So, I've spent most of my life as a passive person. When someone tried to overpower me, I would just curl up in a ball - literally when I was young, figuratively when I was older. I always ran as far as I could from confrontation, which meant never sticking up for myself. However, I could stick up for anyone else. I was a strong advocate and passion showed when I needed to defend someone, but I was unable to defend or stand up for myself.
When I started in recovery 5 1/2 years ago, this was one of the big changes I had. I started to even notice how passive I was, and I started to gain the self-confidence to be able to stand my ground on my own behalf. There were failures, I allowed a supervisor to emotionally attack me for 4 1/2 months before I said, "enough is enough," and in the end was able to speak my mind and come to peace within myself to never allow someone to act that way to me again.
Instead of just being passive for the past several years, I have taken a deep breath, taken a chance, and faced life head on. It was hard and sometimes I didn't like the result - like what's happened to me with school, but at least I know I am not running away. Fear is not stopping me from taking care of myself by being honest, grateful, and giving it over to my higher power when I need to. That is what recovery is all about and I thank god every day for my years of recovery and the gifts it has brought me.
So, for the past few weeks, I have taken a couple steps back. That's what progress is all about - it's not about perfection, but about trying our best. I allowed someone at work to bully me and I did not confront it back. I never asked, "why?" I fell victim. What we know, is that the more we allow someone to step all over us, the more they will. It started with the person just "snapping" at me now and then. Then she started to blame me for things that I know are not true. I figured it was just a bad spell and we'd somehow get past this. But, I was wrong. I should have said something.
Today, everything came to full circle. It always does. Never think that things won't come out sometime later, it always does. The person was being asked about something and she threw me under the bus, claimed I did something I didn't. Something that I knew could result in my being fired. When I learned about it, I took the non-passive route and brought myself directly to the staff member to state the truth about my own actions. I was done hiding from the person who has been unkind to me, I had to stand up for myself. Well, that got us both in the office and when the staff member asked me how the two of us have been working together lately, I spoke the truth. The hard truth - as hard for me as for her - as I was admitting that I allowed myself to be treated badly and I was "spilling the beans" right in front of the person. It was so uncomfortable, but I had had enough. I was not going to be treated like my coworker has some power over me because I never spoke up. So, I finally did. In the end, nothing happened, nothing at all. But I'd accidentally gotten a student in trouble in the mean time - throwing someone under the bus by accident, while speaking the truth. Certainly, not what I was intending. Back at my unit, I walked up the student, who had already been talked to, and told her that according to my recovery program, when I am wrong I promptly admit it. I told the student that it was my fault for bringing her up and that I was sorry. I was trying to make a point and hadn't considered the impact of telling something. She could have gotten in trouble. I'm glad the staff member did not do that. This is not about that student, this is about the relationship between my coworker and myself.
So, while I am telling this student my apology and she is forgiving me, my coworker walks up to me and starts going in at me. She doesn't know that before I left work today, I told the staff member to please plan a time for us all to talk, because relations are really bad between my coworker and myself. Secondly, I said, "and if someone has to go, please let me go... I have four months, she has years." I truly believe that. I LOVE my job, but I will not allow someone to take away my serenity or ability to survive prison day by day and still be able to sleep at night.
After the coworker went off on me, I just walked away. That's what I learned to do when someone is being unreasonable and angry, just walk away. Do not engage. I walked away and I wrote a note. I resigned from my job. It sucks, but it is the right thing to do for me. I can still help students on the side, if they want some help. I have only months left, I don't want this other person to look at me as an enemy and she is really good at math and the students will benefit from her teaching them. I was good too, but I will not allow myself to again be stressed about going to work everyday, because I fear how someone will talk to me. This is the way I will know that I can keep my head up and not be constantly walking on egg shells. It's going to be okay. I am about to deliver the note in person. I do not know the reaction I will get, but I suspect it will be fine. I am just an inmate. I can be replaced.
Friday, March 7, 2014
From Dragonfly: A Communication Move
They'd been telling us for months... then they did the wiring... then the units came in and sat empty... yesterday it happened... They moved the email computers into the housing units. Four per unit - which is a little unfair, as some units have like 100 people and other units, such as mine, has about 300 people. In fact, my current unit is the largest. Last night, the line to use the email took over 45 minutes. In the main hospital, I never waited more than 20 minutes and usually it was much shorter. I have a feeling that the excitement of email at our fingerprints will soon die down, though, once people use up their funds faster. It does cost 5 cents per minute of use, so many people can only use the computer for a short limited time. I try to not be on email for more than 30 minutes - $1.50 - per day. That's approximately $45/month = a lot of money when in prison!
The other thing I've noticed is that all the computers were put into these little desk units that lock. So, now, I realize, email can be taken away from us if people misuse them or are causing a ruckus in the unit. We all get the punishment, even if just a few are causing trouble. I pray that people will see this as the privilege it is and do nothing to get them locked down. For me, writing this way is a great way for all my communication with the outside world. I've slowed on my phone calls. It's just so hard to hear voices, sometimes, and it is also difficult to never be delivering very good news. Plus, the lines for the phones remain insanely long most of the time (except mornings, but I doubt anyone wants me to call at 6am).
Such a simple move of the computers, but it will actually impact my day in many ways. It's amazing how we fall into a routine in our lives - kind of like if that coffee shop you always go to on the way to work in the morning is now closed, you have to shift your routine and sometimes it's difficult. For me, my routine always started with my going to email and waiting for Freckles to meet me about 6:40am for breakfast. But now, there will be no where we are allowed to just "stand" or "sit" to meet one another. After breakfast, sometimes I would go back into email before work and see Lola. Now, there's no where to automatically see Lola in the morning either. After lunch, I usually went into the email room to do personal emails or write, but now it would be in my unit, which is much less convenient and would have longer lines. So, everything changes with this little movement of where email is accessible.
I hear that most the prisons put email in the units. Honestly, I do like it. I feel like it's a little more private, there are doors that separate us between units so we can't just read each others business. We can use it later in the day and during times that we would need a "pass" to access it during the day. There are certainly benefits. I think the only "kink" is with my own head its OCD of not enjoying inconvenient change, but, then again, it's been made into a convenience in a different way. Perplexing as that is, I will still enjoy my time on trulinks.
The other thing I've noticed is that all the computers were put into these little desk units that lock. So, now, I realize, email can be taken away from us if people misuse them or are causing a ruckus in the unit. We all get the punishment, even if just a few are causing trouble. I pray that people will see this as the privilege it is and do nothing to get them locked down. For me, writing this way is a great way for all my communication with the outside world. I've slowed on my phone calls. It's just so hard to hear voices, sometimes, and it is also difficult to never be delivering very good news. Plus, the lines for the phones remain insanely long most of the time (except mornings, but I doubt anyone wants me to call at 6am).
Such a simple move of the computers, but it will actually impact my day in many ways. It's amazing how we fall into a routine in our lives - kind of like if that coffee shop you always go to on the way to work in the morning is now closed, you have to shift your routine and sometimes it's difficult. For me, my routine always started with my going to email and waiting for Freckles to meet me about 6:40am for breakfast. But now, there will be no where we are allowed to just "stand" or "sit" to meet one another. After breakfast, sometimes I would go back into email before work and see Lola. Now, there's no where to automatically see Lola in the morning either. After lunch, I usually went into the email room to do personal emails or write, but now it would be in my unit, which is much less convenient and would have longer lines. So, everything changes with this little movement of where email is accessible.
I hear that most the prisons put email in the units. Honestly, I do like it. I feel like it's a little more private, there are doors that separate us between units so we can't just read each others business. We can use it later in the day and during times that we would need a "pass" to access it during the day. There are certainly benefits. I think the only "kink" is with my own head its OCD of not enjoying inconvenient change, but, then again, it's been made into a convenience in a different way. Perplexing as that is, I will still enjoy my time on trulinks.
From Dragonfly: ...To Accept the Things I Cannot Change
I stopped by my case worker's office this afternoon. I asked her if there has been any update on getting my exit summary completed, so that I can get a date to go home. She had "promised" I'd be out of here before my home confinement date in May, but now, she says that since medical has not completed the paperwork, I'll be lucky to get home by June... and possibly will be here until my actual "out" date of July 2nd. Really!??!??! Any other facility, and I'd be at halfway house or home already. Something is just plain old wrong that they can't seem to complete the paperwork in order for me to get my time at halfway house or home confinement. It is just so frustrating. I heard from everyone - including once I was already here - that people get their time in halfway house and home confinement, but I've seen person after person have to max out their time, here, because of paperwork and bureaucratic b.s. Okay, I'm officially agitated. Even my supervisor asked me today when I am going home. I said, "within the next 120 days," because that's as close to a date as I have. Four more months of this... four more months away from my family, away from my friends, away from trying to get back in school, away from everyone who loves and needs me, just away. Four more months of depending on Traveler, Sporty, and especially Survivor who do so much for me from a distance. I'm away from Super Dog, away from T.S., who will finish her first year of college without me seeing her dorm room, away from my aging grandparents who are not doing too great, away from my father who can barely speak to me by phone and can no longer write me because he simply can't get the words out, away from my scooter "Hope," away from colorful clothing, pedicures, fresh vegetables, wonderful foods, my computer and the Internet, my cell phone and fun games, facebook, and especially my future. Four more months of being locked up with inmates, whose stories scare me more than I can share. I am constantly learning someone's back story and saying, "she did WHAT?!?!?" Life at a camp would be different, but I'm in a high security place with all levels of security inmates, and we are all together, eating at the same tables, studying in the same classrooms, working at the same jobs, and, especially, living in the same rooms.
I can change none of the above things I am ranting about. I really hate that I ranted, but one thing I learned in recovery is to "name it, claim it, and dump it," and that was my dump. It's out there and I can now walk away from this computer and writing this note knowing that at least I am not keeping it all inside. At least I no longer have no real emotions.
Four more months sucks, but it sucks much less than those who have 4 more years, or 40 more. Of course, I did not do anything that would have earned me that much time, but some people's sentences are far too long for their crime, and others are far too soft for theirs. It is all a matter of perspective. Over 4 months I can finish the throw blanket I hastily decided to start crocheting. It's definitely an original (I can see my errors), but it will be cute and warm. It is about 1/20th complete. A bit to go still. I can spend time with the people here that are friends, and perhaps help a newbie that may come along in the near future. We received 60 new inmates yesterday, I heard, and about 300 more are on their way according to inmate.com. I can see some of my students take the official GED, and, hopefully, a few will run up to me and say, "I did it!" I'll have such pride for those students. "Yes, yes, you did! I never doubted that you could," I would say with the biggest smile on my face.
Perhaps the next four months will send me to the camp, although it's been four months since I was told I was going. I tell my case worker, "I don't want to go to camp, I want to go home." She gives a knowing nod, but she, too, appears powerless to get the people who need to do the paperwork to do the paperwork. I'm not the only one in this situation, she tells me, but I know that... it really doesn't make it any easier knowing that others are also caught here because their paperwork is not completed. We should all be leaving - make room for the 300 newbies on their way. Where will they fit in this already beyond capacity place if no one gets released?!?! Ok, that was another vent. I'm going to walk away now. I'm going to make a peanut butter and jelly on a caramel rice cake dinner and drink a sprite. I will read the novel I'm finally finishing, "Gone Girl," that I started before I was incarcerated, but had not had access to until I found it waiting for someone to want it on a trash can lid (where we put things up for grabs) in my unit the other day. I also got a reader's digest today, that, I will enjoy. Interestingly, it is about "dumb criminals" - I think I now know some of those people! The picture has a criminal being held up by a banana - okay, that's funny, given how important bananas are at this place. It will make me laugh. Laughter is good.
I can change none of the above things I am ranting about. I really hate that I ranted, but one thing I learned in recovery is to "name it, claim it, and dump it," and that was my dump. It's out there and I can now walk away from this computer and writing this note knowing that at least I am not keeping it all inside. At least I no longer have no real emotions.
Four more months sucks, but it sucks much less than those who have 4 more years, or 40 more. Of course, I did not do anything that would have earned me that much time, but some people's sentences are far too long for their crime, and others are far too soft for theirs. It is all a matter of perspective. Over 4 months I can finish the throw blanket I hastily decided to start crocheting. It's definitely an original (I can see my errors), but it will be cute and warm. It is about 1/20th complete. A bit to go still. I can spend time with the people here that are friends, and perhaps help a newbie that may come along in the near future. We received 60 new inmates yesterday, I heard, and about 300 more are on their way according to inmate.com. I can see some of my students take the official GED, and, hopefully, a few will run up to me and say, "I did it!" I'll have such pride for those students. "Yes, yes, you did! I never doubted that you could," I would say with the biggest smile on my face.
Perhaps the next four months will send me to the camp, although it's been four months since I was told I was going. I tell my case worker, "I don't want to go to camp, I want to go home." She gives a knowing nod, but she, too, appears powerless to get the people who need to do the paperwork to do the paperwork. I'm not the only one in this situation, she tells me, but I know that... it really doesn't make it any easier knowing that others are also caught here because their paperwork is not completed. We should all be leaving - make room for the 300 newbies on their way. Where will they fit in this already beyond capacity place if no one gets released?!?! Ok, that was another vent. I'm going to walk away now. I'm going to make a peanut butter and jelly on a caramel rice cake dinner and drink a sprite. I will read the novel I'm finally finishing, "Gone Girl," that I started before I was incarcerated, but had not had access to until I found it waiting for someone to want it on a trash can lid (where we put things up for grabs) in my unit the other day. I also got a reader's digest today, that, I will enjoy. Interestingly, it is about "dumb criminals" - I think I now know some of those people! The picture has a criminal being held up by a banana - okay, that's funny, given how important bananas are at this place. It will make me laugh. Laughter is good.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
From Dragonfly: Is Anything Real?
There's such a falacy of living in prison. The reality of the world does not cross over the fences. People develop fake families, fake relationships, pretend to have histories they don't, pretend to have futures they don't. It is honestly hard to know what is truth and what is real. I will give a couple examples.
I have years of work with the LGBTQ community. I have taught about the differences between sexual orientation and gender and tried to help people understand the lives of transgender individuals - why they transition, the difficulty of their lives before and after transition, and how them being transgender has little to do with what their sexual orientation is. Gender and sexuality are SOOOO complicated, yet, here, in prison, it's even moreso.
Yesterday, a woman I know came into my room to ask my roommate to help her become a "boy." I looked to this woman and asked her why she felt she wanted to look like a boy. She responded that she wants a new girlfriend and she wants the girls chasing her. She had a fight with her girlfriend the day before and was looking for someone new. I asked if she felt like a "boy" or masculine, she said, "no." I asked why did she think she needed to look like a boy to get a girlfriend, she said that boy's are chased and taken care of by their "straight" girlfriends (who are only gay for the stay and therefore want some who looks masculine). I asked her why she doesn't just want to be herself and find a girl, she said that she just wants to get "f***ed." I didn't expect that response. So, she cut her hair shorter, borrowed clothing that is at least 3 sizes too big on her, and started to go by a guy's name. She is officially a "boi/boy" here at carswell, yet, on the inside, she is a girl. In fact, at home, she has a husband and 7 children --- and she's still in her 30's. What is real?
Another inmate, whose hair is short and dresses failry boyish, had a whole conversation with the women in the laundry room, yesterday, that she is a woman and proud to be a woman, and only looks the way she does because she is lazy and doesn't want to have to do her hair. This is a woman, who people who just don't understand gender and sexuality, would call, "sir" or "him," even though she would prefer "she" or "her." She passes that well. She has a wife and a child at home and a girlfriend of years here. What is real?
People form incredible friendships here. They share the details of their lives and bond over similarities, laugh over the crazy stories of the past, and cry over missing family and children. They promise to stay in touch once one goes home. Yet, a card or letter almost never comes. Did they already forget how hard it is in prison? Were those friendships real?
People go home saying they will never come back. They go to halfway houses or home confinement. Months later we see them again, most violating the most basic rules of their supervision - sex with other felons, getting pregnant by other other felons, traveling outside their zone without permission, drug dealing, ... they say that the rules are too hard on them - they'd rather just complete their time in prison. I can't imagine ever making the decision to come back to prison. It is not the "good ol' days" when we had no responsibilities. We leave behind everyone we love, and most of the women have young children. What is real?
In some ways, prison life is like taking a step back in time - to the 1940's or 50's - where life was much simpler, and especially was restrictive to women. Women who wanted to work in non-female jobs, had a hard time getting them, and often chose to look masculine, even if they didn't feel that way on the inside. Just wearing pants was off limits, but some defied those rules. Technology was limited, as it is here. In many ways, women's lives were lived by a set of known and unknown rules - especially if they went to college (where women had earlier curfews than men, and den mothers that forbade certain kinds of behavior). But, we live in the 21st century now, and so much has changed. So, perhaps that is what makes living in a place like this so unreal, because almost nothing seems to have changed for the female inmates in prison.
I have years of work with the LGBTQ community. I have taught about the differences between sexual orientation and gender and tried to help people understand the lives of transgender individuals - why they transition, the difficulty of their lives before and after transition, and how them being transgender has little to do with what their sexual orientation is. Gender and sexuality are SOOOO complicated, yet, here, in prison, it's even moreso.
Yesterday, a woman I know came into my room to ask my roommate to help her become a "boy." I looked to this woman and asked her why she felt she wanted to look like a boy. She responded that she wants a new girlfriend and she wants the girls chasing her. She had a fight with her girlfriend the day before and was looking for someone new. I asked if she felt like a "boy" or masculine, she said, "no." I asked why did she think she needed to look like a boy to get a girlfriend, she said that boy's are chased and taken care of by their "straight" girlfriends (who are only gay for the stay and therefore want some who looks masculine). I asked her why she doesn't just want to be herself and find a girl, she said that she just wants to get "f***ed." I didn't expect that response. So, she cut her hair shorter, borrowed clothing that is at least 3 sizes too big on her, and started to go by a guy's name. She is officially a "boi/boy" here at carswell, yet, on the inside, she is a girl. In fact, at home, she has a husband and 7 children --- and she's still in her 30's. What is real?
Another inmate, whose hair is short and dresses failry boyish, had a whole conversation with the women in the laundry room, yesterday, that she is a woman and proud to be a woman, and only looks the way she does because she is lazy and doesn't want to have to do her hair. This is a woman, who people who just don't understand gender and sexuality, would call, "sir" or "him," even though she would prefer "she" or "her." She passes that well. She has a wife and a child at home and a girlfriend of years here. What is real?
People form incredible friendships here. They share the details of their lives and bond over similarities, laugh over the crazy stories of the past, and cry over missing family and children. They promise to stay in touch once one goes home. Yet, a card or letter almost never comes. Did they already forget how hard it is in prison? Were those friendships real?
People go home saying they will never come back. They go to halfway houses or home confinement. Months later we see them again, most violating the most basic rules of their supervision - sex with other felons, getting pregnant by other other felons, traveling outside their zone without permission, drug dealing, ... they say that the rules are too hard on them - they'd rather just complete their time in prison. I can't imagine ever making the decision to come back to prison. It is not the "good ol' days" when we had no responsibilities. We leave behind everyone we love, and most of the women have young children. What is real?
In some ways, prison life is like taking a step back in time - to the 1940's or 50's - where life was much simpler, and especially was restrictive to women. Women who wanted to work in non-female jobs, had a hard time getting them, and often chose to look masculine, even if they didn't feel that way on the inside. Just wearing pants was off limits, but some defied those rules. Technology was limited, as it is here. In many ways, women's lives were lived by a set of known and unknown rules - especially if they went to college (where women had earlier curfews than men, and den mothers that forbade certain kinds of behavior). But, we live in the 21st century now, and so much has changed. So, perhaps that is what makes living in a place like this so unreal, because almost nothing seems to have changed for the female inmates in prison.
From Dragonfly: New "Issue"
I finally decided to wait in the laundry line this morning at 6 am to obtain my "issue." Three pair of panties, three pair of socks, and three bras were given to me. Yay! They use such no-name brands of things that everything pretty much falls apart long before the 6-month issue of new items is given. Luckily, Freckles lives in the main building since she is doing RDAP, so she held me a much closer placement in line than I would have had after limping myself from the housing units to the main building once "chow" was called at 6 this morning. By 6:25am, I was back in my room, getting ready for work, and making my bed. Breakfast with Freckles at 6:40am, finished off my early morning.
I've been reading a lot more, again, now that I am on the upper tier. I read three books this weekend, which was a shock to my roommates. Meanwhile, I also made 3 bracelets for someone and, also, stitched on a plastic canvas a Tasmanian devil for a friend's cup. It was a busy weekend, mostly spent in my room. Lola and I did try to go to indoor rec and play a game, but all the tables were being used.
I also did something I hadn't done since I got here, I walked the track a couple times around. Usually, my legs would not allow for even a short consistent walk, but I felt decent the other night, and it was beautiful weather, and so Lola and myself took 2 trips around the track. That's just 2/3 of a mile, but, still, it's definite improvement. We've promised each other that we will do that more, once it is warmer again. It's in the 20's now - brrrr. Of course, everyone passed us by, it hasn't made my walking any faster, but just sustaining a walk is good news. I have been having a new set of symptoms in my legs - a lot of aching in my ankles, especially when I lie down. I am not worried about it, though, I'm sure it's just another extension of my spondyloarthropathy and enthesitis. Amazing how much pain you can learn to live with, when you have no choice.
I'm teaching a new adult continuing education (ACE) course on employment skills on Monday nights. Last week was the first night, and the students were ecstatic with the content and my teaching. Numerous students told me that I should be a public speaker and I continue to get feedback on the class. Just this morning, while someone was brushing her teeth in the bathroom, she was telling me that it's the best ACE course she's taken here. It makes me smile. I know that I was meant to teach and I pray I am given that opportunity again in the future. I won't say I'm the best teacher, by no means, but when you gain energy, rather than lose it, doing a job, then you know it's a good fit for you. There's nothing better than seeing the connection of knowledge on a student's face--- "oh, I get it!!!"
So, I shall wear my new "issue" clothing in confidence that I know that there's a future for me beyond being imprisoned. As I tell my students, 40 doors may be closed to us, but the 41st may be open. We need to be humble, honest, open-minded, and willing - and in time, all our dreams are still possible. I told a young woman in her 20's yesterday that she can still aspire to be a surgeon. Why not? Start at a community college, do well, transfer to a 4-year college, take lots of math and science, take the MCAT, and she will be well on her way. Anything is possible - as long as she stays away from drugs and the fast money that got her in here. Perhaps the class is inspiring the women to take a chance at a slower life on the outside. I know that even teaching it, is giving me perspective on never giving up on my goals, even when it appears no one wants to back me. Determination and that fire in your gut to keep moving forward can carry you through.
I've been reading a lot more, again, now that I am on the upper tier. I read three books this weekend, which was a shock to my roommates. Meanwhile, I also made 3 bracelets for someone and, also, stitched on a plastic canvas a Tasmanian devil for a friend's cup. It was a busy weekend, mostly spent in my room. Lola and I did try to go to indoor rec and play a game, but all the tables were being used.
I also did something I hadn't done since I got here, I walked the track a couple times around. Usually, my legs would not allow for even a short consistent walk, but I felt decent the other night, and it was beautiful weather, and so Lola and myself took 2 trips around the track. That's just 2/3 of a mile, but, still, it's definite improvement. We've promised each other that we will do that more, once it is warmer again. It's in the 20's now - brrrr. Of course, everyone passed us by, it hasn't made my walking any faster, but just sustaining a walk is good news. I have been having a new set of symptoms in my legs - a lot of aching in my ankles, especially when I lie down. I am not worried about it, though, I'm sure it's just another extension of my spondyloarthropathy and enthesitis. Amazing how much pain you can learn to live with, when you have no choice.
I'm teaching a new adult continuing education (ACE) course on employment skills on Monday nights. Last week was the first night, and the students were ecstatic with the content and my teaching. Numerous students told me that I should be a public speaker and I continue to get feedback on the class. Just this morning, while someone was brushing her teeth in the bathroom, she was telling me that it's the best ACE course she's taken here. It makes me smile. I know that I was meant to teach and I pray I am given that opportunity again in the future. I won't say I'm the best teacher, by no means, but when you gain energy, rather than lose it, doing a job, then you know it's a good fit for you. There's nothing better than seeing the connection of knowledge on a student's face--- "oh, I get it!!!"
So, I shall wear my new "issue" clothing in confidence that I know that there's a future for me beyond being imprisoned. As I tell my students, 40 doors may be closed to us, but the 41st may be open. We need to be humble, honest, open-minded, and willing - and in time, all our dreams are still possible. I told a young woman in her 20's yesterday that she can still aspire to be a surgeon. Why not? Start at a community college, do well, transfer to a 4-year college, take lots of math and science, take the MCAT, and she will be well on her way. Anything is possible - as long as she stays away from drugs and the fast money that got her in here. Perhaps the class is inspiring the women to take a chance at a slower life on the outside. I know that even teaching it, is giving me perspective on never giving up on my goals, even when it appears no one wants to back me. Determination and that fire in your gut to keep moving forward can carry you through.
Saturday, March 1, 2014
From Dragonfly: Another Day
I hadn't realized the stress that living with "crazy," had been causing in my life. My new room has no "crazy" and it is pretty mellow. Since I started at Carswell, I lived with 2 groups of semi-changing roommates - the ones in the bus stop and the roommates I had for the last 4 1/2 months. Well, one week in my new digs and my stress level has decreased. I'm not saying that it is totally gone (by no means), but it is better and I like my roommates. Even my bunky - who had been fairly silent to me - has opened up and we have had several good conversations. Three of us are leaving within the next 4 months and I think that puts us all in the mindset of getting home, not living here.
The tragedy of Sporty's brother, who is now on life support, has hit me very hard. Everyone is now traveling down to where he lives, so they can do their "goodbyes." As I had anticipated, the kids are having a really hard time. The docs say that there's nothing they can do - so it's going to be just a short time before he passes. It's hard to believe someone could go to the hospital with symptoms 48 hours ago and now he's leaving us. I hate that I can't be with them all - as they are part of my family now as well, they've been there for me, and they are just wonderful people. My thoughts are with them all throughout this time.
I'm struggling with the fact that my exit paperwork is still not completed. I do not understand why the process takes so long, but for months, now, we've been waiting. Until that paperwork is complete, and my case worker receives it from the medical department, no work can be done on getting me to halfway house or home. There's nothing like the feeling of powerlessness you have when all you can do is wait, and pray, hoping that you won't be one of the folks who has to "max out" to their end date because the paperwork was never sent on their behalf.
So, it's another day incarcerated. My life is not too exciting right now. I am playing Pat Sajak today, as we run a game of jeopardy with the students. I was asked to make all the questions and I'm happy to be something a little more entertaining with the students for a day. Their prize will be an extra "calculator day," because they are only authorized to use a calculator two days/week. So, be good all, and pray for Sporty's family, who is losing an angel.
The tragedy of Sporty's brother, who is now on life support, has hit me very hard. Everyone is now traveling down to where he lives, so they can do their "goodbyes." As I had anticipated, the kids are having a really hard time. The docs say that there's nothing they can do - so it's going to be just a short time before he passes. It's hard to believe someone could go to the hospital with symptoms 48 hours ago and now he's leaving us. I hate that I can't be with them all - as they are part of my family now as well, they've been there for me, and they are just wonderful people. My thoughts are with them all throughout this time.
I'm struggling with the fact that my exit paperwork is still not completed. I do not understand why the process takes so long, but for months, now, we've been waiting. Until that paperwork is complete, and my case worker receives it from the medical department, no work can be done on getting me to halfway house or home. There's nothing like the feeling of powerlessness you have when all you can do is wait, and pray, hoping that you won't be one of the folks who has to "max out" to their end date because the paperwork was never sent on their behalf.
So, it's another day incarcerated. My life is not too exciting right now. I am playing Pat Sajak today, as we run a game of jeopardy with the students. I was asked to make all the questions and I'm happy to be something a little more entertaining with the students for a day. Their prize will be an extra "calculator day," because they are only authorized to use a calculator two days/week. So, be good all, and pray for Sporty's family, who is losing an angel.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
From Dragonfly: The Hardest Times
The most difficult times being in prison is not when things are hard in here, but when things are hard back home and I can't be there to help my loved ones through it. Weeks ago, my step-grandfather fell and broke his hip. He is 95 years strong, but this is weakening him. He was still living independently, but is now at a rehab and having difficulty with some basic living tasks. My mother and step-father are doing everything they can to be there for him and with him, but I know that I would be there, too, if I were able to be home. I would also be there just for my folks to talk to and be support.
As I've mentioned before, my father had a stroke the week of my sentencing. He and his wife live in the Southwest and are not near any of my family. It doesn't really matter, because no one in my family talks to him, except me. But, I've been unable to visit him once since his stroke. He now has trouble communicating and even doing things he once loved - like spending hours on end on his computer. When I talk with him by phone, he has trouble saying what he is thinking and often gets frustrated. I wish I could visit him and just spend time with him. Time would make up for all the lost communication between us.
Now, I've learned that a member of Sporty's family is very ill, and it's not looking good. I know him well, and I know how devastating this is for her entire family. They lost her sister, way too young, five years ago, and now her mom may have to bury another child. I pray that somehow he is able to fight this. He has a brain tumor and was induced into a coma yesterday. The hospital says it doesn't look good, but I know that anything is possible. He is a wonderful and loving father, husband, uncle, brother, and son - the kind that other men should look up to. I wish I could be there with them all at this time, just to express my prayers and thoughts and to be there the way they've all been there for me. He has always loved the arts, especially theater, and even in his coma, I know he is singing a beautiful song to everyone in the family, especially his children!
It's so easy to get lost into our own lives here; that we distance ourselves from others, and forget that life continues on the outside, even while we are gone. Our role in our families, relationships, and friendships is missing and our loved ones need to be able to move forward with that void. However, at times when things are their toughest, we need to find a way to be there, even if not in person, to show that we still care, that the world does not revolve around us and our imprisonment; that there are much bigger things in this world that matter. I know that the one thing that would be the hardest for me, while incarcerated, would be to lose a loved one, and not be able to be there. I pray that this doesn't happen and that all the men I wrote of above find their way to health and into their family's arms once again.
As I've mentioned before, my father had a stroke the week of my sentencing. He and his wife live in the Southwest and are not near any of my family. It doesn't really matter, because no one in my family talks to him, except me. But, I've been unable to visit him once since his stroke. He now has trouble communicating and even doing things he once loved - like spending hours on end on his computer. When I talk with him by phone, he has trouble saying what he is thinking and often gets frustrated. I wish I could visit him and just spend time with him. Time would make up for all the lost communication between us.
Now, I've learned that a member of Sporty's family is very ill, and it's not looking good. I know him well, and I know how devastating this is for her entire family. They lost her sister, way too young, five years ago, and now her mom may have to bury another child. I pray that somehow he is able to fight this. He has a brain tumor and was induced into a coma yesterday. The hospital says it doesn't look good, but I know that anything is possible. He is a wonderful and loving father, husband, uncle, brother, and son - the kind that other men should look up to. I wish I could be there with them all at this time, just to express my prayers and thoughts and to be there the way they've all been there for me. He has always loved the arts, especially theater, and even in his coma, I know he is singing a beautiful song to everyone in the family, especially his children!
It's so easy to get lost into our own lives here; that we distance ourselves from others, and forget that life continues on the outside, even while we are gone. Our role in our families, relationships, and friendships is missing and our loved ones need to be able to move forward with that void. However, at times when things are their toughest, we need to find a way to be there, even if not in person, to show that we still care, that the world does not revolve around us and our imprisonment; that there are much bigger things in this world that matter. I know that the one thing that would be the hardest for me, while incarcerated, would be to lose a loved one, and not be able to be there. I pray that this doesn't happen and that all the men I wrote of above find their way to health and into their family's arms once again.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
From Dragonfly: Education Thinking
I have to say that I see my experience here as "experiential learning." There is a lot of literature about the kind of learning people do through experience, especially extreme experiences. I am in the midst of one of those experiences here. I can never fully turn off my academic brain, so I often wake up thinking about something in a more academic way, rather than just as it is.
For example, my experience working in education has broadened my mind on self-paced education, motivation behind learning, and other factors. It is especially enlightening to be doing things without access to technology, and seeing how technology can enhance and hinder learning environments. These are things that I will continue to consider as I work my way back into my studies (if I am given that opportunity) and/or in my future as an educator.
Another experience that has been profound is the reality of living in tight quarters with people who are vastly different from yourself. This also happens in college, when freshman are given a room assignment, often with a complete stranger. I find it interesting to see what dynamics seem to work well, and which ones do not. On a side note, both of the new women in my old room are already trying to get out of the room. They question how I successfully lived with Braids for 4 1/2 months. They don't realize that it was a constant negotiation between Braids, Bandana and myself. Now, two women who have been locked up far longer than I, are unable to handle that negotiation. This, too, teaches me a lot. It teaches me a lot about myself - I am capable of being in unacceptable situations and making them work. I am much less passive than I used to be, yet, I also have to have my limits of understanding what is acceptable behavior in myself. I do not want to find myself going to negative places in my head, just because I am experiencing anger or frustration, instead, I have learned to relax, spend time by myself, take myself out of unhealthy moments, and clear my mind enough to sleep.
I've also learned a lot about friendship. I thought I knew what friendship was. I was certainly surrounded by wonderful people prior to my incarceration. However, in the past 7 months, I have learned so much more. There are people I barely considered on the outside, who have been pillars of support for me. There are people on the outside that I thought were close friends, who actually chose to distance themselves from me. There are long term friends who overwhelm me everyday with their care and love and guidance, who I cherish deeply. There are people in prison, a place I never thought I would make a friend, who I hope to connect with beyond our times here. It's amazing, the value of a true friend.
Anyway, that's what's been on my mind lately. I'm off to go spend my afternoon teaching sentence combining, fragments, and conjunction words. I will also do some fractions, decimals and percents. Mostly, I will be grading people's packets. I guess that's a good day in prison.
For example, my experience working in education has broadened my mind on self-paced education, motivation behind learning, and other factors. It is especially enlightening to be doing things without access to technology, and seeing how technology can enhance and hinder learning environments. These are things that I will continue to consider as I work my way back into my studies (if I am given that opportunity) and/or in my future as an educator.
Another experience that has been profound is the reality of living in tight quarters with people who are vastly different from yourself. This also happens in college, when freshman are given a room assignment, often with a complete stranger. I find it interesting to see what dynamics seem to work well, and which ones do not. On a side note, both of the new women in my old room are already trying to get out of the room. They question how I successfully lived with Braids for 4 1/2 months. They don't realize that it was a constant negotiation between Braids, Bandana and myself. Now, two women who have been locked up far longer than I, are unable to handle that negotiation. This, too, teaches me a lot. It teaches me a lot about myself - I am capable of being in unacceptable situations and making them work. I am much less passive than I used to be, yet, I also have to have my limits of understanding what is acceptable behavior in myself. I do not want to find myself going to negative places in my head, just because I am experiencing anger or frustration, instead, I have learned to relax, spend time by myself, take myself out of unhealthy moments, and clear my mind enough to sleep.
I've also learned a lot about friendship. I thought I knew what friendship was. I was certainly surrounded by wonderful people prior to my incarceration. However, in the past 7 months, I have learned so much more. There are people I barely considered on the outside, who have been pillars of support for me. There are people on the outside that I thought were close friends, who actually chose to distance themselves from me. There are long term friends who overwhelm me everyday with their care and love and guidance, who I cherish deeply. There are people in prison, a place I never thought I would make a friend, who I hope to connect with beyond our times here. It's amazing, the value of a true friend.
Anyway, that's what's been on my mind lately. I'm off to go spend my afternoon teaching sentence combining, fragments, and conjunction words. I will also do some fractions, decimals and percents. Mostly, I will be grading people's packets. I guess that's a good day in prison.
From Dragonfly: You Are Going to Camp
I am getting used to being told that I am going to the camp across the street. When I was told this two days ago, by my case worker, I counted that it was about the sixth time a staff member has informed me of this since November. Since, for most inmates, it takes about 2-3 weeks to process them for the most across the street, I have a hard time believing that in fact, this time it is going to happen. But, anything is possible, so once again, I need to see daily if I am being told to "pack out" because I am moving. The constant unknown of where I will lay my head at night is a bit overwhelming, but becomes a norm when in prison.
If I am moved across the street, that will be fine, but really, I just want to get back to the Midwest at this point. I don't care if it is home confinement or a halfway house, I want to be closer to my family. I told my case worker that I want to get home, not to camp. She told me to come by yesterday to look and see if my exit summary is done, but when I went by, her office was dark and she was gone for the day. I can't stop by during her open house hours, because it is when I work, so I usually stop by after work. I will try again today. I "bumped" into the doctor that I've never met, but has to release me for the exit summary on Friday. I actually got her attention for 30 seconds and told her that I was awaiting her signatures so that my paperwork could be processed. She mentioned that she was "given" until "Tuesday." We will see if it was done, and maybe, instead of going to the camp, I can be given my official date of being released from Carswell. That would be something!!!
That's the thing about being here - the number one conversation is always about when we are getting out, how to get our paperwork processed, how to understand the paperwork they give us, and how to understand the discrepancies on why one person gets 8 months halfway house and another has to max out their time here, when they are here with similar sentences. There doesn't seem to be rhyme or reason, particularly, but I do know that it helps if you are not an "ass" to the staff that processes you, and if you ensure they actually know who you are, but stopping by every so often. Everyone has too big a caseload, and so office hour "stop-by's" are important to getting things done on your behalf. Another important factor is how much time you have left on your sentence. Very little can be done until you are about 17-19 months out from going home. So, if you have a short sentence, things start early in your time in prison, but if you have a long sentence, it is not until your last years that you will see much happen on your behalf. That's normal, so don't fret. Just do anything you can do to shorten your time and make the time move faster - programming, sentry credits, RDAP, etc.
In other news, my shampoo has gone missing. This may sound weird, but when you live out of a 3 foot locker, you pretty much know where everything is. Also, I keep my shampoo, along with all my other shower items, in a small "shower bag." So, yesterday, when I went to shower, and there was no shampoo, I was a little distressed. This morning, I tore my locker apart thinking "it must have just fallen out in my locker," but nope. No shampoo. It's easy to think that someone took it. I did have my shower bag hanging outside my locker the other day drying after my shower, but I am unable to confirm anything. Theft happens. If it was stolen, it's my own fault for hanging it in an easy to access area. If it was not stolen, then, somehow, it was lost. Luckily, it's only shampoo and all I can figure is that if someone took it, they must have needed it much more than I do. I will find a friend who has extra shampoo and borrow some until I shop next week. My hair is not greasy, yet.
I'm also happy to report that something positive happened here the last few days medically. A friend I have, here, is a breast cancer survivor and has just finished her radiation treatments. She was noticing swelling, heat, and pain, and went to sick call because of fear of a recurrence. The medical staff worked very swiftly on her behalf, having her get an MRI and an ultrasound within 24 hours. She is cancer free, and the relief can be seen all over her face. They think she may just still be reacting to the treatments, and she will be okay. I've never seen the medical staff work that fast for anyone and it was good.
On the negative side of things, I am very bothered by the fact that I must accept the unacceptable too often. The other day, while playing a game with Lola at inside rec, I went to the restroom. Inside, I saw two inmates who I know to be "dating" having a fight. There was hitting, screaming, crying, and yet, I was unable to do anything. That's what we learn, here, don't involve yourself in anything that is not about you. Had I tried to intervene, it would have been my head on the floor. Of that, I have no doubt. Had I told a staff member, I would have to look over my shoulder for the remainder of my time here. Don't be a snitch. So, I did nothing as domestic violence was occurring, and it made me sick to my stomach. I was unable to get back into my game of Tri-Ominos and I kept worrying about the weaker of the two inmates who were in the midst of their fight. The thing is, these two constantly fight, and it often gets physical. Everyone knows it, yet no one can do anything about it. Bruises are explained away (I hit my face on the upper bunk) and scratches are things that must of occurred while sleeping. These are the same kinds of violence we see in the homes of countless people on the outside. It sickens me that I did nothing and will likely do nothing in the future if I see it again. This is not the person I am. I am an advocate and a feminist and I do not accept violence against women - by men or other women. As I said, I am accepting the unacceptable! Also, just a day later, the two of them were laughing and smiling together, as if the fight had never occurred. As I mentioned, this is a consistent sight when these two inmates are concerned, and I pray, nothing serious ever happens!!
If I am moved across the street, that will be fine, but really, I just want to get back to the Midwest at this point. I don't care if it is home confinement or a halfway house, I want to be closer to my family. I told my case worker that I want to get home, not to camp. She told me to come by yesterday to look and see if my exit summary is done, but when I went by, her office was dark and she was gone for the day. I can't stop by during her open house hours, because it is when I work, so I usually stop by after work. I will try again today. I "bumped" into the doctor that I've never met, but has to release me for the exit summary on Friday. I actually got her attention for 30 seconds and told her that I was awaiting her signatures so that my paperwork could be processed. She mentioned that she was "given" until "Tuesday." We will see if it was done, and maybe, instead of going to the camp, I can be given my official date of being released from Carswell. That would be something!!!
That's the thing about being here - the number one conversation is always about when we are getting out, how to get our paperwork processed, how to understand the paperwork they give us, and how to understand the discrepancies on why one person gets 8 months halfway house and another has to max out their time here, when they are here with similar sentences. There doesn't seem to be rhyme or reason, particularly, but I do know that it helps if you are not an "ass" to the staff that processes you, and if you ensure they actually know who you are, but stopping by every so often. Everyone has too big a caseload, and so office hour "stop-by's" are important to getting things done on your behalf. Another important factor is how much time you have left on your sentence. Very little can be done until you are about 17-19 months out from going home. So, if you have a short sentence, things start early in your time in prison, but if you have a long sentence, it is not until your last years that you will see much happen on your behalf. That's normal, so don't fret. Just do anything you can do to shorten your time and make the time move faster - programming, sentry credits, RDAP, etc.
In other news, my shampoo has gone missing. This may sound weird, but when you live out of a 3 foot locker, you pretty much know where everything is. Also, I keep my shampoo, along with all my other shower items, in a small "shower bag." So, yesterday, when I went to shower, and there was no shampoo, I was a little distressed. This morning, I tore my locker apart thinking "it must have just fallen out in my locker," but nope. No shampoo. It's easy to think that someone took it. I did have my shower bag hanging outside my locker the other day drying after my shower, but I am unable to confirm anything. Theft happens. If it was stolen, it's my own fault for hanging it in an easy to access area. If it was not stolen, then, somehow, it was lost. Luckily, it's only shampoo and all I can figure is that if someone took it, they must have needed it much more than I do. I will find a friend who has extra shampoo and borrow some until I shop next week. My hair is not greasy, yet.
I'm also happy to report that something positive happened here the last few days medically. A friend I have, here, is a breast cancer survivor and has just finished her radiation treatments. She was noticing swelling, heat, and pain, and went to sick call because of fear of a recurrence. The medical staff worked very swiftly on her behalf, having her get an MRI and an ultrasound within 24 hours. She is cancer free, and the relief can be seen all over her face. They think she may just still be reacting to the treatments, and she will be okay. I've never seen the medical staff work that fast for anyone and it was good.
On the negative side of things, I am very bothered by the fact that I must accept the unacceptable too often. The other day, while playing a game with Lola at inside rec, I went to the restroom. Inside, I saw two inmates who I know to be "dating" having a fight. There was hitting, screaming, crying, and yet, I was unable to do anything. That's what we learn, here, don't involve yourself in anything that is not about you. Had I tried to intervene, it would have been my head on the floor. Of that, I have no doubt. Had I told a staff member, I would have to look over my shoulder for the remainder of my time here. Don't be a snitch. So, I did nothing as domestic violence was occurring, and it made me sick to my stomach. I was unable to get back into my game of Tri-Ominos and I kept worrying about the weaker of the two inmates who were in the midst of their fight. The thing is, these two constantly fight, and it often gets physical. Everyone knows it, yet no one can do anything about it. Bruises are explained away (I hit my face on the upper bunk) and scratches are things that must of occurred while sleeping. These are the same kinds of violence we see in the homes of countless people on the outside. It sickens me that I did nothing and will likely do nothing in the future if I see it again. This is not the person I am. I am an advocate and a feminist and I do not accept violence against women - by men or other women. As I said, I am accepting the unacceptable! Also, just a day later, the two of them were laughing and smiling together, as if the fight had never occurred. As I mentioned, this is a consistent sight when these two inmates are concerned, and I pray, nothing serious ever happens!!
Monday, February 24, 2014
From Dragonfly: My New Room
I'm getting used to my new surroundings. The room has a lot more light in it at night than my prior two rooms, due to it's location. I may have to crochet myself an eye mask. My bunky still has not said much to me, but she does speak English fluently. She has silver streaks in her hair, so I'm going to call her Silver. She really keeps to herself, but likes things a very certain way in the room. Silver uses the table a lot, so she will put people's stuff on their beds. For example, Blondie had two hard boiled eggs on the table yesterday, and Silver put them in a papertowel under Blondie's pillow (who does that?) and when Blondie went to get into her bed, the hardboiled eggs went flying across the room. Silver also put my water jug on the floor, because she wanted the entire table, and it serves as mine and Blondie's "night stand." The upper bunks can use the top of the lockers as their place to put stuff, but lower bunks only have the small table between them. It is what it is.
My third roommate, Longwinded, loves to tell stories, where she never quite gets to the end. You have to keep prompting her, because she wants to tell every last detail. She's a former student, and still a GED student, so we have some good familiarity. She spends much of the day in bed.
None of my new roommates are very conscientious of each other. Whether someone is asleep, or they are reading, the roommates don't seem to care. The light goes on and off without warning. Locker doors are banged against bunkbeds. Shoes are left in the middle of the floor to be tripped over. I guess I got spoiled being in a room where we were always getting screamed at by one roommate or another if we did anything that was considered "rude" (whether it was or wasn't actually rude). We had learned to put our blanket over the end of the bed, so that the locker door didn't hit and make a loud sound, keep our shoes under our beds, and ask before turning on/off the light. There were a lot of problems in my past room, but at least this wasn't one of the issues. I'm just going to keep being kind, and making no more noise than necessary.
I'm also getting used to how things work differently on the upper floor. People stop by each other's rooms much more often. It is not allowed to have others in your room, but everyone seems to do it. People watch the televisions in the atrium by sitting just outside their room on their trashcan. We can view 2 televisions from our side of the hallway, so people can select which television they wish to watch. Last night, there must have been 15 people watching the televisions from above. Not a bad idea! It's kind of like being at the drive-in, only with a much smaller screen and no snack shop (except for your commissary goodies).
Taz stops by my room each evening to grab my water bottle and fill it with ice downstairs. We only have a hot water spicket on the second floor. Many friends stop by the room on a daily basis and check to see if I'm going to a meal, want to do something, or just to see what I'm working on. I slept most of yesterday - that's the problem of being on my bed all day. But, I did work on the throw blanket I'm slowly making, as well as a couple bracelets for an acquaintance to send home to her kids. I think I'll catch up on reading as well, since I will be spending less time downstairs in the atrium.
At night, I caught up with Lola at indoor rec and we played games. We are currently enjoying Tri-Ominoes and King's Corner (card game). We usually spend at least an hour each night hanging out at indoor rec. Yesterday, I told Lola, that despite our arthropathy, we should try to do a light workout with our arms. So, next time we are there, we are going to start with some simple small weight baring exercises and see how our joints handle it. We are not going to be able to do full body or legs for now, due to pain, but maybe we can do something. Then we can reward ourselves by playing board and card games.
So, everything is going alright. The stairs are difficult, I had to do them 7x yesterday, but I am doing them - one step at a time - ha! I was even able to carry my laundry bag up and down the stairs yesterday, which I couldn't do when I first got here - so that's good as well.
My third roommate, Longwinded, loves to tell stories, where she never quite gets to the end. You have to keep prompting her, because she wants to tell every last detail. She's a former student, and still a GED student, so we have some good familiarity. She spends much of the day in bed.
None of my new roommates are very conscientious of each other. Whether someone is asleep, or they are reading, the roommates don't seem to care. The light goes on and off without warning. Locker doors are banged against bunkbeds. Shoes are left in the middle of the floor to be tripped over. I guess I got spoiled being in a room where we were always getting screamed at by one roommate or another if we did anything that was considered "rude" (whether it was or wasn't actually rude). We had learned to put our blanket over the end of the bed, so that the locker door didn't hit and make a loud sound, keep our shoes under our beds, and ask before turning on/off the light. There were a lot of problems in my past room, but at least this wasn't one of the issues. I'm just going to keep being kind, and making no more noise than necessary.
I'm also getting used to how things work differently on the upper floor. People stop by each other's rooms much more often. It is not allowed to have others in your room, but everyone seems to do it. People watch the televisions in the atrium by sitting just outside their room on their trashcan. We can view 2 televisions from our side of the hallway, so people can select which television they wish to watch. Last night, there must have been 15 people watching the televisions from above. Not a bad idea! It's kind of like being at the drive-in, only with a much smaller screen and no snack shop (except for your commissary goodies).
Taz stops by my room each evening to grab my water bottle and fill it with ice downstairs. We only have a hot water spicket on the second floor. Many friends stop by the room on a daily basis and check to see if I'm going to a meal, want to do something, or just to see what I'm working on. I slept most of yesterday - that's the problem of being on my bed all day. But, I did work on the throw blanket I'm slowly making, as well as a couple bracelets for an acquaintance to send home to her kids. I think I'll catch up on reading as well, since I will be spending less time downstairs in the atrium.
At night, I caught up with Lola at indoor rec and we played games. We are currently enjoying Tri-Ominoes and King's Corner (card game). We usually spend at least an hour each night hanging out at indoor rec. Yesterday, I told Lola, that despite our arthropathy, we should try to do a light workout with our arms. So, next time we are there, we are going to start with some simple small weight baring exercises and see how our joints handle it. We are not going to be able to do full body or legs for now, due to pain, but maybe we can do something. Then we can reward ourselves by playing board and card games.
So, everything is going alright. The stairs are difficult, I had to do them 7x yesterday, but I am doing them - one step at a time - ha! I was even able to carry my laundry bag up and down the stairs yesterday, which I couldn't do when I first got here - so that's good as well.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
From Dragonfly: Smile
Hair - check. Nicest t-shirt - check. Make-up - check. Perhaps some glitter on face - check. Best gym shoes - check. Best fitting sweat pants - check. Best pal - check. Brushed teeth - check. Tickets - check.
It's photo days in prison. Every Saturday and Sunday at indoor rec, inmates line up for getting photos taken. There are countless backgrounds (although only one is set up for the weekend), and the photos are taken on basic digital cameras (no fancy stuff here). Work-out equipment is used for sitting and other poses (like a stepper is perfect as a bench). And, once you are all set up - SMILE!
Tickets for photos are sold at the commissary for $1 each. You wait about 2-3 weeks for your printed photo - just one per ticket. Multiple poses are only allowed with multiple tickets. You do not get to just select your best shots, so smile big, lift up that chin, don't look off at the person on the exercise cycle, give those smiling eyes to the camera. If you want sexy, only one butt cheek (fully clothed) can show and the rest of you must be viewable. You may not wear shorts, it's sweats or your khaki pants. No bearing any skin, other than your face and your arms.
Pictures are taken with roommates, buddies, girlfriends, groups, and by oneself. Many pics tend to be taken right before someone is about to leave. People send the photo home so that their family can make copies for everyone in the picture. Pictures by oneself is usually for someone back home (I took one to send to my mom a couple months ago) or for someone's sweetheart in here. The pictures are nothing fancy, but it is a time when we see some people smile for the first time!
A lot of inmates don't have many teeth, though. Too many years of drugs and other issues have rotted them out. They tend to smile without opening their mouths. Some have dentures, others wait more than 5 years to get their new teeth. They still smile for pictures!
As for me, I've only done photos a couple of times. There's the photos I've taken in visitation, but that's with family and friends. I took a couple pictures with South. One she didn't smile, so I kept pushing on her side the second time, and I got a big smile that time. Last night, I took pictures with Lola and Taz. They should be fun. I prefer upper body only, and certainly, not sexy. But, to each their own!
It's photo days in prison. Every Saturday and Sunday at indoor rec, inmates line up for getting photos taken. There are countless backgrounds (although only one is set up for the weekend), and the photos are taken on basic digital cameras (no fancy stuff here). Work-out equipment is used for sitting and other poses (like a stepper is perfect as a bench). And, once you are all set up - SMILE!
Tickets for photos are sold at the commissary for $1 each. You wait about 2-3 weeks for your printed photo - just one per ticket. Multiple poses are only allowed with multiple tickets. You do not get to just select your best shots, so smile big, lift up that chin, don't look off at the person on the exercise cycle, give those smiling eyes to the camera. If you want sexy, only one butt cheek (fully clothed) can show and the rest of you must be viewable. You may not wear shorts, it's sweats or your khaki pants. No bearing any skin, other than your face and your arms.
Pictures are taken with roommates, buddies, girlfriends, groups, and by oneself. Many pics tend to be taken right before someone is about to leave. People send the photo home so that their family can make copies for everyone in the picture. Pictures by oneself is usually for someone back home (I took one to send to my mom a couple months ago) or for someone's sweetheart in here. The pictures are nothing fancy, but it is a time when we see some people smile for the first time!
A lot of inmates don't have many teeth, though. Too many years of drugs and other issues have rotted them out. They tend to smile without opening their mouths. Some have dentures, others wait more than 5 years to get their new teeth. They still smile for pictures!
As for me, I've only done photos a couple of times. There's the photos I've taken in visitation, but that's with family and friends. I took a couple pictures with South. One she didn't smile, so I kept pushing on her side the second time, and I got a big smile that time. Last night, I took pictures with Lola and Taz. They should be fun. I prefer upper body only, and certainly, not sexy. But, to each their own!
From Dragonfly: View from Up Above
So, I wrote too soon... Yesterday, I came home from my job at 3:30pm and everyone was saying, "your name is on the list...!" They were right, my name, and Lola's, was on the list of people who had to move. I had less than 15 minutes to pack up everything I have into laundry bags and bring it to my new room. The new bed had a crappy mattress, so a friend's friend found me a medical mattress. A newish friend, Taz, moved all my stuff. I couldn't do it... because my new room is back on the second floor - 24 steps up - and we know that stairs and my body don't mesh well. Luckily, Taz can do the stairs running if she wanted to, so she had no problem doing them 4x in a row to get all my stuff to my new room. Someone had been waiting to move into my space for an hour, and she was needing to get the bed made and lie down before 4pm count.
My new room has two people I am familiar with and one person I am not. I'm glad to say that I don't believe any illegal activity is occurring in this room. That will be a very nice change. One of the ladies is a former student of mine, who now is in a different classroom. That's a little awkward, but alright. Another lady is someone I've seen making out with and fighting with her girlfriend on numerous occasions around the compound. I believe her girlfriend was just recently transferred to a different prison. The fourth new roomie is my bunky. I think she speaks Spanish primarily (so, she can speak well with my former student who is also Latina), but has not said two words to me since my move in yesterday.
My new room, also, has three early risers. My bunky works in the kitchen on breakfast shift. On week days, she needs to be there at 5am, on weekends, 6am. The one whose girlfriend recently left, I'll call her Blondie, wakes up early every day and spends most of her day in pill line - 3x/day for 1-3 hours each time. Then, there's me. I wake early every day as well. I am up by 5:30 am most weekdays and by 6:30 am on weekends. So, it may be a good room in that way (no more being yelled at for making noise in the a.m.).
The problem remains the stairs. I am great getting up the stairs (as long as I am not hauling anything), but I really have difficulty getting down the stairs. My enthesitis causes pain at my Achilles region and the way we bend our legs for stairs just causes pain. I'll take it one day at a time, but I may have to go back to the dreaded "sick call" to get a lower tier or elevator pass. Neither is easy with the P.A. who I am currently assigned to.
I guess I got luckier than Lola, though. She was moved back to 1 South. I am devastated that we are no longer on the same unit. Since just before South left, Lola became my pal, and the person I most hang out with. Now, we can't just hang on the unit together, which is what we mostly did. Different units means that we can no longer eat our meals in together. She literally has the peanut butter to my jelly. We would share our commissary and eat together. I have the BBQ sauce, she has the packaged beef. I have the tortilla wraps, she has the stuff that goes inside them. Ugh. We never planned for being in different units, because we are both "chronic care." She has rheumatoid arthritis, so we have a lot of pain in common.
Okay, I want to end this with something positive. I have a view from my barred window for the first time. I look over the compound, directly at the camp that I should be at, but am not. I can watch the sunset, a bit, off to the west. That's something I'll enjoy. I have a feeling I'll be spending a lot more time in my bed, and a lot less time in the atrium, now that I am back upstairs.
My new room has two people I am familiar with and one person I am not. I'm glad to say that I don't believe any illegal activity is occurring in this room. That will be a very nice change. One of the ladies is a former student of mine, who now is in a different classroom. That's a little awkward, but alright. Another lady is someone I've seen making out with and fighting with her girlfriend on numerous occasions around the compound. I believe her girlfriend was just recently transferred to a different prison. The fourth new roomie is my bunky. I think she speaks Spanish primarily (so, she can speak well with my former student who is also Latina), but has not said two words to me since my move in yesterday.
My new room, also, has three early risers. My bunky works in the kitchen on breakfast shift. On week days, she needs to be there at 5am, on weekends, 6am. The one whose girlfriend recently left, I'll call her Blondie, wakes up early every day and spends most of her day in pill line - 3x/day for 1-3 hours each time. Then, there's me. I wake early every day as well. I am up by 5:30 am most weekdays and by 6:30 am on weekends. So, it may be a good room in that way (no more being yelled at for making noise in the a.m.).
The problem remains the stairs. I am great getting up the stairs (as long as I am not hauling anything), but I really have difficulty getting down the stairs. My enthesitis causes pain at my Achilles region and the way we bend our legs for stairs just causes pain. I'll take it one day at a time, but I may have to go back to the dreaded "sick call" to get a lower tier or elevator pass. Neither is easy with the P.A. who I am currently assigned to.
I guess I got luckier than Lola, though. She was moved back to 1 South. I am devastated that we are no longer on the same unit. Since just before South left, Lola became my pal, and the person I most hang out with. Now, we can't just hang on the unit together, which is what we mostly did. Different units means that we can no longer eat our meals in together. She literally has the peanut butter to my jelly. We would share our commissary and eat together. I have the BBQ sauce, she has the packaged beef. I have the tortilla wraps, she has the stuff that goes inside them. Ugh. We never planned for being in different units, because we are both "chronic care." She has rheumatoid arthritis, so we have a lot of pain in common.
Okay, I want to end this with something positive. I have a view from my barred window for the first time. I look over the compound, directly at the camp that I should be at, but am not. I can watch the sunset, a bit, off to the west. That's something I'll enjoy. I have a feeling I'll be spending a lot more time in my bed, and a lot less time in the atrium, now that I am back upstairs.
Friday, February 21, 2014
From Dragonfly: Setting a Goal
A friend of mine, here, told me to stop setting my goal on getting to the camp. She said I should set my goal on getting home. I've been trying to work both angles for the last several months, but it really is looking like getting across the street is a losing battle. And, I am within months of going home - or through halfway house and then home. So, I made the decision to set my goals on a date - April 14, 2014 - that date would allow me, possibly, to enjoy a Passover Seder with my family.
It's not going to be an easy goal to reach. All the pieces are outside of my control. The only thing I can do is to stay on the staff to try and get my paperwork completed. Yesterday, I finally talked with the woman responsible for doing my "exit summary" paperwork. She informed me that because I am a level 3, my doctor is required to approve my halfway house/ home confinement. She'd sent my doctor a list of names a bit ago and she hasn't heard back. So, I submitted a cop-out to my doctor. Since I am not scheduled to see my doctor (whom I've never met) until late May, I'm praying that she will use my medical records and see that I am eligible for halfway house. Not sure how long it will take, but it's a necessary step in this process.
I hate that there are so many cogs in the wheel and it's dependant on so many people doing something. Talk about bureaucracy - nothing happens quickly. Things get lost. Things are forgotten. This is people's lives, and, yet, we just have to sit and wait. But I can wait... April 14th, that's my goal. I will do whatever I need to do to meet the goal, knowing full well, there's not much I can do. But, putting that date out in the Universe, may help make it come true. You never know... anything is possible. Never give up hope!
It's not going to be an easy goal to reach. All the pieces are outside of my control. The only thing I can do is to stay on the staff to try and get my paperwork completed. Yesterday, I finally talked with the woman responsible for doing my "exit summary" paperwork. She informed me that because I am a level 3, my doctor is required to approve my halfway house/ home confinement. She'd sent my doctor a list of names a bit ago and she hasn't heard back. So, I submitted a cop-out to my doctor. Since I am not scheduled to see my doctor (whom I've never met) until late May, I'm praying that she will use my medical records and see that I am eligible for halfway house. Not sure how long it will take, but it's a necessary step in this process.
I hate that there are so many cogs in the wheel and it's dependant on so many people doing something. Talk about bureaucracy - nothing happens quickly. Things get lost. Things are forgotten. This is people's lives, and, yet, we just have to sit and wait. But I can wait... April 14th, that's my goal. I will do whatever I need to do to meet the goal, knowing full well, there's not much I can do. But, putting that date out in the Universe, may help make it come true. You never know... anything is possible. Never give up hope!
Thursday, February 20, 2014
From Dragonfly: Changing Things Up
As I've mentioned before, the staff like to "change things up" in the units every so often. Yesterday, that change occurred when Bandana was moved out and Peppers was moved in. Bandana went to a new unit and Peppers came from that unit. Braids and I curiously tried to get to know Peppers a bit. She's been in three years. She sleeps a lot. She takes some serious medications, which make her tired and a bit high. She drinks the pepper juice from the bottle that the hot peppers come from, which depletes her potassium, so she complains of charley horses all day. She has a picture board that displays a nice family, and perhaps some friends. She is well-known in the Carswell community - especially people who have been here for a while. She likes things clean (good!). So, for the first time in 4 1/2 months, I am going to get used to a new roommate again. I will miss Bandana. As serious as she was, and even a little frightening at times, she was a softy to me (always talking about the woman she loves who is very ill), and I saw her in her most fragile moments of tears and fear. The truth is that most people's "prison persona" starts once they walk outside their room, but their real side shows when they are in the safety of their room.
I'm not the only person dealing with a new roommate. My pal, Lola, also has a new one. In her case, she is not too happy about the new woman in her room. She has to wear diapers and often smells of urine. She, also, had a severe head injury, resulting in her head having a large dent. It looks super painful, but results in the women needing a lot of assistance with getting to/from her wheelchair, going to the restroom, going to meals and pillline, etc. She probably needs an INA, but for some reason was moved out of the hospital units into our exterior unit. I hope things work out well for them. I have a feeling that she could be moved again quickly, as she probably needs to be placed much closer to the restroom, which is about as far as can be from Lola's room.
Another move was for a friend who has the broken foot from being run over by a wheelchair. So, this friend now has to sit in her own wheelchair. Irony, right? She was placed in a unit that currently has no showers on the floor that she is on. Well, she can't do the stairs... so, I am not sure if she will be moved again soon, as well. Seems I am pretty secure in my location. Most of the people being moved are based on who their "team staff" are, and I'm already in my team staff's unit. Braids, on the other hand, is not, so I may end up with all new roommates. I'm not sure, but anything is possible when that staff is "changing things up."
I'm not the only person dealing with a new roommate. My pal, Lola, also has a new one. In her case, she is not too happy about the new woman in her room. She has to wear diapers and often smells of urine. She, also, had a severe head injury, resulting in her head having a large dent. It looks super painful, but results in the women needing a lot of assistance with getting to/from her wheelchair, going to the restroom, going to meals and pillline, etc. She probably needs an INA, but for some reason was moved out of the hospital units into our exterior unit. I hope things work out well for them. I have a feeling that she could be moved again quickly, as she probably needs to be placed much closer to the restroom, which is about as far as can be from Lola's room.
Another move was for a friend who has the broken foot from being run over by a wheelchair. So, this friend now has to sit in her own wheelchair. Irony, right? She was placed in a unit that currently has no showers on the floor that she is on. Well, she can't do the stairs... so, I am not sure if she will be moved again soon, as well. Seems I am pretty secure in my location. Most of the people being moved are based on who their "team staff" are, and I'm already in my team staff's unit. Braids, on the other hand, is not, so I may end up with all new roommates. I'm not sure, but anything is possible when that staff is "changing things up."
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
From Dragonfly: 6 Months
Today is officially 6 months - looking at the date. I self-surrendered on August 19th and it is February 19th. There were times when I thought I may be elsewhere by this point, but here I am. I am here. I suppose I am where I am meant to be. In honor of my 6 months, I am making my own throw blanket. It's striped with tons of colors and will be super colorful when it's done. I was never into super colorful things, but I'm having fun mixing and matching the very limited choices of yarns I have access to. They had banana bread at breakfast, I like to think that such goodness was also in support of my 6 month anniversary of imprisonment.
Six months in prison comes with some benefits. I am able to get a new bunch of socks and underwear at laundry next week. Since we only get 5 at a time, I'm excited to finally be able to move on from the one's I received my second day here. Well, I think that's the only benefit, but it's a good one!
At six months, I am happy to say, that my pre-bought timex watch is still going strong, my hair has grown out well, I am not totally grey, my glasses are still in one piece, I am still able to walk, I sleep, I've gained new craft skills, I've read countless books, I've completed many, many crosswords, I've taught in three classrooms and with three teachers, I've taken a beginning drawing class, I've lost 23 pounds, I've made some good friends, I've written (probably) 150 times, I've received hundreds of letters, I've written far less letters (sorry, friends!), I've moved rooms three times, I've moved units once, I've been strip searched at least 15 times, I've been patted down just once, I have become a jailhouse cook, I've eaten off of a dozen or so homemade cheesecakes, I officially know what a "potato roll" is, I've discovered the goodness of Sazon seasoning, I've met my first "cat-coon," and I've seen a small guard take down a very large woman (well, more than once). I guess it's been a productive six months.
I am so grateful, knowing, that I will not need to be here another 6 months. My exit will be within 4 1/2 months (hopefully sooner, rather than later). I need my family, and they need me. One day at a time will one day equal a week, then a month, then six months, and later a year. Any time is hard, but taking it a day at a time, we can look back and see all the things we accomplished, even in prison.
Six months in prison comes with some benefits. I am able to get a new bunch of socks and underwear at laundry next week. Since we only get 5 at a time, I'm excited to finally be able to move on from the one's I received my second day here. Well, I think that's the only benefit, but it's a good one!
At six months, I am happy to say, that my pre-bought timex watch is still going strong, my hair has grown out well, I am not totally grey, my glasses are still in one piece, I am still able to walk, I sleep, I've gained new craft skills, I've read countless books, I've completed many, many crosswords, I've taught in three classrooms and with three teachers, I've taken a beginning drawing class, I've lost 23 pounds, I've made some good friends, I've written (probably) 150 times, I've received hundreds of letters, I've written far less letters (sorry, friends!), I've moved rooms three times, I've moved units once, I've been strip searched at least 15 times, I've been patted down just once, I have become a jailhouse cook, I've eaten off of a dozen or so homemade cheesecakes, I officially know what a "potato roll" is, I've discovered the goodness of Sazon seasoning, I've met my first "cat-coon," and I've seen a small guard take down a very large woman (well, more than once). I guess it's been a productive six months.
I am so grateful, knowing, that I will not need to be here another 6 months. My exit will be within 4 1/2 months (hopefully sooner, rather than later). I need my family, and they need me. One day at a time will one day equal a week, then a month, then six months, and later a year. Any time is hard, but taking it a day at a time, we can look back and see all the things we accomplished, even in prison.
From Dragonfly: The Journey of Patience
If prison teaches you anything, it is patience. Nothing happens quickly. Nothing happens in the time you would expect in the outside world. Everything is out of your control, and you have to be able to sit patiently and wait. I've mentioned the lines and wait times to be seen. I have mentioned the length of the pill line. I've mentioned a lot of waiting... a lot of hurry up and wait.
Patience has never been my strong suit. When I applied to my higher education programs, I checked constantly to ensure the applications were complete and to see when decisions would be made. When waiting to see if I was selected for the Vietnam or South Africa trips, I'd gotten myself to the point of believing I would not be accepted, because the wait to hear was so long. When I finish a semester of school, I am usually the first person who receives their grades online, and tells everyone else that they were posted. When I was told that I would be going to prison, I was in distress waiting for when my surrender date would be and what institution I would be sent to. It makes me crazy, waiting.
However, now I am so used to waiting, that I don't depend on anything happening. This is especially true for my paperwork to be completed by the medical staff so that I can officially transfer to the camp across the street and so that my halfway house paperwork can be completed. My situation is not unique, but it makes it no easier. Had my paperwork been completed before the holidays, as I was told it would, I would already be living across the street and I would, possibly, be leaving very soon to my halfway house. However, not only was the paperwork never completed then, it still has not been done. There's nothing I can do about it either - except wait. And wait. And wait.
At this point, I'll be lucky to be transferred to the camp in March and I'll be even luckier if I can go to the halfway house in April. Soon, as time keeps clicking, I'll be looking at my home confinement date in May, and my official out date in July. If the paperwork is not completed, I will have to max out at July 2nd (my July 4th out date is a holiday, so it became July 3rd - I received one day credit for the day I went to the Marshall's office to be finger printed and photographed prior to self surrender). I should not have to wait for July to be released. But, we are powerless while we are in prison. All we can do is accept. All I can do is accept. And wait. And wait. And wait.
Patience has never been my strong suit. When I applied to my higher education programs, I checked constantly to ensure the applications were complete and to see when decisions would be made. When waiting to see if I was selected for the Vietnam or South Africa trips, I'd gotten myself to the point of believing I would not be accepted, because the wait to hear was so long. When I finish a semester of school, I am usually the first person who receives their grades online, and tells everyone else that they were posted. When I was told that I would be going to prison, I was in distress waiting for when my surrender date would be and what institution I would be sent to. It makes me crazy, waiting.
However, now I am so used to waiting, that I don't depend on anything happening. This is especially true for my paperwork to be completed by the medical staff so that I can officially transfer to the camp across the street and so that my halfway house paperwork can be completed. My situation is not unique, but it makes it no easier. Had my paperwork been completed before the holidays, as I was told it would, I would already be living across the street and I would, possibly, be leaving very soon to my halfway house. However, not only was the paperwork never completed then, it still has not been done. There's nothing I can do about it either - except wait. And wait. And wait.
At this point, I'll be lucky to be transferred to the camp in March and I'll be even luckier if I can go to the halfway house in April. Soon, as time keeps clicking, I'll be looking at my home confinement date in May, and my official out date in July. If the paperwork is not completed, I will have to max out at July 2nd (my July 4th out date is a holiday, so it became July 3rd - I received one day credit for the day I went to the Marshall's office to be finger printed and photographed prior to self surrender). I should not have to wait for July to be released. But, we are powerless while we are in prison. All we can do is accept. All I can do is accept. And wait. And wait. And wait.
From Dragonfly: Olympics
Every now and then, a television in the atrium will show the Olympics. I watch in awe as huge sleds speed down a track, people jump 100 feet in the air on skis (and do twists on top of that), snowboarders do tricks I've never seen before, and skaters land back on their feet after jumping and twisting in the air. These are all things I could never do. They not only have talent, but these athletes have a dedication to their craft that demands health of mind and body. If your head isn't totally in, your body will not do what you need it to do. If your body is not totally in, your head may not be able to overcome the pain. Although, last night, I saw a man driving the USA 1 bobsled overcome great pain in his calf to win a medal in the 2-man sled for the first time in over 60 years. I'm sure he's limping around Sochi today - proudly wearing the bronze around his neck. We can always overcome obstacles if our will is strong enough.
Life also has many obstacles. There are those that are put before us and those we build ourselves. So often, we are our own worst enemies. We believe bad will happen, so we do what we "think" will overcome the bad, only to cause that bad thing to happen. The number one way we do this is through lies. I am not immune from this by any means. When in the reality of my addiction, lying just came with the compulsion. In order to keep destroying myself, I had to lie to everyone around me, strangers, and especially myself. Today, I do my best to live in honesty. Sometimes the old me comes out, and I tell a white lie to protect myself or someone, but then it just weighs heavy on me and, practicing the final steps of my program, "when wrong, promptly admit it," I will apologize and say that I have no idea why I just said what I did, but here's the truth. It is always better to face your fears, than to not take the chance on the truth.
Recently, I've heard of a number of "lies" that people here told on the outside to try and "protect" themselves. For example, a woman I know did not tell her ex-husband that she was going to prison. She feared that he would try to gain custody of her children. After almost 6 months of maintaining the lie, her ex-husband found out, is furious with her not telling him, and now may go after custody. Had my friend been honest from the beginning, the best interest of the children would have probably led them to live with their grandparents, as the father has many issues of his own, and everything may have worked out. But, now, the dishonesty may lead to my friend's fear of losing custody.
Another "lie" I've recently heard about is a different person who claimed to have education that she does not have. The DOP did a little background check and now she is known to be a liar. I'm not sure why this inmate felt the need to lie, but it caught up with her and she did not get the job she was trying to get. Had she been honest, her intelligence may have been enough to get her the job.
To be honest actually takes a lot of dedication - not unlike the dedication of the Olympians we watch on television. We need to breath deeply and believe that we can face our fears and still land on our feet. "We are only as sick as our lies," is a common statement in 12-step programs. There's a lot more to gain through honesty, than what we can lose through our lies and tales.
I'm going to enjoy watching the rest of the week of the Olympics, when someone is kind enough to turn it on. Had these athletes lied to their parents, their coaches, themselves, or others, likely they would not be where they are today. It's hard work to be your best person, and we don't get medals for being good, but life will give us many opportunities we never imagined, when we live in honesty.
Life also has many obstacles. There are those that are put before us and those we build ourselves. So often, we are our own worst enemies. We believe bad will happen, so we do what we "think" will overcome the bad, only to cause that bad thing to happen. The number one way we do this is through lies. I am not immune from this by any means. When in the reality of my addiction, lying just came with the compulsion. In order to keep destroying myself, I had to lie to everyone around me, strangers, and especially myself. Today, I do my best to live in honesty. Sometimes the old me comes out, and I tell a white lie to protect myself or someone, but then it just weighs heavy on me and, practicing the final steps of my program, "when wrong, promptly admit it," I will apologize and say that I have no idea why I just said what I did, but here's the truth. It is always better to face your fears, than to not take the chance on the truth.
Recently, I've heard of a number of "lies" that people here told on the outside to try and "protect" themselves. For example, a woman I know did not tell her ex-husband that she was going to prison. She feared that he would try to gain custody of her children. After almost 6 months of maintaining the lie, her ex-husband found out, is furious with her not telling him, and now may go after custody. Had my friend been honest from the beginning, the best interest of the children would have probably led them to live with their grandparents, as the father has many issues of his own, and everything may have worked out. But, now, the dishonesty may lead to my friend's fear of losing custody.
Another "lie" I've recently heard about is a different person who claimed to have education that she does not have. The DOP did a little background check and now she is known to be a liar. I'm not sure why this inmate felt the need to lie, but it caught up with her and she did not get the job she was trying to get. Had she been honest, her intelligence may have been enough to get her the job.
To be honest actually takes a lot of dedication - not unlike the dedication of the Olympians we watch on television. We need to breath deeply and believe that we can face our fears and still land on our feet. "We are only as sick as our lies," is a common statement in 12-step programs. There's a lot more to gain through honesty, than what we can lose through our lies and tales.
I'm going to enjoy watching the rest of the week of the Olympics, when someone is kind enough to turn it on. Had these athletes lied to their parents, their coaches, themselves, or others, likely they would not be where they are today. It's hard work to be your best person, and we don't get medals for being good, but life will give us many opportunities we never imagined, when we live in honesty.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
From Dragonfly: Conversations I Don't Enjoy
In the RDAP program through the Feds, which is the residential drug and alcohol program and includes a couple hours of programming every day. People who qualify for the program can receive up to 9 months off their time in prison (they receive extra halfway house time). Their "out date" is changed as soon as they start the program. If they finish it, and don't quit or get into trouble, they are guaranteed that new out date. For those who come into prison with a history of drug or alcohol abuse, it's a great way to change your thinking, yourself, and hope for a different future.
My struggle with the program is that they discount the beliefs of 12-step programs. They focus on changing thoughts and behaviors, but not on the emotional illness that underlies the addiction. They tell the people in the program that addiction is not a disease and they have articles from some journals to back up their ideas.
I have a friend in RDAP who calls the 12-step programs "extreme." She doesn't believe that you can never participate in the behavior again. Based on her program in RDAP, she can drink again, she just would need to make a different choice about driving while drunk. I struggle greatly with this, because once you are drinking, how rational a choice are you able to make? In my program, we believe that the minute you go back to what was your addiction, you start right where you left off, even if you've worked on changing yourself. A first gamble, a first drink, a first pill, what ever the addiction may be, will lead you right back to stinking thinking and irrational behavior you had that brought you into the 12-step program.
At breakfast today, there was no room for conversation about why 12-step programs do work and that addiction is an illness. My friend was entirely closed off to that idea. She's closed off to the idea that she should never engage in the behavior again. Her addiction-recovery program is telling her that she can.
I became frustrated. I said, "my 12-step program saved my life." Then there was the "differences" of well, I must have crossed a different line. "Some people can be functional alcoholics," she said, "functional alcoholics would not need a 12-step program."
These ideas lead me to think about cross-addiction. If we don't really change ourselves and get to the heart of why we are addicts, we can just cross addict. I've seen so many people go from alcoholics to compulsive gamblers, or the other way around. From drug addicts to money addicts. We are unable to stop our addictive behaviors (the actual type of addiction is a symptom) because we are not getting to the root of the problems. The 12-steps, worked honestly, can help make the change. I'm not saying that any program is for everyone, but discounting a program is just plain closed-minded and harmful to those that have relied on the programs for decades.
I said, "can we go from 'either-or' to 'both-and'?" Meaning - can we accept that different programs can work, but neither program is bad in itself. Anyone can say they are "different" than the people in the 12-step rooms, in fact all of us usually start by doing that. It's once we are open and start to see the similarities and understand the "well, I didn't do that 'yet'" that we truly can understand the program. It can take a good 3 months of working a program for the changes to start. At first, our fog that brought us into the rooms needs to lift.
If you, or someone you know, is going to RDAP, I think that's wonderful. It will help you. However, don't discount the programs that have been working for hundreds of thousands of people for decades. There's a reason they help us not continue our irrational, baffling, addiction and I for one know it works if you work it!
My struggle with the program is that they discount the beliefs of 12-step programs. They focus on changing thoughts and behaviors, but not on the emotional illness that underlies the addiction. They tell the people in the program that addiction is not a disease and they have articles from some journals to back up their ideas.
I have a friend in RDAP who calls the 12-step programs "extreme." She doesn't believe that you can never participate in the behavior again. Based on her program in RDAP, she can drink again, she just would need to make a different choice about driving while drunk. I struggle greatly with this, because once you are drinking, how rational a choice are you able to make? In my program, we believe that the minute you go back to what was your addiction, you start right where you left off, even if you've worked on changing yourself. A first gamble, a first drink, a first pill, what ever the addiction may be, will lead you right back to stinking thinking and irrational behavior you had that brought you into the 12-step program.
At breakfast today, there was no room for conversation about why 12-step programs do work and that addiction is an illness. My friend was entirely closed off to that idea. She's closed off to the idea that she should never engage in the behavior again. Her addiction-recovery program is telling her that she can.
I became frustrated. I said, "my 12-step program saved my life." Then there was the "differences" of well, I must have crossed a different line. "Some people can be functional alcoholics," she said, "functional alcoholics would not need a 12-step program."
These ideas lead me to think about cross-addiction. If we don't really change ourselves and get to the heart of why we are addicts, we can just cross addict. I've seen so many people go from alcoholics to compulsive gamblers, or the other way around. From drug addicts to money addicts. We are unable to stop our addictive behaviors (the actual type of addiction is a symptom) because we are not getting to the root of the problems. The 12-steps, worked honestly, can help make the change. I'm not saying that any program is for everyone, but discounting a program is just plain closed-minded and harmful to those that have relied on the programs for decades.
I said, "can we go from 'either-or' to 'both-and'?" Meaning - can we accept that different programs can work, but neither program is bad in itself. Anyone can say they are "different" than the people in the 12-step rooms, in fact all of us usually start by doing that. It's once we are open and start to see the similarities and understand the "well, I didn't do that 'yet'" that we truly can understand the program. It can take a good 3 months of working a program for the changes to start. At first, our fog that brought us into the rooms needs to lift.
If you, or someone you know, is going to RDAP, I think that's wonderful. It will help you. However, don't discount the programs that have been working for hundreds of thousands of people for decades. There's a reason they help us not continue our irrational, baffling, addiction and I for one know it works if you work it!
Saturday, February 15, 2014
From Dragonfly: Another Three Day Weekend
Back home, I love long weekends. It's great time to take a short road trip, clean up the house, get things off my to-do list, relax, see movies, spend time with friends, catch up on sleep, eat a good breakfast out, and more. Here, a three-day weekend just means more of the same things I do every other weekend day. Usually, by Monday morning, I am so happy to have my job to go back to.
This weekend is President's Day Weekend. I guess on the outside, everyone is reading the newspaper flyers to see what big President's Day sales are going on. In here, it's three days of the same. Luckily, it is warm outside (I'm actually in my grey shorts), so I can spend some time outside in the sun today. The natural vitamin D should do me some good.
Other things I will do this weekend include helping a friend out writing something, starting a new project (intended to make my locker space more usable), watch the Olympics (if it is on any of the televisions), and clean my room. I am responsible for weekend cleaning. All three days will include this.
I dream for the day that I can go out and do something more. It will happen soon enough. There's no word on "when" my paperwork will be done for my transfer to the camp or my halfway house. Everything is waiting on medical to do their exit summary. If they fail to get it done, there is nothing I can do. So, I think I'll have many more weekends of new projects and cleaning my room.
This weekend is President's Day Weekend. I guess on the outside, everyone is reading the newspaper flyers to see what big President's Day sales are going on. In here, it's three days of the same. Luckily, it is warm outside (I'm actually in my grey shorts), so I can spend some time outside in the sun today. The natural vitamin D should do me some good.
Other things I will do this weekend include helping a friend out writing something, starting a new project (intended to make my locker space more usable), watch the Olympics (if it is on any of the televisions), and clean my room. I am responsible for weekend cleaning. All three days will include this.
I dream for the day that I can go out and do something more. It will happen soon enough. There's no word on "when" my paperwork will be done for my transfer to the camp or my halfway house. Everything is waiting on medical to do their exit summary. If they fail to get it done, there is nothing I can do. So, I think I'll have many more weekends of new projects and cleaning my room.
Friday, February 14, 2014
From Dragonfly: Relationships with the Outside
Everyday I hear stories from people who are struggling with keeping their marriages and romantic relationships strong, while they are in prison. There are many who fear their spouse/partner will have an affair (or are having an affair), will never forgive their crime or the fact that they are imprisoned, or have lost their trust. Since it is Valentine's Day, I thought I would share some of the hints that I have noticed that seem to be keeping some relationships strong or are those things that seem to distance relationships.
Tell the truth: Honesty truly is the best policy. Tell your spouse/partner everything and answer their questions honestly. You can only do this, totally, if you have forgiven yourself and are honest with yourself. If you are unwilling to do the hard work with yourself, then you cannot expect someone else to do it for you. If your spouse/partner was unaware of the behavior that got you in trouble with the law, then you will need to rebuild the trust. Do as much as you can before you come to prison, because once you are here, the ability to have good communication diminishes.
Focus on them: Remember that we cannot be the center of everyone's attention. If we are going to, or are in prison, they are dealing with not having you around. Often, that means increased demands on them: child rearing, bill paying, ... i.e. doing all the things you used to do when you were home. Try to put together a list of everything you do to keep the house going before you go. Leave behind all the passwords, phone numbers, etc that are needed for transition to go smoothly. Try to transition all these things prior to your self-surrender, so that there can be trial runs. If you are unsure of everything you do, then keep a log for a couple weeks, that will come in handy for the lists you need to make. I see a lot of fights over the little things, because there's nothing we can do from in here, but if our family is not sure how to proceed on the outside, it causes frustration for everyone.
Also, remember that they are alone and lonely as well. Sure, they have their friends and other family, but you were their best friend as their spouse/partner. When you write/call them, don't just complain about life in prison, focus some attention on them. Ask them about their day, their work, etc. Let them have a "normal" conversation with you now and then. If all the attention is on you every day, they can end up frustrated.
Communicate often: We know that communication is the most important thing in any relationship. Use the devices available - phone, email, and snail mail, to maintain a consistent presence in each others lives. Make some of the communication caring/romantic, some of it fact-telling, and some of it problem-solving. Consider this a time to once again "woo" each other with kind thoughts and dreams of the future. If you are a "problem-solver" - keep in mind that it is impossible to help solve each others problem's. You need to depend on yourselves for a while. Don't make this an area of broken communication because you feel so powerless.
Visit: It is so important to see the person you love so that you can reconnect the intimacy. I know that you cannot hold each other or have total privacy, but just being able to look into one another's eyes, hug, and just be side by side is so important. Think of the days, early in your relationship, when you were still nervous about kissing the other person or holding their hand. There are rules against touching (except for the kiss/hug hello and goodbye), so that restraint can actually build up the excitement for when your partner/spouse is once again home. You do not need to visit weekly or monthly, most people can't. Also, the incarcerated person cannot be upset if their spouse/partner is unable to visit for some time (remember, life goes on outside of prison), but try to visit at least once every quarter or 6 months. It will be something for you both to look forward to. You can make plans and build the anxiety of seeing each other once again. When the visit occurs, make the conversation about everything, not just the reality of prison-life.
I think that it is vitally important to not be angry with your spouse/partner on the outside. If your relationship was unhealthy before you went to prison, I promise that it will be unhealthy while you are in prison. If you lied to your partner for months/years, I can promise you that they will be hurt and untrusting of what you say. It is up to your partner if they want to see a therapist or do anything - we cannot control other people's thoughts, actions, or anything. Stop trying to tell someone else how they should feel or what they should do. A relationship will only be strong through incarceration and beyond if both people are fully committed to making it work - for better or for worse.
Financials: Our crimes put others into financial uncertainty. There's the cost of our defense, our restitution, the government's rights to our assets, etc. Work with a financial expert/attorney to protect the household finances as much as possible - in a legal way. Don't put all the pressure on your partner/spouse to figure it all out. Also, don't get mad if your partner/spouse makes a financial decision you don't agree with. Remember, no one is perfect and everyone gets overwhelmed when it comes to finances. Whatever loss you end up with is not as important as the people in your life. Things can be replaced, people cannot. Put aside your ego and your need to live a certain lifestyle. Once you are out of prison, you will have the opportunity to build a new life with your partner/spouse. There is no way to go back to before your incarceration, so let the "things" go.
Don't "cheat" on your partner/spouse: This is physical or emotional "cheating." For the time that you are apart, find hobbies, education, family members, work, etc. to keep yourself busy. It does not need to be a time of loneliness, if you have each other by communication and other things to occupy your time. Consider relationships that last while one person is in the military overseas or where someone has a very demanding job. What matters is that they trust one another - and that is especially true when it comes to the commitment you have for one another.
Love: The is the most important item. Make sure you tell each other that you "love" them every time you talk. It may be difficult at times, when things are going uneasy or you don't agree with a decision they made, but your love is the number one connection you will have throughout the imprisonment. If you aren't sure you "love" the person, then there is not a lot that can be done to save the relationship while one partner is incarcerated. Absence can either "make the heart grow stronger," or it can lead to "out of sight, out of mind." Whichever way you are going, honesty continues to be the best policy. If you know before the person goes to prison that things aren't working out, don't just pretend out of guilt, it will just make things really bad when the person leaves.
Well, I'm sure there's a lot more advice myself and others can give, but the most important thing is to be your best person every day, even through the hard days. Your strength will bind you together.
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone trying to maintain a healthy relationship while incarcerated! It may be difficult, but most of you will have many more years together on the outside, than the years that separate you for now.
Happy Valentine's Day, also, to all my friends and family. I love you all!
Tell the truth: Honesty truly is the best policy. Tell your spouse/partner everything and answer their questions honestly. You can only do this, totally, if you have forgiven yourself and are honest with yourself. If you are unwilling to do the hard work with yourself, then you cannot expect someone else to do it for you. If your spouse/partner was unaware of the behavior that got you in trouble with the law, then you will need to rebuild the trust. Do as much as you can before you come to prison, because once you are here, the ability to have good communication diminishes.
Focus on them: Remember that we cannot be the center of everyone's attention. If we are going to, or are in prison, they are dealing with not having you around. Often, that means increased demands on them: child rearing, bill paying, ... i.e. doing all the things you used to do when you were home. Try to put together a list of everything you do to keep the house going before you go. Leave behind all the passwords, phone numbers, etc that are needed for transition to go smoothly. Try to transition all these things prior to your self-surrender, so that there can be trial runs. If you are unsure of everything you do, then keep a log for a couple weeks, that will come in handy for the lists you need to make. I see a lot of fights over the little things, because there's nothing we can do from in here, but if our family is not sure how to proceed on the outside, it causes frustration for everyone.
Also, remember that they are alone and lonely as well. Sure, they have their friends and other family, but you were their best friend as their spouse/partner. When you write/call them, don't just complain about life in prison, focus some attention on them. Ask them about their day, their work, etc. Let them have a "normal" conversation with you now and then. If all the attention is on you every day, they can end up frustrated.
Communicate often: We know that communication is the most important thing in any relationship. Use the devices available - phone, email, and snail mail, to maintain a consistent presence in each others lives. Make some of the communication caring/romantic, some of it fact-telling, and some of it problem-solving. Consider this a time to once again "woo" each other with kind thoughts and dreams of the future. If you are a "problem-solver" - keep in mind that it is impossible to help solve each others problem's. You need to depend on yourselves for a while. Don't make this an area of broken communication because you feel so powerless.
Visit: It is so important to see the person you love so that you can reconnect the intimacy. I know that you cannot hold each other or have total privacy, but just being able to look into one another's eyes, hug, and just be side by side is so important. Think of the days, early in your relationship, when you were still nervous about kissing the other person or holding their hand. There are rules against touching (except for the kiss/hug hello and goodbye), so that restraint can actually build up the excitement for when your partner/spouse is once again home. You do not need to visit weekly or monthly, most people can't. Also, the incarcerated person cannot be upset if their spouse/partner is unable to visit for some time (remember, life goes on outside of prison), but try to visit at least once every quarter or 6 months. It will be something for you both to look forward to. You can make plans and build the anxiety of seeing each other once again. When the visit occurs, make the conversation about everything, not just the reality of prison-life.
I think that it is vitally important to not be angry with your spouse/partner on the outside. If your relationship was unhealthy before you went to prison, I promise that it will be unhealthy while you are in prison. If you lied to your partner for months/years, I can promise you that they will be hurt and untrusting of what you say. It is up to your partner if they want to see a therapist or do anything - we cannot control other people's thoughts, actions, or anything. Stop trying to tell someone else how they should feel or what they should do. A relationship will only be strong through incarceration and beyond if both people are fully committed to making it work - for better or for worse.
Financials: Our crimes put others into financial uncertainty. There's the cost of our defense, our restitution, the government's rights to our assets, etc. Work with a financial expert/attorney to protect the household finances as much as possible - in a legal way. Don't put all the pressure on your partner/spouse to figure it all out. Also, don't get mad if your partner/spouse makes a financial decision you don't agree with. Remember, no one is perfect and everyone gets overwhelmed when it comes to finances. Whatever loss you end up with is not as important as the people in your life. Things can be replaced, people cannot. Put aside your ego and your need to live a certain lifestyle. Once you are out of prison, you will have the opportunity to build a new life with your partner/spouse. There is no way to go back to before your incarceration, so let the "things" go.
Don't "cheat" on your partner/spouse: This is physical or emotional "cheating." For the time that you are apart, find hobbies, education, family members, work, etc. to keep yourself busy. It does not need to be a time of loneliness, if you have each other by communication and other things to occupy your time. Consider relationships that last while one person is in the military overseas or where someone has a very demanding job. What matters is that they trust one another - and that is especially true when it comes to the commitment you have for one another.
Love: The is the most important item. Make sure you tell each other that you "love" them every time you talk. It may be difficult at times, when things are going uneasy or you don't agree with a decision they made, but your love is the number one connection you will have throughout the imprisonment. If you aren't sure you "love" the person, then there is not a lot that can be done to save the relationship while one partner is incarcerated. Absence can either "make the heart grow stronger," or it can lead to "out of sight, out of mind." Whichever way you are going, honesty continues to be the best policy. If you know before the person goes to prison that things aren't working out, don't just pretend out of guilt, it will just make things really bad when the person leaves.
Well, I'm sure there's a lot more advice myself and others can give, but the most important thing is to be your best person every day, even through the hard days. Your strength will bind you together.
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone trying to maintain a healthy relationship while incarcerated! It may be difficult, but most of you will have many more years together on the outside, than the years that separate you for now.
Happy Valentine's Day, also, to all my friends and family. I love you all!
From Dragonfly: 4 1/2 Hours
There are many ways to spend 4 1/2 hours here. I could be reading a book. I could be helping students with their studies. I could be making a new locker organizer. I could be sleeping. The one way I do not like spending 4 1/2 hours is sitting in the clinic waiting room to be called.
I woke up early today to go to sick call. I had three reasons: 1) I wanted to get the results of my labs from January; 2) I wanted to see if my restrictions are updated from my trip to the rheumatologist; and 3) I had to renew most of my prescriptions. So, I had to be at the clinic around 6 a.m. My blood pressure was taken at 6:45 a.m. My name was called to see the Physicians Assistant at 10:30 a.m. I missed the entire morning of work. I spent my time in the clinic reading a "Reader's Digest." Then I did some crosswords. I also read several chapters of a book of fiction that a fellow inmate wants edited. Finally, I just closed my eyes and tried to relax.
The sights and sounds of the clinic are nothing great. The sounds are mostly people speaking quick spanish to one another. There are a couple posters on the wall about flu v. cold and protecting yourself against HIV/AIDS. I've read them more times than I can remember. There's also a display about the inmate co-pay program. Since I was attending sick call, I would be responsible for paying $2. It was deducted from my account before I was even seen.
My $2 got me 5 minutes with my assigned P.A. who would not give me the results of my labs, would not update my restrictions, but was more than willing to renew my medications (without asking me any questions about how I'm feeling or if they are working). In fact, my methotraxate labs were low, which is weird because I've been on methotrexate for over a year now, but no adjustments were made. The PA informed me that the rheumatologist has not yet sent over any detailed notes of our appointment. After nearly a month, something tells me that she may not. So, after 4 1/2 hours, I left the clinic with no new answers and just a sore butt from the blue uncomfortable benches.
It was only my second full sick-call, and I think I will make it my last. My last time there was no more successful than today's. Yet, it is the only way to be seen by a medical provider. I dear not mention that I'm having increased fatigue, or that my right hand hurts in a new way, or that my back has been hurting. I know these things only make things worse here for inmates. I can handle the pain. I just want to get out. I just want to go home. I know, once I am home, I will NEVER complain again about the wait to see a medical provider. At least I know, the wait will provide me with something of value.
I woke up early today to go to sick call. I had three reasons: 1) I wanted to get the results of my labs from January; 2) I wanted to see if my restrictions are updated from my trip to the rheumatologist; and 3) I had to renew most of my prescriptions. So, I had to be at the clinic around 6 a.m. My blood pressure was taken at 6:45 a.m. My name was called to see the Physicians Assistant at 10:30 a.m. I missed the entire morning of work. I spent my time in the clinic reading a "Reader's Digest." Then I did some crosswords. I also read several chapters of a book of fiction that a fellow inmate wants edited. Finally, I just closed my eyes and tried to relax.
The sights and sounds of the clinic are nothing great. The sounds are mostly people speaking quick spanish to one another. There are a couple posters on the wall about flu v. cold and protecting yourself against HIV/AIDS. I've read them more times than I can remember. There's also a display about the inmate co-pay program. Since I was attending sick call, I would be responsible for paying $2. It was deducted from my account before I was even seen.
My $2 got me 5 minutes with my assigned P.A. who would not give me the results of my labs, would not update my restrictions, but was more than willing to renew my medications (without asking me any questions about how I'm feeling or if they are working). In fact, my methotraxate labs were low, which is weird because I've been on methotrexate for over a year now, but no adjustments were made. The PA informed me that the rheumatologist has not yet sent over any detailed notes of our appointment. After nearly a month, something tells me that she may not. So, after 4 1/2 hours, I left the clinic with no new answers and just a sore butt from the blue uncomfortable benches.
It was only my second full sick-call, and I think I will make it my last. My last time there was no more successful than today's. Yet, it is the only way to be seen by a medical provider. I dear not mention that I'm having increased fatigue, or that my right hand hurts in a new way, or that my back has been hurting. I know these things only make things worse here for inmates. I can handle the pain. I just want to get out. I just want to go home. I know, once I am home, I will NEVER complain again about the wait to see a medical provider. At least I know, the wait will provide me with something of value.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
From Dragonfly: Seeing the Differences
Yesterday, I received several pieces of mail. Some were Valentine's cards, others were letters. I continue to be so grateful to everyone back home who continues the regular communication with me. One friend writes me at least weekly and tells me the tales about her life and watching her baby grow. Another, sends me cards nearly every week that are funny and bring a smile not just to my face, but to those around me. Some friends include stickers on their letters/envelopes. Some want me to write back (I will try). Mail call continues to be a highlight of my days.
The thing is, though, that my daily highlights used to be SO much bigger. I used to present important research and ideas to academics. I used to help students through a syllabus they helped build. I used to write research papers, conduct qualitative and quantitative research projects, and travel. I used to be an academic and my highlights were finding out that something was accepted to a conference or a journal. My highlights were learning a new concept that just made so much sense. My highlights were figuring out a statistical idea that had confused me. My highlights were spending time with top academics from their fields and learning amazing things and listening to amazing stories.
My days used to consist of reading, writing, asking questions, and being professional. My days, here, consist of smelling spoiled milk, trying to get a nap in during lunch time, getting a banana, and stitching yarn into a plastic canvas. I know there's still good I do - including my work with the GED students and teaching ACE classes, however, it is not the atmosphere I grew used to at school and, specifically, at a research university.
Yesterday's mail included a letter from one of my good friends back home. I asked all my friends to keep me updated about their lives; even though I am here, I want them to share life out there. I am so glad she wrote the truth, because the letter was all about the juggling she is doing with classes, academic and research projects, work, fellowship, and more. She is in the final academic year before she is on her dissertation full time. It's the life I would have been living this year, had I not been incarcerated. I read the paragraph three times, and then I read it to my friends. So much of the language is distant to me while I'm incarcerated, "pedagogy," "research," "fellowship," "dissertation," "professor," "guidance committee," "advisor," etc. I read it out loud because for the moment, I was just amazed at how fast my life can change. My words here consist of: "banana," "toilet paper," "cleaning," "bull dagger," "baby daddy," "family," "ice," "transfer," "home," "camp," "cheese cake," and "mail." There is not much academic about my current experience, except for the observations of living it.
I hope my friends continue to write me about the reality of their lives. Until yesterday, I'd almost forgotten what it was like being a PhD student. I'm glad my friend brought me back into it, because it gives me increased motivation to find my way back into it. I've been studying from a GRE study guide, in preparation for taking a new GRE upon my release. I will watch all my cohort friends graduate, likely, while I may be still trying to get back into school. I'm proud of them and it will just motivate me that much more. I, also, know, that this experience will make me an even better student and a stronger person.
The thing is, though, that my daily highlights used to be SO much bigger. I used to present important research and ideas to academics. I used to help students through a syllabus they helped build. I used to write research papers, conduct qualitative and quantitative research projects, and travel. I used to be an academic and my highlights were finding out that something was accepted to a conference or a journal. My highlights were learning a new concept that just made so much sense. My highlights were figuring out a statistical idea that had confused me. My highlights were spending time with top academics from their fields and learning amazing things and listening to amazing stories.
My days used to consist of reading, writing, asking questions, and being professional. My days, here, consist of smelling spoiled milk, trying to get a nap in during lunch time, getting a banana, and stitching yarn into a plastic canvas. I know there's still good I do - including my work with the GED students and teaching ACE classes, however, it is not the atmosphere I grew used to at school and, specifically, at a research university.
Yesterday's mail included a letter from one of my good friends back home. I asked all my friends to keep me updated about their lives; even though I am here, I want them to share life out there. I am so glad she wrote the truth, because the letter was all about the juggling she is doing with classes, academic and research projects, work, fellowship, and more. She is in the final academic year before she is on her dissertation full time. It's the life I would have been living this year, had I not been incarcerated. I read the paragraph three times, and then I read it to my friends. So much of the language is distant to me while I'm incarcerated, "pedagogy," "research," "fellowship," "dissertation," "professor," "guidance committee," "advisor," etc. I read it out loud because for the moment, I was just amazed at how fast my life can change. My words here consist of: "banana," "toilet paper," "cleaning," "bull dagger," "baby daddy," "family," "ice," "transfer," "home," "camp," "cheese cake," and "mail." There is not much academic about my current experience, except for the observations of living it.
I hope my friends continue to write me about the reality of their lives. Until yesterday, I'd almost forgotten what it was like being a PhD student. I'm glad my friend brought me back into it, because it gives me increased motivation to find my way back into it. I've been studying from a GRE study guide, in preparation for taking a new GRE upon my release. I will watch all my cohort friends graduate, likely, while I may be still trying to get back into school. I'm proud of them and it will just motivate me that much more. I, also, know, that this experience will make me an even better student and a stronger person.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
From Dragonfly: Sleeping In
At home, if we sleep through our alarm clocks, we wake up slowly, look at the time and suddenly jump to our feet knowing we are late for something. Well, the same is certainly true here in prison.
Tuesday mornings, this quarter, is my commissary shopping day. Due to my job in education, I am required to shop between 6-7am, and must be there by 6:10am in order for my sheet to be taken on the "work detail" side of the line. Work detail has their shopping first, so that we can be at work on time at 7:30am.
Last night I set my watch alarm for 5:35am. I had my clothing already out at the end of my bed. I had my full commissary sheet filled out and my grey shoulder bag ready to carry my commissary back to the unit. When 6am hit, I would be out the doors of my unit and by 6:07, I would be standing in the work detail line. I would have time to spare.
Well, today I must have turned off my alarm in my sleep, because I jumped up at the sound of the morning announcement, "attention housing inmates, male and female staff routinely work in and visit inmate housing areas." Well, that meant it was 6am. I probably slurred something bad under my breath, as I threw off my shorts and on my work pants, grabbed a hair band, my sweatshirt, my i.d., and my commissary sheet and bag, and headed for the door. It was 6:07am when I left and I was already running late.
Commissary is down in the basement of the medical/main building, next to our chow hall. It is located either at or close to where the morgue was when this was officially a military hospital. The way commissary works is that we each get a "commissary sheet." It lists all the items for sale with their prices (although prices change much more often than the sheet is updated). In advance, we sit down with a pencil and highlighter, and start putting "1," "2," "3," or "4" next to the items we wish to purchase. A rare item, like packets of ranch dressing, allows us to put a "10" next to it. That's how many we wish to purchase. All items have some limit on how many you can purchase at a time. Once we feel good about our list, we have to go through and highlight the items that we are purchasing, or the actual "shoppers" may miss that item on the long list - that is 3 pages in total.
We stand in line to hand in our lists. The guard comes by at 6:10/6:15 for the first pick-up. Then he picks up again about 20-30 minutes later and then again at 7am. The same routine occurs at lunch time, but being work detail, I am not allowed to do my commissary over my lunch. Once our sheet is picked up, and they've looked at our i.d. to see that we are giving our own sheet AND that it is our proper day to shop (1/4 of the people go each day), then we are left to sit against the walls in the hallway and wait for our name to be called. Most people sit on these really uncomfortable guard rails that are way too low to the ground and too close to the wall to ever be comfortable. My knees don't bend enough for the rail, so I sit my butt right down on the tiled ground and lean in to the rail. It works.
As work detail, they take our sheets only during the first round and we are called on first. I was about 20 people back in the work detail line and my name of called to go to the window at 6:30am. If I were forced to be in the regular line, I would have likely been over 100 people back and my name would not be called until after 7am, sometimes after 7:30am. Those folks give their lists and then head on to breakfast, but if you miss your name being called, you get no commissary for the week.
My commissary list included some of my staples: rice crackers (for peanut butter and jelly), a packet of tuna, a package of m&m's, relish (for the tuna), cheese crackers (for snacking), a 6-pack of Sprite, a bar of olive soap, three sheets of plastic canvas, batteries (for my book light), a pint of ice cream for me and Lola later, etc. I had about $40 in commissary purchases on my list. At the window, I received about $30 of the purchases. They gave me no batteries, no soap, no plastic canvas, and were out of other things as well. That's how it goes. You write what you want, but they are out of many of the items you write in.
When my name is called to the window, it is a small room like at a Western Union, with plastic glass windows and a small hole to speak through. There is also a conveyor belt that drops things in front of you on a small platform. Once my thumb print is accepted, the purchases start coming down the conveyor and I have to pick them up quickly and put them in the bag I brought. It is not until I am back at my unit that I actually have time to look and see what I was and wasn't given. A new commissary sheet is always in the pile, so we have a clean one to use next week.
Since I slept in today, I had to squish the purchases into my already overflowing 3' locker and then get ready for work. I made my bed. Got myself dressed in real work clothing. But still ran out the door, buttoning up my shirt, and throwing on my sweatshirt, so I could have a couple minutes to email before work. Sleeping in on commissary day is not the best way to start my day!
Tuesday mornings, this quarter, is my commissary shopping day. Due to my job in education, I am required to shop between 6-7am, and must be there by 6:10am in order for my sheet to be taken on the "work detail" side of the line. Work detail has their shopping first, so that we can be at work on time at 7:30am.
Last night I set my watch alarm for 5:35am. I had my clothing already out at the end of my bed. I had my full commissary sheet filled out and my grey shoulder bag ready to carry my commissary back to the unit. When 6am hit, I would be out the doors of my unit and by 6:07, I would be standing in the work detail line. I would have time to spare.
Well, today I must have turned off my alarm in my sleep, because I jumped up at the sound of the morning announcement, "attention housing inmates, male and female staff routinely work in and visit inmate housing areas." Well, that meant it was 6am. I probably slurred something bad under my breath, as I threw off my shorts and on my work pants, grabbed a hair band, my sweatshirt, my i.d., and my commissary sheet and bag, and headed for the door. It was 6:07am when I left and I was already running late.
Commissary is down in the basement of the medical/main building, next to our chow hall. It is located either at or close to where the morgue was when this was officially a military hospital. The way commissary works is that we each get a "commissary sheet." It lists all the items for sale with their prices (although prices change much more often than the sheet is updated). In advance, we sit down with a pencil and highlighter, and start putting "1," "2," "3," or "4" next to the items we wish to purchase. A rare item, like packets of ranch dressing, allows us to put a "10" next to it. That's how many we wish to purchase. All items have some limit on how many you can purchase at a time. Once we feel good about our list, we have to go through and highlight the items that we are purchasing, or the actual "shoppers" may miss that item on the long list - that is 3 pages in total.
We stand in line to hand in our lists. The guard comes by at 6:10/6:15 for the first pick-up. Then he picks up again about 20-30 minutes later and then again at 7am. The same routine occurs at lunch time, but being work detail, I am not allowed to do my commissary over my lunch. Once our sheet is picked up, and they've looked at our i.d. to see that we are giving our own sheet AND that it is our proper day to shop (1/4 of the people go each day), then we are left to sit against the walls in the hallway and wait for our name to be called. Most people sit on these really uncomfortable guard rails that are way too low to the ground and too close to the wall to ever be comfortable. My knees don't bend enough for the rail, so I sit my butt right down on the tiled ground and lean in to the rail. It works.
As work detail, they take our sheets only during the first round and we are called on first. I was about 20 people back in the work detail line and my name of called to go to the window at 6:30am. If I were forced to be in the regular line, I would have likely been over 100 people back and my name would not be called until after 7am, sometimes after 7:30am. Those folks give their lists and then head on to breakfast, but if you miss your name being called, you get no commissary for the week.
My commissary list included some of my staples: rice crackers (for peanut butter and jelly), a packet of tuna, a package of m&m's, relish (for the tuna), cheese crackers (for snacking), a 6-pack of Sprite, a bar of olive soap, three sheets of plastic canvas, batteries (for my book light), a pint of ice cream for me and Lola later, etc. I had about $40 in commissary purchases on my list. At the window, I received about $30 of the purchases. They gave me no batteries, no soap, no plastic canvas, and were out of other things as well. That's how it goes. You write what you want, but they are out of many of the items you write in.
When my name is called to the window, it is a small room like at a Western Union, with plastic glass windows and a small hole to speak through. There is also a conveyor belt that drops things in front of you on a small platform. Once my thumb print is accepted, the purchases start coming down the conveyor and I have to pick them up quickly and put them in the bag I brought. It is not until I am back at my unit that I actually have time to look and see what I was and wasn't given. A new commissary sheet is always in the pile, so we have a clean one to use next week.
Since I slept in today, I had to squish the purchases into my already overflowing 3' locker and then get ready for work. I made my bed. Got myself dressed in real work clothing. But still ran out the door, buttoning up my shirt, and throwing on my sweatshirt, so I could have a couple minutes to email before work. Sleeping in on commissary day is not the best way to start my day!
From Dragonfly: Goodbye South
South is currently in R&D, getting her DNA and thumbprint taken, and then she will walk out of the prison fences for the last time. She has a smile on her face, a small bag of everything she is taking home with her, and will be on a bus sometime later this morning. She promised that if the bus ride is bad, she will take a cab to the nearest airport and buy a ticket home. She is free!!!
South has been my number one support since I arrived here a week after her. She understood me, and I understood her. She is sarcastic, fun, interesting, strong, intelligent, capable, and sincere. She was someone many people, here, called "grandma," due to her grey/silver hair. She stands at about 100 lbs and 5 ft tall. She always called me "little one," but in reality, she is the 'little one.' We have a special bond, having gotten each other through the hardest of days here, and it's one that does not sever just because she is leaving. I know we will see one another again in the future. I will not say that about too many folks here.
I guess this makes today another landmark. It is South's and Freckle's 6 month anniversary of their arrival. Freckles will leave late this year, after she finishes the RDAP program (which got her an extra 9 months of halfway house post-program). My 6 months will be a week from today. We were talking about whether it goes slow or fast. I put it in these words, "each day feels like forever, and each week an eternity, but when we look back, it's all gone by so fast. It's the living of each day that is difficult." They all agreed. South will be walking back into her life at home just 6 months after she left it. I told her to tell everyone that she was at "fat camp" (she's never been more than 102 lbs.) and say it worked!
South didn't belong here. Her supposed 'crime' should have been handled civilly. But, in a very selfish way, I am so grateful to have served my time along with her. I hope that I can be as strong as she is when I grow older. She has taught me a lot, things that I will carry forward with me throughout my life. Perhaps one day I will make a quilt (her favorite hobby), and I will know it is because of the passion for quilting she brought into my life. That's just the way she is - she can talk about things she loves and suddenly you feel like you love them too. South is a very special woman. As so many people said to her this morning, as we walked to the R&D doors, "god-speed" my friend, god-speed!
South has been my number one support since I arrived here a week after her. She understood me, and I understood her. She is sarcastic, fun, interesting, strong, intelligent, capable, and sincere. She was someone many people, here, called "grandma," due to her grey/silver hair. She stands at about 100 lbs and 5 ft tall. She always called me "little one," but in reality, she is the 'little one.' We have a special bond, having gotten each other through the hardest of days here, and it's one that does not sever just because she is leaving. I know we will see one another again in the future. I will not say that about too many folks here.
I guess this makes today another landmark. It is South's and Freckle's 6 month anniversary of their arrival. Freckles will leave late this year, after she finishes the RDAP program (which got her an extra 9 months of halfway house post-program). My 6 months will be a week from today. We were talking about whether it goes slow or fast. I put it in these words, "each day feels like forever, and each week an eternity, but when we look back, it's all gone by so fast. It's the living of each day that is difficult." They all agreed. South will be walking back into her life at home just 6 months after she left it. I told her to tell everyone that she was at "fat camp" (she's never been more than 102 lbs.) and say it worked!
South didn't belong here. Her supposed 'crime' should have been handled civilly. But, in a very selfish way, I am so grateful to have served my time along with her. I hope that I can be as strong as she is when I grow older. She has taught me a lot, things that I will carry forward with me throughout my life. Perhaps one day I will make a quilt (her favorite hobby), and I will know it is because of the passion for quilting she brought into my life. That's just the way she is - she can talk about things she loves and suddenly you feel like you love them too. South is a very special woman. As so many people said to her this morning, as we walked to the R&D doors, "god-speed" my friend, god-speed!
Saturday, February 8, 2014
from Dragonfly: The Wheels Are Turning
Last week I went right up to the prison warden and told him about my "camp" transfer approval from October and that I was repeatedly told that that clearance had never occurred. Well, I guess that got things moving, because I just received an email from the Warden's email letting me know that my "exit" paperwork (i.e. transfer to the camp) is being processed. Looks like I will actually be going there to finish out my sentence. Not sure when, but this is definitely a cog in that direction.
Meanwhile, I am still waiting on medical to sign the form that allows my case worker to send off my halfway house request papers. It'll be a good 60 days before we know my fate, once those are sent. My current case worker promised that she will stay on getting it processed, even though I will have a different case worker at the camp.
Obviously, one piece of my move that I am not happy about, is the fact that at some time in the near future, I will need to resign my job in education. The good news is that my 'newish' co-tutor is excellent and the transition will go very smoothly (I believe) for the students and my supervising teacher. I am scheduled to teach two new ACE classes starting in just a couple weeks (Employment Skills I and Word Problems), but I believe I already have tutors who are willing to replace me in those courses. I would have really enjoyed working with the students in those areas. I will see if I can get hired by the education department at the camp, but knowing that I have only months left, I don't believe I would be a good candidate. I will try though.
South leaves on Monday - just 2 days and a wake-up. I guess those wheels are turning as well. She chose the scenic 24 hour bus ride home, rather than have her family fly her home. I'm not sure I would ever choose the bus ride, but she wants to take pictures of places she sees and get the "down time" before she is inundated by family. I can totally understand the need to clear our head fog once we leave here. I'll probably want to lock myself in my bedroom for days... although, I won't. I know that there are many, many people awaiting my release, and I will want their hugs as well.
The wheels are also turning on my attempts to get back into school. Sporty sent me a GRE study book and I am learning about the new GRE test. When I took it a couple years back, it was a different test. The scoring is totally different, now, as well as the exact contents of the test. Plus, we can now use a calculator on the mathematics sections. Sometimes, using a calculator is a hindrance, so I think I'll practice with both the calculator and without. Plus, the screen calculator does not have all the "magic" keys on it - like the fractions or exponents keys. I like the challenge of some of the difficult questions in the study book. They are certainly a step higher than in my GED courses, but still it only goes up to Geometry (just like the GED).
When I do transfer, I will be very sad leaving Lola behind. Her sentence is much longer than mine and we are the best of buddies. Once at the camp, I will not be allowed (or able) to communicate with her at all. She needs to get her wheels turning on getting transferred to the camp, too. That will be awesome, but not knowing if she will get there, especially before my "out" date, will be sad. Everyone needs a friend here, and she's one of the few I trust. I will also miss my morning conversations with Freckles. She's been a shining light (so positive) since I arrived here. She will leave in about 9 months from now. In the meantime, we will have no communication either. Sometimes, the rules of making friendships and then leaving them behind suck!
A friend sent me a Looney Tunes cross stitch pattern book and I'm excited to get back to my room and finish designing a "tweetie bird" on a plastic canvas. That will be my highlight of the day. But at least, the wheels keep on turning.
Meanwhile, I am still waiting on medical to sign the form that allows my case worker to send off my halfway house request papers. It'll be a good 60 days before we know my fate, once those are sent. My current case worker promised that she will stay on getting it processed, even though I will have a different case worker at the camp.
Obviously, one piece of my move that I am not happy about, is the fact that at some time in the near future, I will need to resign my job in education. The good news is that my 'newish' co-tutor is excellent and the transition will go very smoothly (I believe) for the students and my supervising teacher. I am scheduled to teach two new ACE classes starting in just a couple weeks (Employment Skills I and Word Problems), but I believe I already have tutors who are willing to replace me in those courses. I would have really enjoyed working with the students in those areas. I will see if I can get hired by the education department at the camp, but knowing that I have only months left, I don't believe I would be a good candidate. I will try though.
South leaves on Monday - just 2 days and a wake-up. I guess those wheels are turning as well. She chose the scenic 24 hour bus ride home, rather than have her family fly her home. I'm not sure I would ever choose the bus ride, but she wants to take pictures of places she sees and get the "down time" before she is inundated by family. I can totally understand the need to clear our head fog once we leave here. I'll probably want to lock myself in my bedroom for days... although, I won't. I know that there are many, many people awaiting my release, and I will want their hugs as well.
The wheels are also turning on my attempts to get back into school. Sporty sent me a GRE study book and I am learning about the new GRE test. When I took it a couple years back, it was a different test. The scoring is totally different, now, as well as the exact contents of the test. Plus, we can now use a calculator on the mathematics sections. Sometimes, using a calculator is a hindrance, so I think I'll practice with both the calculator and without. Plus, the screen calculator does not have all the "magic" keys on it - like the fractions or exponents keys. I like the challenge of some of the difficult questions in the study book. They are certainly a step higher than in my GED courses, but still it only goes up to Geometry (just like the GED).
When I do transfer, I will be very sad leaving Lola behind. Her sentence is much longer than mine and we are the best of buddies. Once at the camp, I will not be allowed (or able) to communicate with her at all. She needs to get her wheels turning on getting transferred to the camp, too. That will be awesome, but not knowing if she will get there, especially before my "out" date, will be sad. Everyone needs a friend here, and she's one of the few I trust. I will also miss my morning conversations with Freckles. She's been a shining light (so positive) since I arrived here. She will leave in about 9 months from now. In the meantime, we will have no communication either. Sometimes, the rules of making friendships and then leaving them behind suck!
A friend sent me a Looney Tunes cross stitch pattern book and I'm excited to get back to my room and finish designing a "tweetie bird" on a plastic canvas. That will be my highlight of the day. But at least, the wheels keep on turning.
Friday, February 7, 2014
From Dragonfly: Normalcy
It's so easy to write about things that are different about being incarcerated, and funny observations, but I realize that I've not written much about the normal behavior of so many here. So, here's a list to consider:
- Many people get up early to get ready for work. Some like their jobs, some dislike them. They go to work because they have to. They do not make as much money as they think they should, but they are grateful for a paycheck nonetheless.
- Many women are very into making sure their hair looks good every day. They will buy products to help their hair be straighter or curlier. They will have it done in a salon. They will color the roots and get rid of the grey. They will have someone who is excellent at braiding, design their new braided hairdo.
- Similarly, many women will not leave the unit without making up their face. They purchase way too expensive eye shadow, eye pencils, lipstick, blush, foundation, and much more to beautify their faces before going out.
- There are women who are doing the best job they can as parents. They call their kids every night. They sing lullabies to them. They listen to their kids talk about their days and encourage them to do their homework. They pray for their kids' wellness and they worry about them all the time.
- There are women going through menopause. They are dealing with "having their personal summers," trying to get on the right hormone treatments or going natural, their bodies changing, and the emotional ups and downs of the change.
- Some women are working hard to save their marriages. They are doing anything in their power to help build trust and communication between themselves and their spouse.
- On the other hand, there are women going through divorce. Some women started the process themselves, surprising their husband with the divorce papers or having come to agreement already for the divorce. There are women who have been surprised in here with divorce papers or husband's having affairs. Some women are only here for less than a year, but keeping a relationship going on the outside can be quite difficult.
- Some women believe they don't deserve any happiness. Their past relationships, crimes, and/or just low self-esteem leads them to feel that they deserve nothing good in their life. They don't apply for the second chance act because they don't think they deserve it. They don't get into healthy relationships, because they don't think they deserve it. So many women on the outside struggle with these same issues.
- There are real tears of joy and tears of sadness.
- There are many women trying to get through school - GED, cosmetology, apprenticeship, college courses... They are learning concepts that are foreign to them in order to get a step up in life. They need to balance their school with the demands of work, a tight schedule, and maintain some social life. So many women have these struggles outside as well.
- There are so many women fighting illness. They are dealing with the strain of an uncertain future, some going through chemo and radiation, others suddenly finding themselves in wheel chairs. They struggle to keep up their spirits.
- There are women reading newspapers and doing crosswords to bide their time. Just yesterday I was laughing after dinner. Lola and Appeal were reading sections of USA Today, while I worked on a plastic canvas project. I laughed and said, "this is not the image people think of when they consider prison." We are three women, one in her 40's one 50's and one 60's. We are intelligent, capable, and giving of our time. We want to know the news of the world and can have good conversations around what we are reading in the paper. Images such as this one is common, and it's so normal.
- There are women who will do anything for a cigarette (not allowed in prison). With so many laws on the outside about no smoking that people defy, there are the same defiers within prison. They just need that tobacco stick to relieve their anxiety.
- Women read books. They read a lot of books. There are some women reading as many as five or more books a week. They love a good read and are always searching for a series or an author to love.
- There are women who love to clean. They get rid of stress by deep cleaning their room, their locker, or even the atrium. It gives them joy to see a clean floor and dust-free surface.
There is a lot of normalcy here. For each women, it's a different normal - just like on the outside. Prison can mean a lot of change and difference, but not everything is different. We are still the women we were before we walked behind the fence. Some of us actually become better people in prison. Some women lose themselves here, but not all. The key is to do your time, but not let the time do you.
- Many people get up early to get ready for work. Some like their jobs, some dislike them. They go to work because they have to. They do not make as much money as they think they should, but they are grateful for a paycheck nonetheless.
- Many women are very into making sure their hair looks good every day. They will buy products to help their hair be straighter or curlier. They will have it done in a salon. They will color the roots and get rid of the grey. They will have someone who is excellent at braiding, design their new braided hairdo.
- Similarly, many women will not leave the unit without making up their face. They purchase way too expensive eye shadow, eye pencils, lipstick, blush, foundation, and much more to beautify their faces before going out.
- There are women who are doing the best job they can as parents. They call their kids every night. They sing lullabies to them. They listen to their kids talk about their days and encourage them to do their homework. They pray for their kids' wellness and they worry about them all the time.
- There are women going through menopause. They are dealing with "having their personal summers," trying to get on the right hormone treatments or going natural, their bodies changing, and the emotional ups and downs of the change.
- Some women are working hard to save their marriages. They are doing anything in their power to help build trust and communication between themselves and their spouse.
- On the other hand, there are women going through divorce. Some women started the process themselves, surprising their husband with the divorce papers or having come to agreement already for the divorce. There are women who have been surprised in here with divorce papers or husband's having affairs. Some women are only here for less than a year, but keeping a relationship going on the outside can be quite difficult.
- Some women believe they don't deserve any happiness. Their past relationships, crimes, and/or just low self-esteem leads them to feel that they deserve nothing good in their life. They don't apply for the second chance act because they don't think they deserve it. They don't get into healthy relationships, because they don't think they deserve it. So many women on the outside struggle with these same issues.
- There are real tears of joy and tears of sadness.
- There are many women trying to get through school - GED, cosmetology, apprenticeship, college courses... They are learning concepts that are foreign to them in order to get a step up in life. They need to balance their school with the demands of work, a tight schedule, and maintain some social life. So many women have these struggles outside as well.
- There are so many women fighting illness. They are dealing with the strain of an uncertain future, some going through chemo and radiation, others suddenly finding themselves in wheel chairs. They struggle to keep up their spirits.
- There are women reading newspapers and doing crosswords to bide their time. Just yesterday I was laughing after dinner. Lola and Appeal were reading sections of USA Today, while I worked on a plastic canvas project. I laughed and said, "this is not the image people think of when they consider prison." We are three women, one in her 40's one 50's and one 60's. We are intelligent, capable, and giving of our time. We want to know the news of the world and can have good conversations around what we are reading in the paper. Images such as this one is common, and it's so normal.
- There are women who will do anything for a cigarette (not allowed in prison). With so many laws on the outside about no smoking that people defy, there are the same defiers within prison. They just need that tobacco stick to relieve their anxiety.
- Women read books. They read a lot of books. There are some women reading as many as five or more books a week. They love a good read and are always searching for a series or an author to love.
- There are women who love to clean. They get rid of stress by deep cleaning their room, their locker, or even the atrium. It gives them joy to see a clean floor and dust-free surface.
There is a lot of normalcy here. For each women, it's a different normal - just like on the outside. Prison can mean a lot of change and difference, but not everything is different. We are still the women we were before we walked behind the fence. Some of us actually become better people in prison. Some women lose themselves here, but not all. The key is to do your time, but not let the time do you.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
From Dragonfly: When It Is Hard To Stay Positive
I admit that some days I struggle with trying to stay positive. I get so frustrated with everything and my mood gets sour. But, I certainly don't want to spend the next several months in such negativity, so I have to find peace within myself some way. One thing I keep reminding myself, is that I will not be here forever. I try to think of Nelson Mandela or people suffering in the Holocaust, and perspective helps a lot. This is just one year of my life. There are people in the rooms around me who will, literally, spend the last days of their lives here (or in some prison somewhere). I, also, received a sentence far below the minimum standards, so I am here for far less time than I could have been. I need to be grateful for all of that, and not maintain a bad mood.
Honestly, my favorite part of the day, is the minutes between 9:30pm count and 10pm, when I am getting all snugly in my bed and know that I will fall asleep soon. One issue is that my fatigue is extremely heightened right now, but, also, it will be another day gone by and a day closer to getting home. I used to suffer from extreme insomnia. Not since I got sick. Now, I could sleep all day long if I am allowed to. It's been that way for the past 1 1/2 years, and sometimes it is a real struggle to stay awake in the afternoons, but I do. So, when it's officially time to lie down for the night, and get a good 6-8 hours of sleep, my body is more than happy to comply.
I no longer wake up surprised by my surroundings. That will probably happen next when I am in the comfort of my own bed. Instead, I expect the cinder block squares staring me in the face. I expect the light snores of my roommates. I expect the hard, cold, concrete floors when I walk, slowly, to the bathroom. Slowly because I hurt when I wake and I need time to wake up my joints and muscles. I'm not the only one who walks quite stiffly in the morning. In fact, just this morning I was thinking about how we must all look like zombies, slowly, and stiffly, walking ourselves to the restroom in the morning. We do not say anything, but maybe "grunt" a 'hello' as we pass one another, for fear of waking up folks. Zombies, yep, that's what we are.
By the time I head to breakfast with Freckles, I'm usually much more limber. Just the walk between the housing unit and the hospital in this freezing weather will wake anyone up. I head to the email room and wait for Freckles to meet me. Then, we head downstairs to the chow hall. I tend to bring my own cereal (from commissary), because I don't like the breakfast options. But, breakfast is not really an option to me, because it's the only time we are given access to milk or anything really dairy. I need the calcium and always look forward to that clear bag of milk.
These routines can weigh heavy on me, though. Some days, I just want to sleep, but I wake up nonetheless. I go about all my daily expectations, doing the same thing day in and day out. Some days, I don't really know the day of the week, but luckily my watch will remind me. Last Friday, South went through the entire day thinking it was Thursday. These things happen here. I always have my call-out for my injections on Mondays and Fridays, so it's a little easier for me to keep track of the days that way. It's kind of like in a casino - where they provide no clocks and tinted windows and it encourages people to gamble much longer, because the time of day is hidden. Here, there are no calendars, so our number of days here or left is hidden.
Although all this is true, my battle is just with getting through each day in a positive mood. The best parts of my waking hours are still at work, helping students learn, and learning so much myself. I think I'm going to re-take the Graduate Record Exam (GRE) when I am released. I hope to score higher (although it's a different test), now that I've been helping people with algebra and geometry on a daily basis. A higher score will give me more latitude in my attempts to get back in school.
I think my positivity is also affected by the fact of so many unknowns as to why I'm not at the camp across the street yet and, also, if I will be given halfway house. Technically, I am currently within the months I was "given" for halfway house (120-150 days). However, my halfway house papers have not yet been sent off. There are a million excuses on why not, but I don't want to be one of the statistics of people who have to stay here until their actual "out" date, because of paperwork. I think once the days come that are possible to be home, and you are still here, it weighs heavy on you. I just keep wondering, "when will I be leaving?" I ask this to blank faces. My case worker "promises" that I am leaving soon, before my home confinement date. I hold onto that for hope!
Okay, I have to run to work. I'm going to do my best to stay positive today. I was paid my $23 payroll for the month of January. Whoo hoo. I paid out my $40/month FRP. Whoo hoo. I had breakfast with Freckles. Whoo hoo. I am alive, walking, talking, thinking, and feeling. Whoo hoo. I watched someone I like walk out of prison today. Whoo hoo. Someday, that will be me.
Honestly, my favorite part of the day, is the minutes between 9:30pm count and 10pm, when I am getting all snugly in my bed and know that I will fall asleep soon. One issue is that my fatigue is extremely heightened right now, but, also, it will be another day gone by and a day closer to getting home. I used to suffer from extreme insomnia. Not since I got sick. Now, I could sleep all day long if I am allowed to. It's been that way for the past 1 1/2 years, and sometimes it is a real struggle to stay awake in the afternoons, but I do. So, when it's officially time to lie down for the night, and get a good 6-8 hours of sleep, my body is more than happy to comply.
I no longer wake up surprised by my surroundings. That will probably happen next when I am in the comfort of my own bed. Instead, I expect the cinder block squares staring me in the face. I expect the light snores of my roommates. I expect the hard, cold, concrete floors when I walk, slowly, to the bathroom. Slowly because I hurt when I wake and I need time to wake up my joints and muscles. I'm not the only one who walks quite stiffly in the morning. In fact, just this morning I was thinking about how we must all look like zombies, slowly, and stiffly, walking ourselves to the restroom in the morning. We do not say anything, but maybe "grunt" a 'hello' as we pass one another, for fear of waking up folks. Zombies, yep, that's what we are.
By the time I head to breakfast with Freckles, I'm usually much more limber. Just the walk between the housing unit and the hospital in this freezing weather will wake anyone up. I head to the email room and wait for Freckles to meet me. Then, we head downstairs to the chow hall. I tend to bring my own cereal (from commissary), because I don't like the breakfast options. But, breakfast is not really an option to me, because it's the only time we are given access to milk or anything really dairy. I need the calcium and always look forward to that clear bag of milk.
These routines can weigh heavy on me, though. Some days, I just want to sleep, but I wake up nonetheless. I go about all my daily expectations, doing the same thing day in and day out. Some days, I don't really know the day of the week, but luckily my watch will remind me. Last Friday, South went through the entire day thinking it was Thursday. These things happen here. I always have my call-out for my injections on Mondays and Fridays, so it's a little easier for me to keep track of the days that way. It's kind of like in a casino - where they provide no clocks and tinted windows and it encourages people to gamble much longer, because the time of day is hidden. Here, there are no calendars, so our number of days here or left is hidden.
Although all this is true, my battle is just with getting through each day in a positive mood. The best parts of my waking hours are still at work, helping students learn, and learning so much myself. I think I'm going to re-take the Graduate Record Exam (GRE) when I am released. I hope to score higher (although it's a different test), now that I've been helping people with algebra and geometry on a daily basis. A higher score will give me more latitude in my attempts to get back in school.
I think my positivity is also affected by the fact of so many unknowns as to why I'm not at the camp across the street yet and, also, if I will be given halfway house. Technically, I am currently within the months I was "given" for halfway house (120-150 days). However, my halfway house papers have not yet been sent off. There are a million excuses on why not, but I don't want to be one of the statistics of people who have to stay here until their actual "out" date, because of paperwork. I think once the days come that are possible to be home, and you are still here, it weighs heavy on you. I just keep wondering, "when will I be leaving?" I ask this to blank faces. My case worker "promises" that I am leaving soon, before my home confinement date. I hold onto that for hope!
Okay, I have to run to work. I'm going to do my best to stay positive today. I was paid my $23 payroll for the month of January. Whoo hoo. I paid out my $40/month FRP. Whoo hoo. I had breakfast with Freckles. Whoo hoo. I am alive, walking, talking, thinking, and feeling. Whoo hoo. I watched someone I like walk out of prison today. Whoo hoo. Someday, that will be me.
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