So, I wrote yesterday about how my raise could not go through because I do not have proof of my high school diploma. Now, I know my probation officer in my PSI had to verify my education, but for some reason my PSI was never uploaded into the computer system. Turns out, all that is needed is for my "team" to do their job and upload the document. In fact, one staff member said to me that if there is no PSI in the system, they don't know how I can be held in prison. That's how important the PSI document is. (The PSI was referred to the PSR prior to my incarceration). Anyway, yesterday afternoon, I decided to go to one of the teachers in my department that "gets things done." I've worked for him several times - he is the teacher I started "volunteering with." He is also the teacher I just spent a month working with before they had me go with a new teacher and new class of students. He is also the teacher that officially "promoted" me to a Grade 3 (my 5 cent raise).
So, I went to his office yesterday afternoon and asked, "if somehow no one uploads my PSI and my mom is unsuccessful at getting my diploma, can you assist me in confirming my high school diploma." At first he laughed and said, "the PhD candidate is the one that we don't have high school confirmation for." I wanted to inform him that I was a PhD student, not candidate (yet), as I hadn't yet defended my dissertation topic. However, this was a time for humbleness. Anyway, he says that he is surprised that my "team" didn't upload my paperwork - as it is an essential part of their duties. So, he says, "I'll get on it." Next thing he does is call me back to his office and says, "let's do this now." I like someone who wants to do the right thing!!
So, I walk with him over to my housing unit. He walks fast, and I'm slow, so I am a bit behind. It's funny watching him walk through the compound, because he's constantly screaming at someone, "tuck in your shirt," "button your shirt," or "where is your uniform." He goes by the rules ALL the time!!!
Anyway, we get into the unit and he brings me into the "records" room (a conference style room that I've only been in for my two "team" meetings). He has a woman pull out my file and 'wah lah' in there is my PSI. He reads the education section and it says all the schools I've attended and that it was "verified" by the probation officer. That leads the teacher to then walk me directly to my "counselor's" office. The same counselor that would not allow me to speak with him about this about 2 hours prior. So, the teacher "informs" the counselor that my education has been verified and that he has to press a couple keys in the computer, so I am able to get my promotion. Additionally, he informs the counselor that my PSI has never been uploaded into the system. The counselor looks funny at the teacher and says, "really??!??!," knowing full well it was his job upon my arrival to do so. He says he will take care of it. I ask if he needs my inmate number (remember, we are all just numbers here), and he says, "I know who you are." He could have fooled me.
I have no idea if the counselor followed through with his promise to upload my PSI and change my education status as "verified" on the computer. I will follow up with the teacher early next week (give a couple days for it to be done - nothing gets done fast here). If it is not done, I know that this teacher will use his handy walky-talky and call the counselor once again... and will ask the questions that I am not able to ask, like "why." I appreciate SO MUCH his having my back on this. PLUS, my mother NO LONGER has to fight with the school to get my diploma (yes, mom, you are off duty on this now! Ha).
The teacher I am referring to here is all "police," as we say. He follows the rules. He started as a correctional officer. He takes down the largest inmates who are fighting in pill line. He screams at people who violate the rules. He expects perfection, not "I'll do my best." He treats everyone the same, yet helps those who want to help themselves. He says for me to have 40 occupation plans upon my release, no less. He tells me that halfway houses are dangerous. He tells me that I'll be bored at the camp. He says things the way they are. He will not send people to GED testing if they have not shown the effort and caring he expects. He's hard. Some people don't like him. I respect him more than most any staff member here. He wants the best for each inmate. He works very, very hard. He may sometimes overstep his expectations on inmates, and say things that people think are wrong, such as, "you are all inmates. Inmates lie. I am not going to believe your stories, even if you say you are not lying, because you are manipulative and criminals." That's tough that he puts us all into these categories. To me, what he's really saying is that some of us are authentic, but he has no way of knowing who - so he has to treat us all the same. It may hurt some people at times, but at least we know up front his expectations and that allows us to try and thrive to meet them.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
From Dragonfly: No Raise For Me
After three months on the job in education, we officially can get a grade increase - to 17 cents per hour. I was approved for one and my last paycheck should have reflected it. It did not. So, I went to the teacher involved in payroll and asked why my raise was not reflected. She informed me that it is because the system doesn't show that I have my HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA. Still! So, I went to the teacher who is in charge of getting high school diplomas. 2 1/2 months ago, I filled out paperwork with her to obtain my degree (this is before I was brought in for the TABE test). I had assumed that my high school/ education department had ignored the request. I also asked my mom to have the school send the transcripts to carswell. Well, this teacher informed me that she HAD NOT sent the request to my school - yet. Ummm, 2 1/2 months? I asked if there was any way I could help in the process (I could punch in the fax numbers or write in the address or something), but she said "no." She informed me to have someone at home go to the school and/or education department for me. I have NO idea WHY they didn't send off my request or anyone elses (for that matter). In my new class, I have no less than 6 students who are forced to take GED classes, even though they already have a high school degree. Now, I learn that no one here has requested their degrees, so they have no chance of having it "show up." I'm not sure the hold up, but I do think it a bit unreasonable. Plus, I am missing out on my 5 cents per hour. An extra $5 per month could purchase me important hygeine items and/or go toward my FRP payments.
Okay, sometimes I just have to reflect on the insanity of this place - as I did above. Every day we are hit with something new that has no logic behind it. As someone who is very logically minded, it just continues to make me shake my head. I wonder if all prisons are like this.
I have something big to look forward to this weekend. Sporty and T.S. are coming for a visit. I will spend two days with them in the not-so-well setup visitation room. With 12-14 hours together, they'd better be thinking about the stuff they want to talk about. I don't want to spend all the time talking about this place! I'm so proud of T.S., today she finishes her last final of her first semester of college. She is doing well and has a good semester planned for the Spring. By the time she finishes off this first year, I will be heading home. I will probably just sit back this weekend and be in awe of her youth, stories, courage, intelligence, and kindness. She is such an awesome young woman!
No matter the fact that I am not getting my raise, even though it is for a ridiculous reason, I have SO much to continue to be grateful for. I am not dependent on my paycheck for all things I need/want to purchase. I have an incredible family and great friends who support me every day. I have a locker full of wonderful books that carry my thoughts away to a different world. I have wonderful craft supplies that allow me to explore my creativity. I have friends in prison, who can connect with me on the insanity of it all. I have this opportunity to write, something I hope to do more and more once this experience is over (and I'm not spending 5 cents per minute dishing out my thoughts, experiences and observations).
I am finding my hope once again and, also, concentrating on gratitude. Never give up hope!
Okay, sometimes I just have to reflect on the insanity of this place - as I did above. Every day we are hit with something new that has no logic behind it. As someone who is very logically minded, it just continues to make me shake my head. I wonder if all prisons are like this.
I have something big to look forward to this weekend. Sporty and T.S. are coming for a visit. I will spend two days with them in the not-so-well setup visitation room. With 12-14 hours together, they'd better be thinking about the stuff they want to talk about. I don't want to spend all the time talking about this place! I'm so proud of T.S., today she finishes her last final of her first semester of college. She is doing well and has a good semester planned for the Spring. By the time she finishes off this first year, I will be heading home. I will probably just sit back this weekend and be in awe of her youth, stories, courage, intelligence, and kindness. She is such an awesome young woman!
No matter the fact that I am not getting my raise, even though it is for a ridiculous reason, I have SO much to continue to be grateful for. I am not dependent on my paycheck for all things I need/want to purchase. I have an incredible family and great friends who support me every day. I have a locker full of wonderful books that carry my thoughts away to a different world. I have wonderful craft supplies that allow me to explore my creativity. I have friends in prison, who can connect with me on the insanity of it all. I have this opportunity to write, something I hope to do more and more once this experience is over (and I'm not spending 5 cents per minute dishing out my thoughts, experiences and observations).
I am finding my hope once again and, also, concentrating on gratitude. Never give up hope!
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
From Dragonfly: The Size of Your World
On Wednesdays and Fridays, I don't meet up with Freckles for breakfast. I don't care enough about bananas to wait in a line that long. So, I eat my breakfast in the news/sports room (today was pop tarts and V8 - not a lot of choices from commissary). I always try to watch CNN on the news television, so I can try and see what is happening in the world. For example, today I learned about Obama shaking hands with Castro, a family mourning the shooting death of their child by campus police at a Texas university, and a bad weather system heading to the Northeastern U.S. However, when others are in the news room, they don't want to watch CNN, they will watch local news or a morning show.
I was thinking about "why" they don't want to watch national/international news. I think it is because of perspective. Depending on how long you've been locked up, the world beyond prison becomes much less relevant (unless it is congress changing mandatory minimums or something like that). Instead, it is inmate.com that is the most important news of the day. Who is dating who? Who is fighting who? Who went to the SHU? Who got shots (in trouble) last night? Who got caught doing what with whom? Who will be the next daytime C.O. in the unit? That is their relevant news.
Of course, I'm not talking all inmates, but many cannot connect to a world they have never seen. Some of these inmates have been locked up since their late teens. Prior to that, they may never have traveled out of their small town or city, much less state. For some, Conair is the first airplane they were ever on. For others, they never had the opportunity to go past 7th grade and simply don't have the words or perspective to consider the world beyond their existence.
In GED classes, we realized that we cannot teach social studies - especially the political cartoon unit - without giving the students a perspective that is assumed they have. If the students don't know what happened with President Roosevelt, how can they interpret a political cartoon about him? So, we have to take a large step back and give them the underlying information that GED study book writers assume they have.
I watch the national and international news, because I know that what happens in the world affects me - perhaps not directly, but always indirectly. I also know that by next summer, I will be a part of that world again. When the Philippines recently saw devastation, only Nurse and I would want to see the news about it. We both know people living there. I remember I was once on a cruise ship for 7 days with a friend, when I was in my young 20's. During the time we took the cruise, having too much "fun" to pay attention to the news, we came home to two deaths - one of a Kennedy and the other was Sonny Bono. Everyone was walking about football on skis, and we had no "perspective" to understand the conversation. That's exactly what it is like for many people in prison. I imagine that the longer I am inside these fences, the less the world beyond will matter. When survival, shock, and stress are at their maximum, one can only concentrate on getting through each day. When I leave here, everyone will be talking about some new technology that they are using, and I will need to catch up. I will need to catch up on a lot. At least, I am trying to maintain some sense of the world beyond prison, with what national/international news I can get.
I was thinking about "why" they don't want to watch national/international news. I think it is because of perspective. Depending on how long you've been locked up, the world beyond prison becomes much less relevant (unless it is congress changing mandatory minimums or something like that). Instead, it is inmate.com that is the most important news of the day. Who is dating who? Who is fighting who? Who went to the SHU? Who got shots (in trouble) last night? Who got caught doing what with whom? Who will be the next daytime C.O. in the unit? That is their relevant news.
Of course, I'm not talking all inmates, but many cannot connect to a world they have never seen. Some of these inmates have been locked up since their late teens. Prior to that, they may never have traveled out of their small town or city, much less state. For some, Conair is the first airplane they were ever on. For others, they never had the opportunity to go past 7th grade and simply don't have the words or perspective to consider the world beyond their existence.
In GED classes, we realized that we cannot teach social studies - especially the political cartoon unit - without giving the students a perspective that is assumed they have. If the students don't know what happened with President Roosevelt, how can they interpret a political cartoon about him? So, we have to take a large step back and give them the underlying information that GED study book writers assume they have.
I watch the national and international news, because I know that what happens in the world affects me - perhaps not directly, but always indirectly. I also know that by next summer, I will be a part of that world again. When the Philippines recently saw devastation, only Nurse and I would want to see the news about it. We both know people living there. I remember I was once on a cruise ship for 7 days with a friend, when I was in my young 20's. During the time we took the cruise, having too much "fun" to pay attention to the news, we came home to two deaths - one of a Kennedy and the other was Sonny Bono. Everyone was walking about football on skis, and we had no "perspective" to understand the conversation. That's exactly what it is like for many people in prison. I imagine that the longer I am inside these fences, the less the world beyond will matter. When survival, shock, and stress are at their maximum, one can only concentrate on getting through each day. When I leave here, everyone will be talking about some new technology that they are using, and I will need to catch up. I will need to catch up on a lot. At least, I am trying to maintain some sense of the world beyond prison, with what national/international news I can get.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
From Dragonfly: What a Difference a Year Makes
One year ago, I was taking my final exams, preparing for my comprehensive exams, traveling to my hometown to spend time with family and friends, and trying to deal with my new health issues. I was not driving. I was testing my oxygen levels all the time. I was waiting to find out when the legal case against me would move forward. It would not be until late February that I would be officially indicted and March when I was arraigned. One year ago, I had no idea that I would be spending my holidays in prison. I also had no idea what prison would be like. I wrongly thought it was "behind bars" and that I would be in a typical cell seen on television. I had never met a cold-blooded killer or a person accused of insidious sex crimes. I'd never met a bank robber or someone that had illegally sold guns internationally. One year ago, I lived by myself, creating a welcoming space for Cache who would soon move in for a couple months as she sought her own housing. I had a holiday party that included hot chocolate with ALL the fixings. One year ago, the most important news I'd received was that I was accepted for the professional experience in South Africa. I prayed that my health would not keep me from going. One year ago, I was seeing at least two doctors per week - getting new diagnoses almost weekly - and trying to accept that my physical life would never be the same again. One year ago, T.S. visited me for a long break and we spent many special days together. One year ago, T.S.'s applications to various colleges were being considered and we were waiting on pins and needles for results. One year ago, I would sit on my computer for hours every day and do research, hang out on Facebook, and email directly to friends. One year ago, I wrote a conference proposal, interviewed several people for research, and worked closely with Traveler as we had many projects together. One year ago, I was an upstanding member of my academic department and my Adviser had my back and I was earning scholarships and fellowships.
None of these changes matter, though, because we cannot live in the past. I am where I am, today, and one year from now, my life will be 100% different than it is today. That is true for me, but for many people around me, they will still be in Carswell, doing the same thing every day, and not even remembering what life is like on the outside. For some of them, I'm glad they are not part of the general population. They did terrible acts and/or are scary people. Others, though, are not, and yet they are sentenced to an incredibly long time away.
Every meal at Chow, more people than not, put their heads down and pray before they eat. I wonder if they prayed before they came to prison. I wonder if they pray for freedom or just for their gratitude to have food on their tray. Prison, it seems, brings people closer to their spirituality and religion. Some change religions. Some learn about different forms of spirituality.
Things change when we go to prison. It's inevitable. Many of my friends are taking their finals this week (mostly just writing papers). They are preparing for their last academic class, where they will work on their dissertation proposal, having already passed comps last year. Their lives are moving forward, yet are very similar to a year ago. A couple of my friends have new babies in their lives and are loving watching them develop into little people. My father is still recovering from his stroke. My mother has a new job. Sporty and T.S. are living in a new city and state. Many people could look back a year and say that their life is very different from before.
We must believe that it is all for a purpose, that we are not in control, and that we will be somewhere else again soon. If we let go, we move forward. I don't know exactly what my life will consist of in one year, but I do know, it will be entirely different from what it is right now.
None of these changes matter, though, because we cannot live in the past. I am where I am, today, and one year from now, my life will be 100% different than it is today. That is true for me, but for many people around me, they will still be in Carswell, doing the same thing every day, and not even remembering what life is like on the outside. For some of them, I'm glad they are not part of the general population. They did terrible acts and/or are scary people. Others, though, are not, and yet they are sentenced to an incredibly long time away.
Every meal at Chow, more people than not, put their heads down and pray before they eat. I wonder if they prayed before they came to prison. I wonder if they pray for freedom or just for their gratitude to have food on their tray. Prison, it seems, brings people closer to their spirituality and religion. Some change religions. Some learn about different forms of spirituality.
Things change when we go to prison. It's inevitable. Many of my friends are taking their finals this week (mostly just writing papers). They are preparing for their last academic class, where they will work on their dissertation proposal, having already passed comps last year. Their lives are moving forward, yet are very similar to a year ago. A couple of my friends have new babies in their lives and are loving watching them develop into little people. My father is still recovering from his stroke. My mother has a new job. Sporty and T.S. are living in a new city and state. Many people could look back a year and say that their life is very different from before.
We must believe that it is all for a purpose, that we are not in control, and that we will be somewhere else again soon. If we let go, we move forward. I don't know exactly what my life will consist of in one year, but I do know, it will be entirely different from what it is right now.
From Dragonfly: Passivity
In my life, prior to recovery, I was very, very passive. Everyone who knew me, knew that I could stand up for others, but not myself. I was always concerned with what others thought of me - my entire self-esteem was built on reputation. I took it incredibly personal when someone was mean to me - and I allowed myself to be the victim of all types of abuse. In many ways, I believed I deserved it. This was in my "broken" sense of self, lost in addiction and victimization.
It took a couple years of recovery and counseling, but I learned to say, "no," and mean it. I learned to set limits and have healthy relationships. I learned where my passivity stemmed from and I worked hard to change myself. It is a process, likely lifelong, but it is always interesting to see me not act passive. It shocks me as much as anyone else. I used to just allow myself to be pushed around, I didn't even think about it, and, now, I have boundaries.
I had a test as to my passivity last night. As I've written before, three days of being iced in has made everyone restless... and I must add that today is ANOTHER day of being iced in... no work, no education, no activities... anyway, I digress.
Anyway, last night after dinner, I came back to the unit (no where else to go) and wanted to work on a creative project I am doing. The atrium offered no available tables or chairs, so I set up at the small desk in my room. No one was there, and it's the perfect surface. It is about a foot and a half long and 2 feet wide. I took all my items and set them up on the table and my bed (which is directly to the left). Colored pencils, markers, glue, notes, pictures, drawings, cards, etc. Everything was placed where I could easily reach it and I started to work on my project.
Next thing I know, my roommate walks in and asks me, "how long are you going to be at the table?" I respond that I don't know, I'm working on a project. She informs me that she is unable to be in her bed if I am sitting at the table, because she is 'clausterphobic.' I tell her that I don't know how long I will be, but she's welcome to sit on her bed. She continues to argue with me that my being at the table is disrespectful to her. Now, just two days ago, she was at the table for hours working on making a cheese cake. I said nothing. It's a table that all four of us can use - that's why it is there.
I tell her that I'm sorry she is uncomfortable on her bed with me on the table stool, but I really want to work on my project and there are no available chairs or table space in the atrium. So, she starts to scream at me that I am inconveniencing her and not respecting her needs. I say nothing and go back to my project. She then informs me that when I am on my bed wanting to sit, she will sit at the desk. I say, "That's fine. That's the reason the small desk is here." I go back to my project. She calls me a bunch of really ugly names, says I'm being inconsiderate, and storms off.
I sit there shocked for a minute. In my past life, I would have done anything and everything to avoid any confrontation. I knew she was being unreasonable, but I would have still given in and moved and stopped working on my project. As always, others heard this disagreement from outside the room and was telling me how insane she is, that she is so selfish, and that they are glad I stood up for myself. I am, too. Of course, now, she has not said a word to me in a day. I'm fine with that.
Funny thing is an observation Army and I made about Bandana. As soon as one of us starts talking to the other, Bandana will start singing loudly or start a conversation with Braids. She does it intentionally to make it difficult for me and Army to talk. Just last night, I was working on a crossword and asked Army if she knew the name of a Venetian boat ("Gondola" - but I'd spaced on it). Anyway, Bandana starts loudly singing her song as we discuss the word. Army thinks it is because Army is intimidated by the more intelligent conversations Army and I have. I don't know the reason, all I know is that Bandana is much more inconsiderate than I could ever be!
Now, I could have just given in to Bandana and stopped using the desk. There was no where else I could go to do my project, but I could have just given in to her and things would be much less stressful. That's what she wants. She wants to see that she can "control" me. She's been locked up for 12 years - since she was 19 years old - and only knows life as a convict. On the other hand, I will leave here in months and I need to leave here being at least as strong as I was when I entered. Sure, I am passive at times... Braids asks me to get something out of her locker almost every time I'm standing at mine. I say, "yes," because it is in no way out of my way and there's no good reason for me to say, "no." She doesn't ask if I'm in my bed.
It's important in prison to not be passive. It is also important to always remember that others' attitudes, activities, choices, aggression, bad behaviors, smells, passivity, violence, etc. has nothing to do with you. It is about them. Best thing to do is to separate yourself from their negativity and find something to keep you busy - for me it's all my projects. Usually, work also helps. When I have none of these things, I read. It's just like "filling the void" with recovery - we need to find healthy activities to keep us busy and away from the craziness.
I am no longer the passive person that everyone can push around. I am proud of this growth. It makes me a better person, even if it pisses off those who want a victim. I am not their victim. They may be angry, but that is not my fault. "No," is a very real part of my vocabulary now.
It took a couple years of recovery and counseling, but I learned to say, "no," and mean it. I learned to set limits and have healthy relationships. I learned where my passivity stemmed from and I worked hard to change myself. It is a process, likely lifelong, but it is always interesting to see me not act passive. It shocks me as much as anyone else. I used to just allow myself to be pushed around, I didn't even think about it, and, now, I have boundaries.
I had a test as to my passivity last night. As I've written before, three days of being iced in has made everyone restless... and I must add that today is ANOTHER day of being iced in... no work, no education, no activities... anyway, I digress.
Anyway, last night after dinner, I came back to the unit (no where else to go) and wanted to work on a creative project I am doing. The atrium offered no available tables or chairs, so I set up at the small desk in my room. No one was there, and it's the perfect surface. It is about a foot and a half long and 2 feet wide. I took all my items and set them up on the table and my bed (which is directly to the left). Colored pencils, markers, glue, notes, pictures, drawings, cards, etc. Everything was placed where I could easily reach it and I started to work on my project.
Next thing I know, my roommate walks in and asks me, "how long are you going to be at the table?" I respond that I don't know, I'm working on a project. She informs me that she is unable to be in her bed if I am sitting at the table, because she is 'clausterphobic.' I tell her that I don't know how long I will be, but she's welcome to sit on her bed. She continues to argue with me that my being at the table is disrespectful to her. Now, just two days ago, she was at the table for hours working on making a cheese cake. I said nothing. It's a table that all four of us can use - that's why it is there.
I tell her that I'm sorry she is uncomfortable on her bed with me on the table stool, but I really want to work on my project and there are no available chairs or table space in the atrium. So, she starts to scream at me that I am inconveniencing her and not respecting her needs. I say nothing and go back to my project. She then informs me that when I am on my bed wanting to sit, she will sit at the desk. I say, "That's fine. That's the reason the small desk is here." I go back to my project. She calls me a bunch of really ugly names, says I'm being inconsiderate, and storms off.
I sit there shocked for a minute. In my past life, I would have done anything and everything to avoid any confrontation. I knew she was being unreasonable, but I would have still given in and moved and stopped working on my project. As always, others heard this disagreement from outside the room and was telling me how insane she is, that she is so selfish, and that they are glad I stood up for myself. I am, too. Of course, now, she has not said a word to me in a day. I'm fine with that.
Funny thing is an observation Army and I made about Bandana. As soon as one of us starts talking to the other, Bandana will start singing loudly or start a conversation with Braids. She does it intentionally to make it difficult for me and Army to talk. Just last night, I was working on a crossword and asked Army if she knew the name of a Venetian boat ("Gondola" - but I'd spaced on it). Anyway, Bandana starts loudly singing her song as we discuss the word. Army thinks it is because Army is intimidated by the more intelligent conversations Army and I have. I don't know the reason, all I know is that Bandana is much more inconsiderate than I could ever be!
Now, I could have just given in to Bandana and stopped using the desk. There was no where else I could go to do my project, but I could have just given in to her and things would be much less stressful. That's what she wants. She wants to see that she can "control" me. She's been locked up for 12 years - since she was 19 years old - and only knows life as a convict. On the other hand, I will leave here in months and I need to leave here being at least as strong as I was when I entered. Sure, I am passive at times... Braids asks me to get something out of her locker almost every time I'm standing at mine. I say, "yes," because it is in no way out of my way and there's no good reason for me to say, "no." She doesn't ask if I'm in my bed.
It's important in prison to not be passive. It is also important to always remember that others' attitudes, activities, choices, aggression, bad behaviors, smells, passivity, violence, etc. has nothing to do with you. It is about them. Best thing to do is to separate yourself from their negativity and find something to keep you busy - for me it's all my projects. Usually, work also helps. When I have none of these things, I read. It's just like "filling the void" with recovery - we need to find healthy activities to keep us busy and away from the craziness.
I am no longer the passive person that everyone can push around. I am proud of this growth. It makes me a better person, even if it pisses off those who want a victim. I am not their victim. They may be angry, but that is not my fault. "No," is a very real part of my vocabulary now.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
From Dragonfly: Iced In
Grand Rapids/Dallas is at a stand-still, ever since Thursday night's sleet storm. People cannot get out of their homes because their cars are in the garage and their streets are covered in ice. People around here do not have the northerners experience of driving on ice (not that anyone should - I tore my ACL for the 4th time when I fell on black ice on my campus almost 2 years ago). Anyway, the ice has given everyone a couple days at home with their families. This morning, I even saw that a ton of churches cancelled services.
With this storm, many officers have not made it to Carswell. There is only one cleared sidewalk - the shortest distance between the housing unit and the main/medical building. Therefore, the Carswell Compound is closed. They even cancelled visitation for the entire weekend. I feel horrible for any family members who made the trek (possibly from far distances) to see their loved one, only to find out that they cancelled visitation. Now, I need to say that the ice is about a half inch at places and is mostly snowy ice on the grass areas. Back in the Midwest, a bunch of sand and/or salt would have cleared this campus in hours. However, they do not stock these things here, because these kinds of storms don't happen here (usually).
Since it is not a cleared walkway, we are not able to go to indoor rec for days. So, since people depend on the equipment to work out at indoor rec, they are doing laps in the housing units - upstairs, walk a hallway, down stair, walk the floor, back upstairs, walk a hallway, downstairs... and so on. One woman I know walked 3 miles that way yesterday. I wanted to go to indoor rec to order some different colors of yarn for crocheting. The order was due by last night - for delivery in late January... I am hoping they extend the deadline due to them being closed. But, here at Carswell, rules, not logic, make decisions. If I have to wait, I will not receive the yarn until late February. Talk about needing to plan ahead!!
It is also not allowed for anyone to stay outside, other than the walk between buildings. I've seen many people, especially those from Mexico, trying to touch snow for the first time in their life. I heard one say, "It's so cold." I can't imagine having only seen snow on television and never played in it in real life. Anyway, since they were off the walking path, they got in trouble for being on the snow. My dream snowman was never built.
Everyone is pretty much stuck inside their housing units, now, for the third day in a row. If you want to see restlessness, that's what it is like. I've seen fighting come from nothing, screaming about mundane issues, and rudeness like never before. There are not even enough chairs for the number of people in the unit, so when someone goes to the bathroom, their chair disappears with someone taking it elsewhere and claiming it for their own butt.
I spent the last couple days crocheting, card sending, doing crosswords, reading, and watching football. I was able to sign up for the sports television yesterday in order to watch a couple AMAZING college football championships. I must have looked a lot like my mother does when she sits with my step-dad and watches football. I was crocheting and watching. She knits sometimes. I always watched her and couldn't figure out how she does her knitting and television, but yesterday, I did both as well. Guess I am becoming a better crocheter. Oh, and I crochet like NOONE else... I can't hold the hook and string right because of pain in my hands, but I have a two handed way of doing it that works great. It's slower than most crocheters. My friends say I am 'knitcheting' because it almost looks like I am knitting, but with the single crochet hook.
Iced-in days are very slow. All we do is sit around. The C.O.s that make it to Carswell are restless as well. Yesterday, 18 people had to do "extra duty" because they got into trouble in my unit.
People are also trying to hustle hard this weekend for the things they want. I've been asked for some of my yarn many, many times. I am not engaging in the mass hustle this weekend. I have everything I need and plan to shop commissary again tomorrow (if it is open). People are paying crazy amounts of money for their hustles too --- robes going for $75, food items for 2x their normal cost, and coffee is at a premium right now. In addition, the line for phones and in the email room are absolutely crazy.
I hope that tomorrow becomes a normal day at Carswell once again. Today the weather should be above freezing for a couple hours and then tomorrow it warms up even more. Throughout this week, we will be on a warming trend - not hot, but above freezing. I hope this weekend may prompt Carswell to have weather contingency plans in the future.
With this storm, many officers have not made it to Carswell. There is only one cleared sidewalk - the shortest distance between the housing unit and the main/medical building. Therefore, the Carswell Compound is closed. They even cancelled visitation for the entire weekend. I feel horrible for any family members who made the trek (possibly from far distances) to see their loved one, only to find out that they cancelled visitation. Now, I need to say that the ice is about a half inch at places and is mostly snowy ice on the grass areas. Back in the Midwest, a bunch of sand and/or salt would have cleared this campus in hours. However, they do not stock these things here, because these kinds of storms don't happen here (usually).
Since it is not a cleared walkway, we are not able to go to indoor rec for days. So, since people depend on the equipment to work out at indoor rec, they are doing laps in the housing units - upstairs, walk a hallway, down stair, walk the floor, back upstairs, walk a hallway, downstairs... and so on. One woman I know walked 3 miles that way yesterday. I wanted to go to indoor rec to order some different colors of yarn for crocheting. The order was due by last night - for delivery in late January... I am hoping they extend the deadline due to them being closed. But, here at Carswell, rules, not logic, make decisions. If I have to wait, I will not receive the yarn until late February. Talk about needing to plan ahead!!
It is also not allowed for anyone to stay outside, other than the walk between buildings. I've seen many people, especially those from Mexico, trying to touch snow for the first time in their life. I heard one say, "It's so cold." I can't imagine having only seen snow on television and never played in it in real life. Anyway, since they were off the walking path, they got in trouble for being on the snow. My dream snowman was never built.
Everyone is pretty much stuck inside their housing units, now, for the third day in a row. If you want to see restlessness, that's what it is like. I've seen fighting come from nothing, screaming about mundane issues, and rudeness like never before. There are not even enough chairs for the number of people in the unit, so when someone goes to the bathroom, their chair disappears with someone taking it elsewhere and claiming it for their own butt.
I spent the last couple days crocheting, card sending, doing crosswords, reading, and watching football. I was able to sign up for the sports television yesterday in order to watch a couple AMAZING college football championships. I must have looked a lot like my mother does when she sits with my step-dad and watches football. I was crocheting and watching. She knits sometimes. I always watched her and couldn't figure out how she does her knitting and television, but yesterday, I did both as well. Guess I am becoming a better crocheter. Oh, and I crochet like NOONE else... I can't hold the hook and string right because of pain in my hands, but I have a two handed way of doing it that works great. It's slower than most crocheters. My friends say I am 'knitcheting' because it almost looks like I am knitting, but with the single crochet hook.
Iced-in days are very slow. All we do is sit around. The C.O.s that make it to Carswell are restless as well. Yesterday, 18 people had to do "extra duty" because they got into trouble in my unit.
People are also trying to hustle hard this weekend for the things they want. I've been asked for some of my yarn many, many times. I am not engaging in the mass hustle this weekend. I have everything I need and plan to shop commissary again tomorrow (if it is open). People are paying crazy amounts of money for their hustles too --- robes going for $75, food items for 2x their normal cost, and coffee is at a premium right now. In addition, the line for phones and in the email room are absolutely crazy.
I hope that tomorrow becomes a normal day at Carswell once again. Today the weather should be above freezing for a couple hours and then tomorrow it warms up even more. Throughout this week, we will be on a warming trend - not hot, but above freezing. I hope this weekend may prompt Carswell to have weather contingency plans in the future.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
From Dragonfly: 12 Cents Per Hour
What does it look like when you are making 12 cents per hour? Well, I was paid for ALL last month yesterday. I work 7-8 hours per day, except for Mondays when I work 12 hours, and five days per week. I average about 140 hours per month. They take NO taxes out of my payment, because this is not considered a real paycheck. My check was $15.21. That amount didn't cover half my $40/month FRP payment, but hey, every little bit helps. No matter what my paychecks look like once I am out of here, I will NEVER complain. Even minimum wage would seem like a lot. I thank god every day that I have amazing friends who are helping to support me while I am in prison. Without their help, I wouldn't even be able to buy shampoo or deodorant, much less the juice that I drink each morning.
When I was gambling, I lost A LOT of money. I remember days, when I'd be hitting my hands against my poor steering wheel, saying "never again," where I'd realize I lost so much money I could have bought a couch with it, or a nice television, or even a used car. Sometimes my losses were not as much as other times, but they sure do add up. Yet, when I won, I did not buy a couch, television, used car, or even pay my bills correctly, winnings allowed me to gamble more. Winnings may have allowed me to pay rent and eat - but it never helped me thrive. One January, I won a very large pot of money. By March, I was broke once again. Gambling addiction is so complicated, but one thing I can say for sure, it is always a lose-lost situation. When I meet up with people here in prison who struggled with drug addiction, our stories are more similar than different. I truly believe addiction is addiction - and that's why people who are not getting to the root of their addiction, cross-addict. For example, in GA, we have many people who were already working AA. AA has many people who had been in NA. It's all a cycle - unless they fully surrender to their addiction and then do the VERY HARD work of dealing with the underlying emotional illness. I get really upset that here in Carswell, the drug/alcohol residential recovery program tells the participants that addiction is NOT an illness. Are they at all familiar with the research?!?!?! Once these folks are released, and hopefully will go to a 12-step program, they will be told otherwise and it will really confuse their recovery. How the DOP can claim that addiction is not an illness just makes no sense to me.
Part of my addiction was really not comprehending the value of a dollar. Money in my pocket meant money to go to the casino with. Once the money was changed into "casino chips," it no longer was money in my pocket. It was my antes. It was my bonus bets. It was the big win I would get once again. Money meant a chance at more money. In my twisted thinking, $10 could become $100, $100 could become $1000, and $1000 could become $10,000. My addiction was so strong, that I could only see what money could become, rather than what money was. I mean, $1,000 could support me for a long time, but since I could not stop myself from making it into $10,000, I would gamble it to nothing (or something, unfortunately). The worse thing for a compulsive gambler, honestly, is to win. The first time in a casino, I won, and it was the easiest money I ever made. My "stinking thinking" was progressive over time. Now, I wish I never walked into my first casino.
That's not to say that I wouldn't have found myself in the same place. I worked hard with my counselor and working my steps to fully understand my underlying emotional issues that made me susceptible to addiction. I confronted those issues, and in response, I changed. My thinking changes. I was no longer the victim of my life, but I became a survivor. Everyone's story is different. Had my illness not brought me to gambling, it likely would have led me to a different addiction. Like I said, addiction is addiction.
I bring all this up, because while I only make 12 cents an hour right now, and my monthly paycheck was just over $15, I understand the value of that money. Here, $15 will help me get my hygiene products. It will help me get yarn to crochet. It will help me purchase sweatpants or a sweatshirt. Every penny in my commissary account has value, and that is ultimately, what will help me continue my path of recovery. I will never place a bet again, because if I do, I will be right back where I was, and my life will fall apart. Instead, I will work hard, make the money I earn, pay my restitution and school loans, and, hopefully, one day, afford a house. Money in my pocket now means saving what I can for my future, and trying to get out of debt - even if I have to do it with $0.12 per hour.
When I was gambling, I lost A LOT of money. I remember days, when I'd be hitting my hands against my poor steering wheel, saying "never again," where I'd realize I lost so much money I could have bought a couch with it, or a nice television, or even a used car. Sometimes my losses were not as much as other times, but they sure do add up. Yet, when I won, I did not buy a couch, television, used car, or even pay my bills correctly, winnings allowed me to gamble more. Winnings may have allowed me to pay rent and eat - but it never helped me thrive. One January, I won a very large pot of money. By March, I was broke once again. Gambling addiction is so complicated, but one thing I can say for sure, it is always a lose-lost situation. When I meet up with people here in prison who struggled with drug addiction, our stories are more similar than different. I truly believe addiction is addiction - and that's why people who are not getting to the root of their addiction, cross-addict. For example, in GA, we have many people who were already working AA. AA has many people who had been in NA. It's all a cycle - unless they fully surrender to their addiction and then do the VERY HARD work of dealing with the underlying emotional illness. I get really upset that here in Carswell, the drug/alcohol residential recovery program tells the participants that addiction is NOT an illness. Are they at all familiar with the research?!?!?! Once these folks are released, and hopefully will go to a 12-step program, they will be told otherwise and it will really confuse their recovery. How the DOP can claim that addiction is not an illness just makes no sense to me.
Part of my addiction was really not comprehending the value of a dollar. Money in my pocket meant money to go to the casino with. Once the money was changed into "casino chips," it no longer was money in my pocket. It was my antes. It was my bonus bets. It was the big win I would get once again. Money meant a chance at more money. In my twisted thinking, $10 could become $100, $100 could become $1000, and $1000 could become $10,000. My addiction was so strong, that I could only see what money could become, rather than what money was. I mean, $1,000 could support me for a long time, but since I could not stop myself from making it into $10,000, I would gamble it to nothing (or something, unfortunately). The worse thing for a compulsive gambler, honestly, is to win. The first time in a casino, I won, and it was the easiest money I ever made. My "stinking thinking" was progressive over time. Now, I wish I never walked into my first casino.
That's not to say that I wouldn't have found myself in the same place. I worked hard with my counselor and working my steps to fully understand my underlying emotional issues that made me susceptible to addiction. I confronted those issues, and in response, I changed. My thinking changes. I was no longer the victim of my life, but I became a survivor. Everyone's story is different. Had my illness not brought me to gambling, it likely would have led me to a different addiction. Like I said, addiction is addiction.
I bring all this up, because while I only make 12 cents an hour right now, and my monthly paycheck was just over $15, I understand the value of that money. Here, $15 will help me get my hygiene products. It will help me get yarn to crochet. It will help me purchase sweatpants or a sweatshirt. Every penny in my commissary account has value, and that is ultimately, what will help me continue my path of recovery. I will never place a bet again, because if I do, I will be right back where I was, and my life will fall apart. Instead, I will work hard, make the money I earn, pay my restitution and school loans, and, hopefully, one day, afford a house. Money in my pocket now means saving what I can for my future, and trying to get out of debt - even if I have to do it with $0.12 per hour.
Friday, December 6, 2013
From Dragonfly: Chasing Enbrel
Writing earlier today, I had no idea what my day would bring. Well, now that the day is nearly turning to evening, I can tell you. It involved "chasing enbrel" all day long. As you know, I am on a medication called Enbrel (an injection that assists me in my autoimmune issues). It is important that I keep it at its regular schedule (I get a shot every Monday and one every Friday). Since the clinic was closed today, due to the ice outside, I decided to follow the advice of a nurse from last week. The nurse told me that if the clinic is ever closed on my injection day, I should go to "Med Surge" which is the real hospital floor at Carswell. After breakfast, I took the elevator to the 4th floor for the first time since I've been here (we are not allowed to wander around the hospital, we must have a reason and talk with C.O.'s in the process).
The Med Surge officer told me that I need to go back to my unit and have my officer call over and then they will let me come back for my shot. So, I bundled myself back up with my two shirts, sweatshirt, and jacket, and made my way back to my unit. My friend Lola took that trip with me and I knew that she would not want to venture out into the cold again... Anyway, I get into my unit and see an officer. I tell him what Med Surge said, and he tells me to go next door to 1 North (I live in 1 South) and wait by the officer's office and he will call for me. Turns out that the officer supposed to be on 1 South today couldn't make it in due to the weather.
So, I enter 1 North for the first time ever. It looks a lot like our unit, but I like the color of their columns more (ours is a dull pink, theirs is a bright turquoise). They also have decorations hanging - signs made by some of the inmates who are doing "programming" like Life Connections (a Christian program lasting 18 months to help women build self-esteem, find god, and make healthier decisions).
Anyway, the officer starts to call medical, when his "replacement" officer came into 1 North and so the first officer handed my id off to the second officer. And, so it goes. That officer says that I should go back to my unit and he will come tell me what he learns. It is now 8:15am.
About 9:15am, the officer finds me and tells me that Med Surge was not set up to give injections for the clinic today and that he passed my id off to the new officer that just arrived in 1 South and that I should check in with him at 10am. At 10am, I go to the officer, who has no idea why he is holding my id. I tell him that I'm supposed to get an Enbrel injection today, but since the clinic is closed, I need to go to med surge, however, med surge needs a Physicians Assistant to call them so that they can get all the supplies. The officer calls the P.A. on duty and then tells me to come back at 11am.
At 11am, I go back to the officer, he says that Med Surge will be ready to give me my injection after lunch. I take my id back and make myself and Lola some tuna roll-ups for lunch (it's Friday, so it's fried fish sandwich day in the chow hall). I don't do that kind of fish. I will eat tuna, though. I know, I'm weird. After lunch, I bundle back up in all my layers, and make my way back to the medical building. I go to the back elevators and go back to the 4th floor.
This time the C.O. allows me further onto the floor, to the nurses window. Since this is my first day ever on the floor, I need to say - whoa, it really looks like a hospital!!!! Except, of course, the nurses station has glass all the way around it protecting the nurses from the patient (inmates!). Inmates are in single or double rooms, with bathrooms. They have medical beds. They have their own television. So, I guess it's good to know that the really ill here are cared for. Also, the nurses there are nice... or at least they seemed like it!
Anyway, back at the 4th floor nurses window, I talk with a very friendly male nurse who looks at a list and informs me that I am not on it. I explain that I get my injection every Monday and Friday, and he looks on his computer to see my medical file. It does show my enbrel, but that the prescription "expired" yesterday. My doctor quit and left this place in November, so lots of stuff hasn't been done - including renewing prescriptions apparently! So, the nurse tells me that he needs to reach a doctor and to come back in an hour. I'm getting used to this.
I must say that this Enbrel story is kind of like getting anything done here. We wait, wait, hurry up, and then wait, wait...
So, I bundle myself back up and walk to the housing unit. Everyone asks if I got my injection and I make a negative thumb sign. At that point it is 12:45pm and all I've done is "chase enbrel" for the entire day. I lay down in my bed for a little rest and get up 45 minutes later. I sit with some friends in the atrium and then the hour has passed and I bundle myself back up and walk back to the medical building and go to the back elevators and make my way up to the 4th floor for the 3rd time today. The nurse is busy giving the other people needing injections their shots. We all know one another, because we stand in line together every week. One woman has severe MS, another severe rheumatoid arthritis, there are several with autoimmune issues, others that just need B12 shots. Every person has a story. Many of them are on walkers and in wheel chairs. I'm glad that I'm still walking (albeit slow).
The nurse sees me and says, "I still haven't reached a doctor." He starts to tell me to go back to my unit, but sees my face, and tells me to sit on the blue bench instead. I mention blue bench, because all the benches we have are a blue wire weaved bench. They are not at all comfortable. There are not a lot of benches indoors - just in the medical waiting areas, and then the ones you never want to sit on - those outside the lieutenants office (for people in trouble!). So, I sit on the one blue bench in med surge. There is a woman from my unit, who shares my real first name, and is in a wheel chair all the time, also near the blue bench. We have never spoken, but like in any waiting room, we find ourselves talking to new people about our ailments.
She has numerous autoimmune conditions as well - and has been locked up for 20 years --- but she's my age. Currently, her legs are soooooo swollen that they are about 3x their normal size (OUCH!!!). They've gotten worse and worse for 5 days, but the clinic gave her a run around. Now that she's being seen in med-surge, I hope they do something for her. She should be checked for DVT and they must do something to bring down the severe swelling. I'll see what they do when she rolls back into the unit --- hopefully not too soon. I hope they take her to a hospital! She's also really, really sick right now - immunocompromised like I am. Well, I know it wasn't a good thing that they had me sitting next to her for about 40 minutes with her sneezing, coughing and heavy breathing. I washed my hands immediately, but it's taking everything to keep myself healthy in a place like this. So, at 2:00pm, the nurse called me over and less than a minute later, I am done with my enbryl shot. A doc renewed my prescription and I was able to bundle up for the last time today (I am not going to make it back for chow tonight... I will make something in the unit). I unbundled again because I wanted to do email for a bit and the move was "closed." It has just reopened. So, I am bundling back up and heading back to my unit.
Mission accomplished... enbrel injection achieved.
The Med Surge officer told me that I need to go back to my unit and have my officer call over and then they will let me come back for my shot. So, I bundled myself back up with my two shirts, sweatshirt, and jacket, and made my way back to my unit. My friend Lola took that trip with me and I knew that she would not want to venture out into the cold again... Anyway, I get into my unit and see an officer. I tell him what Med Surge said, and he tells me to go next door to 1 North (I live in 1 South) and wait by the officer's office and he will call for me. Turns out that the officer supposed to be on 1 South today couldn't make it in due to the weather.
So, I enter 1 North for the first time ever. It looks a lot like our unit, but I like the color of their columns more (ours is a dull pink, theirs is a bright turquoise). They also have decorations hanging - signs made by some of the inmates who are doing "programming" like Life Connections (a Christian program lasting 18 months to help women build self-esteem, find god, and make healthier decisions).
Anyway, the officer starts to call medical, when his "replacement" officer came into 1 North and so the first officer handed my id off to the second officer. And, so it goes. That officer says that I should go back to my unit and he will come tell me what he learns. It is now 8:15am.
About 9:15am, the officer finds me and tells me that Med Surge was not set up to give injections for the clinic today and that he passed my id off to the new officer that just arrived in 1 South and that I should check in with him at 10am. At 10am, I go to the officer, who has no idea why he is holding my id. I tell him that I'm supposed to get an Enbrel injection today, but since the clinic is closed, I need to go to med surge, however, med surge needs a Physicians Assistant to call them so that they can get all the supplies. The officer calls the P.A. on duty and then tells me to come back at 11am.
At 11am, I go back to the officer, he says that Med Surge will be ready to give me my injection after lunch. I take my id back and make myself and Lola some tuna roll-ups for lunch (it's Friday, so it's fried fish sandwich day in the chow hall). I don't do that kind of fish. I will eat tuna, though. I know, I'm weird. After lunch, I bundle back up in all my layers, and make my way back to the medical building. I go to the back elevators and go back to the 4th floor.
This time the C.O. allows me further onto the floor, to the nurses window. Since this is my first day ever on the floor, I need to say - whoa, it really looks like a hospital!!!! Except, of course, the nurses station has glass all the way around it protecting the nurses from the patient (inmates!). Inmates are in single or double rooms, with bathrooms. They have medical beds. They have their own television. So, I guess it's good to know that the really ill here are cared for. Also, the nurses there are nice... or at least they seemed like it!
Anyway, back at the 4th floor nurses window, I talk with a very friendly male nurse who looks at a list and informs me that I am not on it. I explain that I get my injection every Monday and Friday, and he looks on his computer to see my medical file. It does show my enbrel, but that the prescription "expired" yesterday. My doctor quit and left this place in November, so lots of stuff hasn't been done - including renewing prescriptions apparently! So, the nurse tells me that he needs to reach a doctor and to come back in an hour. I'm getting used to this.
I must say that this Enbrel story is kind of like getting anything done here. We wait, wait, hurry up, and then wait, wait...
So, I bundle myself back up and walk to the housing unit. Everyone asks if I got my injection and I make a negative thumb sign. At that point it is 12:45pm and all I've done is "chase enbrel" for the entire day. I lay down in my bed for a little rest and get up 45 minutes later. I sit with some friends in the atrium and then the hour has passed and I bundle myself back up and walk back to the medical building and go to the back elevators and make my way up to the 4th floor for the 3rd time today. The nurse is busy giving the other people needing injections their shots. We all know one another, because we stand in line together every week. One woman has severe MS, another severe rheumatoid arthritis, there are several with autoimmune issues, others that just need B12 shots. Every person has a story. Many of them are on walkers and in wheel chairs. I'm glad that I'm still walking (albeit slow).
The nurse sees me and says, "I still haven't reached a doctor." He starts to tell me to go back to my unit, but sees my face, and tells me to sit on the blue bench instead. I mention blue bench, because all the benches we have are a blue wire weaved bench. They are not at all comfortable. There are not a lot of benches indoors - just in the medical waiting areas, and then the ones you never want to sit on - those outside the lieutenants office (for people in trouble!). So, I sit on the one blue bench in med surge. There is a woman from my unit, who shares my real first name, and is in a wheel chair all the time, also near the blue bench. We have never spoken, but like in any waiting room, we find ourselves talking to new people about our ailments.
She has numerous autoimmune conditions as well - and has been locked up for 20 years --- but she's my age. Currently, her legs are soooooo swollen that they are about 3x their normal size (OUCH!!!). They've gotten worse and worse for 5 days, but the clinic gave her a run around. Now that she's being seen in med-surge, I hope they do something for her. She should be checked for DVT and they must do something to bring down the severe swelling. I'll see what they do when she rolls back into the unit --- hopefully not too soon. I hope they take her to a hospital! She's also really, really sick right now - immunocompromised like I am. Well, I know it wasn't a good thing that they had me sitting next to her for about 40 minutes with her sneezing, coughing and heavy breathing. I washed my hands immediately, but it's taking everything to keep myself healthy in a place like this. So, at 2:00pm, the nurse called me over and less than a minute later, I am done with my enbryl shot. A doc renewed my prescription and I was able to bundle up for the last time today (I am not going to make it back for chow tonight... I will make something in the unit). I unbundled again because I wanted to do email for a bit and the move was "closed." It has just reopened. So, I am bundling back up and heading back to my unit.
Mission accomplished... enbrel injection achieved.
From Dragonfly: Sleet
So, what happens in Fort Worth when it is cold, sleeting rain, and a bit icy outside? Everything closes down. They are not prepared for weather like this, like we are in the Midwest. This morning, I was prepared to go to breakfast at 6:30am, when I noticed that no one had been released for breakfast yet (usually open at 6am). So, I waited with a friend and they made NO announcements... Then, at 7:30am, they released us to breakfast, pill line, and email. The rest of the compound is closed. I was all ready for work today. The facilities and landscaping employees (also inmates) are working hard outside in large snow suits, shoveling the heavy ice-snow off the roads and side walks. I'm glad that's not my job!!!!
I have no idea what this day will bring... whether the compound will open later... whether I will work this afternoon... how I will get my Friday enbryl injection (even the clinic is closed)... whether I will leave my unit at all, when I leave email...
The good news, is that I have plenty to do. I am working on sending out the holiday cards I made (yes, they are dorky, but made with love). I am halfway through two different crochet projects. I have several books to read. So, if this weather lasts the full weekend, I am set. I even have a couple mugs worth of hot chocolate mix and mini marshmallows, just in case!! Oh, and I bought long underwear, so I am comfortable in my unit with my shorts and shirt over the long underwear (it makes quite the fashion statement, but it's what everyone else is wearing too).
It's amazing to hear the responses about the snow from people who have spent their lives in the south. I'm afraid they will think it appropriate to make snow balls... but this is icy snow and it will HURT. It is perfect for making a snowman, but there's not that much of it, and we are not allowed on the grassy areas... maybe it can happen by outside rec sometime today. I'd participate in making a snowman if I had gloves, but I do not. I don't even own a scarf. Both are available at commissary, but I hadn't bought them (I was wearing shorts outside just 4 days ago).
Well... I'm going to med surge for the first time to see how I get my enbryl injection. I pray they can give it to me, or I will not be out of my bed much this weekend!
I have no idea what this day will bring... whether the compound will open later... whether I will work this afternoon... how I will get my Friday enbryl injection (even the clinic is closed)... whether I will leave my unit at all, when I leave email...
The good news, is that I have plenty to do. I am working on sending out the holiday cards I made (yes, they are dorky, but made with love). I am halfway through two different crochet projects. I have several books to read. So, if this weather lasts the full weekend, I am set. I even have a couple mugs worth of hot chocolate mix and mini marshmallows, just in case!! Oh, and I bought long underwear, so I am comfortable in my unit with my shorts and shirt over the long underwear (it makes quite the fashion statement, but it's what everyone else is wearing too).
It's amazing to hear the responses about the snow from people who have spent their lives in the south. I'm afraid they will think it appropriate to make snow balls... but this is icy snow and it will HURT. It is perfect for making a snowman, but there's not that much of it, and we are not allowed on the grassy areas... maybe it can happen by outside rec sometime today. I'd participate in making a snowman if I had gloves, but I do not. I don't even own a scarf. Both are available at commissary, but I hadn't bought them (I was wearing shorts outside just 4 days ago).
Well... I'm going to med surge for the first time to see how I get my enbryl injection. I pray they can give it to me, or I will not be out of my bed much this weekend!
Thursday, December 5, 2013
From Dragonfly: Cookies and Egg Nog
So, I've mentioned that the facility is all decorated for Christmas. There is a tree in the foyer, and another in the chow hall. They've wrapped a couple support beams in reddish paper and have a large box (empty) wrapped and with a nice bow. There are special commissary items - such as Christmas cookies, Christmas tree cakes, chocolate Christmas trees, laughing cow cheese, hot and spicy cheese-itz, hot and sweet sauce, bridge mix, caramel milky ways, raspberry thin mints, chocolate covered pretzels, peanut brittle, cliff bars, tuna with jalapenos, peanut butter snickers, chocolate covered coffee beans, soft batch cookies, junior mints, carnitas, and more on sale right now in the commissary - for just the months of November and December. They started sending out the list called "special Christmas items," but someone must have talked to them, because now the list is called "non-denominational holiday specials." Ha. Inmates are allowed an extra $25 per month to spend at commissary (in case the $320 limit they already have is not enough!). I do not spend close to the limit, now that I've been here for a couple months, but some people spend the limit every single month! They are not just buying for themselves, but for their "bills" --- paying the people who do their laundry, people they've 'bought' items from, etc. Some people spend their entire commissary on other people. (Which is not allowed, of course).
Today, the rumor is that there will be inmate recall at about 12:45pm. This means that my afternoon class will be cancelled and everyone, including the workers, have to go back to their housing units. Then, one unit at a time, we will be called to the chow hall to pick up a package of Christmas cookies (sugar-based cookies in tree designs with sprinkles) and a small bottle of egg nog. They do this every year. I guess next week, this will occur again and we will all receive a bag of candy.
Other than books, photos, cards, and letters we receive from the outside world in the mail, these will be our holiday gifts for the year. I received a wonderful holiday gift (Chanukah's) yesterday. Sporty and T.S. went to Walgreens.com and uploaded some pictures and made me a small "picture book" and had it shipped directly to me at Carswell. Since it came from an official store, and was in book form, it is allowed. These are wonderful ideas for your loved ones - you can use snapfish, walgreens, or any number of online sites to make picture books for your incarcerated family members. I know that mine brought me to tears --- it was full of pictures of Sporty and T.S. having fun - and their smiles made me smile!
Another friend sent me a couple books - good books! One is a daily reader called, "Peace One Day at a Time." It appears to be written for recovering alcoholics, but would apply to anyone. I read the daily reading out loud to my roommates as we wait for count each day. Yesterday's was about anger and one of my roommates got a lot from it. I keep the book on my pillow (like many people keep their bible) and that way I know I won't fail to read it every day.
Hope this gives people some ideas for the holidays. For me, I will be eating cookies and drinking egg nog this afternoon and thinking of all the people I am grateful for!
Today, the rumor is that there will be inmate recall at about 12:45pm. This means that my afternoon class will be cancelled and everyone, including the workers, have to go back to their housing units. Then, one unit at a time, we will be called to the chow hall to pick up a package of Christmas cookies (sugar-based cookies in tree designs with sprinkles) and a small bottle of egg nog. They do this every year. I guess next week, this will occur again and we will all receive a bag of candy.
Other than books, photos, cards, and letters we receive from the outside world in the mail, these will be our holiday gifts for the year. I received a wonderful holiday gift (Chanukah's) yesterday. Sporty and T.S. went to Walgreens.com and uploaded some pictures and made me a small "picture book" and had it shipped directly to me at Carswell. Since it came from an official store, and was in book form, it is allowed. These are wonderful ideas for your loved ones - you can use snapfish, walgreens, or any number of online sites to make picture books for your incarcerated family members. I know that mine brought me to tears --- it was full of pictures of Sporty and T.S. having fun - and their smiles made me smile!
Another friend sent me a couple books - good books! One is a daily reader called, "Peace One Day at a Time." It appears to be written for recovering alcoholics, but would apply to anyone. I read the daily reading out loud to my roommates as we wait for count each day. Yesterday's was about anger and one of my roommates got a lot from it. I keep the book on my pillow (like many people keep their bible) and that way I know I won't fail to read it every day.
Hope this gives people some ideas for the holidays. For me, I will be eating cookies and drinking egg nog this afternoon and thinking of all the people I am grateful for!
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
From Dragonfly: Probation/Supervision
I just received an email from Sporty informing me that my probation officer contacted her today and they are coming by tomorrow morning to see my home. Once approved, my institution will start the paperwork for halfway house/home confinement. What the courts don't tell us, when we are sentenced, is that in addition to our "good time," most of us are eligible for extended halfway house and/or home confinement. I knew very little about this when I walked into Carswell.
Depending on how long you are in prison, you are eligible for an amount of halfway house time. Security level and medical issues affect the availability of this. During my first weeks here, my case worked submitted for me to have 120-150 days of halfway house... however, it's rare for the full amount of time to be approved... more likely that it will be in the 30 days or so... however, that means I "could" technically be leaving Carswell anywhere from February to May (150 days would be late February). It's most likely that my halfway house time would be in April or May.
Many people get "into" their halfway house time, and since the place has no beds, they remain here. I know several people who are still at Carswell months into their halfway house time. So, we can't depend on it, unless we are told the date that we have an official bed. So, it's just a waste of time to get one's hopes up too much.
The coolest thing, though, is that many halfway houses send you home to home confinement within the first week to month of your stay. If you have a home to go to and don't need to get too many services, home confinement is much more likely. That time lasts until your official "out date." Mine is July 2nd. Probation works with the halfway house to decide the requirements on home confinement. Some have to have electronic monitoring, others just have curfews. If I am sent home at some point in the next 6 months, it is likely I will be spending a lot of time at my new home with Sporty and our Super Dog. I haven't lived with Super Dog for several years, so she and I need some good playing fetch time together.
So, once my home is approved, paperwork will be received here at Carswell. Then, my case worker can submit the forms for halfway house. It takes a minimum of 60 days for those to be processed. Then, it's just a waiting game on when a bed will be available for me at my halfway house. The one I am going to is about 1 hour and 45 minutes from my home, but I don't care. I will be more free than here! Although, my supervisor informed me that I don't want to go to a halfway house - as they are full of felons (ummm, I'm a felon too...). He was being serious though, there are very scary people - including men coming out of prison after 20+ years behind bars. So, I just hope I can do the 72 hour orientation and go to home confinement. In time, I will know.
For those who have asked, I still have no further information on when/if I am going to that camp across the street. I've heard nothing from anyone. One of the other tutors spread the rumor around my job, so now my supervisor is nervous that I'm about to walk out on our new class. I can honestly say, if I am really being transferred, it could take weeks or months... I live one day at a time, so for now, I want to work.
Depending on how long you are in prison, you are eligible for an amount of halfway house time. Security level and medical issues affect the availability of this. During my first weeks here, my case worked submitted for me to have 120-150 days of halfway house... however, it's rare for the full amount of time to be approved... more likely that it will be in the 30 days or so... however, that means I "could" technically be leaving Carswell anywhere from February to May (150 days would be late February). It's most likely that my halfway house time would be in April or May.
Many people get "into" their halfway house time, and since the place has no beds, they remain here. I know several people who are still at Carswell months into their halfway house time. So, we can't depend on it, unless we are told the date that we have an official bed. So, it's just a waste of time to get one's hopes up too much.
The coolest thing, though, is that many halfway houses send you home to home confinement within the first week to month of your stay. If you have a home to go to and don't need to get too many services, home confinement is much more likely. That time lasts until your official "out date." Mine is July 2nd. Probation works with the halfway house to decide the requirements on home confinement. Some have to have electronic monitoring, others just have curfews. If I am sent home at some point in the next 6 months, it is likely I will be spending a lot of time at my new home with Sporty and our Super Dog. I haven't lived with Super Dog for several years, so she and I need some good playing fetch time together.
So, once my home is approved, paperwork will be received here at Carswell. Then, my case worker can submit the forms for halfway house. It takes a minimum of 60 days for those to be processed. Then, it's just a waiting game on when a bed will be available for me at my halfway house. The one I am going to is about 1 hour and 45 minutes from my home, but I don't care. I will be more free than here! Although, my supervisor informed me that I don't want to go to a halfway house - as they are full of felons (ummm, I'm a felon too...). He was being serious though, there are very scary people - including men coming out of prison after 20+ years behind bars. So, I just hope I can do the 72 hour orientation and go to home confinement. In time, I will know.
For those who have asked, I still have no further information on when/if I am going to that camp across the street. I've heard nothing from anyone. One of the other tutors spread the rumor around my job, so now my supervisor is nervous that I'm about to walk out on our new class. I can honestly say, if I am really being transferred, it could take weeks or months... I live one day at a time, so for now, I want to work.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Frmo Dragonfly: Mourning
How does one mourn for a lost family member when they are locked up? Yesterday, South was told to go to the Chaplain's office. There, she was told that her sister passed away. Her sister was 65 years old, healthy, and just retired from her job. Her sister's family had been going through some tough times. The sister's husband has cancer and is actively doing treatments. The sister's daughter, also, had cancer recently, and had to undergo radiation and chemo. South's sister has been helping her husband and daughter through everything, little did she know that she had a silent killer, congestive heart failure, building inside of herself. I'm sure the stress of her family's health problems did not help her health. South and her sister were just 1 1/2 years separated in age, South being the older one. They were very, very close.
South's sister sent her cards here all the time. The last one arrived just a week or two ago. It said, "nothing much going on" or something like that. South's family has been incredibly supportive of her time here at Carswell. She had done nothing intentionally wrong and her 6 month sentence broke all their hearts. She goes home at the end of January (if not sooner).
So, in the meantime, she must mourn from here. She cannot be with her family. She cannot be at the funeral. She cannot see her sister one last time, laying peacefully in a casket. South has no options, except to be by herself, with all her feelings, in a place where "crying" is not the best thing to do (although, I constantly tell people that it's okay to cry).
I made sure South ate some dinner last night. She actually sat at a table with a bunch of us at the Atrium and, then, she and I took a short walk to inside rec and back. Fresh air is good. She does not get out a lot. She still carries her oxygen around (just in case), but she is not needing her walker all the time. I told South that we should have a memorial for her sister. We'll do it outdoors and she can share stories about her sister. We'll read something appropriate. We'll give South the chance to "say goodbye" in the way she can from prison.
I have NO idea what I would do if someone I love passed while I am here. I made sure to see my grandma (with Alzheimer's) one last time before my self-surrender and, amazingly, my step-grandpa - at 95 years old - is still going strong! Both are fragile, and, yet, I couldn't imagine something happening and my not being there. But there are many people I love that I would be shocked to learn about passing... like South was with her sister. I never really thought about what it would be like to mourn from prison.
We hear about others' family members passing regularly. Right now, a friend of mine has a mother with terminal cancer. She goes home in a couple months. We are praying that her mom can hold on long enough that my friend can see her before she pasts. I know a woman who lost her husband. She was not given a furlough to attend the funeral (most do not). She had to mourn her spouse from inside Carswell. One woman I know lost her son. Another has a child who is very, very sick, but she cannot get a furlough to see her young son.
If prison can teach you one thing, it is the every present reality that people matter much more than things. Every person I know, here, would give everything to be with their families. In some ways, we all mourn their loss from our lives on a daily basis - even though in our hearts we know that we will see them again, some day. However, when that person passes away, as South's sister did, all those hopes of holding them in our arms again dies along with them. Make sure the last thing you say to anyone is pleasant. You may not always be happy with your loved ones, but you never know if it's going to be the last conversation you have.
My heart goes out to South and her family at this time. There's so little we can do for someone who is mourning from prison. I know South knows that many of us care, and people are sneaking in hugs with her (we are not supposed to hug). I pray her sister felt little pain and that South is given the time she needs to mourn her loss - both here and once she is home.
South's sister sent her cards here all the time. The last one arrived just a week or two ago. It said, "nothing much going on" or something like that. South's family has been incredibly supportive of her time here at Carswell. She had done nothing intentionally wrong and her 6 month sentence broke all their hearts. She goes home at the end of January (if not sooner).
So, in the meantime, she must mourn from here. She cannot be with her family. She cannot be at the funeral. She cannot see her sister one last time, laying peacefully in a casket. South has no options, except to be by herself, with all her feelings, in a place where "crying" is not the best thing to do (although, I constantly tell people that it's okay to cry).
I made sure South ate some dinner last night. She actually sat at a table with a bunch of us at the Atrium and, then, she and I took a short walk to inside rec and back. Fresh air is good. She does not get out a lot. She still carries her oxygen around (just in case), but she is not needing her walker all the time. I told South that we should have a memorial for her sister. We'll do it outdoors and she can share stories about her sister. We'll read something appropriate. We'll give South the chance to "say goodbye" in the way she can from prison.
I have NO idea what I would do if someone I love passed while I am here. I made sure to see my grandma (with Alzheimer's) one last time before my self-surrender and, amazingly, my step-grandpa - at 95 years old - is still going strong! Both are fragile, and, yet, I couldn't imagine something happening and my not being there. But there are many people I love that I would be shocked to learn about passing... like South was with her sister. I never really thought about what it would be like to mourn from prison.
We hear about others' family members passing regularly. Right now, a friend of mine has a mother with terminal cancer. She goes home in a couple months. We are praying that her mom can hold on long enough that my friend can see her before she pasts. I know a woman who lost her husband. She was not given a furlough to attend the funeral (most do not). She had to mourn her spouse from inside Carswell. One woman I know lost her son. Another has a child who is very, very sick, but she cannot get a furlough to see her young son.
If prison can teach you one thing, it is the every present reality that people matter much more than things. Every person I know, here, would give everything to be with their families. In some ways, we all mourn their loss from our lives on a daily basis - even though in our hearts we know that we will see them again, some day. However, when that person passes away, as South's sister did, all those hopes of holding them in our arms again dies along with them. Make sure the last thing you say to anyone is pleasant. You may not always be happy with your loved ones, but you never know if it's going to be the last conversation you have.
My heart goes out to South and her family at this time. There's so little we can do for someone who is mourning from prison. I know South knows that many of us care, and people are sneaking in hugs with her (we are not supposed to hug). I pray her sister felt little pain and that South is given the time she needs to mourn her loss - both here and once she is home.
Monday, December 2, 2013
From Dragonfly: Yarn
This weekend was especially filled with drama in our unit. It culminated yesterday with one of my friends screaming at another of my friends about appropriate behavior. Neither was in the right. Also, none of us are in a position to judge another person. Yesterday, in a great daily reader sent to me by a good friend, the quote included the phrase, "don't let other people take up rent free space in your head." I've always loved that quote. It's so honest and to the point. If we are sitting around thinking about someone else's wrongs or what they do that bothers us, we are giving them our energy, our important serenity, everything - and they do not deserve it. Instead, fill our heads with the positive thoughts that keep us sane and smiling (like memories of hugging those we love, a great vacation, or time with a best friend).
So, what happens when someone who stole yarn, stores it in another's room (cause they can't get caught with it in their locker), and the other person then uses the yarn after a couple months of holding on to it? Can a disagreement like this be handled without rough-housing? The one who originally stole the yarn, wants the user of the yarn to buy them replacement yarn. The person who used the yarn receives no finances in. Her welfare is threatened by the the other. Is anyone in the right here? No "law" can be brought in because it was stolen yarn in someone else's locker. These are the kind of fights that happen on a daily basis here. Many end up with both women going to the SHU. It seems so petty - like our fights in the laundry room - yet, it wears down on all of us dealing with this stuff on a daily basis.
Going to be a short one... have to go to work early. I start in a new classroom with over 30 students this morning. More later!
So, what happens when someone who stole yarn, stores it in another's room (cause they can't get caught with it in their locker), and the other person then uses the yarn after a couple months of holding on to it? Can a disagreement like this be handled without rough-housing? The one who originally stole the yarn, wants the user of the yarn to buy them replacement yarn. The person who used the yarn receives no finances in. Her welfare is threatened by the the other. Is anyone in the right here? No "law" can be brought in because it was stolen yarn in someone else's locker. These are the kind of fights that happen on a daily basis here. Many end up with both women going to the SHU. It seems so petty - like our fights in the laundry room - yet, it wears down on all of us dealing with this stuff on a daily basis.
Going to be a short one... have to go to work early. I start in a new classroom with over 30 students this morning. More later!
Sunday, December 1, 2013
From Dragonfly: Reaction to Transfer
For the last several days, I have been informing friends and those that "should" know (such as coworkers) about my pending transfer across the street. The reaction has certainly been mixed. Those on the outside, all seem quite happy with the news. I will no longer be behind a fence (although since the camp is located on a military base, I am still behind the fences of the base - but I won't see those). I will no longer have controlled moves (I am able to move about when I want - except for set times for count). I will live among 300 people total (there are over 250 women just in my unit here). I will wear green (now I wear khaki). I will be allowed to roam outside more of the day - especially later at night (here, we have recall at 8:30pm and must stay in our units after that time). I will be able to see a large lake (I love being near water). I will have 5 roommates (here, I have 3 - now that I'm out of the bus stop). I will share a bathroom, including a bathtub, with only 5 other people (here, I share about 14 toilet stalls and about 16 shower stalls with 256 other women). I "may" have carpet or tile in my room (here, it's grey concrete everywhere). There are drawbacks - the phones are outside, under a roof - so it's cold. Lines for everything (pill line, commissary, dining hall, etc.) occur outdoors, rather than indoors. I will have to walk outdoors just to do my laundry. But, this is Texas, and the weather is mild compared to what I am used to in the Midwest. Oh, and people say it's really BORING. I think I'd prefer "boring" to crazy.
Okay, on the inside - here - my friends seem happy for me, but sad I will not be here with them. I mostly worry about South. Danbury and myself are her two closest friends and Danbury leaves tomorrow. I will leave within a couple weeks. South doesn't go home until the end of January. I'm glad there are people here who I know will keep her company. Freckles says that she wants to spend a little time with me each day until I leave - cause she knows that one day, I just won't show up. That's how things are here - we find things out last minute and then we are gone. Star goes back and forth between being happy and sad that I'm leaving. But, Star is going to be moved into the hospital soon - cause her baby is due in January. She also goes home in February. Nurse is still fighting her "shot" and is very distracted (for good reason). She needs to fight the shot, because if it stands, she will lose her "camp eligibility" and be stuck here or in another FCI for the rest of her sentence (even though she came in as minimum security).
Bandana lived at the camp across the street for 4 months and shared a lot with me. She indicated the freedom has a price - there's a lot of drugs and contraband moving in and out of the camp. Some people work on the base, and that interaction with "outside" people has a cost. Along with everyone else, she says it is boring. To fight the boredom, I am going to talk with the head teacher of the camp (who often comes inside our education department) and request a transfer to her department. As long as I have a job, I won't be bored.
There are different caliber women's "camps" in the prison system. There are high quality camps - Alderson, Victorville, and Dublin. There are okay camps - Lexington, for former Danbury (it's closing down), Greenville, Tallahassee and Bryan (perhaps others). Then there are camps such as Carswell. It's not a fully outfitted camp - and has few activities available. It is really just a satellite camp from the medical facility and not a stand-alone camp. Even staff say it's a low level camp in the structure of prison camps. But, for me, it's greater freedom and getting away from the most violent offenders. Perhaps, I will be able to find a little more hope and serenity there. Maybe someone will let me start a GA meeting. It has potential for me - and until that potential is diminished, I'll stay hopeful.
I'm nervous, too. It means starting over with new roommates (always a challenge). It means learning new rules, going through a new orientation period, and being without any of my support system I've built in here. Thank god my support system from outside will be there right along with me! And, since it is a part of the rest of Carswell, my address won't even change!
I don't know if I'm going this week, in three weeks, or over a month from now. All I know is that I am going. Flexibility and patience are two things we must have to survive prison. I'm growing these attributes on a daily basis.
Okay, on the inside - here - my friends seem happy for me, but sad I will not be here with them. I mostly worry about South. Danbury and myself are her two closest friends and Danbury leaves tomorrow. I will leave within a couple weeks. South doesn't go home until the end of January. I'm glad there are people here who I know will keep her company. Freckles says that she wants to spend a little time with me each day until I leave - cause she knows that one day, I just won't show up. That's how things are here - we find things out last minute and then we are gone. Star goes back and forth between being happy and sad that I'm leaving. But, Star is going to be moved into the hospital soon - cause her baby is due in January. She also goes home in February. Nurse is still fighting her "shot" and is very distracted (for good reason). She needs to fight the shot, because if it stands, she will lose her "camp eligibility" and be stuck here or in another FCI for the rest of her sentence (even though she came in as minimum security).
Bandana lived at the camp across the street for 4 months and shared a lot with me. She indicated the freedom has a price - there's a lot of drugs and contraband moving in and out of the camp. Some people work on the base, and that interaction with "outside" people has a cost. Along with everyone else, she says it is boring. To fight the boredom, I am going to talk with the head teacher of the camp (who often comes inside our education department) and request a transfer to her department. As long as I have a job, I won't be bored.
There are different caliber women's "camps" in the prison system. There are high quality camps - Alderson, Victorville, and Dublin. There are okay camps - Lexington, for former Danbury (it's closing down), Greenville, Tallahassee and Bryan (perhaps others). Then there are camps such as Carswell. It's not a fully outfitted camp - and has few activities available. It is really just a satellite camp from the medical facility and not a stand-alone camp. Even staff say it's a low level camp in the structure of prison camps. But, for me, it's greater freedom and getting away from the most violent offenders. Perhaps, I will be able to find a little more hope and serenity there. Maybe someone will let me start a GA meeting. It has potential for me - and until that potential is diminished, I'll stay hopeful.
I'm nervous, too. It means starting over with new roommates (always a challenge). It means learning new rules, going through a new orientation period, and being without any of my support system I've built in here. Thank god my support system from outside will be there right along with me! And, since it is a part of the rest of Carswell, my address won't even change!
I don't know if I'm going this week, in three weeks, or over a month from now. All I know is that I am going. Flexibility and patience are two things we must have to survive prison. I'm growing these attributes on a daily basis.
From Dragonfly: The Facts of Life
I grew up watching the TV show, "The Facts of Life." It started when the "students" were still teenagers and away at boarding school... as the actresses grew up, the show transitioned with them to follow them into college. I loved the show - there was Jo, the tough boyish girl who didn't quite 'fit in.' Blaire, the popular cheerleader type. Tootie, the only African American among all Caucasians. Natalie, the overweight, friendly, gullible one. And overseeing them all was Mrs. Garrett. She was the den mother, confidante, all-knowing, loving, disciplinarian to them all.
The other day, I was thinking about how much life at Carswell is similar to "The Facts of Life." We have people from all walks of life living together. We deal with cat-fights, jealousy, racism, weight issues, difficult relationships, friendships, academic successes and failures, missing family, and we even have our own "Mrs. Garrett." The daytime C.O. in my unit is a woman named Mrs. Garrett.
I don't know if our Mrs. Garrett ever watched "The Facts of Life," but she certainly has many of the characteristics of the TV personality. She does her best to not have favorites. She is quite the disciplinarian. She is a confidante to many. She can be caring. The inmates seem to look up to her. She is tough, but is, also, well respected. They may look nothing alike, but the two Mrs. Garretts certainly have some things in common.
As for me, I don't really know Mrs. Garrett all that well. I try my best to stay out of the C.O. office - plus I work most of the days that she's on duty. But, I can say, that a different in a daytime C.O. can mean the difference from a well-organized unit and one that is in distress. When I first arrived here, we were always last or second to last in the meal rotation. This is due to the fact that our unit was consistently scoring low on inspection. Mrs. Garrett came along and told everyone that she expected better, and we did better. We have consistently been in the top three units (and always the top unit in the high rise) since her arrival. More often than not, we are #1 - scoring a perfect 100.
This is cause for some competition, as other units try to beat us. Also, there seems to be some difficulty among staff at times. For example, this week, when they came around to inspect the unit, two rooms were written up - including mine - for dust in the window sill. Mrs. Garrett immediately checked both rooms and knew that it was a false 'write up' and "got into it" with the inspector. I am never here during inspection (it's during the times I work), but that's one thing I really appreciate about a good C.O., they will stick up for their unit. That's a lot like Mrs. Garrett from the show, who always stuck up for her girls as well.
A new daytime C.O. will rotate in next month (January). I will not likely be here to see what happens. I suspect that unfortunately, the unit will stop being so organized and things will start to fall again. It will likely be a C.O. who may not care as much about the unit - they will do their job - well, but won't take that extra time and energy to see us as individuals rather than just inmates. I appreciate the tough C.O.'s that are fair to all. That describes Mrs. Garrett and our own "facts of life."
The other day, I was thinking about how much life at Carswell is similar to "The Facts of Life." We have people from all walks of life living together. We deal with cat-fights, jealousy, racism, weight issues, difficult relationships, friendships, academic successes and failures, missing family, and we even have our own "Mrs. Garrett." The daytime C.O. in my unit is a woman named Mrs. Garrett.
I don't know if our Mrs. Garrett ever watched "The Facts of Life," but she certainly has many of the characteristics of the TV personality. She does her best to not have favorites. She is quite the disciplinarian. She is a confidante to many. She can be caring. The inmates seem to look up to her. She is tough, but is, also, well respected. They may look nothing alike, but the two Mrs. Garretts certainly have some things in common.
As for me, I don't really know Mrs. Garrett all that well. I try my best to stay out of the C.O. office - plus I work most of the days that she's on duty. But, I can say, that a different in a daytime C.O. can mean the difference from a well-organized unit and one that is in distress. When I first arrived here, we were always last or second to last in the meal rotation. This is due to the fact that our unit was consistently scoring low on inspection. Mrs. Garrett came along and told everyone that she expected better, and we did better. We have consistently been in the top three units (and always the top unit in the high rise) since her arrival. More often than not, we are #1 - scoring a perfect 100.
This is cause for some competition, as other units try to beat us. Also, there seems to be some difficulty among staff at times. For example, this week, when they came around to inspect the unit, two rooms were written up - including mine - for dust in the window sill. Mrs. Garrett immediately checked both rooms and knew that it was a false 'write up' and "got into it" with the inspector. I am never here during inspection (it's during the times I work), but that's one thing I really appreciate about a good C.O., they will stick up for their unit. That's a lot like Mrs. Garrett from the show, who always stuck up for her girls as well.
A new daytime C.O. will rotate in next month (January). I will not likely be here to see what happens. I suspect that unfortunately, the unit will stop being so organized and things will start to fall again. It will likely be a C.O. who may not care as much about the unit - they will do their job - well, but won't take that extra time and energy to see us as individuals rather than just inmates. I appreciate the tough C.O.'s that are fair to all. That describes Mrs. Garrett and our own "facts of life."
Friday, November 29, 2013
From Dragonfly: Star Spangled Banner
When a prison is on a military base, as this one is, we can sometimes see/hear things occuring on the base beyond our fences. Yesterday, a jet owned by the air force (I believe) was flying and the noise was overwhelming. I only hear these things outside, the medical facility and units keep out all outside noise. Too much concrete I imagine.
Everyday, there is a military tradition that we hear as well, if we are outside. The speakers on the base play "The Star Spangled Banner." I'm used to hearing the song at sports events, and love it when crowds roar and clap when whoever is singing it does the line, "the land of the FREE," which they hold that note on the "free" for quite a while. However, when I hear that line here, it brings tears to my eyes. I am not free. In many ways, I will never be "free" again.
Sure, I will be released within the next 6-7 months. I will go home and be "on paper" for three more years. However, I will have more freedom than I will here, or in the prison camp across the street. But then, what? Well, a felony follows one around... work applications, school applications, public assistance, friendships, family, etc. Many will just say, "no," and make you feel you are right back in prison after you've done your time. Not everyone, but some.
What will matter is how we handle that reality. This felony will not define my life. My imprisonment will not define my life. They are chapters of a much bigger life. People will treat me wrong, but that is not about me or anything I did, it is about them and their closed-mindedness. Would I really want to work somewhere that has a boss that won't trust me? Would I want friendships with people who cannot see past the mistakes of one's past?
I figure we can choose to go forward with our lives or we can wallow in our misfortunes. I choose to not let this felony and imprisonment restrict my "freedom" to be and do. Every interaction is an opportunity to educate others about addiction, forgiveness, recovery, compassion, and understanding. I will not "own" other's negativity. I will choose to surround myself by the people who choose love over hate and humility over egoism.
My life will never be the same again, that is very much the truth. But if anyone were to look back in their life 5 years, is it really the exact same? People change. Circumstances change. Struggle happens to everyone. Self-pity is a threat we all face, unless we can acknowledge that while 'different' is hard, there is usually an end to the struggle and a smile/laughter at the other side.
This experience has also helped me better see the value of some people and things in my life. The unconditional love of some, and the self-centeredness of others. Struggle does that... it helps you know who your true friends are. I am very lucky, because I have an incredible network of people who care deeply for me and whom I care deeply for as well. They know everything about me, and still choose to support me. If I didn't trust them with the truth, then that support would be fake. Only being your true self, can ensure the honesty every type of healthy relationship requires.
I also do my very best to stay away from a "why me" attitude. Why did I have addiction? Why did I make such stupid mistakes? Why did I go to prison when so many have not? My answer to these, is "why not me." I am no better than anyone else. I am affected by the same demons, experiences, and emotional turmoil as anyone else. There is no "why me," but rather I see it as I'm glad it is me and not someone else. No one I care about should have to go through this. Maybe my experience can help someone else not go through this. We never know how our interactions may help others. I sometimes think that perhaps I am here to represent all the people who struggle with gambling addiction. So many didn't go to prison "yet." Perhaps my experience, my writing, and my knowledge can help others avoid that 'yet' from every happening. If I save just one person from an experience like this, I've lived a worthy life.
For those not kept away from these walls, who either have been through this experience or are facing it in the near future, I can only say that our attitude is what matters most. We can do time, or we can let time do us. We can humbly face each day, knowing that this will be just one of those times of struggle, or we can keep a "why me" attitude. We can help others, or we can think we are better than others. We can be victims, or we can be survivors.
Missing family and friends is real and hard. But, we need to not take our family and friends into prison with us. It is hard enough on the outside knowing that someone you care about is locked up. We owe it to them to be interested in their lives, and let them try to enjoy their time until we are home again. If we put up expectations and restrictions on them, then we are being selfish. They will show their love and support through the mail, trulincs, prayers, visits, phone calls, and through them making the next right decision for themselves and their family. We are locked up, but we can't lock them up along with us.
It is nearly December and another month is coming to a close. Christmas is everywhere. There is a tree in the foyer. If another religion is celebrated, it occurs in the chapel. People are sad. They want to be with their kids, their spouses and others during the holidays. We do what we can to support one another. We had a great conversation about the foods we miss from our Thanksgiving feasts back home. We laugh at the funniest turkey cooking stories of our lives. I spent the day, yesterday, making something to send T.S. I also made two phone calls. The wait for the phones was long, but important. The food served to us was not "all that good," but it included turkey. They could have fed us anything. We are not "free" here. We are controlled. Our food is controlled. Our entertainment is controlled. We do not live in the "land of the free" when we are in prison, but it's a lot better here than in many other countries. Just take it all a day at a time, and now I'm past my Thanksgiving without family. I am past my first 3 1/2 months incarcerated. I am past my incredibly scary first few weeks. Perhaps, I do have some freedoms... I am writing this. I am wearing a sweatshirt at least 1 size too large for me and it's very comfy. I take a shower when I want to. My hair has blond highlights. I drank a hot cocoa with mini marshmellows yesterday. Maybe I don't have all the freedoms of the outside world, but I still have choice. We all still have some choice.
Everyday, there is a military tradition that we hear as well, if we are outside. The speakers on the base play "The Star Spangled Banner." I'm used to hearing the song at sports events, and love it when crowds roar and clap when whoever is singing it does the line, "the land of the FREE," which they hold that note on the "free" for quite a while. However, when I hear that line here, it brings tears to my eyes. I am not free. In many ways, I will never be "free" again.
Sure, I will be released within the next 6-7 months. I will go home and be "on paper" for three more years. However, I will have more freedom than I will here, or in the prison camp across the street. But then, what? Well, a felony follows one around... work applications, school applications, public assistance, friendships, family, etc. Many will just say, "no," and make you feel you are right back in prison after you've done your time. Not everyone, but some.
What will matter is how we handle that reality. This felony will not define my life. My imprisonment will not define my life. They are chapters of a much bigger life. People will treat me wrong, but that is not about me or anything I did, it is about them and their closed-mindedness. Would I really want to work somewhere that has a boss that won't trust me? Would I want friendships with people who cannot see past the mistakes of one's past?
I figure we can choose to go forward with our lives or we can wallow in our misfortunes. I choose to not let this felony and imprisonment restrict my "freedom" to be and do. Every interaction is an opportunity to educate others about addiction, forgiveness, recovery, compassion, and understanding. I will not "own" other's negativity. I will choose to surround myself by the people who choose love over hate and humility over egoism.
My life will never be the same again, that is very much the truth. But if anyone were to look back in their life 5 years, is it really the exact same? People change. Circumstances change. Struggle happens to everyone. Self-pity is a threat we all face, unless we can acknowledge that while 'different' is hard, there is usually an end to the struggle and a smile/laughter at the other side.
This experience has also helped me better see the value of some people and things in my life. The unconditional love of some, and the self-centeredness of others. Struggle does that... it helps you know who your true friends are. I am very lucky, because I have an incredible network of people who care deeply for me and whom I care deeply for as well. They know everything about me, and still choose to support me. If I didn't trust them with the truth, then that support would be fake. Only being your true self, can ensure the honesty every type of healthy relationship requires.
I also do my very best to stay away from a "why me" attitude. Why did I have addiction? Why did I make such stupid mistakes? Why did I go to prison when so many have not? My answer to these, is "why not me." I am no better than anyone else. I am affected by the same demons, experiences, and emotional turmoil as anyone else. There is no "why me," but rather I see it as I'm glad it is me and not someone else. No one I care about should have to go through this. Maybe my experience can help someone else not go through this. We never know how our interactions may help others. I sometimes think that perhaps I am here to represent all the people who struggle with gambling addiction. So many didn't go to prison "yet." Perhaps my experience, my writing, and my knowledge can help others avoid that 'yet' from every happening. If I save just one person from an experience like this, I've lived a worthy life.
For those not kept away from these walls, who either have been through this experience or are facing it in the near future, I can only say that our attitude is what matters most. We can do time, or we can let time do us. We can humbly face each day, knowing that this will be just one of those times of struggle, or we can keep a "why me" attitude. We can help others, or we can think we are better than others. We can be victims, or we can be survivors.
Missing family and friends is real and hard. But, we need to not take our family and friends into prison with us. It is hard enough on the outside knowing that someone you care about is locked up. We owe it to them to be interested in their lives, and let them try to enjoy their time until we are home again. If we put up expectations and restrictions on them, then we are being selfish. They will show their love and support through the mail, trulincs, prayers, visits, phone calls, and through them making the next right decision for themselves and their family. We are locked up, but we can't lock them up along with us.
It is nearly December and another month is coming to a close. Christmas is everywhere. There is a tree in the foyer. If another religion is celebrated, it occurs in the chapel. People are sad. They want to be with their kids, their spouses and others during the holidays. We do what we can to support one another. We had a great conversation about the foods we miss from our Thanksgiving feasts back home. We laugh at the funniest turkey cooking stories of our lives. I spent the day, yesterday, making something to send T.S. I also made two phone calls. The wait for the phones was long, but important. The food served to us was not "all that good," but it included turkey. They could have fed us anything. We are not "free" here. We are controlled. Our food is controlled. Our entertainment is controlled. We do not live in the "land of the free" when we are in prison, but it's a lot better here than in many other countries. Just take it all a day at a time, and now I'm past my Thanksgiving without family. I am past my first 3 1/2 months incarcerated. I am past my incredibly scary first few weeks. Perhaps, I do have some freedoms... I am writing this. I am wearing a sweatshirt at least 1 size too large for me and it's very comfy. I take a shower when I want to. My hair has blond highlights. I drank a hot cocoa with mini marshmellows yesterday. Maybe I don't have all the freedoms of the outside world, but I still have choice. We all still have some choice.
From Dragonfly: Thanksgiving Thankfulness
It's Thanksgiving at Carswell. The day started with strawberry frosted flakes. I had breakfast with Nurse - who is fighting her "shot" and seems to be on the winning side. Being at Carswell for Thanksgiving, though, makes us all miss our friends and family just a little bit more than usual. We will have a turkey dinner (well, lunch) with all the fixings, I hear. Then, we will stand in line for a boxed dinner, since all the kitchen workers will have dinner off. People have been talking about today's food for over two weeks!
Thanksgiving, to me, is about being grateful. I try to be grateful all the time - it is a part of recovery. I've written lists and more lists of things I'm grateful for in journals, letters, and to the people I love. Since being at Carswell, I have not written too many grateful lists. However, when I was here just a couple weeks and I was threatened by my roommate in the "bus stop," I called Faith, and she told me to write a list of things I'm grateful for. So, I have a list that I look at quite often. Having very little paper available at the time, I wrote the list in the back of my personal phone/address book. I see it daily. It centers me when things are out of control here. No better day, than today, to share it with you:
(this is in no particular order!!!)
1. I am alive.
2. My addiction recovery.
3. My family and friends' support.
4. Sporty getting our home ready so I have a place to go.
5. Survivor taking on my financials and so much more.
6. Traveler handing all my emails.
7. I have T.S. as a daughter.
8. Money for Commissary and FRP.
9. I like to read.
10. South in my room.
11. Chi's kindness.
12. My education and knowledge.
13. The opportunity to help others.
14. I'm relatively healthy.
15. I can call someone to listen/talk.
16. I don't "fit in" in prison.
17. I am kind.
18. I don't hate the world.
19. I like myself.
20. My sentence is short.
21. I self-surrendered.
22. I don't hold anger.
23. I don't need a partner for happiness.
24. I'm not starving.
25. I am loved deeply.
26. I'm a survivor, not a victim.
27. I own nice things.
28. I have travelled to amazing places.
29. I've seen true beauty.
30. Access to TruLincs and email.
31. I am a good person.
32. I do not need "drugs."
33. I am capable of greatness.
34. I have lots of skills and abilities.
35. I can love others.
36. I am able to sleep.
(That is the list that I had written that difficult day in August.)
There is so much MORE to be grateful for, but the most important thing in my life is the love and support I have received from those closest to me - my mom and extended family, Sporty, Survivor, T.S., the group of friends I have from GA, Faith, Traveler, Cache, random GA people I may never have met, people who send me nice messages, my boss in education who gave me a chance, my former supervisors from my university job and my fellowship, my closest friends from my university, everyone who follows my ups and down, my dog, my SIL, the people who choose to write me at least weekly, everyone who has sent me in a book, South, Army, Ark, Danbury, Star, Nurse, Freckles and every person who is kind at Carswell, everyone who put me in their prayers, the people who share a smile or laugh with me, ... and so many more. These are who I am really grateful to.
There is, also, some news to share. The thing about this kind of "news" is that there's no way of knowing when it may occur. I went to the "open house" for my case worker yesterday (since I had the afternoon off). I wanted to know why my PSI wasn't uploaded to the system. I never actually asked. We were talking about my security level. I started here as "minimum in" = the "in" was due to my needing to be inside a medical facility. Well, she forgot that last week she was supposed to tell me that my status was changed to "minimum out" - the status I should have started with to be sent to a camp. And, in fact, they are sending me to a camp... across the street (not closer to home). She was supposed to tell me last week, all she said yesterday was, "oops." She says my transfer to the camp will occur, "before Christmas." Had I not gone to her office yesterday, I would have only had a day's notice (the day I have to pack out my locker). Now, I get to prepare.
The camp across the street is NO "Camp Cupcake." It is an old motel 6 and we see it on the other side of our front fencing. They have 6 people to a room, and each room has a bathroom (think of any motel room you've stayed in). There is NO fence surrounding the property. There is a lake in the back, that I hear is pretty. I love being close to water. There are 300 people in total at the camp. When I move there, it will be a whole new story. I have no idea what life will be like. I will miss the friends I've made in the medical facility, but am so GRATEFUL that I am going to where the violence level is much lower. I will have to wear a really ugly green uniform, but that's okay. The phones, laundry, and all lines (like commissary) are outdoors. I will need to get used to that. I could get a job in the camp's education program, I hope... but many people actually work on the military base that we are located on. The camp has a "puppy program" for people who will be there for a long while (I won't qualify).
So, sometime over the next month, I will be writing of totally new experiences. I guess I am supposed to have a fully rounded out prison experience before I go home. The reason they are not moving me to a camp closer to home is that I am still a medical level 3. They need to keep me near the medical facility. But, I am going to have HOPE that I am going somewhere better - where my serenity can exist - and I can, finally, relax. As always, I will keep you updated.
So Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!! I pray that you and your family/friends have a joyous holiday and try to concentrate on the people in your life and not just on the "black Friday" shopping deals!
Thanksgiving, to me, is about being grateful. I try to be grateful all the time - it is a part of recovery. I've written lists and more lists of things I'm grateful for in journals, letters, and to the people I love. Since being at Carswell, I have not written too many grateful lists. However, when I was here just a couple weeks and I was threatened by my roommate in the "bus stop," I called Faith, and she told me to write a list of things I'm grateful for. So, I have a list that I look at quite often. Having very little paper available at the time, I wrote the list in the back of my personal phone/address book. I see it daily. It centers me when things are out of control here. No better day, than today, to share it with you:
(this is in no particular order!!!)
1. I am alive.
2. My addiction recovery.
3. My family and friends' support.
4. Sporty getting our home ready so I have a place to go.
5. Survivor taking on my financials and so much more.
6. Traveler handing all my emails.
7. I have T.S. as a daughter.
8. Money for Commissary and FRP.
9. I like to read.
10. South in my room.
11. Chi's kindness.
12. My education and knowledge.
13. The opportunity to help others.
14. I'm relatively healthy.
15. I can call someone to listen/talk.
16. I don't "fit in" in prison.
17. I am kind.
18. I don't hate the world.
19. I like myself.
20. My sentence is short.
21. I self-surrendered.
22. I don't hold anger.
23. I don't need a partner for happiness.
24. I'm not starving.
25. I am loved deeply.
26. I'm a survivor, not a victim.
27. I own nice things.
28. I have travelled to amazing places.
29. I've seen true beauty.
30. Access to TruLincs and email.
31. I am a good person.
32. I do not need "drugs."
33. I am capable of greatness.
34. I have lots of skills and abilities.
35. I can love others.
36. I am able to sleep.
(That is the list that I had written that difficult day in August.)
There is so much MORE to be grateful for, but the most important thing in my life is the love and support I have received from those closest to me - my mom and extended family, Sporty, Survivor, T.S., the group of friends I have from GA, Faith, Traveler, Cache, random GA people I may never have met, people who send me nice messages, my boss in education who gave me a chance, my former supervisors from my university job and my fellowship, my closest friends from my university, everyone who follows my ups and down, my dog, my SIL, the people who choose to write me at least weekly, everyone who has sent me in a book, South, Army, Ark, Danbury, Star, Nurse, Freckles and every person who is kind at Carswell, everyone who put me in their prayers, the people who share a smile or laugh with me, ... and so many more. These are who I am really grateful to.
There is, also, some news to share. The thing about this kind of "news" is that there's no way of knowing when it may occur. I went to the "open house" for my case worker yesterday (since I had the afternoon off). I wanted to know why my PSI wasn't uploaded to the system. I never actually asked. We were talking about my security level. I started here as "minimum in" = the "in" was due to my needing to be inside a medical facility. Well, she forgot that last week she was supposed to tell me that my status was changed to "minimum out" - the status I should have started with to be sent to a camp. And, in fact, they are sending me to a camp... across the street (not closer to home). She was supposed to tell me last week, all she said yesterday was, "oops." She says my transfer to the camp will occur, "before Christmas." Had I not gone to her office yesterday, I would have only had a day's notice (the day I have to pack out my locker). Now, I get to prepare.
The camp across the street is NO "Camp Cupcake." It is an old motel 6 and we see it on the other side of our front fencing. They have 6 people to a room, and each room has a bathroom (think of any motel room you've stayed in). There is NO fence surrounding the property. There is a lake in the back, that I hear is pretty. I love being close to water. There are 300 people in total at the camp. When I move there, it will be a whole new story. I have no idea what life will be like. I will miss the friends I've made in the medical facility, but am so GRATEFUL that I am going to where the violence level is much lower. I will have to wear a really ugly green uniform, but that's okay. The phones, laundry, and all lines (like commissary) are outdoors. I will need to get used to that. I could get a job in the camp's education program, I hope... but many people actually work on the military base that we are located on. The camp has a "puppy program" for people who will be there for a long while (I won't qualify).
So, sometime over the next month, I will be writing of totally new experiences. I guess I am supposed to have a fully rounded out prison experience before I go home. The reason they are not moving me to a camp closer to home is that I am still a medical level 3. They need to keep me near the medical facility. But, I am going to have HOPE that I am going somewhere better - where my serenity can exist - and I can, finally, relax. As always, I will keep you updated.
So Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!! I pray that you and your family/friends have a joyous holiday and try to concentrate on the people in your life and not just on the "black Friday" shopping deals!
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
From Dragonfly: Testing
So... For the past 2 hours, I was being tested in reading comprehension, math application, math computation, and language arts. I hope I passed (ha!). Why did I get called for today's test? Because my high school did not send in my transcript AND my PSI (PSR) is not uploaded to the system. I have been here over 3 months and no one has put my PSI in the system. This means that everyone who I meet on my "team" has no idea of my background or anything. That is just crazy.
So, what do I have to do now? I have to have my mom ("hi mom!") go to my high school (luckily the high school I officially graduated from in 1991 is practically next store to where she lives). I actually went to three different high schools, and that high school for only a couple months, but I did graduate from it. I hope they get on it and send in my transcript. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to be on track to take the GED. Lol.
There was actually an advantage to taking the test this morning. I will now know exactly what my students are being tested in when they are "tabe" tested. When I see their results, I will understand the kind of concepts they were supposed to know. For me, the test was mostly at a Junior High level, with just a couple algebra and geometry questions. The reading and language arts were of the kind we would start doing in elementary education. That helps me know that I really need to start curriculum at that low level for some of the students - which is good to know. We do that with math, but not with the science or social studies. If the students can't read a map or a chart, they won't be able to answer the questions. Of the entire test, there was one question I wasn't sure about. I hate the questions where there are two good answers, but only one best answer. Also, a couple math questions resulted in my selecting, "answer is not listed." I never trusted myself to choose that answer the first time and would rework the question, but it the answer wasn't listed, so I had to select that circle. It's been a long time since I've taken a scan tron style test! B and C are NOT always the best "guess" answers!
So, here's the advice. First, make sure your PSR/PSI says that your high school degree is "verified." Also, have a copy of your high school degree mailed directly from the high school into your institution's education department. If you don't, you may just find yourself taking a TABE test to get assessed for your GED class... although, since the wait list is so long to get into a class, it may be years before you start the official classes. That gives me the time I need to get the transcript in and find out why my PSI is not uploaded to my electronic file.
So, what do I have to do now? I have to have my mom ("hi mom!") go to my high school (luckily the high school I officially graduated from in 1991 is practically next store to where she lives). I actually went to three different high schools, and that high school for only a couple months, but I did graduate from it. I hope they get on it and send in my transcript. Otherwise, I will have no choice but to be on track to take the GED. Lol.
There was actually an advantage to taking the test this morning. I will now know exactly what my students are being tested in when they are "tabe" tested. When I see their results, I will understand the kind of concepts they were supposed to know. For me, the test was mostly at a Junior High level, with just a couple algebra and geometry questions. The reading and language arts were of the kind we would start doing in elementary education. That helps me know that I really need to start curriculum at that low level for some of the students - which is good to know. We do that with math, but not with the science or social studies. If the students can't read a map or a chart, they won't be able to answer the questions. Of the entire test, there was one question I wasn't sure about. I hate the questions where there are two good answers, but only one best answer. Also, a couple math questions resulted in my selecting, "answer is not listed." I never trusted myself to choose that answer the first time and would rework the question, but it the answer wasn't listed, so I had to select that circle. It's been a long time since I've taken a scan tron style test! B and C are NOT always the best "guess" answers!
So, here's the advice. First, make sure your PSR/PSI says that your high school degree is "verified." Also, have a copy of your high school degree mailed directly from the high school into your institution's education department. If you don't, you may just find yourself taking a TABE test to get assessed for your GED class... although, since the wait list is so long to get into a class, it may be years before you start the official classes. That gives me the time I need to get the transcript in and find out why my PSI is not uploaded to my electronic file.
From Dragonfly: Quiet Please
They are yellow, small, oblong, and soft. If pinched in just the right way, they fit comfortably in and do their job 85% of the time. I'm talking about ear plugs. They are a necessity in prison. I've written about all the noise, so when I want to read, sleep, or just relax, the yellow scrunchy plugs are put into my ears and the noise lessens. The noise in my head is harder to deal with.
I'm not talking about voices or anything mental health wise - I'm talking about thinking - nonstop chatter of thoughts that come to me when I am finally settled down for the day. They are the questions of anxiety... When will I get out of here? Where will I work? Will my appeal be successful? What will I do to pay off my restitution and student loans? Will I ever be out of debt? Should I start a business? Will my health allow me to work full-time? Can I keep teaching at the college level? Should I write a book? What's for dinner? Did I forget anyone on my holiday card list? Are my parents okay? Will I ever see my grandma again and have her know who I am? Can I open my locker without having it bang against the bed post pissing off my roommate? Why does my heel hurt? How is it possible that I am losing weight? Why do I have a call-out to take an education test today when I am an education employee? How can I keep my hair looking this good? Do I need another pair of sweat pants or another sweatshirt? Can I face the people in the laundry room tonight? Do I have a good book to read? How is T.S. doing studying for her first college finals? Why haven't I heard from _______? Will my not being a student at my college anymore distant the amazing friendships I have built? Am I fighting a losing battle? When will I get to be in another official GA meeting? Who stole my chapstick? Will I get my crochet project done in time to mail out for the holiday? How should I celebrate Hanukkah? Why hasn't my home been approved by probation yet for home confinement? When will I finally see a rheumatologist here? Who might visit and when? Can I transfer to a camp?
Okay, you get the idea. These are the questions that keep me up at times. So many unknowns.
Prison is all about unknowns. Life is no longer under your control. Not that it ever was --- but with freedom, you have the false belief that you are in control.
Sometimes, I work hard to quiet the noise in my head. I meditate, read, write, or finally fall asleep. It works, I'm exhausted a lot. But, when I wake in the middle of the night - 3am today - I can't fall back asleep. The questions and thoughts fill my head and sleep is far from possible. This morning, I came up with a million reasons I might have the education test call-out -- my guess is that my high school never verified my graduation and I'm getting a GED placement test. I won't have to take my own GED classes, cause if I have to, my mom can go to my former high school and get a copy of my transcript. It's just how crazy things are here. I may be in a PhD program, but if my high school does not verify my graduation, I would have to be in GED courses. I have two students - one who is a college graduate from Germany and another who has a high school degree from California - who could not get verification. They are both over 50 years old and are stuck in GED classes because they forgot their math. It's a federal government mandate that every inmate prove their high school graduation or take GED courses.
Well, off to test...
I'm not talking about voices or anything mental health wise - I'm talking about thinking - nonstop chatter of thoughts that come to me when I am finally settled down for the day. They are the questions of anxiety... When will I get out of here? Where will I work? Will my appeal be successful? What will I do to pay off my restitution and student loans? Will I ever be out of debt? Should I start a business? Will my health allow me to work full-time? Can I keep teaching at the college level? Should I write a book? What's for dinner? Did I forget anyone on my holiday card list? Are my parents okay? Will I ever see my grandma again and have her know who I am? Can I open my locker without having it bang against the bed post pissing off my roommate? Why does my heel hurt? How is it possible that I am losing weight? Why do I have a call-out to take an education test today when I am an education employee? How can I keep my hair looking this good? Do I need another pair of sweat pants or another sweatshirt? Can I face the people in the laundry room tonight? Do I have a good book to read? How is T.S. doing studying for her first college finals? Why haven't I heard from _______? Will my not being a student at my college anymore distant the amazing friendships I have built? Am I fighting a losing battle? When will I get to be in another official GA meeting? Who stole my chapstick? Will I get my crochet project done in time to mail out for the holiday? How should I celebrate Hanukkah? Why hasn't my home been approved by probation yet for home confinement? When will I finally see a rheumatologist here? Who might visit and when? Can I transfer to a camp?
Okay, you get the idea. These are the questions that keep me up at times. So many unknowns.
Prison is all about unknowns. Life is no longer under your control. Not that it ever was --- but with freedom, you have the false belief that you are in control.
Sometimes, I work hard to quiet the noise in my head. I meditate, read, write, or finally fall asleep. It works, I'm exhausted a lot. But, when I wake in the middle of the night - 3am today - I can't fall back asleep. The questions and thoughts fill my head and sleep is far from possible. This morning, I came up with a million reasons I might have the education test call-out -- my guess is that my high school never verified my graduation and I'm getting a GED placement test. I won't have to take my own GED classes, cause if I have to, my mom can go to my former high school and get a copy of my transcript. It's just how crazy things are here. I may be in a PhD program, but if my high school does not verify my graduation, I would have to be in GED courses. I have two students - one who is a college graduate from Germany and another who has a high school degree from California - who could not get verification. They are both over 50 years old and are stuck in GED classes because they forgot their math. It's a federal government mandate that every inmate prove their high school graduation or take GED courses.
Well, off to test...
Sunday, November 24, 2013
From Dragonfly: It is Night in my Soul
I've mentioned Nurse before. She is 59 years old and was a health care administrator before finding herself assigned to Carswell for a crime she wasn't aware she was committing (she sent money to her son being a missionary in Darfur, not knowing that it was a crime to send money to help citizens of Darfur because it is seen as a country of terror... her son was working directly with people camps who had almost no food or water and horrible living conditions due to their government's policies. Her son died two years ago, this last week, from Malaria. He was beautiful!!). Anyway, Nurse has a strong personality (like me), and we talk a lot about the realities of this place. She has been here about a month and a half and her only medical issue is that she needs to eat a special diet due to her bariatric surgery that she chose to have to help control her diabetes. Her dietary needs have not been met - a fight she faces daily with the medical team and staff at Carswell. She is doing everything in her power to get transferred to a camp much closer to home, but if that ever happens, it would be a long ways down her sentence. Nothing happens quickly here.
Anyway, Nurse receives a special meal (that does not necessarily meet the "soft foods" diet she is supposed to be on) at every meal time. She walks up to a special line, where she is handed a hot or cold tray. This is put on an empty tray, so she can get something from the salad "bar" if she wants to enjoy our iceberg lettuce option. Since her arrival in early October, this has been her routine. Last night, some inmates were trying to cause a scene in order to sneak a bag of cheese out of the dining hall. I have no idea who these inmates were, but somehow they told the officer that Nurse (someone they don't know) took two trays of food (not allowed by DOP rules) and turned the C.O.'s attention in Nurse's direction (to distract him from seeing their sneaking of the cheese out of the hall). So, the officer starts yelling at Nurse and she has no idea what she's done wrong. She didn't have two trays of food, she just had the two trays handed to her by the "medical diets" line. Even medical diets stated this, when asked. So, the officer then decides that Nurse must have been the "decoy" for the cheese thieves to get their cheesy goods out of the chow hall. She didn't even know them and was sitting and eating with several of our mutual pals.
So, Nurse, who is not quite as passive as I am, tries to argue her truth (something that is forbidden here) and is taken to the lieutenant's office. She didn't get to fully eat her meal, which she must follow up with water, or it won't dissolve, due to her bariatric surgery, so she starts feeling ill. At the Lieutenant's office, The lieutenant does not allow Nurse to defend herself. He says that his officers tell the truth and inmates lie (we are all just inmates...) and gives her extra duty picking up garbage outside. It is under 30 degrees outside and freezing. Withing the first hour, she vomits (still not feeling well, since she did not properly eat her meal). The officer takes Nurse back to the lieutenant's office and the lieutenant tells her that he is writing her a shot (disciplinary paperwork) which would result in a severe penalty.
Nurse comes back to the unit and finds us and tells us what happened. Later, as we are all getting ready for count, Nurse's name is called and she is brought back to the lieutenant's office and has to "read" the paperwork. I know nothing of what the recourse will be. She was too distraught to come out of her room after count last night, and since she lives upstairs in our unit, I could not go to her. All I know is that she has been treated WRONG in this scenario. She did nothing wrong, but she is being punished anyway.
It reminds me of the day that a lieutenant screamed at me in the chow hall after I did nothing wrong. It was that moment that I realized that I don't have a "voice" in prison. As long as I wear the prison uniform, I am just the same as anyone else. If some inmates lie, we all lie. If some inmates are bad, we are all bad. If some inmates steal, we all steal. It is not the truth, but that's the way we are treated. When something bad happens, all the inmates are punished - either as a compound or as a unit. One inmate will cause trouble over a television and the televisions are cut off from the entire unit for days. One inmate leaves food in a microwave, and the microwave is taken away from everyone. One inmate doesn't go to the lieutenant's office on time and the entire compound is closed and all inmates have to stay in their units. That is how a large place like Carswell and control 1800 inmates. They just see us all as the same.
Anyway, on November 10th (2 weeks ago), Nurse went to her church service and then turned around and wrote something. I want to share it with you: "Since October 10th time has stood still for me here. The sun set on my soul and has not risen yet. The longest night presses on and the daylight has never come. I am learning patience but it is so difficult. I see women drop and hit concrete several times a day and night. We are tortured by punishing circumstances and stand for hours without chairs. Sleeping block cells on metal bunks 3 feet separating us and lights on at all times. I hear about punishment and pain and feel it deeply every moment I am here. It is night in our soul. Thank you for your prayers, .."Every link in the chain..." Romans 7:15-8:2 A chain is only as strong as its weakest link - and so our society - it's future - is at the mercy eventually of its worst members. I see these people every day, it's lowest moral standards, its most elemental cruelty. For human nature, like water, seeks it's lowest level. All without God. If it were not true, America would be emerging better, cleaner, finer - less violent, more loving than she was fifty year ago. After two hundred years of existence she would have by now nearly abolished crime, immortality, perversion, godlessness and all greed. Utopia would be within sight - for never in all of recorded history has a nation been so lavished with material and intellectual blessings. But this hasn't happened, Why? It is natural to blame the demise on the governing parties, economic indiscretion, international faux pas and various groups of society. But the fact remains that what we are experiencing today is the accumulation of the acts of millions of us imperfect people upon each other. Individual greed, selfishness, God-rebellion, immortality, and materialism, all multiplied thousands of times. Take yourself and multiply your weaknesses, your sins by the number of people in the U.S.; then by the number of people in the world, and you will have a picture of the quality of the chain by which we are all trying to life ourselves up. Pray for the sunrise to come. For me to get out of here and be kept safe while I am here. Pray for patience and understanding. Just one of you can make a difference. God's will in any circumstances is more far reaching than we dream. Make good decisions. Look at wikipedia for FMC Carswell and taste my daily/nightly life. Forgive and excuse my indifference by thinking I cannot be used by God. Thank him for your lives and your freedoms. Hug one another and continue to pray. Help us remember we are no better than another without God. Be faithful. Pray for me. I stand in the gap for you. I think of you all often. I wonder if this month has lasted as long for you. Where you think I am or what you think I look like now, having lost 100 pounds (9 this week). They do not give me any supplements, they feed us the worst spoiled foods with sick laughter. They take away prescriptions vital to our existence yet sustain us here to live out our punishment. Some around me are here for life, some for 6 months. Mothers and daughters, murderers, mafia, white collar. I am here too. In disbelief I wake every day and the sunrise has yet to come. There is no place else I can go. I don't know what this week will hold but I know that prayer changes things. Pray for relationships, for the old ones and the babies. Be blessed..." (NURSE).
Nurse and I may have different religions and be here for different crimes, but we all experience the same reality. There is so little good here. We become observers of obscenity, crime, disregard, pain, punishment, and greed every moment of every day. My thoughts are with Nurse at this moment. We all have our lowest moments here, and now it is her turn. There's nothing anyone can do. We can all just acknowledge the unfairness of the darkness in this place and support each other through the roughest patches. How hard it is to explain this to those on the outside. Those whose eyes have not seen such behavior and pain. It is not the worst in society - there are those trying to survive in places like Darfur or on the streets of any major city. There are those who survived the horrors of the Holocaust, and refuse to speak of their memories. Such memories are almost gone forever (except in writings, books, and movies). I write this so that there is record of these memories, here at Carswell. They are not like the horrors of WWII, but they are our own personal wars - wars within ourselves to stay strong and survive - to support each other and even laugh once in a while. For those who are here for life, I don't know how they survive, for the rest of us, we just count down the days and pray that somehow, our time will be shortened. I join Nurse in saying that it is "night in my soul." The darkness never retreats.
Anyway, Nurse receives a special meal (that does not necessarily meet the "soft foods" diet she is supposed to be on) at every meal time. She walks up to a special line, where she is handed a hot or cold tray. This is put on an empty tray, so she can get something from the salad "bar" if she wants to enjoy our iceberg lettuce option. Since her arrival in early October, this has been her routine. Last night, some inmates were trying to cause a scene in order to sneak a bag of cheese out of the dining hall. I have no idea who these inmates were, but somehow they told the officer that Nurse (someone they don't know) took two trays of food (not allowed by DOP rules) and turned the C.O.'s attention in Nurse's direction (to distract him from seeing their sneaking of the cheese out of the hall). So, the officer starts yelling at Nurse and she has no idea what she's done wrong. She didn't have two trays of food, she just had the two trays handed to her by the "medical diets" line. Even medical diets stated this, when asked. So, the officer then decides that Nurse must have been the "decoy" for the cheese thieves to get their cheesy goods out of the chow hall. She didn't even know them and was sitting and eating with several of our mutual pals.
So, Nurse, who is not quite as passive as I am, tries to argue her truth (something that is forbidden here) and is taken to the lieutenant's office. She didn't get to fully eat her meal, which she must follow up with water, or it won't dissolve, due to her bariatric surgery, so she starts feeling ill. At the Lieutenant's office, The lieutenant does not allow Nurse to defend herself. He says that his officers tell the truth and inmates lie (we are all just inmates...) and gives her extra duty picking up garbage outside. It is under 30 degrees outside and freezing. Withing the first hour, she vomits (still not feeling well, since she did not properly eat her meal). The officer takes Nurse back to the lieutenant's office and the lieutenant tells her that he is writing her a shot (disciplinary paperwork) which would result in a severe penalty.
Nurse comes back to the unit and finds us and tells us what happened. Later, as we are all getting ready for count, Nurse's name is called and she is brought back to the lieutenant's office and has to "read" the paperwork. I know nothing of what the recourse will be. She was too distraught to come out of her room after count last night, and since she lives upstairs in our unit, I could not go to her. All I know is that she has been treated WRONG in this scenario. She did nothing wrong, but she is being punished anyway.
It reminds me of the day that a lieutenant screamed at me in the chow hall after I did nothing wrong. It was that moment that I realized that I don't have a "voice" in prison. As long as I wear the prison uniform, I am just the same as anyone else. If some inmates lie, we all lie. If some inmates are bad, we are all bad. If some inmates steal, we all steal. It is not the truth, but that's the way we are treated. When something bad happens, all the inmates are punished - either as a compound or as a unit. One inmate will cause trouble over a television and the televisions are cut off from the entire unit for days. One inmate leaves food in a microwave, and the microwave is taken away from everyone. One inmate doesn't go to the lieutenant's office on time and the entire compound is closed and all inmates have to stay in their units. That is how a large place like Carswell and control 1800 inmates. They just see us all as the same.
Anyway, on November 10th (2 weeks ago), Nurse went to her church service and then turned around and wrote something. I want to share it with you: "Since October 10th time has stood still for me here. The sun set on my soul and has not risen yet. The longest night presses on and the daylight has never come. I am learning patience but it is so difficult. I see women drop and hit concrete several times a day and night. We are tortured by punishing circumstances and stand for hours without chairs. Sleeping block cells on metal bunks 3 feet separating us and lights on at all times. I hear about punishment and pain and feel it deeply every moment I am here. It is night in our soul. Thank you for your prayers, .."Every link in the chain..." Romans 7:15-8:2 A chain is only as strong as its weakest link - and so our society - it's future - is at the mercy eventually of its worst members. I see these people every day, it's lowest moral standards, its most elemental cruelty. For human nature, like water, seeks it's lowest level. All without God. If it were not true, America would be emerging better, cleaner, finer - less violent, more loving than she was fifty year ago. After two hundred years of existence she would have by now nearly abolished crime, immortality, perversion, godlessness and all greed. Utopia would be within sight - for never in all of recorded history has a nation been so lavished with material and intellectual blessings. But this hasn't happened, Why? It is natural to blame the demise on the governing parties, economic indiscretion, international faux pas and various groups of society. But the fact remains that what we are experiencing today is the accumulation of the acts of millions of us imperfect people upon each other. Individual greed, selfishness, God-rebellion, immortality, and materialism, all multiplied thousands of times. Take yourself and multiply your weaknesses, your sins by the number of people in the U.S.; then by the number of people in the world, and you will have a picture of the quality of the chain by which we are all trying to life ourselves up. Pray for the sunrise to come. For me to get out of here and be kept safe while I am here. Pray for patience and understanding. Just one of you can make a difference. God's will in any circumstances is more far reaching than we dream. Make good decisions. Look at wikipedia for FMC Carswell and taste my daily/nightly life. Forgive and excuse my indifference by thinking I cannot be used by God. Thank him for your lives and your freedoms. Hug one another and continue to pray. Help us remember we are no better than another without God. Be faithful. Pray for me. I stand in the gap for you. I think of you all often. I wonder if this month has lasted as long for you. Where you think I am or what you think I look like now, having lost 100 pounds (9 this week). They do not give me any supplements, they feed us the worst spoiled foods with sick laughter. They take away prescriptions vital to our existence yet sustain us here to live out our punishment. Some around me are here for life, some for 6 months. Mothers and daughters, murderers, mafia, white collar. I am here too. In disbelief I wake every day and the sunrise has yet to come. There is no place else I can go. I don't know what this week will hold but I know that prayer changes things. Pray for relationships, for the old ones and the babies. Be blessed..." (NURSE).
Nurse and I may have different religions and be here for different crimes, but we all experience the same reality. There is so little good here. We become observers of obscenity, crime, disregard, pain, punishment, and greed every moment of every day. My thoughts are with Nurse at this moment. We all have our lowest moments here, and now it is her turn. There's nothing anyone can do. We can all just acknowledge the unfairness of the darkness in this place and support each other through the roughest patches. How hard it is to explain this to those on the outside. Those whose eyes have not seen such behavior and pain. It is not the worst in society - there are those trying to survive in places like Darfur or on the streets of any major city. There are those who survived the horrors of the Holocaust, and refuse to speak of their memories. Such memories are almost gone forever (except in writings, books, and movies). I write this so that there is record of these memories, here at Carswell. They are not like the horrors of WWII, but they are our own personal wars - wars within ourselves to stay strong and survive - to support each other and even laugh once in a while. For those who are here for life, I don't know how they survive, for the rest of us, we just count down the days and pray that somehow, our time will be shortened. I join Nurse in saying that it is "night in my soul." The darkness never retreats.
Friday, November 22, 2013
From Dragonfly: Another Week
It's Friday night and I am in the email room for the first time today. I am just moving a little slow today and couldn't get in here earlier. I put in a good day's work. For the past two days, I have been helping in a different classroom since one of the usual tutors is out having surgery. It wasn't much of a choice, but it was a good class to work with. I've now watched how three different classes get students ready for their GED and each time I learn different techniques and meet different students who give me hope. Whatever I find myself doing when I am out of here, I hope I am teaching. I just love the moment when a student "gets" it!
The weekend will bring a couple of days without waking from an alarm (although I wake before 6am on my own), down time to crochet and read, and too much time dealing with unit drama. My need for something different, to see beyond the fences of this prison, is growing. Star pointed out to me the street lights that we can see at a distance from a specific point on the campus. Freckles found a spot where we can see neon purple from a hotel somewhere in the distance. These spots remind me that there is life beyond the limits of this place. Hearing a plane above head or, even, seeing our staff walking through the front building, is evidence of life - real life. I know I've been here for such a short period of time, but it's already hard to imagine being in darkness or having a cuddle or driving a car. My rides on Hope are a distance memory - my life is engulfed entirely in survival. I cannot imagine why this is the punishment for people who are non-violent. The more you are in prison, the more likely you are to become hardened and a real criminal!
Even the staff have bought in to this place. Today, two teachers commented that my uniform is not ironed. I explained the difficulty of laundry and utilizing an iron - everything is a fight and I stay away from fights... best I can. Just his last week at laundry I was called a "f***ing cracker" by a woman who was upset that I wouldn't take my clothes out of the washer until my dryer was ready (5 minutes). I would have had to stand there will my entire wet load of clothes in my arms or put them on a dirty surface --- neither option works. Once the dryer was available, my clothes went in, just like anyone else would do. The irons are practically "owned" by the women who do people's laundry for commissary items. There are women here who do five loads of other people's every day! Try getting around them to get one of the three irons in a unit of 256 women!!!
I informed the staff members that the only way I could get my clothes ironed is if I pay someone - which I do not have the funds for. One teacher piped in that I should charge for tutoring in my unit. I informed them that 1) I am not hustling something that is a good deed; and 2) hustling is not allowed here. They called me back over and said, "I didn't tell you to do that..." fearing the wrong person would know that they said that. That's how things go here - if you want to follow the rules and not lose good time, you are in the minority. I'm often told, "you are in prison now... act like a prisoner!" But, I don't want to fit in here, I want to go home --- that is all I want!!!!!
Okay, heading out to 30 degree weather. It almost feels like home. Here, people are not used to this kind of weather, but those of us from the Midwest feel right at home. I'm just wearing a heavy sweatshirt... it doesn't feel that bad. Off to crochet or read or both... I'm sure I will be sitting with my peers, talking about families, stresses, and inmate.com news. It's what we do every night!
The weekend will bring a couple of days without waking from an alarm (although I wake before 6am on my own), down time to crochet and read, and too much time dealing with unit drama. My need for something different, to see beyond the fences of this prison, is growing. Star pointed out to me the street lights that we can see at a distance from a specific point on the campus. Freckles found a spot where we can see neon purple from a hotel somewhere in the distance. These spots remind me that there is life beyond the limits of this place. Hearing a plane above head or, even, seeing our staff walking through the front building, is evidence of life - real life. I know I've been here for such a short period of time, but it's already hard to imagine being in darkness or having a cuddle or driving a car. My rides on Hope are a distance memory - my life is engulfed entirely in survival. I cannot imagine why this is the punishment for people who are non-violent. The more you are in prison, the more likely you are to become hardened and a real criminal!
Even the staff have bought in to this place. Today, two teachers commented that my uniform is not ironed. I explained the difficulty of laundry and utilizing an iron - everything is a fight and I stay away from fights... best I can. Just his last week at laundry I was called a "f***ing cracker" by a woman who was upset that I wouldn't take my clothes out of the washer until my dryer was ready (5 minutes). I would have had to stand there will my entire wet load of clothes in my arms or put them on a dirty surface --- neither option works. Once the dryer was available, my clothes went in, just like anyone else would do. The irons are practically "owned" by the women who do people's laundry for commissary items. There are women here who do five loads of other people's every day! Try getting around them to get one of the three irons in a unit of 256 women!!!
I informed the staff members that the only way I could get my clothes ironed is if I pay someone - which I do not have the funds for. One teacher piped in that I should charge for tutoring in my unit. I informed them that 1) I am not hustling something that is a good deed; and 2) hustling is not allowed here. They called me back over and said, "I didn't tell you to do that..." fearing the wrong person would know that they said that. That's how things go here - if you want to follow the rules and not lose good time, you are in the minority. I'm often told, "you are in prison now... act like a prisoner!" But, I don't want to fit in here, I want to go home --- that is all I want!!!!!
Okay, heading out to 30 degree weather. It almost feels like home. Here, people are not used to this kind of weather, but those of us from the Midwest feel right at home. I'm just wearing a heavy sweatshirt... it doesn't feel that bad. Off to crochet or read or both... I'm sure I will be sitting with my peers, talking about families, stresses, and inmate.com news. It's what we do every night!
From Dragonfly: Appeal
People in prison are always talking about "appeals." For nearly all of them, it is an appeal of their criminal conviction and/or their sentencing. I don't blame them, they were punished for taking their cases to trial (lose 2 points on conviction) and most had incredibly high mandatory minimums. I know women here for LIFE from dealing drugs. As much as anyone can't stand drugs, giving someone a higher sentence for dealing drugs than a killer who gets 20 years is a bit extreme. In fact, today, congress is talking about these very issues - mandatory minimums and sentence computations. Once the new bills are passed, it will be a madhouse here of people trying to get their sentence reduced. Many people will be going home. I pray, not back to their drug dealing ways.
For me, I am not appealing my case or sentence. I chose to plea, knowing full well that the judge could impose any sentence. I received less time than the guidelines suggested, and none of the new congressional bills will apply to me. I am appealing, though, I just typed up my appeal to my university for revoking my admission. This appeal goes directly to the Provost. Thanks to Sporty, I was able to receive a copy of the Graduate Student Rights and Responsibilities and there were many provisions that I could refer to in my appeal. It makes a strong argument that my due process rights, my privacy rights, and my rights to be treated civilly and professionally have been violated. I was also able to appeal that the revocation of my admission was an inappropriate sanction. I have no idea how the current Provost will handle the information. I want more than anything to remain a student, but I also am protecting my rights for further action, should that have to occur.
Truth is that most appeals are not successful. However, a small number are - a woman in here just learned that her appeal of sentence computation was successful and she is going home ANY day now. Another friend just learned that her appeal for denial of unemployment security benefits was successful - and she received a deposit for over 2 months of back payments. I know my appeal for reconsideration of what has happened to me with school is a stretch, however, if I don't appeal, I would only guarantee that nothing will happen. At least this way, I can always hold on to hope.
I'm working hard at finding my "hope" again. Hope is such an optimistic word. Nurse says that I am a pessimist, I see that my hope has been limited lately. But, I have many things to hope for... I have hope that all my friends and family will be healthy, I have hope that people here will get their release dates soon, I have hope that I will find my new path. I have so much hope.
Plus, I got the best feeling yesterday when one of my students and I learned that she had passed her GED. She thanked and hugged me over and over again. It was just wonderful. She didn't think she could pass the math test. She passed the whole test on her first try. She is a good person and goes home in a couple months. Her mother has terminal cancer. I hope that her success in obtaining her GED helps her mom smile and, maybe, helps her hold out til her daughter can get home to see her.
For me, I am not appealing my case or sentence. I chose to plea, knowing full well that the judge could impose any sentence. I received less time than the guidelines suggested, and none of the new congressional bills will apply to me. I am appealing, though, I just typed up my appeal to my university for revoking my admission. This appeal goes directly to the Provost. Thanks to Sporty, I was able to receive a copy of the Graduate Student Rights and Responsibilities and there were many provisions that I could refer to in my appeal. It makes a strong argument that my due process rights, my privacy rights, and my rights to be treated civilly and professionally have been violated. I was also able to appeal that the revocation of my admission was an inappropriate sanction. I have no idea how the current Provost will handle the information. I want more than anything to remain a student, but I also am protecting my rights for further action, should that have to occur.
Truth is that most appeals are not successful. However, a small number are - a woman in here just learned that her appeal of sentence computation was successful and she is going home ANY day now. Another friend just learned that her appeal for denial of unemployment security benefits was successful - and she received a deposit for over 2 months of back payments. I know my appeal for reconsideration of what has happened to me with school is a stretch, however, if I don't appeal, I would only guarantee that nothing will happen. At least this way, I can always hold on to hope.
I'm working hard at finding my "hope" again. Hope is such an optimistic word. Nurse says that I am a pessimist, I see that my hope has been limited lately. But, I have many things to hope for... I have hope that all my friends and family will be healthy, I have hope that people here will get their release dates soon, I have hope that I will find my new path. I have so much hope.
Plus, I got the best feeling yesterday when one of my students and I learned that she had passed her GED. She thanked and hugged me over and over again. It was just wonderful. She didn't think she could pass the math test. She passed the whole test on her first try. She is a good person and goes home in a couple months. Her mother has terminal cancer. I hope that her success in obtaining her GED helps her mom smile and, maybe, helps her hold out til her daughter can get home to see her.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
From Dragonfly: A Message from England
I recently was written that a person from England sent me a message of support. I find that very interesting. I wonder what would draw someone to reading my words. I suppose it doesn't matter. I SO appreciate the support and comments. I've been told that many people have found their way to my words. I never imagined that would happen. My SIL and Sporty say it's due to my "voice." Interesting.
As newbie's come into my unit on a weekly basis, sometimes I ask them how they "researched" this place before arrival. So many say that they only read the online orientation book. I ask, "did you google Carswell?" and most say, "no." Obviously, I did enough researching for a 1,000 people over, but it still surprises me that they didn't do the same. Not one person I've met has told me that they've read my words. Fascinating.
A woman in my drawing class (yes, I signed up for a drawing class at indoor rec that occurs on Tuesday night's for one month) told me that she does not believe I will be allowed to go to a camp or halfway house. I asked, "why?" She said, well, we can all see your decline. I asked what that meant. She told me that I've slowed down, that my walking is very limited (especially at night and in the a.m.), and that my energy has decreased. I have to admit that the pain in my legs is much, much worse than when I arrived. I just was trying to mask it as much as possible. It's not like I can do anything about it. I still haven't seen the Rheumatologist, even though the consult was ordered in August. Perhaps my methotrexate needs to be increased, or maybe there's something else we can do. I don't want to be back on a cane, or even worse, on these walkers they give out like candy to anyone who has a hard time walking. I'm told I walk like an 80 year old woman. I guess that balances me out, because most people think I'm 20-something... I look half my age and physically I am twice my age.
I wonder what kind of career I could have after all this is over. Now that 3 careers have been taken from me as a result of my past actions, how will I, as a felon, make a living. Some have said that I should write a book. However, everyone in here says they are going to write a book. The difference for me is that my experience at Carswell would be just a chapter of a much larger book about "hope" and my life's experiences. So, I've considered it, but I'm not sure my writing is good enough, that my story is interesting enough, that my P.O. would consider that a job, or that my family would support such a venture. I wish I could write thrillers like John Grisham - then, perhaps, I would be an author.
With my physical limitations and felony status, the one thing I DEFINITELY don't want is to not work. I don't want to depend on public benefits. I want to be productive and give to people. I want decent health insurance, and the money to pay off my restitution. If I thought about what I may be like 5 years from now, I see a blank slate - anything is possible. It is always possible. For now, I'm just letting go and allowing myself to have no specific plan.
Sharing these words with you helps. The biggest difference in my life from 5 years ago is that I was alone. Now, I have incredible friends and community support (even support from England, I suppose). I know that as long as I keep sharing, as long as my recovery stays strong, I will always have a cheering squad wishing me the best. They may be the only ones to buy my book, if I wrote one, but at least it wouldn't be that no one would read it. Perhaps I will find a way to continue my international travels. I've never been to Europe (even if my words have). There's so much possibility for everyone. So, the support means a lot to me - from friends and strangers - and I will keep writing - because it's something I've always done. My voice will stay out for people to read. Maybe that is how I will do some good, maybe.
As newbie's come into my unit on a weekly basis, sometimes I ask them how they "researched" this place before arrival. So many say that they only read the online orientation book. I ask, "did you google Carswell?" and most say, "no." Obviously, I did enough researching for a 1,000 people over, but it still surprises me that they didn't do the same. Not one person I've met has told me that they've read my words. Fascinating.
A woman in my drawing class (yes, I signed up for a drawing class at indoor rec that occurs on Tuesday night's for one month) told me that she does not believe I will be allowed to go to a camp or halfway house. I asked, "why?" She said, well, we can all see your decline. I asked what that meant. She told me that I've slowed down, that my walking is very limited (especially at night and in the a.m.), and that my energy has decreased. I have to admit that the pain in my legs is much, much worse than when I arrived. I just was trying to mask it as much as possible. It's not like I can do anything about it. I still haven't seen the Rheumatologist, even though the consult was ordered in August. Perhaps my methotrexate needs to be increased, or maybe there's something else we can do. I don't want to be back on a cane, or even worse, on these walkers they give out like candy to anyone who has a hard time walking. I'm told I walk like an 80 year old woman. I guess that balances me out, because most people think I'm 20-something... I look half my age and physically I am twice my age.
I wonder what kind of career I could have after all this is over. Now that 3 careers have been taken from me as a result of my past actions, how will I, as a felon, make a living. Some have said that I should write a book. However, everyone in here says they are going to write a book. The difference for me is that my experience at Carswell would be just a chapter of a much larger book about "hope" and my life's experiences. So, I've considered it, but I'm not sure my writing is good enough, that my story is interesting enough, that my P.O. would consider that a job, or that my family would support such a venture. I wish I could write thrillers like John Grisham - then, perhaps, I would be an author.
With my physical limitations and felony status, the one thing I DEFINITELY don't want is to not work. I don't want to depend on public benefits. I want to be productive and give to people. I want decent health insurance, and the money to pay off my restitution. If I thought about what I may be like 5 years from now, I see a blank slate - anything is possible. It is always possible. For now, I'm just letting go and allowing myself to have no specific plan.
Sharing these words with you helps. The biggest difference in my life from 5 years ago is that I was alone. Now, I have incredible friends and community support (even support from England, I suppose). I know that as long as I keep sharing, as long as my recovery stays strong, I will always have a cheering squad wishing me the best. They may be the only ones to buy my book, if I wrote one, but at least it wouldn't be that no one would read it. Perhaps I will find a way to continue my international travels. I've never been to Europe (even if my words have). There's so much possibility for everyone. So, the support means a lot to me - from friends and strangers - and I will keep writing - because it's something I've always done. My voice will stay out for people to read. Maybe that is how I will do some good, maybe.
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