One Year

Today marks the one year anniversary of the day I self-surrendered to FMC Carswell. Every moment of the day is still so vivid in my mind. There were so many new sights, sounds, smells, people, touches, clothes, and rules. Nothing in the world prepares you for that first day.

I knew from the beginning that I was not alone. Survivor just dropped me off and I knew that she and my other close friends were all thinking about me and some even shedding tears. My letter writing started immediately. As did my connections with new friends - South, Chi, Freckles, Appeal, Danbury, Lola, Mama, Nurse, Glitter, Curls, Army, Bandana, Braids, Ark, Cali, Taz, Red, Bunkie, Longwinded, Mexi, and many more! Friends and family were a lifeline throughout the last year and I thank every person who has said a kind word, shared a laugh with me, sent me a letter/card/book, tweeted me, Facebook messaged me, sent emails, or prayed for me. While incarcerated and after, my heart has been truly filled with awe at all the love and support I've received. Thank you!!!

I guess, if I lost good time, today would actually be the day I would exit prison. Yesterday would've been 365 days and today was the +1. As the goody two shoes I am, I didn't visit the SHU and lost no good time, so I didn't have to truly max out (I knew of very few who ever did). However, I guess that's another reason this date - Aug 19th is significant (I have 3 min to finish this blog post and upload before the date turns to the 20th -  not going to happen - but know I started on the 19th!!!)

Three years ago, on August 19th, I also started a private blog with one of my best friends and I just realized it today, when the site we used (we stopped posting about 1 1/2 years ago), sent me a your blog turned 3 today email. It appears that August 19th may be a very significant date for me.

Okay, I got my hopes up. I did what I always say DON'T DO! I built expectations and assumptions around today. This morning I put on Facebook that my life would "change" today... All because I believed that today is the day I would hear back from admissions and my hold would be lifted. This belief did not come out of nowhere, mind you. I had some decent clues.

Last week, my supervisor at work received a call from admissions telling her that the application is back at admissions and is now waiting on one more signature from someone who will be back in the office on Tuesday (TODAY - the 19th). I was told by an assistant dean in the grad school that I should hear at the early part of this week. Well, after today, it's the "mid" part of the week... So, you get my drift. I'm doing my best to have patience, but people first told me I'd hear two weeks ago, then last Wednesday, and then Today. 

Did I hear today? Well, I did talk with admissions today. The final person was on vacation and just got back. They are not sure when he will get to my file. That's where it was left. School starts in a week and my job should have started this week. Ce la vie for the life of a felon!

So August 19th resulted in more time volunteer working at my future campus job, spending time with T.S., working out to Jillian Michaels, watching the "American President," and being a plain, good, fine, ordinary day.

A Daughter Writes

Many months ago, I wrote about a daughter who reached out to me about her mother who had just self-surrendered. They were readers of this blog and the daughter was worried about how her mom was doing. It took me a couple days, but I figured out who her mom was (she had the wash time just before mine) and I introduced myself. Turns out, she had Danbury's old bunk. Later, when I was moved upstairs, we were neighbors. Small world.

This past week, the world became even smaller for another reader of this blog. Once again, it was her daughter that reached out to me. She and her mom read this blog and she told me it helped them prepare for her mom's self-surrender. My heart sang when I read that. Well, she informs me that her mom was placed in MY old bunk. Out of 1800+ bunks in the facility, this new woman is given my bed!!

The daughter wrote me because her mom is having a difficult time adjusting. It was her first week there, and we all go through that. Here's a bit of what I answered:

"The advice I would give her includes:

1) make a couple friends - safe to usually start with other self surrenders, or people transferred there from a camp. They are also non violent and have many of the same issues dealing with medical. 

Tell her that she does not need to buy everything immediately and what she does buy, is for her only. Young folks and broke folks seek newbies to try and claim they are broke or hungry and take advantage of folks - especially older folks.

Keep her income no more than $300/mth. That way her frp will stay under $50. Tell her to transfer funds she isn't immediately using onto the phone, corlinks, and into her out account for saving. She can transfer corlinks and money in her out account back to her commissary account when she needs it. 

She should buy a radio, but the mp3 just sucks money... Go with the cheapest radio. Most often it's used for watching tv and the basic one actually has the best reception.

If your mom can physically, she should try to walk the track every day for some activity and stress relief. There's a wonderful woman who teaches yoga in the rec. The rec center has a lot of craft classes, too. Most important is finding things to stay busy.

Since your mom is still in her orientation period, she will hear about "sex" and std's a lot. They try to scare folks from being "gay for the stay." It will calm down when she's past her first two weeks.

Her room is her safest place, and unit 1 North is the safest regular housing unit; so hanging out in the atrium is fine. She will meet others by going and sitting with folks watching tv."

I, also, gave some names of friends there for her to seek out for friendship and advice. Those first weeks are the toughest. We are not yet gone long enough to have acclimated to such a different life. Medically, we are neglected as we fight for our medications, stand in the awful pill line, and wait hours/days to be seen in the clinic. From the very start, we try to do whatever we can to get medically cleared and transferred to a camp. Most wait over 6 months to be cleared and another several months for transfer approval. 

The entire experience can be very draining physically, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. Plus we are given the horrible advice of not to cry. So, we try to hold in all our overwhelming emotions. It's truly a recipe for disaster. At some point, most of us break, and we have a good cry. Acceptance comes after that.

Getting to acceptance is really key to getting out of that initial funk. Those of us who self-surrender usually do not have more than months to several years on the inside. Living one day at a time, being your own advocate, trying to keep yourself as healthy as possibly, and keeping busy, will make the time pass.

It's hard in there, but you do not have to become "hard" to endure it. A good cry with friends will help relieve tension. Check out books and get lost in their stories. Write family and friends. Visit religious services, if you seek spiritual connection. Sign up for ACE classes. Take a daily walk. Make an appointment to visit the salon (Cosmo school). Sign up for hobby craft classes. Play games in the rec. Watch sports or join in at outdoor rec. Find employment. There are options to keep your days busy. The best thing is that days end early - 9pm rack up time. So, once dinner is over, you are nearly at the end of the day and you are one day closer to going home.

For those on the outside, send lots of cards/mail/books. A nice journal from Amazon is a great gift. Send crossword or word seek magazines. Subscribe your loved one to their favorite magazines - people, us, cosmo, newsweek, entertainment weekly, reader's digest, tv guide, even the national enquirer are commonly seen at mail call. Letting your incarcerated loved one know that they are loved and cared about is incredibly important. Remember, you are going through this experience too, even though you are not incarcerated.

Everyone adjusts at different amounts of time. For some it's weeks, others months. Sometimes our medical condition makes adjustment very difficult; sometimes there are family issues on the outside that make it hard. Remember that no one can solve all their problems at once, so try to tackle just one thing at a time.

One day, you will be walking the compound and you'll realize that you are halfway through your sentence, that you are able to smile and laugh, that you have incredible friendships, and that you are stronger than you realized. It may be a brief moment, but it will happen. Try to make a list of things you are grateful for at the end of each day. In the morning, read that list before you start your day. You will survive this experience!

I hope the woman who sleeps on my old bunk feels some positive energy left by me. I pray she finds some comfort and that people are kind to her. I hope her medical issues are adequately addressed and she finds healthy ways to deal with the bureaucracy.  While each day feels like a week, each week a month, each month a year, when you look back, you will realize those days, weeks, and months add up and, soon, you will be planning for home.

Thank you to the daughters who love their moms enough to help them through this experience. It is not easy on anyone, but knowing that someone cares enough to reach out for you usually goes on top of that daily grateful list!

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!

First Conversation with my P.O.

I am not yet under the supervision of my probation officer, since the RRC is in charge of my supervision. I've never met him either, since I had no supervision prior to my self-surrender, so I decided to give him a call yesterday. I'm curious about what supervision will be like and how much freedom I'll actually have. Obviously, not freedom to do anything bad, but will I still have a curfew? Can I plan to do a special weekend away with my close friends? Etc.

My P.O. seemed like a nice guy when I talked to him on the phone. He knew exactly who I was with just my name - he's talked with Sporty a couple times since I'm living with her. He didn't want to answer any questions until my official out date - July 2nd. He was like, "wow, that's right around the corner, isn't it?" So, we made a time for me to meet him at his office that afternoon and he said he will give me all the details then. It's crazy that people only tell you what to expect when the day arrives... No ability to prepare oneself. Just another unknown in the future.

I tried to see if my 2x weekly check in could get transferred to him for the remaining time of my home confinement... His office is 15 minutes away, the RRC is 1 1/2 hours away. It isn't possible. So, after this morning, I have 3 more times of that ridiculous drive.

I did get him to answer one question in the positive, though. He says I'll be limited to the western side of my state for the first 60 days or so of my supervision, which will allow me to do my special annual weekend retreat with my close GA friends. Eleven of us will be doing the retreat this year and since I had to miss last year's, I'm super pumped for it. I started this retreat, but it has really become part of all of our lives. I do a lot of the organizing, still, and I've already planned some weekend activities! I can't wait to sit around a campfire and eat s'mores!!

Also, even though I'm restricted to the western side of my state, my P.O. gave me permission to attend a Queen (with Adam Lambert) concert next month on the eastern side of the state. I've been a Queen and Adam Lambert fan... the two together just sounds like an amazing concert! Glad my P.O. said yes. He sounds like a pretty reasonable guy!

I don't know what my life will be like once supervision starts (being on paper, as we call it in prison), but I know it should be more relaxed than my home confinement. It's just one more step closer to real freedom. I think it really depends on who your P.O. happens to be. As long as mine has a sense of humor, I think it'll be all right.

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.

2.5 Hours of Freedom

I slept. Some. I meditated. Some. I dreamed. Some. I thought about words I didn't yet say and people I hadn't reached out to and yesterday's advice from the correctional officer and how bizarre and amazing that we had that moment with the correctional officer and the number of times Survivor and I have gotten lost in the 48 hours since arriving and how almost no restaurants were open on a Sunday night (not even McDonald's) and my sadness at turning in the handbook project not quite complete and that this motel lied about having free wifi if it goes in and out every other minute and how I will take a shower if I can't buy shower shoes for a couple days and ...

I think my ADD comes out especially strong at moments of high stress. At the same time, though, I'm resting comfortably and I did send one last message to some of my close friends:

"Never think I wouldn't be happy to hear about the good things in your lives because of where I will be. Also, never think that you can not complain to me because of it either. Remember that I am not the center of the universe. I hope you all will share with me your ups and downs. I care about you all (okay, some of you a little more than others - ha). I am and will be okay! I have all the tools of my recovery program to get me through this and I am not alone. I am going in with an army fighting for me at every second. If someone starts in on me, I truly believe that all I need to do is close my eyes and you all will be in my head calming me, holding me, loving me, patching me up, and helping me as if you could step outside my dreams. The scary inside those gates have nothing on the calm and love you all have shown me throughout this ordeal."

I share this because I believe it to be true and I never want my friends to feel that they cannot be whole with me because of my situation. My imprisonment is only temporary and my friendships and love, hopefully, are permanent.

Logging My Day

I'm going to keep on editing and updating this post as the day occurs.

All central time

4:37am - It is the third time I'm waking for the night out of a bad dream. The stress must have taken on my subconscious. I had an allergic reaction to an odor last night and I'm still nasal and have a mild headache from the experience. I'm thinking about when to do the official message on Facebook that I'm going on "hiatus," whether I need to make contact with certain people one last time even though it's hard, if there's anyone I've forgotten to talk to or give my address to, and looking up a GA meeting in Dallas/Fort Worth to attend tomorrow.

5:00 am - I just learned that the Lone Star State does not have any GA meetings in Fort Worth, only a Spanish meeting in Dallas on Saturday night (where unfortunately I will only understand "hola"), and nothing in Dallas Sunday until later in the day when we will already be in Fort Worth area and preparing for my self surrender - including driving by the gates of Carswell once to ensure we know the route (lots of posts about getting lost).

8:30 am - As I sat and watched the trees and birds while laying on the couch, I could hear Cache's alarm go off in her bedroom. I decided that the smell of bacon is the best way to wake and I knew she wanted bacon this morning with breakfast. Only took 25 minutes for her to join me and start dj'ing my morning (she loves music and I enjoy her choices). She enjoyed the bacon as well.

11:00 am - I am in Traveler's car with her and Joy headed toward the airport. We are nearly 1 1/2-2 hours from the airport, so we have to plan early and we wanted to stop for lunch. I wanted them both to be with me. They are good friends, but don't know one another well. It's worked out great so far, they are talking a lot and I'm spending time taking in the nature outside, responding to phone messages, and seeing posts on my Facebook page in response to my "hiatus" announcement. Asked what kind of food I want, I said Thai. I love ethnic food and won't be getting it for a long, long time.

Saying goodbye to Cache was one of the  ones I was not prepared for. That's about all I can say here about it, but I'm just glad "goodbye," is only in-person and not by all means of communication.

1:30 pm - I am at the airport. The Thai food we found was wonderful, but I was unable to eat much, Joy will enjoy my leftovers. I received a new email response to this blog that made me smile, so I shared it. I've heard from people in New York, California, Florida, Illinois, Texas, and beyond. It's humbling to say the least!

In May, 2008, I also rolled a single bag through the airport to a scary unknown. I was leaving where I'd been living for a decade and heading back to the Midwest, to heal from a hysterectomy and my life falling apart. I'd spent the night at a dingy, dirty motel the night before that stunk of cigarettes and I was scared to even catch a glimpse of what beneath the bed could look like. I was alone, broken, and only a miracle saved me from killing myself that night.

Today, two amazing women brought me to the airport, cried as they hugged me goodbye, and assured me that I was not a bad person and I was loved. Just moments prior, they'd offered to assist me while I'm incarcerated in a way I could never imagine a friend being. They are truly selfless and kind and all I could do was cry of the gratitude that I've been allowed this opportunity to have a community of beautiful people and support around me. 

I had nothing and no one through addiction and I have the greatest of life's gifts through recovery - even at a time as difficult as today, as I face minutes until I board my flight toward prison.

For the last year, going through airport security has been an interesting experience. Since I am on enbryl - a biologic autoimmune medication requiring refrigeration - I travel with a special travel case with ice and fridge packs. The medication and the case cannot go through X-ray, so neither can I. Therefore, I'm an automatic pat down. I'm friendly about it, give myself enough time, and definitely do not give security a problem. Today, I had an incredibly kind guard who offered me a private room. I thought to myself, I'm getting pat down, over my clothing, by a woman I will never see again; whereas in two days I start receiving strip searches, naked, where I must squat and spread my lower cheeks in front of someone who will then see me nearly every day. So, I let her just do it. She was kind, informed me of her next area of pat down, and did not touch me anywhere inappropriate. Now to keep my medication cool until I reach my destination hotel later tonight.

2:45 pm - I was doing well. Kept to myself and waited for boarding. Group 3 was called and I made my way down the ramp and as I boarded the flight, I informed a flight attendant of my need to keep some medication cold. She took my seat number. Approaching my seat, three men, without my asking, took my bag and stowed it in the overhead for me (I am a mere 5' tall). Gentlemen. I watched out the window as a baggage guy on the Tarmac slowly took bags off his truck and placed them perfectly on their wheels one after the other. When he pulled off the last bag, he threw it at all the other bags and they all tumbled to their sides (STRIKE!). Hope there was nothing fragile in any of them. He then got into his truck and drove away. The bags sat there, on the Tarmac, no plane or person to posess them. I suppose that's how one gets lost luggage - a rare game of luggage bowling on the Tarmac.

Then it was time, we started pulling out of the terminal and I stared out my window and the tears became blinding. I touched the plastic window glass wishing I could feel today's perfect weather just one last time. I held memories of certain goodbyes and people. Those people who are my people. The person who is my person. I cried and stared at trees and runways and grass and numbers and clouds and the total lack of wind. The air is perfectly still today, something so rare here. A still day - a day that stands still. Yet, I am moving.

4:15 pm - We are starting our descent ahead of schedule. A nice man talked with me a bit about his three kids and their college choices. I mostly worked on my computer on a handbook I am trying to complete - my one last responsibility - as a summer fellowship project - before my incarceration. But after nearly an hour's work, my computer restarted on its own due to updates, I missed the warning because of window glare. I lost everything I'd written today except one sentence. Guess it was not meant to be. Candy Crush kept me company until now, but I've been on the same level for over a month, have hundreds of free turns because I don't play very often, and still can't beat the darn thing. Good distraction, I suppose. 

I discovered a paperback book left in my seat pocket. I was hoping to pull it out and find some perfect book to go along with this moment of life. It appears it was not a symbolic book left for me, but could be an interesting read nonetheless - I sometimes like postapocalyptic novels -  "Edenborn," by Nick Sagan. I will leave it for the next passenger. I can't take it in with me, so I do not want to start something if I can't finish it. Not everything is about me, after all.

7:15 pm - Survivor and I are finally at our hotel. Our map application sent us 50 minutes in the wrong direction. We passed downtown Dallas 3x and finally found our way to our hotel in North Dallas by the Galleria Mall. One thing I don't need to do is shop. I can't take it with me! Survivor does a good job of distracting me from reality, but my head can't help but want to go through all the paperwork and planning we must do. My other pea in my pod, sitting on her bed, reading and sharing with me. How would I have gotten through these final days without her?

11:30 pm - Can't believe I'm still awake. We remarkably selected a random Mexican restaurant that was wonderful and talked little about the upcoming reality I'm about to face. Survivor shared stories of her kids and grand kids, who I know and love to hear updates about. Survivor and I never run out of topics.

Then we made our way to a liquor store. Oh, get your head out of where it is going! They have western union. It was both of our first times ever filling out the western union form to deposit money into an inmate account. We, of course, started with the wrong form. Then the clerk told us that the BOP stopped allowing transfers - but he checked and they'd started again. Had it actually been on hold, and I'd not mailed money in earlier, I could've had to wait over a week for any commissary funds. It was especially odd putting my own inmate number and name on the "to" line. After much discussion and reading, I deposited $400 for the initial fund. It will be in my account by morning. Even though at the beginning there are many items to "stock up" on, we are still limited to the $290/month maximum (except for phone, email, and stamps). Survivor will send the rest of my deposits (lower amounts) through the Iowa p.o. box and ensure they arrive around the 7th of the month. My $290 limit will reset on the 10th of every month (the last digit of the first five in my inmate number multiplied by 3 and add 1. Mine is a 3. So (3x3)+1=10.

The liquor store was about a mile from our dinner restaurant and a random choice for western union. The irony of the place was the side room, with three sad looking electronic slot/poker machines and tired older men playing desperately trying to hit something. The western union slips were next to the side room and I couldn't help but think about the connection of how those machines were the initial imputus for my entry into casino gambling. Spinning reels of fruits at 21 years of age fast forwards to the initial support of my prison commissary account at 40 years of age.

Back at our hotel room, we went over all the folders of paperwork I brought. The drawback of not living in the same state anymore. Survivor will need to bring home paperwork for herself, Faith, Sporty, and my mom. I think Survivor has earnined her angel wings ten fold! We laughed that I may be the most organized person ever entering prison. Health records. Check. College transcripts. Check. Surrender letter. Check. Advocacy group for medical support on the outside. Check. Pretty much a check to everything, except for haircut. I haven't decided if I'm going to get one. I may just let it grow while incarcerated. I don't want to deal with the underground barter system if I can help it.

I did an enbryl injection, took my nightly medications, and spoke my incredible gratitude to Survivor.

It is 12:35am now. I've been awake 20 hours. I now have 33 1/2 hours and I must sleep much of them away. Thanks for being a part of this day and following this log.

Last Day at School

I woke up perfectly at 5:30am central time. I've trained myself well to wake to the alarm of my watch. At least I will not dread the mornings. I highly recommend getting yourself ready for the early morning wake-ups if you are not already!

I did not make today a "light" day or a fun day. Although I will have a lot of fun anyway. I am spending the entire day doing what I love - teaching. I literally won't even have breaks. I'd figured I would offer to help facilitate the training program for new international teaching assistants this week - mind as well do what I absolutely love my last days here and remember what I hope to come home to.

Tonight I'm going to dinner and then a movie - a comedy. I can still live in the day - the moment - when I need to.

On Monday morning, my life will change forever. There is no book written for what that change will be for me and I'm going to keep believing that there is a positive purpose for my imprisonment, for the fact that I am needing to be at FMC Carswell.

At the time my life fell apart five years ago, I did not know these things, yet I now know there was a purpose then as well. I was supposed to get the help I needed and I was supposed to help others. I was supposed to meet T.S., Sporty, Survivor and others and down the road, I was supposed to come to terms with my past and my "family." I was supposed to discover a new career and engage in learning on a new level. Had I not gone through the difficult and unknown, none of that would exist for me today.

So, five years later, I'm being told to strip myself again -literally and figuratively - of everything I know and go through the difficult and unknown. I cannot know what will exist for me on the other side of this experience I am about to endure, but I will endure it, there will be an other side, and one day I will share with all of you once again that we must walk through these experiences in order to look back on them, reflect, and realize the gifts that we actually gained along the way.