Nails and Services

My aunt Bay is visiting me right now. She's always been one of my favorite people. She's an artist in every sense of the word and was never afraid of an adventure. I usually was. I grew up hearing her stories of travel and experiences that would make my jaw drop, eyes big, and head swirl with imagination. She would often put her experiences into plays and I'd sit front row watching her play multiple characters she had met over the years, fascinated, and enthralled. For the first time, I'm about to have an adventure she's never quite been on.

Bay and I decided to get pedicures today. Neither of us are girlie- girls. We are not afraid to show our toes without polish and neither of us has a manicure. We just both needed our feet to be worked on, for different reasons. Bay's toes needed a deep cleaning and foot shaving from the work she does taking care of her land and large garden. She did get some color, but she is not likely to get another pedicure for nearly a year. It's a treat!

My last pedi was in March, before a cruise. My first pedi was with a GA friend and T.S. when I was being shown that getting a pedicure was a nice self pampering. Today's pedicure was simple. Just clean up my toes, shorten my nails, and add no polish. I am not self surrendering with pretty polished toes.

In Carswell, there is a salon. Although the 'on the books' way to get services is through payment on my commissary account, in reality services are done through the unofficial 'barter system.' 

Technically, bartering items is against prison rules. This makes it very difficult to know what I will do. All I want to do is get out of prison ASAP and keep myself out of trouble. But, over a period of time, I'm inevitably going to need one or more services. 

Groceries

I did my final grocery shopping (for the most part) yesterday. I'll pick up a few items here and there, but I have a lot of planned meals out, the move, guests, and several days in Texas before my self surrender, so yesterday is likely the last time I'll go down all the aisles. I did not shop smart or necessarily healthy. I didn't look at prices. I bought my favorite breakfast cereal. I got the Greek yogurt that comes with the granola to mix in. I went to the deli for my lunch meat and cheese. I got a bottle of Mr. & Mrs. T Mix which I drink with no alcohol mixed in. A jar of whole pickles (yum!).  Milk. Good spreadable cheese and wheat thins. Eggs. A couple pieces of fruit. Pirate's Bootie. A couple more things. Not a lot. No reason to. I plan to eat at several of my favorite restaurants - sushi, Thai, Indian, Vietnamese, Mexican, Italian, the movie theater that serves meals while watching films, taco truck, and at least one really good steak!

If I lived with folks, I'd make meals here, but I've already sold my table and chairs and I prefer to try to enjoy my dinners with friends. I'll eat some meals here, enjoying my final groceries, by myself, but enjoy those real meals that I'm eating out.

16 days til self surrender

Employment

I've had a lot of jobs I have not enjoyed. Jobs with crazy bosses. Jobs that lacked supervision and let me take the fall. Jobs where I dreaded going to work every day. Jobs where I came home with a headache every night. Jobs I did just to pay bills or gamble. Jobs I wasn't respected. Jobs I didn't deserve. Right now, I love my job. I was hired into it just in December and started in January. I've loved it practically every day. I get enough independence to thrive and teamwork and supervision to learn and succeed. I work with a diverse group of individuals who each bring their own skill sets to the office and we work with an incredible population of clients. Yes, I love my job.

Next week, we hire my replacement. Two of the three candidates could possibly be there just 1-1 1/2 years, the 3rd would want the position for years. This is the reality of graduate assistant ships and PhD students -it all depends on where we are with our program. Two are close to finishing their dissertation. A slight possibility exists that if they are hired, I could come back into my job, perhaps not.

I'm not yet sure if felons can hold a graduate assistantship on my campus. I need to inquire. It will certainly affect my post prison decision making. Traveler has promised to call HR and ask the questions for me. That's very kind of her. 

I'm keeping my hope alive to come back to the job I love. At the very least, I get to make sure my replacement is awesome!

Hats

I love hats - big hats, baseball caps, bolo caps, forwards, backwards, fisherman, tall, tight, beanies, knit, safari, floppy ears hanging down, doesn't matter. My head was made for caps and I like to wear them. In fact, I'm not a fan of my hair, never have been, I like hats!

Hats are available in the commissary. There's a "plain cap" for about $7 and a knit hat for outdoors. Something tells me that neither of these hats will fit my hat head the right way, but we will see. Thing is, I will not be allowed to wear these hats into the dining hall or to my work or likely to visitation - so for the most part, my hats will only be available to me from 4-9 pm during downtime, except for the dinner time. This defeats the purpose of wearing my hats.

When I pack up my hats (yes, another box still waiting to be filled) my hat box will be filled. My hats will be in storage waiting for me and I for them. Will I choose my Vietnam safari hat? The painters cap? My favorite baseball team's hat? A cap with my college's logo? I don't know, but I will miss my nearly daily choice of what hat "matches" my clothing that I choose to wear for the day.

We Still Have Rights

Today I was trying to make my friends' life easier by consolidating my credit cards. When I called to do so, I learned that my credit looks bad because my former leased vehicle shows four months of non-payment AFTER it was traded in for a different vehicle. Needless to say, my credit limit increase and credit card consolidation was denied. 

I immediately started to call both the dealership and the credit agency that covers my car lease. Within four hours, I had a handshake and all was corrected with the dealership admitting their error to the credit agency, the credit agency reversing their reports on my credit report, and all will be well. As we all know, it takes time for the credit bureaus to correct things on their end and I'll likely be in Texas by then.

Somewhat ironic because over the next year, other items will likely hit my credit report for non-payment legitimately. Things I just don't have enough funds to cover with what I could get together. I don't think that's an excuse, though, to give up on trying to do the best I can to try to give myself a chance to maintain some credit post prison. I'm sure I will need a car. I'm sure every little thing helps. 

Even as felons, we still have rights. I felt good that I had this tiny bit of success today because these kinds of things, unfortunately, can often become headaches and nightmares instead.

17 days til self-surrender

Last Minute Changes

When we are going to prison, we unfortunately must depend on other people a lot. But we must accept that we cannot control other people and we must respect them. First, they are doing us the favor. Second, they are free, we are not. Third, we have lost our right to control our affairs. This is hard to accept, but very true.

I had several areas where I was depending on other people to make my life easier - such as where my furniture and things would go, my school being timely in reimbursing me, and things such as that. Truth is that people are allowed to be on their own timelines, not ours. They do not need to help us, they can choose to. We must be grateful for each thing that does happen.

Because not everything is going according to my perfect plan, I am needing to change my plan, which is fine. Perhaps it is more difficult, but that's on me. Perhaps I need to make some difficult choices, but that is a consequence of my going to prison.

Currently, I must decide what I will do for at least a month with my household full of things, as my first plan fell through. Most options are expensive and would also require dependence on yet more people while I am gone. My scheduled moving day is just 9 days away, I have barely packed as well. These things must be taken care of - hopefully today I get my plan together!

I Just Wanted Your Life to be Easier

So, my goodbyes with my folks went almost exactly as I thought they would. There were no tears. There were no longer than normal hugs. There were no promises of visits or letters or pictures. My mom chose to drop me off a little early at the commuter train to the city because she wants to get her car appraised, she did not wait with me or see me off. She spent most of our time together this morning on the phone with friends telling them that everything is good and talking about her upcoming trip to Las Vegas and Los Angeles. She did say one thing before we said goodbye, "I just wanted your lives to be easier..." referring to both my older sister and myself. I'm not sure what makes a life "easy," as some would say my sister- who has a nice house, two spoiled daughters, and a handsome husband, and doesn't seem to have to work has it pretty easy- but life throws her curveballs. Doesn't life throw everyone curveballs? I mean, the people with tons of money overdose, the people with much love get in accidents, the people with perfect marriages get cancer... Stuff happens. An easy life is not a guarantee. It is about how we handle our life that matters. I know my mom regrets many decisions she has made in her life. Honestly, I do not. I cannot. Who knows what different decisions would have led to? Life is about learning, growth, acceptance, and responsibility. Do I wish I were not going to prison? Sure, absolutely, but I know that it is not about dream world wishes. Life is about getting through the difficult times and still being able to smile on the other side- looking back and saying, "whoa, that was quite a ride."

Turning it all Over

Since I've come into recovery, I've been maturing. People usually mature in their teens, 20's, etc., and I did in some ways. However, my emotional maturity was just shut down and that led to other areas of failure in my life as well.

Today, I do a decent job of maintaining life on my budget, keeping a nice home, a clean car, being organized, etc. To me, these are signs of maturity. However, I am currently having to turn everything over to someone else - Survivor takes my bills and budget; my parents take over my car lease; Sporty is taking all my furniture and belongings; T.S. is taking Hope (my motor scooter); I'm leaving the apartment I love; Traveler is taking on my school email and school registration/ financial aid needs; Sporty is taking my general mail (other than bills that go to Survivor); I lose my health insurance; I cancel my renters, car, and scooter insurance; my medical bills go unpaid because I simply don't have enough money; I lose my job that I love and have to help hire my replacement; Survivor is taking on keeping this blog going by sharing updates from me; etc.

I just realized that I don't have anyone checking my non-school email yet. Always good to make lists.

Anyway, all my ways of being mature are now being stripped away from me for 10 months. To me, this makes little sense. They should be teaching us responsibility in prison, not slugging off all our responsibilities on other people.

I find the process of giving up all my responsibilities daunting and very difficult. I'm proud that my checkbook balances these days and that I was able to be approved for a decent leased car. Now I need to give up these things and let go of the control and just trust. I've learned to trust as well. It's hard though and I will not allow it to be an excuse to become immature or irresponsible. 

I'm also making these people my proxies, in the sense that I am responsible for their decisions. So, I cannot get mad at them after the fact if I do not like a decision they made. It is a consequence of my being in prison, which is a consequence of my past criminal behavior from compulsive gambling.

The Real "Lasts"

Today and the past few days have consisted of many "lasts" for my time prior to prison. Today included my last G.A. Meeting in my hometown (I'm on my way back to school tomorrow), my last session ever with my wonderful counselor (who I've been seeing for over four years), and goodbyes to several of my closest friends. Last night I had to say goodbyes to even more friends. Lots of tears. They'd start crying which would lead me to cry which would lead them to more tears. Today I also said goodbye and hugged T.S. I will talk to her before I go and during, but we will not be together again until she and Sporty visit much later in the year. That's a long time to miss a child you care deeply for! Especially when she's about to start a life adventure and I really want to be there for her. Email, letters and short phone calls will have to be the communication form for a long while. 

I've started to notice that I'm kind of detaching a bit. Notice I mentioned that others cried first. Perhaps this is a continued sign of the stress.

Speaking of stress, I woke myself up as I was sleep walking last night. I have no memory of ever sleep walking before in my life. Luckily, nothing bad at all occurred. Let us hope that is the first and last time for that behavior!

Tomorrow I take the train to my other home by school and leave this place I call home for at least 10 months. I say goodbye to my mom and stepdad and know it will be at least six months before they are planning a visit to see me. Unlike my friends, they won't be crying. That's just not how they handle these things. The next three weeks or longer will be a good excuse for another vodka gimlet for my mom and another two cheeseburgers  every night for my stepdad and hours upon end of sitting on the couch not talking while playing each other and all their friends night after night on Words with Friends with the television so loud but no one is looking at it because even at their age, their noses are in their tablets playing games. That is how they deal with life and stress. At least these days. I suppose in their heads they can't even think that it's a last, because they are unable to consider the reality of what is about to happen to me. They've asked almost no questions. They've done no research on their own. They've also told no one and are mortified that I have. I do no wear their shame of me. I am not ashamed. My life was out of my control and today I'm grateful that I got caught. Otherwise, I wouldn't even exist anymore.

Anyway, with all the "lasts" I've done lately, I'm so glad they are not forever. I have no idea what's waiting for me in and after prison. I won't even guess. But my friends, hometowns, school, and even dysfunctional family will still be around while I'm away and when I'm back. It will be up to me to ensure I make the relationships with them "last forever" rather than just be a "last."

Trying on Bras

On the commissary list for Carswell, it lists the type of bras, underwear, and shoes I will have at the facility. I don't imagine shoe salesman lining up waiting for me to say, "I'd like to try a 6 and a 6 1/2" or a dressing room to find the right bra fit. So, I'm going shopping today. Not to purchase anything, but to try on the stuff that I will need to know my sizes in.

I'm not one of those women that easily knows her size due to the fact that I'm a plus size person. While small, medium, and large tend to run about the same universally, the extra large sixes do not. Sometimes I am a XL and sometimes amazingly a XXXL - usually a XXL in my tops. But we are not allowed to wear clothing that is too baggy and I despise skin tight clothing. A too tight bra would be the worst!

However, stress and my health have also caused me weight loss. A good thing, but makes me even more unsure of my size. Last night at my pinning, my pants kept inching down due to being too big on me - oops!

So here's my plan for this afternoon. I'm going to look at the packages for Hanes brief underwear and figure out my size. Next, I will try on Hanes sport bras and figure out my size. As for shoes, I need to find my exact size in Reebok classic nylon and K-Swiss (once at prison they may only have one in stock). I will also try on isotoner slippers (in case I have enough commissary $$ to purchase them). I am unable to try on tshirts, sweatpants, sweatshirt, shorts, boots, or thermal clothing in advance, because the commissary list does not provide brand names.

One thing I am looking to purchase in advance is a small digital watch on a Velcro strap. The commissary list has a Timex ironman and a Casio analog watch. After talking with the prison, if I come in with a similar watch, I may be able to keep it. I'm looking to get something like the Timex one because I'd prefer something sporty with an alarm built in. No need to buy an alarm clock that way. Nothing fancy. Likely much cheaper to bring in with me, than spend $42.50 out of my commissary fund.

I'm starting my day at kohl's. They should have most items. Being able to prepare in this way is yet one more advantage of self surrender!

5 Year Pinning

In the GA program, certain milestones receive "pinnings." They are available for 1 year, 5 years, 10 years, and each 5 years following. Regions do them a little different. Whomever is being pinned, can make a lot of decisions for what happens at their pinning. Tonight was my 5 year celebration of recovery. I've spent a while preparing for it... Deciding whom to ask to do each of the program roles: chair, combo book readings, walk-through, day at a time reading, gam-anon reading, business, speakers, pinning, invocation, etc. I made electronic presentations for during dinner, during the readings, and during my speech (which lasted about 30 minutes). I designed a printed program and a bookmark for all the guest. But I love doing all these things and in reality, I did the easy work. Survivor ordered and put together food for 80-100 people and brought practically half her kitchen to the location - now that's the hard work. Wow! I am always amazed by the lengths my friends will go to to help and support me.

The message of my speech is that even in recovery, we face hard things, but facing them in recovery, allows us to face them head on and then move forward. It is about hope. I ended with this quote:

I really like that quote, because if we choose despair instead of hope in our dark days, our days will only get darker. That is what feeds our addiction.

I was amazed to see that several people brought gifts to the pinning as well. Call me strange, but I did kind of look at them funny, I mean, I'm about to self surrender and can't bring anything. Well, most of the envelopes had cash or gift cards. More that what most people would likely receive. Like, wow! And all the gifts were incredibly appropriate and given with thought. One gift stood out, as it is a white hat with a dragonfly and "Dragonfly Hazel" sewn into it. I will cherish all my gifts, but that cap is really unique!

So, what does my pinning have to do with my going to prison? I just told a room of nearly 100 individuals my story - not just of the devastation of an addiction, but the promises of recovery. I focused on the fact that life does not get perfect or even easy after surrendering to GA, but with the tools to face our consequences face on, we can keep our hope!

20 Days

I'm procrastinating. I know, I shouldn't. But I am. I have about 6 boxes packed and I'm leaving town in the morning to head to my hometown to have my G.A. 5 year pinning (celebration of recovery). I'll be gone 4 days. Perhaps spending time with my best friends will help me get motivated to get through my long list in my red notebook so I can move out of my apartment on time, get assignments done, and finalize all my planning. I've had a pleasant distraction of guests for several days. I've been able to help them out and distract myself from my needs. Not a healthy plan, but sometimes a break is necessary.

So, I imagine I'm not the only procrastinator out here. So, some ideas... Back to my red notebook. Never put it down. Even if I have five minutes free. I can be making a phone call or sending an email. Ask for help. Don't let your ego get in the way. Ask what you need help for. For me, it's both packing and moving. I even asked people for boxes. Mind as well save $. Prioritize with deadlines. Things can't just move to tomorrow because some things require a certain advance notice. Make sure you are on top of those. And don't forget - get those legal documents drafted!!!

Meal Planning

With my parents in town for a couple days, they inquired on what restaurants I wanted to eat at, often indicating that I should enjoy some good meals out while I can. I settled on a Greek diner, a deli, a campus eatery, and a movie theatre to watch a movie that serves dinner food. My parents kept asking, "are you sure?" While we all enjoyed our meals.

I realize that I am soon going to have very limited meal options. Steak will not be available, nor will good seafood. But I don't just want to eat that kind if food just to eat it. Why should we eat expensive, when I'm not really all that hungry these days anyway? Plus, everywhere we went, had really good food.

I've decided not to stuff my mouth with food that I'm just eating because I happen to be going to prison. A special event, of course. But not for Thursday night dinner. Going to prison is not an excuse for me to splurge financially or gourmet.

Just Don't Look Weak

My stepdads grand advice for me for going to prison is not to cry - at least not during my first week. In fact, he would like me to keep my head down and not look at anyone at all. Of course I'm sure bumping into folks is out of the question too, so I might have to look straight ahead of me sometimes.

This isn't just my stepdads advice, the advice of not showing weakness is fairly constant. I've even blogged about having to be strong. But truth is, we also can't be people we are not. I still believe we can't trust easily and we do need to be strong, but prison is bound to be an emotional experience. Keeping it kept entirely inside makes me think too much about the emotional hiding I did as an addict. Perhaps not everyone is safe to see our pain, but in our letters, emails, phone calls, the chaplain, in our recovery groups, our counselor, someone. We need to trust someone. Keeping a fake strong persona and in reality hurting is a person I never want to become again.

So when people give me the advice, I know they mean well and they want the best for me. They are worried about me. I don't need to explain everything I just wrote in this blog. I simply need to say, "thank you," as I will consider their suggestion.

At least in my case, it is weaker for me to be hiding my pain, than to share it. It takes a lot of strength to be able to do that.

Birthdays

If birthdays are supposed to be one of the best days of the year for each of us, then somehow, I missed the memo. Not that every birthday I've had was bad. I had kid parties roller skating, sleep overs, other fun I'm sure. I remember my sweet 16 was pretty grand (before I moved out). But, since my birthday falls in mid winter and I grew up in the Midwest, I also had more than one of my childhood parties snowed out, there even was a blizzard once. My birthday was close enough to the holidays that I would sometimes get the gift with the card saying "this is for Chanukah and your birthday." By the time I was a young adult, I decided that if I wanted a good birthday, I had to make it happen for myself.

For many years, I had success. Then on my 25th bday, my friends "kid napped" me and tried to confuse me on where we were going and we ended up at a large casino, a state away. They knew what I liked to do. They handed me an envelope of money that they and many of my law school buddies had donated into, and told me to have fun. I proceeded to lose the several hundred dollars in that envelope so fast, that I quickly walked to the restroom to regroup. I found an ATM far off where no one could see me withdrawing money, pulled out more than they had given me ($ I could not afford to lose) and started playing again. Friends found me, saw my pile of money and I told them I'd won. The only thing I actually won was paying the highest ATM fees for all the withdrawals I would do.

Birthdays at casinos became a ritual. In my mind, at least I wasn't alone. I sure didn't care what the weather was outside. I tried a birthday outside a casino when I was turning 27. I was totally in love for the first time in my life. They broke up with me ON my birthday. Then tried staying best friends with me for years. That was a mess.

I traveled to Las Vegas for my 30th birthday. I had a bunch of friends with me. I was being pushed around in a wheel chair due to a recent knee surgery. But actually, I remember practically nothing about turning 30, 31, 32, 33, or 34,... They were nights of gambling. In reality no different than any other night of the year except I could tell strangers around a table that it was my birthday or I'd be offered a free beverage and I'd get a Virgin Mary (never wanting to become a drinker).

At 35, my birthday fell just weeks after that "Big Win," and the obsession of numbers and winning in my head was never ending. My partner told me that we were going on a road trip and I got super excited- believing we would be staying at the new casino hotel about an hour north of our home. As we drove, that was not where we went. I started to get angry. Then I started to get bitter and frustrated. Why couldn't we go to the casino, I thought? Q knew I loved to gamble, why would Q take me anywhere else? Turns out that Q had actually been thinking fun, and put us up in a small town we had referred to numerous times. It had only one motel, one bar, etc. I didn't appreciate it. That night when we walked around, I fed my addiction by finding pull tabs at the bar (and won unfortunately) making me believe that Q should have just taken me to the casino. It was just months later that Q and I were history, as was my gambling, as was that life.

Once in recovery, birthdays became special. I spent them with people I cared about, but they did not have to be big or flashy. I also started a tradition of giving small gifts on my birthday. Sure, it is fun to receive gifts, but I love giving gifts. It's a thank you for spending my day with me. 

My last two birthdays have been a bit tough. 2012 occurred just two days after yet another right knee ACL tear. I was laid up on my couch and on crutches. Friends came anyway! 2013 occurred as I was taking my comprehensive exams for my PhD. We do these by ourselves, 5 days straight, writing essays. I was able to step away for both lunch and dinner with different friends. Not long and no bday cake, but it didn't matter. It did not have to be special.

In 2014, my birthday will be in prison. If I have prison friends, they may make me a cake (somehow they do it with commissary supplies and the micro) or maybe not. It doesn't really matter. My birthday does not need to be special, flashy, or anything any more. I do not need to be surrounded by others to know that I'm loved or I matter. I do not need to cry because people failed to call me on my bday. I don't need cakes or gifts. I just need a moment to close my eyes and be grateful that I have been given this second chance. My birthday will forever be about giving back, not about taking.

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.

If I can be an example of staying clean, I can survive the prison scene

The title is actually a take on a great Macklemore song called, "Starting Over," where he raps about his relapse from 3 1/2 years of sobriety. In it he says, "if I can be an example of staying sober, I can be an example of starting over."

My version doesn't work perfectly, because the second clause shouldn't be about my survival, but something I can be an example of by doing my time in prison. I just couldn't make it work perfectly. I can write about it here, though.

Any addiction recovery is hard, it's really hard. Relapse happens often and/or like Macklemore says in his song, they try to stay clean/sober on their own without a program. Inevitably, life does not get better and the old urges become too much too handle. Our brains play tricks on us and choice to say "no" becomes less and less possible. Access to our vice, or to a new vice (switching addictions) occurs, and we have to start at day 1 once again. I've heard these stories so many times. Breaks my heart, but I'm so glad they come back to their programs, ready to do something different, something more, this time.

I have been fortunate each day since May, 2008. Each day I have promised myself that I'm not going to gamble today and each day I have kept that promise. My GA program is a part of my life and I never intend to try to do it on my own, no matter how many years clean I have. I never want to be that person again.

So, what can I be an example of in prison? I can be an example of someone who understands addiction. Understands the urges. Understands the reality that it leads to three realities - prison, insanity, and/or death. Understands crime to feed addiction. Understands withdrawal. Understands when people feel alone because others do not understand or support them. Understands losing everything. 

I also understand and am an example of the hope of recovery. Rebuilding our lives. Second or third or fifth chances. Rebuilding relationships. Finding healthy relationships. Putting recovery first. Not giving up. Refusing to accept dead ends, and just see them as speed bumps. 

If I can be an example of staying clean, I can survive the prison scene! I just have to be myself. Find ways I connect with others and keep to my beliefs.

iPhone No Phone

I love my phone. I loved my basic cell phone. I loved my android phone. Now I love my iPhone. I use it for everything it was meant to be used for - calls, music, calendar, applications, data, email, Internet, even writing this blog (ergo the quick finger spelling mistakes). I haven't worn a watch in years because my phone is my watch, alarm clock, and cooking timer. I even use Siri as my assistant. Parting with my phone will be difficult. I will have to learn to once again fall asleep without technology being the last thing I am reading from.

I did research on my options on what I should do while incarcerated. I did not want to break my contract and have to pay $250. I did not want to lose my phone number I've had for years. But, I cannot afford to maintain my phone at its level while I  incarcerated.

I service through Verizon, so I cannot account for any other services out there. Verizon has some options I am considering. They allow users to suspend service for 90 days at a time up to 2x during a year. They can be back to back. So my first 6 months, my line will be suspended, which is good because it is doubtful I will be sent to a half way house during that time. 

Before I leave for prison, I will transfer my service to someone's old Verizon phone that they don't use any more. One that is not a smart phone. Therefore, when my service is turned back on, I could have it turned on to the lowest level service available and have it paid out of the funds I am saving for the remaining months on my imprisonment. Once I am allowed to utilize the phone again, I will transfer back to my iPhone and I'm able to reconnect again. My Verizon contract will be extended for the 6 months I suspended my plan, but I am not planning on leaving them anyway.

My financial coach, Survivor, has all my Verizon information in order to ensure she can do the second suspension while I'm inside. These are the kinds of things we have to prepare for. Make a list of every bill you pay and figure out whether you need to make special arrangements, like with your cell phone.

Doing Right for our Kids

I've mentioned before, I think, that I don't have any biological kids of my own. It's a long story on why that is. However, I love kids and I've helped raise some kids over the years. One of these kids, T.S., is the closest thing to a daughter I will ever have. I'm incredibly proud of her. She is bright, kind, giving, helpful, and not trying to be too grown up before she has to be. She is 18 years old and about to go to college. She was admitted to many universities, but she wanted to go where I am, before any of us knew that I would be going to prison, so she selected to go out of state to my university to start her studies.

I made T.S. a lot of promises I cannot keep now that I'm going to prison. I'd told her that I would take her out to dinner once a week. I told her that she could enjoy a bath once in a while in my bath tubs (the residence halls only have showers and she loves baths). I told her I would help purchase her school books. I told her I could take her places. I told her I would help get stuff for her dorm room. I told her many things, but most importantly, I told her I WOULD BE HERE FOR HER! Now I won't be.

T.S. is fairly mature, having gone through more than her share of life events at a young age, but she is still 18 and when someone who is a parent figure in your life makes promises (even if they don't say the word promise) we cannot let them down. Not if we want any chance of coming back to a positive relationship after prison.

First, I've never lied to T.S. Since she was old enough to understand, she's known that I could be arrested at some point and why.

Second, when I realized I was going to prison, I spoke honestly with T.S. and hoped she could understand. She said she did, and most young people will claim to.

Third, I found surrogates to fill my roles with all of my promises. Granted, her mom has to fill some of them, but my friends offered their bathtub, multiple friends of mine friended T.S. on Facebook and told me that if T.S. needs anything while I am gone, they will help her out. I met a professor who can help her find tutoring if she needs it. Her cousin already promised her to help with decorating her dorm room. T.S. is going to be well taken care of in my absence. At 18, and soon to be 19, years old, at least that care doesn't have to be 24/7.

I write about this because we can't forget about the promises we made to our kids or the children in our lives. They may depend on those promises. Our lives are upside down, but don't take it out on the innocent ones being left behind. Knowing they are still living their lives in the best possible way should bring you some happiness while doing your time.

Independence Day

Yes, July 4th has come and gone for this year. For me, I had a nice day. I spent it with Sporty, we mostly organized things around my home and then went and found a random place to eat tacos from a mobile truck and watch the city fireworks overhead. It was actually quite perfect. I haven't really been in much of a festive mood but that night just kind of fell together the right way.

In this blog, though, I'm not talking about that Independence Day, I'm talking about the other one, the day of freedom, the day we are released from prison. I was curious exactly how "good time" was calculated. I was told that my sentence of one year and a day made me eligible for good time resulting in 10 months. I was curious how that was calculated.

Turns out that it actually has some controversy, as the DOP calculates it as less time off than the statute originally intended. What it turns out to calculate to is the following days of imprisonment for every 356 days sentenced:

319 days

It is 319 days from the start date to the end date, but not including the end date

Or 10 months, 15 days excluding the end date

Alternative time units

319 days can be converted to one of these units:

27,561,600 seconds

459,360 minutes

7656 hours

319 days

45 weeks (rounded down)

I was thinking I might have difficulty tracking days of the week inside, I promise I will not be tracking hours, minutes, or seconds! It is interesting to know that given my sentence, those are my exact number of days though - 319!

So, I decided to use a date calendar and see what my proposed day of independence would be. There are a lot of free websites that allow you to put in dates and calculate the number of days between. So, I put the start at 8/19 and kept moving around the end date. I thought that my 10 months would end in June, but 45 weeks is actually longer than 10 months. It is 10 months 15 days.

Wouldn't you know it... 319 days from the day I self surrender - July 4, 2014. I suppose next years Independence Day and each one after "may" have an extra special meaning! I'm not sure if they will actually release someone on a federal holiday, but that's the date, I kid you not.

Laughter and Privilege

I wonder whether this has happened to others. You get all nervous. Sit down to tell someone your story. At the end, tell them you are going to prison. And they LAUGH. They can't help it. It is the last thing they can ever imagine coming out of your mouth.

I will certainly not fit anyone's stereotype of a felon or prison inmate. That does not make the experience any less real for me. The laughter goes through me almost like nails on a chalk board, I've just trusted someone with something so deep and terrifying and their laughter makes it into a joke. I know they don't mean it that way. They literally do not believe me.

It makes me think of life after prison just a bit. I will have the good fortune of people giving me the benefit of the doubt and opportunities because of who I am, what I look like, and my education. Others will not be so lucky, they will wear their felony decree like a tattoo etched on their forehead where people do not give them a break because of racism, ignorance, and cycles of poverty. People will not laugh at them about their felony, they assume the felony. It is such a sad society we live in.

This is one of the many reasons I will do my best at acceptance throughout my prison stay. I've had so much privilege in my life for the mere fact of the color of my skin or the community I was raised in. Many people I will be imprisoned with have never had one day of that reality of privilege in their life. I am no better than anyone there. I committed my crime, where some of them could be innocent. The racism in our judicial system is vast and I even studied it in law school. 

I'm not saying that everyone in prison is innocent, I'm just saying that privilege gave me one year and a day, where someone else could have been sentenced to two years. Privilege gave me five years to get well before being charged, where someone else would have been arrested immediately. Privilege is allowing me to self surrender, where someone else would be held in custody. Privilege allowed me to travel internationally one month before my sentencing, where someone else would have had to turn in their passport earlier.

The purpose of this blog - be aware of your privilege if you have some - because the other inmates certainly will be!

Signs of Stress

There is no way around it, neither meditation, nor candy, nor prayer, nor distraction, nor getting things done, ... It is just there... STRESS. I've had a lot of stress over the years in my life, but I'm seeing the signs of it right now as if it is close to its worst. Of course, I could just blame my memory issues on my health, but it's probably due to that ugly word stress!

Yesterday, I rode my scooter, Hope, all the way home and was locked out of my house, having locked my keys inside my office on campus. Today I was riding Hope to campus and for the first time ever in any vehicle I've ever driven, ran out of gas! In 92 degree heat!! I tried to start walking Hope home, but the hills & my bad health got the better of me. I posted on Facebook my predicament and had a rescue response in less than a minute (although I had to wait more than 40 minutes in the heat for her to appear with the one gallon of gas).

I wonder if others find themselves being forgetful during these days just before self-surrender. It is certainly difficult at times to have my head "in the game." It is not an excuse, though. I was more than an hour late to work today (and had to ask the office manager to let me in my office since my office keys were also locked inside my office).

I lie in silence a lot, clear my head, think of nothing, and try to stay in that state of relaxation without falling asleep. I feel outwardly more anxiety than stress. But perhaps that anxiety is just a symptom of  the stress.

In the end, I suppose, everyone would say that it is perfectly normal to feel stress at this time. We are going through a huge life change. We are going to an unknown, where we have little control, if any. However, we must find ways to maintain our sanity, our memory, and our health best we can. I'm still searching on my magic way, although riding Hope certainly is one.

Weather and Clothing

I decided to look up the average temperatures in Fort Worth. They certainly have the four seasons, even though they are south, although the winters will be milder than up in the north. It has been weird to think about going somewhere and packing nothing for the trip. With the weather what it is in Fort Worth, I would want a bit of my entire wardrobe. I love to wear layers, but only shorts and a t-shirt to sleep because I get warm. In prison, so many of these choices will be made for me.

I really do not enjoy cold weather, icy ground, or being in the snow. I like seeing it from the warmth of my home (or by a fire place). I do not walk super well and ice makes me nervous (in Jan 2012, I slipped on ice and tore my right knee ACL for the third time). I'm pretty much a klutz! I don't think there will be many icy days at the prison.

As for my clothing, I wonder how comfortable the prison garb is. I will certainly buy the t-shirts and long sleeve shirts to allow for layers (and sweats). At least I'm comfortable in khaki. One outfit for ten months, no fun socks or shoes, I'm not saying I'm a girlie girl by any means, but I will miss being able to look outside at the weather and deciding what I want to wear for the day.

Balance of Character

My public defender had me write my life story for her. I suppose it was cathartic, but it took me months. It was painful and very difficult. My big question was how to write myself as a whole person - someone who was not all good or all bad. I certainly did very good things in my life, and given my current predicament, I did some very bad things as well. How could I write something that could achieve this balance of character. Perhaps allow this stranger, my attorney, who lived in a different state than I did so only knew me through phone calls and emails, to care about who I was and understand my addiction. It was important, probably only to me, that my life story give some insight. I am not a psychologist, but anyone reading my life story should be able to put enough pieces together to be able to say, "oh, I kinda get it now." I'll give you an example as an excerpt from my first time in a casino:

"It was during the same senior year [of college] that I first went to a casino. One had opened about 45 minutes [away] and a couple friends and I decided to check it out. I immediately got a rush just by being inside the casino – the lights, the sounds, and the people. I was just 21 years old and I was fascinated. I didn’t have a lot of money, being a student and all, but that didn’t stop me from trying out the slot machines. I was not secure in my card playing or in understanding the rules of the table games, so slot machines seemed the best way to go – put money in, pull the right arm (the machines were not computerized yet), and hope for a win. Well, wouldn’t you know that a bit into pulling the arm I would win a jackpot - $1,250. The bells and whistles blew to tell the entire casino that someone had won. My friends were amazed and I’d never had so much money in my hands in my entire life. I can honestly say that I was hooked already. This was fun. This was easy. This was a way to have the money to do the things I only dreamt of doing. I returned the next day with my friends – as I put us up in a motel nearby. I wanted to hear the bells and whistles again."

I was there with such innocence, yet, already could not just walk away with a win. Why am I blogging about this today? Because we are such complicated people. We can not be simply defined by terms of all good or all bad, although if you read my earlier posts I will beg to differ on your belief that you are a "bad" person. I was and am not a bad person, even though many people believe I am because I hurt them, lied to them, was doing bad things during my time of addiction. But reading that short excerpt above, I'm not sure of how much choice I had, even at the beginning, my first time in my first casino. A big win at the time. Taken by the lights and sounds. My ability to be a big shot with money suddenly. Kind of makes sense for the same kind of rushes that get people in trouble around all kinds of crimes and addictions.

I thank my higher power every day that I am able to say, "I'm not going to gamble today," and know that I can be true to that statement. I don't think I'm any less complicated a person, though, than the one that I needed to present to my attorney. Anyone who seems to present themselves as not conflicted at times, is probably not showing their true self.

Getting Those Words Out of Your Head

One of the things I find so common among almost anyone who has struggled with an addiction of any type is the negative self talk. I don't think we developed it on our own. It came from others, judging us, and our believing those words. We may never tell anyone, but inside our heads we believe we are, "stupid," "ugly," "selfish," "unworthy," "a mistake," "broken," "fat," "not good enough," "retarted," "dumb," "worthless," "a failure," "useless," etc. Sure, as kids we were all called some of those names, but some of us were called them by maybe the wrong people or too many times or somehow, we just started to believe them.

I carried around many of these words with me much of my life. Even my over-achievements couldn't help me lose the words "stupid" or "unloved" from my head. They were so ingrained, that I felt like each time I had success, I was an imposter who did not deserve the success I was earning. 

These are not the only reasons people become addicts. But my self loathing certainly did not help.

I write about this because it is possible that people are throwing these kinds of words at you now, due to your crime or the fact that you will be in prison. You must remember that you are worthy of love. Do not "own" other people's opinions of you. Ever. You must find your way to understand what got you in trouble, work through the self-esteem issues you have, and build a stronger character. 

You may have done a stupid act, but that doesn't make you "stupid." You may have lost your family, but that doesn't make you "unlovable." You may have broken the law, but that doesn't make you "broken." 

Creating Opportunities

My last post was about a family member that had not responded to any communication by me in weeks. Wouldn't you know it that I received the kindest email from her today? She told me that she would absolutely visit me (not my step-brother or the kids, which is fine), but that she would. Which is exactly what I wanted. I'd jumped to a conclusion and all she needed was time. We have to remember to give our loved ones the time they need.

Another thing we need to be able to accept is that people who care about us often feel powerless over our situation. They want to "fix" it, but there is no magic pill. We must do our time. We must face the consequences of our actions. They must allow us to face the unknown and scary and they cannot take that away from us. However, we can help by creating some easy opportunities for our family and friends to assist us from the "outside." 

My friend Survivor is taking on my finances while I am gone. She and I were talking this afternoon about the fact that some friends have spoken to her about sending some funds my way during my time at Carswell. The generosity of my friends is unbelievable, many of them need every penny they earn, and yet here they are offering to assist me while I am in prison. I am doing my best to save up for all my basic needs. Of course it would be nice to have some of the nicer commissary items, but they are not necessities and I am hopefully only in for 10 months at the longest. So, we were talking about other ways my friends can feel like they are supporting me.

I already sent my friends my prison address, details on the email and phone system, and information on how the visitation system works, should they have the ability to travel to Texas. I know that they will do their best to email and write, and I know that I will be one of the people who feels very grateful at mail call. Forever I will be humble to this reality and will pay forward this to others I meet facing similar situations by writing others in prison.

While reading the Carswell handbook, I noticed that I can receive magazines and newspapers directly from publishers. So, Survivor and I decided that putting a list together of periodicals that I would like to receive (along with the Amazon book wish list I already have) will be the perfect way to create new opportunities for friends to feel like they are doing "something" to help. I don't expect to receive every book/magazine/newspaper on my lists. In fact, I hope I don't, or I would probably have to give half away to other inmates (which wouldn't be so bad). But, it was fun coming up with my list. Survivor will hold the list, so I don't receive 10 copies of People Magazine. It's important to have a central person who can organize things for you while you are gone. I was able to browse a very comprehensive list of magazines at magazines online. Discount websites are fine to order from because you still receive the actual magazines from the publisher. Make sure your specific institution allows magazines by reading the handbook.

My hope is to have a couple weekly magazines, maybe 1-2 monthly ones, and at least one daily newspaper. Since they are allowed, I see no excuse from cutting myself off from the news of the world. It will be bad enough that I will be cut off from social media for so long (another blog post I will have to do, I am sure!). Make sure that the person who is tracking who is purchasing what for you lets you know who ordered a magazine for you, because it may show up without the gifter's name. I plan to write a nice thank you note for anything I receive, as long as I am able. If I can't, it's about "paying it forward," and I certainly will!

And She Won't Respond

I guess I could say I have been pretty lucky. Since my charges, arraignment, and sentencing, I've had some of the most incredible support. I have had the benefit of five wonderful years of recovery to mend relationships and build new friendships.

My immediate family and close friends all knew about my legal issues from the beginning. I did not feel it was right for anyone to trust me if I did not trust them. Amazingly, they all supported me. Many asked questions. Many prayed that things would turn out differently than they did. Their support was there, always. I was honored to have 37 letters of support, each one making me cry, attached to my attorney's sentencing recommendation. If I had asked for more, perhaps I could have gotten more. That is amazing to me. Five years ago, I would have been hard pressed to get five letters, because I told no one anything about my struggles with addiction which made the truth coming out too much of a shock and my friends all walked away from me. 

I have a "difficult" relationship with my immediate family. Perhaps I will blog a bit more about that at a later time. When everything hit the fan 5 years ago with my addiction and the possibility of legal charges, my mom and stepdad asked me not to tell my step-siblings. Being an adult, I don't know why I just follow their wishes without thinking through the consequences, but I agreed. Now that I am going to prison, and I will not be able to be around to help out my folks, my aging grandparents, etc., I realized all of my step-siblings had to know. What if their grandfather (who is 95) passed away and I wasn't there? Would my folks just tell lies on where I am? And, I have a step-brother and his family in Dallas, less than an hour from where I will be. Maybe his wife, Jen, who I've always gotten along with fabulously will visit. Since everyone in my life is 1,000 miles away, this was a possibility of a visitor.

So, I reached out to Jen. Jen and my step-brother called my folks, but never responded to me. In three weeks, they have ignored my texts and emails as well. Jen is the one person I never thought would do that. The only family I have near the prison. I will give them time. People deserve time. They are the only people from my current life that I've told so far, since my recovery, to turn away from me. 

It is going to happen. This may be the first, but likely will not be the last. People who do not understand. People who come to their own understanding on what happened. We cannot change them. We can only be the best people we can be. I will still call on birthdays and reach out to my niece and nephew. I know I'm not a bad person. 

I always must remember, "other people's people's opinions of me are none of my business."

How We Leave Things

I have been thinking about the fact that there will be several times over the next month that I am saying, "goodbye," for a while to someone. Maybe they know why, maybe they don't. Given that we cannot predict our future (no matter how much we try) we do not know for sure when and if we will see this person again. I suppose this is true always, every day, but it is ever so real when you are facing imprisonment.

Our words are so powerful. Never forget that. Everyone who cares about us is also affected by our sentence. They are going through their own stages of grief and anger and disbelief. Try as much as you can to allow them their feelings. At the same time, do not allow anyone to abuse you mentally, emotionally or physically because of the pain your impending sentence is causing them. Abuse is never okay, and you must believe that you do not deserve it.

I digressed. Ah, saying goodbye, yes, that was what I was supposed to be blogging about. Have I mentioned that I've recently been diagnosed with ADD, it's unmedicated, ha. Ah,yes, goodbyes.

I am trying to consciously make all my words count, because they could be my goodbye to someone. Tonight, I was working with my intern on our newsletter and it goes to print tomorrow. As of now, we have no further meetings planned, but one could come up, not sure. So, I told her that she gets to take more leadership next year in the newsletter because I won't be there... Blah, blah, blah. Then I told her what a pleasure it has been to work with her, that I've been noticing certain strengths (and I listed them off) and that I highly recommend she look into a master's program that I knew she'd never even heard about. I talked with her about why I think she would be a strong candidate, who to get letters of reference from, and more. I wanted this last meeting to be meaningful. Every goodbye should have meaning.

I've been thinking about the people I'm closest with in this world. I can't really plan our "goodbye" moments. They have to just happen. But I will consider my words carefully. I will tell them how much they mean to me. I will thank them for being a part of my life. Make every goodbye matter!

Caught Thinking About the Future

I must apologize for my recent posts. They were honest moments of blogging, so no regrets in doing so, but nonetheless, I work a program of recovery and recovery tells us to live in the day. One of my favorite readings is as follows:

Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow

There are two days in every week about which we should not worry; two days which should be kept free from fear and apprehension.

One of these days is yesterday with its mistakes and cares, its faults and blunders, its aches and pains. All the money in the world cannot bring back yesterday. Yesterday has passed forever beyond our control. We cannot undo a single act we performed. We cannot erase a single word we said. Yesterday is gone.

The other day we should not worry about is tomorrow with its possible adversities, its burdens, its large promise or poor performance. Tomorrow is also beyond our immediate control.

Tomorrow's sun will rise, either in splendor or behind a mask of clouds ... but it will rise. Until it does, we have no stake in tomorrow, for it is yet unborn. This leaves only one day ... TODAY. Any person can fight the battles of just one day. It is only when you and I add the burdens of these two awful eternities - yesterday and tomorrow - that we break down.

It is not the experience of today that drives people mad - it is the remorse or bitterness of something which happened yesterday and the dread of what tomorrow may bring. Let us, therefore,

LIVE BUT ONE DAY AT A TIME.

---------------------------------

I have always loved that reading because it is so very true. We project what we think will happen in the future, yet it rarely turns out that exact way. We hold onto burdens if our past, yet those days are done and we can do nothing to change the past (only what we do today and each day in front of us matters).

A wise person once said to me when I told them I was worried about the possibility of these legal charges one day getting filed against me, "you can spend every day worrying and if they are never filed, you just wasted every day worrying or you can spend every day worrying and one day they do get filed and you STILL wasted every day worrying." He was absolutely right. Had I been sitting around, worrying for 5 years, I wouldn't be living where I do today. I wouldn't be back in school. I wouldn't have the ability to find joy even during moments of sadness. I would have just wasted away- worrying. 

Don't let yourself go there too often, now we all can't help it some of the time, but when your mind is there - lost in the paranoia of what's to come or the darkness of what was, remind yourself that if you are spending all your energy on the past or future, you are failing to live in today. You can battle the issues of just one day. The day will end at some point. You will close your eyes and be able to start afresh tomorrow. The past and future matter but it is what you do today that matters most of all!!

A Rift in the Plan

I'm not sure why I was not more concerned before now. Maybe it was just a wish, an inability to accept the truth, a hope, I don't know. It wasn't until I was talking with Hansom the other night and we were talking about my including him on my list of 30. We can each bring in a list of 30 names, addresses, phone numbers, and emails of people that we want to stay in touch with while we are incarcerated. We can add/delete people as we need, and they must agree to be communicated with by phone and email (which is monitored just like mail is read), but there is a limited number of people we can put on the list and I wanted Hansom to be one of them and he wanted to be as well.

The thing is, I've mention that Hansom has a felony on his record. He is off probation. However, he may not be allowed to be on my list anyway. There are very strict rules about inmates communicating with current or ex felons. We ended our call with the fact that we will try.

However, our conversation brought me to the reality of something much bigger, and he is aware of this as well, that Survivor may also not be allowed to have any communication with me either. Survivor is my friend, GA sponsor, family, support, confidante, hero, late night texting, laughing, crying, fun loving, understanding, sisterly, caring, loving, other pea in my pod. She is my rock in recovery and has been there at all my darkest moments. The idea of no communication at all with her for nearly a year terrifies me. She is the one person I know can and would visit me (she can fly for free due to her prior career with the airlines). She also recently survived breast cancer and has another surgery scheduled soon after my self surrender (which she put off because of wanting to be at my sentencing and such). I only imagined being incarcerated with knowing my other "pea" was just a phone call, email, or letter away. 

Prison talk (once again, a really good website to join for offenders and their family/friends) confirmed that it is likely Survivor will be initially refused from my visitor list and that she may try to appeal. I'm still waiting to hear about whether other forms of communication will likely be restricted as well. 

I guess it is good to know all this a month before I go in. I will have time to prepare mentally/emotionally. It is something we should all be aware of, though, even with our best intentions, the BOP could put a rift in our plans.

Holidays

Okay, today I kinda cried for a moment. I thought about the holidays. I was talking to Sporty on the phone and talking about Thanksgiving and the Jewish High Holidays and I just got sad. The prison allows visitors on holidays (well, federal holidays - not Jewish ones), but I won't be having any. The Feds try to put inmates close to home so they can get regular visits, but I'm being sent 1,000 miles away from my family and friends. I have absolutely NO expectations of anyone giving up their family traditions to spend a boring day sitting across from me in a visiting room. It is not even about that. I will be gone one year, just one set of each holiday. It will be okay.

The thing is, I missed a lot of holidays in my past. I spent many a thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, etc. alone in a casino chasing losses or possibly on a winning streak. I believed I had no where else to go. No one wanted me at their holiday festivities. I was alone and whether it was true in fact or not, I believed I was unloved. Most of my adult life consisted of holidays spent with strangers who knew my name because we played at the same tables night after night, yet we knew nothing about one another. We just needed our next "hit," the adrenalin of the next deal of the cards, the next win, the next promise of a life better than the one we are living.

When I stopped gambling in 2008, started recovery and addiction therapy, holidays suddenly mattered. I was suddenly around family and friends that invited me into their homes. I'd actually get more than one invitation at times. I started celebrating holidays with friends that aren't even my holidays - like Christmas and Easter - because my friends invited me to their family dinners (although the Jew in me confused the term "dinner" to mean 5 or 6 once when the Easter dinner was to be served at 2). I also enjoy giving and receiving holiday presents and hate that it won't be a part of our traditions this year! Holidays have come to be a part of my recovery from the "broken" person I was. 

This, of course, leaves me with just one choice, find a way to enjoy the holidays without visitors of family or friends. I shall. During the months of Nov and Dec, they increase phone time from 300 min/month to 400 min/mth. So, I can call people more. I'll figure it out. I guess it is okay once in a while to realize the realities of life in prison. Holidays really hit me today.

38 Days

This is the first time I actually did the real count. I have 38 days until my self-surrender. Some may look at the number and say "only" 38 days. I used to see things that way, usually the pessimist. There is a lot I'm looking forward to in those 38 days, though, including time with family and friends, trying to finish another season of Doctor Who (yes, major nerd), my GA pinning, people coming to visit, many rides on Hope, some summer blockbuster movies and popcorn, and more. So, I'm not going to count down the days. I may notice the weeks go by a bit. I plan to get done what continues to be on my red notebook, finish my class, and enjoy the freedom and nice weather. Live each day, one day at a time. The Feds would like to take a lot away from us, but it is up to you to let them take your optimism or ability to enjoy the simple things in life.

Orange is the New Black

I watched the first three episodes of the series on Netflix tonight. Thursdays are usually tough for me health-wise. My injection medication is on Friday nights and tends to run its course by Thursday mornings, so a night of television seemed just about right.

I absolutely love the creator, Jenji Kohan, who also created, "Weeds." The cast is really great too. It is not verbatim to the book, but many of the characters and the best lines seem to be in it. It is always interesting to see how Hollywood dramatizes reality. Kohan is known to over sex the characters and that is certainly true for this series - men and women alike. The drama is good and I found myself caring quickly for many of the female inmates, especially as their true back stories were revealed. I liked that part a lot, because it showed a side of the inmates that we wouldn't easily see. Many women in the facility made a mistake, found themselves desperate, were manipulated by someone else, or have mental illness. Something tells me that may be the truth for many people I will meet in Carswell as well. 

Do I think the series is worth watching? Yes. Do I think it's realistic? Slightly, at best. Will I watch the whole series? Definitely. Do I recommend the series or book more? The book for reality, the series for entertainment - a lot of laughter. Although I have to admit, tears ran down my face during the first 15 minutes of the pilot, but not after that!

Keeping the Faith

When I wrote my blog the other day about what you can bring with you into prison/prison camp, I inadvertently left out one item - your bible. You are allowed to bring that with you. I do not own a bible. If I did, it would be called a Siddur (Jewish Prayer Book). Looking at the list of items you can bring into Prison, it does not list a Siddur. Jewish people account for less than 2% of all prisoners (federal or state) in the U.S. prison system. Jewish people are just 0.6% of the population in Texas. Not only Jewish people face predicaments like this - Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, and others face similar issues of minority religions/faiths.

One way for me to connect to my faith while I am in prison, and also to ensure my health a bit, is to ask for a kosher diet. My friend, Hansom (who has been in prison) told me that Kosher diets get salami (rather than bologna) and I did not grow up eating a lot of pork. I never kept entirely Kosher, but I always kept the Jewish Holidays and was raised on a very Jewish culture including hebrew school and a bat mitzvah. If I want to have a piece of my culture in prison, setting myself up as Kosher from the beginning will establish me with those rights.

I found this Jewish prison website this morning. They are contacting FMC Carswell ahead of my arrival and ensuring that they know a Jewish prisoner wanting a kosher diet is arriving. Texas prisons rarely receive Jewish prisoners and they will likely have to order the kosher food in. The Supreme Court held that all prisoners must have a right to practice their religion in prison, including a kosher diet. I will have access to more fruits and vegetables. No spam, pork/beef bi-products (a favorite of the prison system), and my food will be cleaned according to Kosher law. It is packaged appropriately as well. During the holidays, like Passover, I will be given pre-packaged meals that provide me with Matzoh and hard boiled eggs, etc. According to Hansom, many people who are not Jewish ask for the Kosher diet as well. I guess if you can document a need or a religious belief, you can get it.

Of course, there could be issues along the way. Excuses by the prison on why they can't meet my Kosher diet. The prison chaplain(s) can help with this. They can help with any religious questions/needs you may have. Use them as a resource. I plan to. I'm keeping the faith - including my religious faith. I may not be the most religious person in the world, but I certainly believe in my higher power. I certainly believe having a Kosher diet will help me through my time at Carswell and I thank Hansom for telling me to consider this option! Considered and approved!

Trying To Fit In

As I talk with people about what life may be like on the inside, I often get the advice to keep to myself (I'm an extrovert) and just do my time. I must admit, I hate confrontation. Anyone who knows me, knows that. I used to be the most passive person you'd ever met. Not even passive-aggressive (never been aggressive), just passive. But with my five years of addiction recovery, five years of growing emotionally, I've learned to stand up for myself at times (still not confrontational) and I still, unfortunately, withdraw at signs of aggression. So, with this being the truth, I'm unsure how to really be "prepared" for the prison environment.

From what I've read, the prison camps are not full of fights or confrontation. Everyone is mostly in there for non-violent crimes. That is where I'd be if it were not for my medications. But the federal medical center is a real prison, with convicts at every security level doing time together. Some inmates may be there for life. They are bored. Even confrontation not pointed at me makes me withdraw. 

I have a male GA friend who also spent time in prison for his crimes connected to his addiction. He told me that inmates like to "test" you when you first arrive. They may take something of yours to see your reaction. They may confront you. They may try to get your story. Of course, there is a difference between men's and women's prisons.

The best advice I received and that I can give to others is to stay and appear strong - don't let someone get to you - don't show your weaknesses - make acquaintances but trust no one with your life story. Fitting in is not your goal, getting out early for good behavior is.

So, when I see confrontation, or someone confronts me, I think I'm going to go with my natural instinct and walk away, even if I appear a coward. I'd rather be a coward, than living in the Hole in isolation. As for keeping to myself, I expect to be the extrovert I am, I just don't expect to share much about myself. I'll let others tell me their crazy and fascinating stories and I'll believe about 10% of them. Like I said, trust no one and everyone is getting the same advice!!! 

Riding Around on Hope

I've mentioned before that I named my motor scooter "Hope." Hope is a word I hold onto a lot. My car I named "Zaziwae," the word 'Hope' in Nelson Mandela's native tongue. On days where it appears it will not rain, I choose to ride Hope the 6 or so mile to/from my campus each day and it is my favorite part of the day. The fresh air. The breeze. Yes, I always have my helmet on (note earlier post about the day of my passing out, no helmet would have meant head injury- thank god for helmets!). The feeling of going fast even though my 50cc bike only really goes 35 mph on a good day. Nature. Sunshine. Time to myself.

I didn't always have Hope - not just literally, but figuratively. Perhaps in the casinos I did. Hope for the next win. But not Hope for myself, Hope for my journey, Hope for others. I'm not sure I even really understood the word. Now I see myself on a journey of Hope. Not that it means I get all my Hopes and dreams, that is not at all what this means, it is about not giving up. Keeping the journey alive. A roadblock just means I need to find another way. There are many bumps in the road (a ride on my scooter Hope feels all of them) but in time, with persistence, strategy, and the ability to seek out resources and ask for help when necessary, we can get past them. To me, that is Hope. 

I talk in this blog about where I will be in one year - back at school, back at my graduate assistantship, back in this life I love. That is Hope. Truth is, we do not know our future. All we know is today. All we can do is challenge ourselves, get past the roadblocks and over the bumps each day and see what actually occurs. While Hope may not be the word you choose to hold onto, find a word, something positive that you can close your eyes and think about when times may be dark. Perhaps your thoughts will get just a little lighter.

You Can't Take It With You

That actually was the title of one of my favorite plays when I was young. Another tidbit about me. I love the theater! But in this blog, I'm not talking theater, I'm talking about what you can, and what you cannot, take with you to self surrender.

Obviously you will self-surrender by walking up to a door, fence, gate, marshal, etc. wearing clothing, shoes, etc. but such articles will be shipped off immediately. Make sure whomever is receiving your clothes knows they are coming or they may FREAK out at the box with your favorite hat and sneakers in it. 

What will you be allowed to keep?

Almost nothing. If you are legally married, you can have a wedding band with no special gems or jewels. You may be allowed to keep a basic chain with a religious charm necklace. It can't be fancy. It can't be expensive. And it is not guaranteed. They do sell some as the commissary. You may be allowed to keep a basic Casio style digital watch with a value below $100. You may read that some white cotton undergarments can get in, but I talked directly with the prison today, and at least at Carswell, all undies and bras must come from them. Perhaps some camps are more lenient. Worth a call, I suppose. I was told to bring my pill bottles with whatever is left in them - whether I am given the medication is unknown. I'm also to bring my enbryl, which I'll have to keep cold for my travel days. Bring your glasses, but make sure they are plastic frames and simple frames. Not too valuable. I suppose since mine came from SAMs Club, it's as low as you can go. That is all the physical property we can keep.

We should also bring our paperwork:

-medical records

-power of atty over healthcare

-living will

-college/high school transcripts (if u finished high school but didn't attend college)  - without transcripts, you must take GED courses

- 2 copies of our address list - 30 names, addresses, phone numbers, and email addresses - one for the prison and one to keep

- money order to put initial funds in commissary account

Back home, with someone you trust, before you self surrender, have one bag packed with 5 outfits- especially if you are planning on being out in less than a year. At the halfway house, you will be allowed 5 outfits and they will need to be sent to you once you arrive. Plan ahead. Don't forget the shoes and possible work/interview clothing.

When we know the facts

I'd be lying if I wrote that I slept well last night. I'm trying to figure out if I'm more upset by my sooner than expected surrender date or if I am using that because I am more scared of the other news, that I am officially going to FMC Carswell. I'd like to say that I hadn't researched much on Carswell, but my research on the place actually started 9 months ago. Somehow I knew, my health had recently changed for me, and if I were to get incarceration in sentencing, there was a better chance than not that I'd be headed to Carswell.

In late September, 2012, I was riding home on my motor bike - a cute 50cc pink scooter I named "Hope" and I passed out. Ten days hospitalized locally, high inflammatory markers, high white blood count, other odd blood tests, but most doctors were stumped. My oxygen levels fall. I spend 6 weeks on 24 hr oxygen and I'm only 39 years old. Three trips to the Cleveland Clinic, work locally with rheumatologists, neurologists, pulmonary, cardiology, neuro-psych, and gastroenterology, and I'm currently on 8-9 pills/day and a weekly rhumatological injection with only a working diagnosis. But I feel better most days at about 60-75%.

The prosecutor's case against me literally moved forward within days after the initial hospitalization was over. Suddenly, instead of looking at going to a prison camp, I had a medical condition that top doctors were working hard to treat and understand. 

So, I knew, of course I knew, if I were sentenced to incarceration, it would have to be to a medical facility. The only problem is that there is only one medical facility for female federal inmates in the U.S. It has some of the most negative reviews of healthcare one could imagine. Cancer that goes untreated. Women waiting months to see doctors. Body bags for women who had treatable conditions. I know I will be out soon enough to avoid these issues. Even if I am in pain, I can withstand my 10 months. I will survive anything. I just can't be there and do nothing about what I will see going on around me. At the same time, troublemakers get time added on to their sentences, time in the "hole," inability to use commissary or phone or email, and I need these things. At least I think I do. Maybe I am being sent to Carswell to make a difference. To be a voice. To add that chapter of observation to my writings. To help the women there. I don't know. At least not yet.

One thing that I will say that is unique about Carswell is that since it is the only medical center, women at all criminal levels are in one location. While I am eligible for minimum security at a camp, I can be rooming with a murderer. This is truth. The only two women on death row in the U.S. are at Carswell, although they are kept separate than the general population. Instead of a prison camp without fences, there will be two rows of fences with barbed wire. Seven men working at Carswell since 1995 have been convicted of raping inmates, including a priest. I am strong enough to go and be there. I will be ready. I will make a difference!

A date. A location. A time.

August 19th. FMC Carswell. 10am.

Earlier than I thought I would be self-surrendering. I'd hoped I could have my GA 5 year pinning on Aug. 25th. I'd been looking forward to helping move T.S. (a young woman who I love like a daughter) into her freshman dorm room in late August. I'd hoped that I would be able to attend the 5th annual women's recovery weekend that I've been hosting at my aunt's land every September. I'd hoped I could spend some time away from where I attend school, close to family and friends, and attend temple for the Jewish High Holidays. My attorney had told me she thought I'd have more time. I do not.

I will finish my summer graduate assistantship and class on Friday, August 16th. I will likely rent a car with Survivor to make a special two day journey down to Fort Worth, TX. I will eat my last bites of real beef and other delights. I will sleep in a comfortable bed on the night of August 18th. Survivor will probably tell me to stop playing with my phone, or to stop talking, or we will just stay up talking and laughing (we've been known to do that!) I will make some last phone calls on the 18th and early on the 19th. We may drive by the gate early once, just to be sure we know where we are going. I will have all my papers in order and everything I am supposed to bring. I'll have looked through them to be sure at least a dozen times. Survivor may too. I'll do my best not to cry as they drive me away from my friend to the medical center. I'm not sure how successful I'll be at that - as I'm crying right now just writing this.

Women's Federal Medical Center Carswell Prison (Fort Worth, TX)