowed no shorts, no t-shirts, no hoodies --- okay, there goes my entire wardrobe!

Back to the bubble. I'm assigned a room - they seem reluctant to have to place me there, but it's the only lower bunk available. I'm put on a bunk with a mattress thinner than anything at Carswell on a metal frame. The bunk above it is really low, I can't sit on the bunk without hitting my head. I can't swing my arm to pull up a blanket without hitting the top bunk by accident. This place has hospital beds - about 50% of the residents are sleeping on decent medical beds. They don't have medical issues, they just were in the rooms first. I'm given a sheet and a blanket. Pink (Danbury's friend) comes by as I'm making my bed. I ask about a pillow, a set of drawers, some hygiene products, and a towel - all stuff that is supposed to be supplied. It's now after 7pm, and I'm still not fully checked in.

I am given a locker, a lock, and pretty much everything I brought from Carswell is in that locker now (the locker sits by the bubble and we have to ask permission to go in/out of it every time). My roommates both have the same first name. So, I refer to them as #1 and #2. They provided me with 3 shelves, of the 12 available in the closet. I don't have many clothes yet, but not sure that will work in the long run... they also take up 100% of the hanging closet space.

I am given 15 minutes to make a call. We can use the phone for $1 for 15 minutes - one or more calls - but 15 min total. We must sign up and pay in advance. There's only one phone available for long-distance calls. I try calling Red's MIL quickly - still no answer. I call Sporty. She's been worried sick about me. Everyone is texting each other asking if I'm out, if I got here, etc. I'm out, but I am not free. I'm still locked in a secured environment. I need permission for everything. I am still wearing my prison greys. I was self-carrying my meds, here, I have to wait in a pill line for all my meds. I will do my best to get acclimated - this is not forever.

#2 has already tried to sell me a pair of sneakers and to borrow 50 cents. I showed no interest in the shoes and I have no change. At about 8pm, I'm back at the bubble. It appears my intake is over (3 hours), but I have no pillow case or towel. The pillow I am given has no stuffing at all. it just lies flat. I also still need some hygiene products to wash up with. I go to my room to lie down, write and hope that some of the things will be provided at some point.

The pillow case arrives thirty minutes later. It smells, but so does the blanket and sheets. All appear to be like 20 years old and yellowing. It takes me minutes to get up from the flatness of the mattress on my bed. I will talk to them tomorrow about finding me something better. This place is not set up for accommodating medical needs. In fact, it's pill line time and since they haven't put my pills in the computer yet, they won't provide me with any of them. At 9pm, the box of my enbryl is even still sitting there, rather than the medication going into a fridge like it has to.

An unfortunate thought hits me at that moment - I would rather be back at Carswell. I want to take a shower and put on clean clothes. It feels like I am laying on a metal slab on the bed I'm provided. I'm all of HALT - hungry, angry, lonely and tired.

The room I am in is a suite- like at a college dorm, with a bathroom between two rooms. Everything here is old and dirty. It's my home confinement date, I don't understand why I am not going to my home confinement and instead have a new lock-up experience. I kind of feel like I'm at an orphanage right now - "It's a Hard Knock Life" (from Annie) keeps playing in my head.

I say the serenity prayer over and over again. I have a lot to be grateful for. I think about Red, possibly locked up at county, and I know I have nothing to complain about. I am even better off than the poor new young woman who is working at the bubble. She seems so overwhelmed and looks totally dazed. There are about 40 women here, but the chaos and drama already matches Carswell - except I hear no real fighting. It's loud, though, very, very loud. Music, talking, laughing, doors slamming, water running, shoes sliding, etc.

Whoa, #2 just got naked facing me - with leapard print undies on and I really did NOT want to see her naked. I'm actually glad my glasses are off, so I'm really only able to see a blur. It's a big enough room that she did not need to do that right next to my bed!

My suite mates are gossiping and talking about guys and drugs. I'm still in prison. It's just a smaller, older, less organized one. I should have brought my crochet blanket to work on!

10:15pm. I'm laying on metal. I am using my prison swearshirt to prop up my head. My back and neck are aching and I'm soooooo tired. My meds are still not in the computer, so I was not allowed to take any of my nighttime medications. I just received my hygiene pack - a plastic cup, same body soap/shampoo we had at Carswell, prison deodorant, a mini-toothbrush, scary toothpaste, and a mini-razor. Oh, and a spork. A plastic orange sport. I am hoping to get a towel still.

I never thought anything could be less organized than Carswell, but I was wrong. I hope I get my meds soon. I look forward to seeing T.S. in the morning. It'll be a better day!! I'm sure this place will get better as well. I'm not behind a fence anymore. I can wear my own clothes, and I'm much closer to friends and family!!

Furlough

I am sitting at Au Bon Pain at DFW airport eating a toasted bagel with cream cheese. It's the first bagel I've enjoyed in 10 months. I have about an hour until I take off. My morning was full of emotions, and, yet, now I'm here. I'm on furlough to the RRC (halfway house). Legally, I'm still in custody.

Sleep was difficult last night - but I did get 4-5 hours. At 5:30am, I got up and started getting ready - change out of a pair of grey shorts and t-shirt into a different clean and ironed grey shorts and t-shirt. Pack my last minute items - book light, pillow cover, book, water bottle, and attempt to zipper my bag. People came to me and hugged me, wishing me luck. I stood with the Third one, waiting for the announcement that food service is open - announced at 6:05am, which is when we are allowed to leave the unit.

Taz walked with me and Freckles met us outside. I could already tell that Freckles would cry - happy tears. We've literally gotten each other through this experience. She'll be leaving in just over a month - so she's right behind me. Unfortunately, Taz still has a couple years.

Taz stood at the line with my overflowing grey bag, while I went down to the chow hall with Freckles. Two bites of a bad bagel and about 10oz. of mile and I got up to go back to the line - anxiety was hitting me. Taz took off to get some breakfast and I stood in like with Freckles, Red, and the Third one. People kept walking by and at least one of us was being hugged. A lot of "don't come back!" was uttered.

Another wait as the mail line started to form behind us - and then we heard keys. An officer held our files and called us to follow him to R&D. I hugged Freckles and Taz one last time and down the hall I went. It was only my second time in R&D. The lock-up cells lining the left wall. I remembered back to my first day and sitting there with Chi as we were processed in.

As we walked in, the officer opened a cell and told Red to have a seat on the concrete built-in bench. He closed the door and locked it. She has a detainer from her home city and we didn't know if they'd come and pick her up or let her come home first. For months, she's been trying to get an answer. She has young kids at home and is needed there. We prayed she'd be busing out today. She gave me her mother-in-laws (MIL) phone number just in case the Marshall's did come for her.

The Third one and I got processed - another thumb print, signatures, see if my clothes arrived (nope!!), etc. I peaked through the cell window at Red when I could. I hated that she sat in that room alone and no one knew yet if she would be going home or with the Marshalls.

When the Third one was being processed out, the paperwork had a big mistake - she's supposed to be flying out - but in her pocket they'd showed she was busing it - for like 3 days. Even I know that she was supposed to fly - she's a care level 4 (the highest!). She got super mad, had "words" with the officer for a while. I felt powerless. Finally, the officer told us to follow him to the business office. I put my hand on Red's cell window, not knowing if I'd see her again.

About 7:15am, we went to the business office. They talked a long time and wah-lah, they found the Third one's plane ticket! Once again, have they never done their jobs before?

Freckled happened to walk by and so we got one more good hug in. She was waterwords this time. She will always be a good friend - we have South to thank for connecting us!

When I got up to the business office window, they handed me cash for my taxi and meals - $69, and a debit card with my personal balance $3.15! I can't even us and ATM to withdraw that amount. But, hey, it's like almost what I made my first month working in prison. It's valuable to me. The debit card is from the BOP, has my name on it, AND it has my prison photo!! The height chart behind me and all! That's something to be proud of - ha!!

Many of my former students came by to hug and thank me. I told them to continue learning, some to go to college. We exchanged warm hugs!

We walked back to R&D, past everyone in line for records, the mail room, and property. They watched us, with our grey bags - we were leaving. Lots of waves and "good luck" and we were back at R&D. Peeking in at Red, she motioned that she's not going home. I also heard the C.O.'s talking about waiting for the Marshalls to arrive. She is going to county to be picked up within 30 days to then be brought back to her home state and stand before a judge. I can only imagine what is going on in her head, but I was very sad. I don't like leaving someone I care about facing the unknown alone. She's strong (much stronger than me), though, and she'll pray and at least she'll be out of Cars-Hell! Good thing I have the number to call her MIL.

The C.O. then processed our medications - I received my seven self-carry meds for 30 days and, later, a large box with my enbryl on ice packs. Now, I had to squeeze the medication into my bag and start carrying the now pretty light but LARGE box, with no handle. The Third one had to help me stuff the medications in my grey bag. I received a cd of my medical records as well :-)

As we walked to the exit gate, Freckles was there once again - waving and screaming goodbye. What a friend!!!

I'm on the plane now - waiting for take-off. I had priority boarding and a window seat. Other than my dark greys, and see through grey bag, you'd never know I was a felon on furlough. Anyway, back to leaving.

We headed to the security office at the prison, received our envelopes with our cash and tickets and I was given my box of medication and we were then brought to a white van. the can is considered a "town car," and is driven by two women inmates from the camp. Nearly every day, their job consists of taking inmates who are leaving to the airport and bus terminals. Quite a different job than those available to us behind the fence.

We dropped a camp inmate who'd been down six years to the front gate first. Her family was supposed to pick her up at 7am. We were there at 8am and there was no sign of them. So, we had to leave her at the visitor's center. I hope she found her family!

We then started our drive out of Fort Worth, past Cowboy's Stadium, past Six Flags and Hurricane Harbor, and finally toward the airport. The Third one and I were each dropped at different terminals to catch our flights. Security is always a nightmare when carrying liquid medication. It can't go through the x-ray, so I have to ask for a hand search. My other stuff went through the x-ray and I go through the fancy machine where I have to put my hands over my head and it puts an image of me on a screen - all clear.

Then I am pulled to the secured area. I'm told I have to be pat down due to my needing a hand check. I say, "I know, no problem, been through that before." They don't know that just recently I learned the correct stand for a pat down. I turn around and put my arms out and she tells me that I should face her - okay, that didn't work at Carswell last week! As she does her pat down, she informs me of how and what she is doing at each step ("the back of my hand will now go under your breast"). Another thing that doesn't happen at Carswell. My body, my medication, and my bag are all cleared and the NTSB guy builds me a handle for my large box out of NTSB tape. Now, I don't have to use two hands to carry it. I thank him and find my way to the gate.

I called Red's MIL, but only get her voicemail. I left a message about the Marshalls, hating that I had to leave a message. I'll try calling again later.

The plane just took off and I'm flying out of Texas. My furlough ends in about five hours. I'll likely sleep through most of it. Thank god I brought my earplugs. Turns out a chatty-Cathy who is on her 2nd flight ever wants to tell her life story to her neighbor right behind me. I'm looking down on clouds.

The Last Night

Okay, I need to admit yet one more thing... going home didn't really hit me. Too many walls up in a place like this. I hoarded things - "what if I'll need this?" I held on to more clothes than needed. I had a bunch of "just in case" thoughts.

It didn't help tonight when I looked at the call-out sheet and I'm not listed for R&D tomorrow morning. None of us are. Someone really failed in their job. We were not on any of the usual "hey, you're leaving" call-outs. I'm only sad about that because across the fence, at the camp, Lola will not see that I'm leaving. The camp and prison share a call-out sheet. That's how I know when Lola and Chi went through camp orientation, that Chi got a job at the power plant, and that Lola is a camp orderly. I can kinda still keep tabs on my friends from afar. I know Lola is looking me up too. She won't know, yet, that I'm leaving.

So, Red, the Third one and I suspect we should be at R&D at 6am. They could come get us earlier or we can stand there for over an hour, no way of knowing. Doesn't matter, we are all leaving here tomorrow - one last line to stand in.

Tonight, I had dinner with Nurse. Others joined us at the table. Nurse made a spice noodle tuna soup concoction - sounds different - but I ate my part all up - YUM! Then, I sat with Mama and other friends and played a couple games of Canasta. A perfect wind-down. I, then, took a shower, for the last time in those prison showers, and got comfy.

People shared contact information with me - parents/spouses names and phone numbers, so I can check up on how they are doing. I shared my info as well. We aren't allowed to communicate, but it doesn't stop us from caring about one another.

I had some good talks with friends - Cali, Taz, Red, Bunkie, and others. They know I care. I know they do. Soon, I pray, it will be them going home. I gave my lock, a highlighter, and anything else I had left to give away to a new woman who has no financial support. She was grateful.

So all that, and I still didn't have a big smile on my face. I still didn't believe I'm leaving. Until... I threw away five pairs of cheap, nameless, tearing at the seams, stretch band coming off, white granny underwear!!! That one act got a huge smile on my face. I'm leaving and I can wear my cute hipsters once again! I am still carrying a couple pair with me, since I didn't get my out clothes, but, soon, those will be tossed as well.

So, what got me to fully realize I'm leaving is getting rid of the tighty whities. Who knew it could be so simple??

A Blank Calendar

My appointments, responsibilities, and life as I lived it for the past few years has officially ended. My phone calendar, which typically beeps at me constantly to remind me of my next thing to do or place to be, is empty. My twelve keys went to ten, then seven, then six, then four, then two, and now zero. I leave tomorrow with a small roller bag filled with more medication and paperwork than clothing.

I laughed tonight. A lot. I saw a wonderfully funny - smart funny - movie. A perfect distraction. My tears came at times later, but I could focus and move forward. 

An earlier blog mentioned the idea of Survivor and I taking a road trip, but expenses were too high. Instead we are each flying in, from different airports, as we live several hours away from one another. We will meet in Dallas, spend the first night in a nice hotel, and ensure my finances and other needs are all being properly cared for by someone. We will laugh too, Survivor always makes me laugh!

I sent an email today to the student who broke my trust which resulted in many negative consequences. I chose to apologize to her as I do not want to leave with any ill will. It really makes no difference that she broke my confidence, because other people's reactions are based on my being a felon and going to prison. My anger at her is displaced. I cannot put blame on others for how people react to pieces of my story - real or fictionalized. My challenge is to help people understand the reality of this addiction more so compassion and forgiveness is possible.

I am leaving in peace and with hope that I will be back here soon, adding keys to my keyring, appointments to my calendar, and a bit better at not displacing my anger or fear on others.

Oh, and another update on the future of this blog. Additional friends will be assisting to keep it going. I will be writing posts often and emailing them, which will be posted with their date written. Friends may talk about their experiences around all this. Stay on this journey with us. I look forward to seeing how things look and reading the blogs and comments upon my return!

3 days til self surrender. 14 hours til I fly to Texas.

The Ups and Downs

Five years ago, I went from having a good paying job, partner, kids, friends, nice home, although my life was a mess due to my addiction and behavior to a sudden shift of being homeless, jobless, broke, alone, mourning the reality that my partner and kids left me, and still a total mess - until I found gamblers anonymous and my life got better one day at a time. 

Two months ago, I happily sat on a couch in my apartment that not only felt like home to me, but nearly every person who entered. I had a leased car and was able to pay the bills on time. In fact, I paid all my bills and my taxes on time. I had a job I loved that I had just recently been hired to do and as the boss said, was a "perfect fit." I had health insurance that covered even my most expensive medications. I had a fellowship and a research project and a class I cared about. I was projected to finish my phd in 2016.

Today, I am homeless, as I crash at Cache's apartment until I leave. I have no car, as my parents are taking on my lease. I will not have the funds to ensure full payment of my bills while away. I am unemployed, as my last day of work was yesterday. I have no health insurance, which came with the job. I have no current fellowship, research, or classes and no definite projection for my degree.

It's crazy to think this is the best way to ensure I can meet my restitution obligations. 

Since my "unintentional intervention" (the day I was found out to be a compulsive gambler and my bad acts were discovered), I have had to walk away/resign from two careers and while I retain hope for the one I'm working in now, we all know prison and a felony complicates things.

Why am I writing this? Because these "downs," they are not easy to take. I start to ask myself, "really?? I haven't lost enough yet? I haven't paid enough punishment YET?"

I take pity on myself. It's hard to get my head out of that place. I cry and try to control the outcomes. And then all I can do is accept.

At the same time, there are situations in which we must be our own advocates, where change is possible. We must be wise and seek advice and really only spend our energy on those areas in which we are being wronged. Anger is not the answer. Resources, logic, assistance, and truth may be. I am in one of these situations right now. I am just a day away from leaving for Texas, and some areas of pre-planning have suddenly not gone the way intended and I'm not sure why. I'm sorry to be vague, but it's really a long story and I do not yet know the outcome. What I do know, is that what has happened has the potential to affect my life substantially outside of prison while I am in prison and I will not be able to do anything about it. So, with just 48 hours (I started this Thursday) I've sought out help of colleagues, mentors, and professionals, and advocated for myself. I may not be able to cause change, but I'm not being passive either. I'm also establishing a paper trail so if something does occur while I'm in Carswell, I have what I need to continue the fight if I choose to upon my release. I have determination! 

Another reason I share all this is that I want to show that you can lose absolutely everything and think your life is never going to be good again, but I'm living proof that it can and does get better. It didn't even take a full five years, my life was significantly better in a year.

I honestly don't know when I'll be coming back here from Texas and what I will have to come home to - job, school, etc. What I do know is that it really doesn't matter. I will not give up hope. I'm going to get my phd. I'm going to have a home again that I love. I'll rebuild my credit. Everything is only temporary, as long as we are willing to do the work to make change.

The Future of this Blog

Just days from my self surrender and this blog has over 4,000 hits. I know some friends read the blog. I've heard both on the blog and privately from anonymous readers. I wonder who the general audience is. Do you accidentally come across this blog due to a google search? Did you learn about it on prisontalk.com? Were you intentionally looking for information about self-surrendering or FMC Carswell or a women's prison camp? I never changed the subtitle of the blog, because I was sentenced to a prison camp, but like so much in our lives, where we are actually designated is out of our control.

This blog and Dragonfly Hazel has helped me in many ways over the past 6 weeks getting prepared. I've had a place to share my thoughts, fears, experiences, and hopes with others. It keeps me grounded and gives me a responsibility I hold myself to. I believe I've only missed one day since I started this blog. Feedback inspires me to keep it going throughout prison and maybe even beyond.

It will not be maintained daily while I am incarcerated and. I will not be the one updating it. I plan to share insights and thoughts with Survivor, who will share them with you. I will try my best to tell my story from inside as I have from outside. All messages and communication is monitored, however, so I will be somewhat edited in voice and description. I apologize in advance. I will try to theme the pieces that are for this blog, like I usually do, so it won't all be a look at a daily life (although it may be an interesting post now and then).

If people have questions for me, please feel free to post them as comments. One of my friends who reads this blog will reach out to me, ask me, and get back to you (although it won't be overnight). Comments and/or questions can also be sent to dragonflyhazel@gmail.com.

Even though I won't be here to read it, please, let's not stop the conversation!

6 days til self surrender.

More Reveals

I'm not sure I could've made myself busier this last week before incarceration. It wasn't necessarily intentional, yet I need to squeeze so much in. It also means a constant announcement of my taking a leave of absence, which may or may not include the reasons. I had three notable reveals today.

First, I've been working alongside a colleague on an independent study all summer that we presented to our supervising professor today. The professor seemed interested in taking our work further - publications, conferences, classes. I revealed my leave for personal reasons and she asked no questions (very professional). It was agreed we would all pick it back up next summer. Something to come back to!

Second, today was my final pre-prison doctor appointment. It was with my Rhumatologist (who really guides most of my medication). My doctor's role is to be my advocate, so I made it clear that I really wanted to talk to her directly and not just a P.A. or assistant and I didn't want any of the young note takers in the room.  I was accommodated. I explained the circumstances of why I am going to prison and why they are putting me in FMC Carswell. I talked specifically about the need to have her notes specify my necessary medications, what medications have not worked, and why I'm on the meds I am on. Finally, they listed my necessary accommodations- bottom bunk because I have horrible stiffness in morning and a top bunk would be dangerous; soft shoe exception because of my lower extremity swelling and Achilles issues; standing limitation of 10 minutes; walking limitation of 2 blocks;... I also have my necessary blood tests and frequency marked as well as the fact that I'm immuno-compromised. It's important this all come from the docs and advocates. I can't be my own advocate if I don't want to be seen as a troublemaker, but I will make sure I don't regress in my health condition best I can.

Finally, I ended the day at an orientation. I am working all week as an educator for new teaching assistants at my university. The head of the program is an assistant dean I highly regard at my institution. As we were leaving for the night, I intended to just inform her that I am taking leave for personal reasons. Well, it turns out, the gossip group I've blogged about earlier has spread to faculty and administrators and she was on the receiving end this weekend. However, she was not judgmental. She was concerned for my well-being and impressed that I selected to still participate in the program this week. I explained that I wanted my last week to be doing what I love and she was glad to have me. I'm at a major institution of higher education and while I know I will not always get support from everyone, the fact that so many key professors and even administrators support me is giving me so much hope for a future that allows me to finish my PhD and follow my dreams - even if people know my past.

We can live in fear of our past and of revealing our truth, but then we never will know who our true friends really are and we won't have the advocates we need when or if we need them. Stop wearing shame and instead wear responsibility. Stop wearing blame and instead wear acceptance.

Just in Case

As my final days of freedom for 2013 are coming to a close, I'm wrapping up important things I need to do - especially those "just in case" things. I recently saw my neurologist and received a copy of my medical record from him, telling him exactly what is happening. If my health takes a turn while I'm in prison, my doctors on the outside are my best advocates, but only if they know. I already did the same with my general practitioner, although we are doing one more follow up just before I go, and I will repeat my story with my Rhumatoligist on Monday. Each time, I'm getting a full copy of my medical records. I'm bringing them with me to my self surrender so my medications have support. I'm also leaving a copy with Survivor and with Faith (my friend taking on all my medical advocacy and who is also my health care proxy).

That's right, I finally did it. I drafted my health care power of attorney, my living will, my property power of attorney, and a hippa release, as well as a last will and testament today. I've written these documents so many times for other people, but it was really weird writing my own. I have a friend reading them over to ensure they read okay and then I'll get them notarized. Originals will go into Cache's safety deposit box and copies will go to the relevant people. Signed, sealed, and delivered. Of all the documents, writing my will was the oddest and most difficult. I included a small memorandum of just a few items I wanted special distribution of, the rest would go to those listed in my will. There are so many I would want to recognize, but I had to stop and realize that my loved ones will each ask for what they want and hopefully those I named as heirs will be open to giving that. Although, I do not plan on dying for at least a half century. But, we must be prepared.

Another health related appointment I made, as Faith had insisted (she is a good health proxy) is with an eye doctor. I wear glasses all the time. If for some reason my glasses break in prison, I am authorized to have a new pair shipped to me. Faith is set to do so, but can only order some if I have a prescription within 1 year of ordering. Faith knows of a great website where I can select my frames and everything now, so all she has to do is order them if I need them. They are inexpensive too. I actually had a nice surprise at the optometrist today, he had to recheck my eyes multiple times perplexed, it appears my medications are improving my eyesight, which is extremely rare. He was checking to see if it was a mistake. But it wasn't. He offered me a free follow up in a month to see if it continued, as it is so rare, but alas, I told him I will be out of town for a while.

There are so many little things we need to do to prepare. Sure, we can choose not to. A lot of people don't even get the chance to self surrender. But a little bit of inconvenience could probably make our lives a whole lot easier once we lose our ability to have access to much of anything.

11 days til self surrender.

13 Days

My days ahead are packed beyond belief and my list of things to do continues to grow, even as I accomplish things every day new things come up (return Internet modem to UPS for shipping; send thank you card to ___; add ___ to my list of 30; have discussion with gossips; etc). It is still important that I'm putting all of these down or I will forget some. 

Included on my list today are to write and mail myself letters of things I want to have in prison. On the outside of the envelope(s) I have to write, "SAVE FOR REPORT DATE 8/19/2013." Inside one or more envelopes will be my list of 30 (30 names and addresses and telephone numbers for my phone privileges); another list with all my family/friends' names, addresses, emails, and/or bdays. So I can fill out to visitation request form, write people, and so I can use the prison links email system. I will also bring a copy of these with me and have my friend hold a copy just in case. 

I will also mail myself a handful of photos. I will only send myself photos I have digitally, in case I never receive them. I don't want to send in too many, in case my friends send me some, as we do have restrictions, but there are some people I must have photos of, like my T.S. and another with a group of women I am close to.

I may have 13 days til self surrender, but I have only 4 days til my move (out of an apartment I love); 8 days til my last day of work (for now); and 11 days til I fly down to Texas.

At least I know I face none of this alone. I also say the serenity prayer a lot when things get difficult. You've probably heard it, but it goes:

"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

The serenity prayer could not be more applicable to those of us facing incarceration. We must have acceptance, as we cannot change that fact. We must have courage to adequately prepare ourselves and change ourselves to ensure we NEVER have to go to prison again! We must have wisdom to not misplace our efforts on those things that we can't change and instead, work on ourselves. We cannot change people, places, or things. What we can change is us, how we think, react, our emotions, our education, our goals, etc. 

A wise person told me that time in prison can go two ways. It can perpetuate the person and choices that got you incarcerated or it can be an opportunity to spend some time with yourself changing, exploring, and growing.

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.