Where are you all at?

So, I get these statistics that "kind of" tell me where my readers are at, but I'm curious where you are 'really' at. Would you all be willing to do me a favor?

When you opened this page, a survey popped up for you to tell me where you read this blog. When you happen to come across this survey, will you fill out where you happen to be reading it? It would be great to see where the readership happens to be. Don't feel as if you have to include your names - this is an anonymous site for all who choose to let it be so... I'd love to see a bunch of folks add their locations... THANKS!!!!

The Secret Revisited

Tonight, Sporty, our new GA sponsee and myself gathered at our home for dinner and a showing of "The Secret." If you remember, about a year ago, I watched the video while I was incarcerated. The concepts of "The Secret" made an impression on me... it's about the 'law of attraction.' Ask the universe for what you want. Visualize receiving it. Believe you you will get it and believe you deserve to get it. Then be ready and receive it. In our conversation, I used my process of getting back into my school as an example of practicing "the law of attraction."

Since my time in prison, I was not aware that I had possibly been practicing these concepts in my life. I certainly do not in every part of my life, but my consistent persistence I suppose was a good lesson in how the secret works. Amazing that we decided to watch the video again tonight and it all came back to me. Everything comes full circle when it's supposed to.

Today while at school, I noticed that the new Director for my school of criminal justice's door was open. Having never met her, I introduced myself and welcomed her to the school. I proceeded to thank her for the admission to the doctoral program and the funding offer. She told me that they "expect great things" from me. I said that I just was concentrating on completing the Master's program right now and I again thanked her and humbly made myself out of her office.

In the video tonight, it talked about showing gratitude and humility. I was not thinking about the video or anything like that when I decided to knock on the Director's door. I did it because I take nothing for granted these days. When I was in the courtroom being sentenced, I was told by the Judge that I needed to "reconsider" my plans to become a Professor. I was told that I did not belong in academia because of my past actions. People scowled at me in the courtroom because I did not deserve a life of good - only bad.

Then I had an advisor who had my back and told me that I did deserve to stay in school. I started to believe her. That was until I was in prison and got kicked out of my program and the University. Perhaps the Judge and scowlers were right. Maybe my future did not include higher education. Maybe I could not be a Professor.

But, I just kept putting it out to the Universe. I want to be a Professor. I want to stay a student at my same University. I deserve this. My past does not define my future. In fact, my past can only enhance what I am capable of doing in my future. My experiences are unique and informing. There is no way for me to know if I will be able to do "great things" in my future, however, I will certainly be able to offer some interesting insights into the present.

Amazing Opportunities

As we all know at this point, my school did not have to sweeten their offer of acceptance to me much to get me to choose to attend the school. Usually, doctoral programs have a certain amount of funds that they use to help recruit people to their doctoral programs. They offer graduate assistantships, fellowships, scholarships, etc to help entice the student to select their program. At the doctoral level, a student should not pay for their tuition or health insurance or cost of living, it should be covered through a graduate assistantship.

In my last round of applying to doctoral programs, I was accepted to six schools. Four gave me funding outright. Some pretty much enticed me with multi-year guaranteed assistantships and right when I had finally selected my current University, another was offering me a fellowship or something. It didn't matter, I knew where I wanted to be. I wanted to be here - one of the two schools that offered me NO funding upfront. They brought in a large class and half received departmental funding and I didn't make the cut. It was up to me to find my funding. I did and then I accepted the offer to attend because I loved this school and this community. Not having guaranteed funding, though, meant that I would always be concerned about whether my assistantship would be renewed and I had to find summer funding and I wasn't doing work I loved, but it paid like any other graduate assistantship and I was good at my initial assistantship and they kept me on. My first summer I was awarded a research fellowship and the following year I went back to my same graduate assistantship. Things were fine.

A better, more interesting, assistantship opened up and I applied for in and moved into it just months before I was indicted. That's the job that then I worked at before and now after my incarceration. I love it there and they love me. My boss does not judge me for my past, she just wants me to do my job the best I can and in return my tuition, healthcare, and a living stipend is paid to me. This is how graduate students live.

So, today, I was truly humbled when I received from my department my official letter of admission which included with it an offer of funding. As long as I maintain good academic standing, I will have an academic assistantship within the department of criminal justice for the 4-5 years it takes me to complete my PhD (4 years if I plan it right). PLUS they offered me a teaching and research fellowship for each summer. I will not have to find any funding. This is an offer not given to every student. I am beyond humbled that this little felon who is still on supervision was given this opportunity and pat on the back and symbolically told "you belong here." This funding makes all the difference in the world because now I can totally focus starting Fall on my studies and criminal justice research. All my work will be within the department. I will not be forced to work outside doing other things that may force me to take more time.

I'm very sad at the same time, though. I really love my current job. I love the people, the kids we work with, and how we make a difference in their lives. I'm glad that at the very least, I have another six months before I have to leave. I'm not ready to go. I think I may keep volunteering. It's important to keep giving back anyway and this organization can use my skillset. I don't have to make these decisions today, but I did respond today and gladly accept the offer from the school of criminal justice. You don't turn down amazing opportunities! 

I am just working on believing that I deserve them.

Freckles' Long Bus Ride

When people are not a medical risk, as I was deemed (although my doc never saw me), transportation upon release of prison does not usually include a quick flight home. This week, Freckles gives us some insight into what her travel was like as she had to leave FMC Carswell and check into her halfway house:

Do people really still ride the Greyhound bus? Well, the answer is surprisingly "yes" and it is the BOP's preferred mode of transportation. Being a "travel snob" you can imagine mine and the family's reaction when I was told I was being sent home on a 25 hour bus journey.  Your family can buy you a plane ticket, which was what my family was going to do and we were all prepared to go through with the ticketing, when I realized this too is also a big "ordeal" with the BOP and I could picture things going extremely wrong. Especially because my airline ticket would be in my married name which all my identification is in, but I was incarcerated under my maiden name - so try explaining that to anyone. I had a hard enough time self surrendering with my ID in a different name than was on their "list" of daily arrivals. 

So anyways, on with the story.  I did the RDAP program at the institution which amazingly enough taught me a lot about myself, the first being I'm an extremely entitled beotch. So why not use some of these "tools" and start applying them to real life which I was about to be reintroduced to.  After much debate and discussion with my family (who was still resisting), I decided to choose the Greyhound as my mode of transportation back home. After all, I survived in a federal prison for the past year, how much worse could a Greyhound bus ride be? And it got me out of the institution a day early - since your halfway house date is the date you arrive at the HH, not the day you leave the institution, so the 25 hour journey let me leave a day early.

I was the only person leaving the institution at my specific time so it was an amazingly quick trip thru R&D and now out the front gates. A walk which is filled with emotions, people waving at you and hooting and hollering and the guards smirking and reminding you that based on the statistics you probably will be back. I just smiled at them and let them think whatever they wanted, "fly under the radar" as my boss always told me. No need to make waves now.  

The town driver, who is an inmate from the camp, picked me up in a small compact car and off we went. I was amazed how large the base was and it is basically a "town" within itself, own gas stations, stores, housing etc.....but we were now leaving the base and off to the downtown bus station. The town driver took me to the counter, spoke with the ticketing agent and within minutes I had my one way ticket out of Texas - wooohooo - was never so happy to be dumped at a bus station with a huge bag of my personal possessions and some cash and a debit card. The institution provides you cash for meals and a cab ride to the HH when you get to your destination and then the money on your "books" is turned into a debit card. 

 I walked about 5 blocks in the 100 degree heat (it was August in Texas) and got some "essentials" for the ride. Some bottled water, real fruit juices and healthy snacks. The attendant asked me if I wanted cigarettes, apparently that is their largest seller with the inmates leaving prison, and I with my bags and "deer in the headlights" look, screamed federal inmate.

The station where I originated was not bad, but let me tell you, our first stop was Dallas and it was horrifying. I walked about a block to a McDonald's to just get away from the station. This walk was filled with bums, prostitutes and drunks (mind you it's still daytime), singing to me and asking me if they could come with me. Wow, pre-prison Freckles would have grabbed the first cab to DFW airport and caught a plane home. But the lesson of humility set in once again, and I was polite to everyone and held my head high with confidence. I survived in prison, I can survive this trek.

The rest of the ride was interesting. I did meet some characters who helped pass the time and told me of their stories and how they came upon the bus. One lady originated in California and was heading to one of the Carolina's to see her high school friends. She was an "inspiring" actress, unfortunately about 20 years past her prime. I stared out the window and watched the sights, this was really happening. It was a full moon that night, which made for great scenery too. On our next stop - we had the police enter the bus with drug sniffing dogs and question all of us and then we evacuated the bus and they brought the dogs in. Nothing was found - but apparently on one of the stops before I boarded, there were two people removed from the bus and arrested for drugs. 

In the middle of the night we stopped and had to pick up passengers from a bus that broke down in the middle of nowhere and had been stranded for 8 hours (thank goodness it wasn't my bus) - so I now had to share my "row" with a teenage girl traveling with her mom and brother. Another sad story of a kid who had been on the bus for over a day and smelt like she had not changed or taken a shower. But again, I chatted with her and shared some of my snacks with her and helped the time go by for both of us. 

I eventually did fall asleep. Most of the stops are just pick up and drop off spots in the middle of nowhere, some are large stations with everything from food to souvenir shops and some are at gas stations, so look at your itinerary because you have to plan your meals accordingly since some stops you do not even leave the bus. Our driver was very helpful and basically mapped out his entire shift with us and gave us the "Greyhound for dummies" breakdown. 

After some bus changes in the larger hubs, I was almost home. Crossing the state line into my state was exhilarating, I wanted to scream stop the bus and take a picture of me in front of it - realizing I had no camera, no phone, no nothing - so I guess I'd just put this image in my mind of pictures that is pretty full from prison, but some lasting memories I will never forget. I was met at the bus station by my family (including my dog), with a malt (something I had been craving) and a gyro.

All in all - the bus ride is not bad. As with anything, it is what you make of it. My 25 hour journey could've been horrifying (like the "3 hour tour" on Gilligan's Island) or somewhat enjoyable - which for me it was. Appreciate the small things that before I took for granted, which now I embrace.

------

I'm so glad that Freckles has chosen to share her journeys with us all. They add so much to my own so that those who will follow us can be ready for the vast differences that can possibly come their way. Truth is that even when the moment seems so bad, the moment passes and they get better. There were times that I'm sure Freckles questioned why she didn't just have her parents purchase her a flight home, but those moments were fleeting and passed by. Eventually we are able to move past even the hardest of times. I could never imagine that my life eight months from my release could be as good as it is today, but it is. Freckles' life is good too. We do it one day at a time.

It is Official - I'm Back!!!!

I received an official email this afternoon congratulating me as a new admit as a doctoral student in the criminal justice college at my University. One would think that my earlier admission simply back into the University and into the graduate school would have been the biggest news for me. It probably should have been. However, having spent this past semester and currently, taking courses toward a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice, I've questioned whether I've gone this path because it appeared open to me as I was trying to figure out "what next?" or if I really belonged on this new journey.

I have to admit, I love studying criminal justice. I loved studying education and everything I learned I take with me into the field of criminal justice and will apply to what I do as a Professor and, hopefully, in service to the future University I work with. However, I truly believe I had this experience of imprisonment as a way to help make change in this world. No one should have to experience some of the realities I witnessed while I was locked up. Some were so atrocious, I could not even write about them as I knew the blog was monitored. Of course, I could never name names and will never do so. However, it is not just about Carswell, it is about the inequities in crime and punishment. It is about how we treat non-violent offenders. It is about sentencing guidelines that make no sense with the majority of people who commit the crimes. It's about the fact that a one-year sentence vs. a 10 year sentence has shown no different in effectiveness for deterrence to crime. It is about the fact that the real services that people need in prisons are not being provided. It is about the fact that the healthcare within the prison system is entirely inadequate and at times inhumane. Etc. I cannot fix everything. But, I cannot be silent. The way I have a voice, is through my research, my teaching, and my writing.

So this evening, when I received the email, just a couple sentenced letting me know that I was admitted into one of the top CJ programs in the country - a very competitive program - one that will fund me throughout my doctoral studies and support me and my research interests - I sat down and was speechless. If you can guess, it takes A LOT to make me speechless. I didn't even announce it on FaceBook for a couple hours (a miracle!!!). My eyes welled up in tears and I only sent out a couple texts to my closest people and that was it. They accepted me. I'm officially a doctoral student again. Just six months out from prison and nearly halfway done with my Master's Degree in CJ (a 2 year degree that I am completing in 1 year), and I was accepted into the program. I will be able to transfer in some of those CJ doctoral credits I've been taking and some other credits and I should be able to finish completely within about 4 years (2019 graduation) as long as I don't get too ill or lose my focus on what I choose to do for my dissertation.

So, how does someone who has just been admitted to the doctoral program spend her evening? I just mapped out all my classes for the next four years and have a plan to get me to graduation. This nerd is ready to take on her new PhD program. It officially starts in Fall, 2015 as I have to complete this Master's Degree first. I've done a lot of thinking about this step of having to complete the Master's Degree and I am grateful that since I approached the department in July, it was the only way "into" the college - since school started in August and PhD applicants can only be selected during the January application process. It has helped me work my program of acceptance, being humble, and realizing that I need to trust my higher power. I have learned a great deal this year and need this knowledge to be successful in the doctoral program. So, no regrets at all. That's the thing about trusting opportunities - as long as they seem to be leading you to where you may want to go, you need to take the chance!

One year ago I wrote a blog about how my life would be so different in a year and nothing about prison would matter. I was wrong on the second part. Life in prison definitely matters, because it has helped me know how I am going to help others in the future. However, my life is incredibly different than it was a year ago. A year ago I questioned if I would ever be a student again, yet I had a hope that I would get back into my University. I promised all of you that I would. I did. I also promised that I would fight to be a PhD student again. I am happy to report that step is complete as well.

For everyone who also has a history with a felony, I understand that it is hard to have so many people tell us that we "can't." I'm like a broken record when I talk about and write about "second chances" when I have talked with admissions, etc. about my story. I use my story as an asset, rather than a hinderance. If we are honest about our mistakes and share our lessons and show our humility, we are much more likely to get to where we need to get to in life. It is when we blame everyone else in the world and take no responsibility that life just gets harder and harder for us. I know that no one is "giving" me this opportunity. I am earning it through hard work and a lot of perseverance. Anyone can do this. It does not matter where we start --- what matters is where we finish!! We have to stop looking back and just start looking forward.

Federal Supervision Overload

I've been in contact with my parole officer a lot lately... too much for comfort if I do say so myself. When I received permission to go to the GA conference in Lexington, part of that permission required me to leave messages with my PO every step of the way. Each trip I make has its own set of rules. For this trip, I called him when we set off on the road, when we arrived in Lexington, and when we finished the conference and started heading back. Each time resulted in a short message on his voicemail with an update of my trip.

Just prior to going, I had to call him and tell him that I'd been stopped by a police officer for speeding on campus. My honesty got me out of a ticket that time. The fact that the officer immediately knew that I was on federal supervision was a little unnerving but comes with the territory, I suppose.

Then, as I was filling out my monthly online report early this week, I realized that I'd talked with someone at the conference that had been incarcerated before - I mentioned her here on the blog as the person who had spent time at Lexington. Well, out of the requirements of supervision, in one of my messages to my PO over the weekend, I'd mentioned it to him as well. What that meant, is that I had to answer that question in the positive on my monthly report, which was the first time I'd done so. I wanted to talk to my PO and make sure that was the case. I don't even remember the woman's name and know nothing of the details of her crime. This time, my PO called me back and Yes, I do have to report it. So, in filling out my monthly report, I put the small amount of details of having an interaction with another felon. My PO told me that it will not adversely affect me in any way, it is just protocol to report it. It was interesting in answering the questions, as I hadn't realized that many people probably have to say, "yes," all the time due to family members and other close relations having past felonies.

Then, my PO calls me and tells me that I have an 80 question survey that I need to fill out. Since I am just past 6 months, it's my guess that I need to fill this out every 6 months, because it is the same survey I filled out right at the beginning. I had to make my way over to my PO's office and it took me about 7 minutes to complete. It's one of those surveys that wants to make sure we are really sorry for our criminal acts to ensure we do not still have criminal thoughts, that we are not blaming the world for our punishments, that we are thinking clearly, etc. Every so often, there is a question thrown in that you should answer in the opposite of all the other questions, just to be sure you ARE paying attention to the actual questions on the survey. I write surveys, I know what to do on this. I answered honestly, nonetheless! Truth be told, without recovery, I would not have the clear mind to really understand things the way I understand them today. I always blamed myself, of course, but I thought of myself as broken, instead of really understanding underlying addiction and irrational thinking and actions. In recovery, I have the ability to have rational thoughts and choices over my actions, in addiction, I honestly could not be trusted to make any rational decisions or choices.

Given all the above, I don't want to have to make the call I need to make later today... every interaction - big or small - with police must be reported. T.S. parked my car this morning and it received a parking ticket. Sounds too small to report, right? But even an infraction with my car shows up in his office. So, once again, I have to contact my PO. Here I am wanting favors and to get off supervision, and in a short period of time I get stopped for speeding (it was 37 in a 25) and now a parking ticket. They are small infractions, but I for one want none. When on supervision the idea is to keep ourselves out of trouble. I got a little frustrated this morning - not so much with T.S., but with my inability to "control" - which is far outside of working my GA recovery program. I just need to go with the flow, I guess. What will happen, will happen.

I guess I better stop writing and give my PO a call... good thing it'll probably be his voicemail...

29 Days on Whole30

Wednesday is officially day 30 of my Whole30 food elimination. For the past 29 days I have intentionally not ingested any grains, legumes, dairy, or sugars (except those naturally in foods like fruits). I've learned to read every food label. I never knew how many ways labels hid "sugar" in products with fancy names. I've learned about healthy fats (coconut oils/olive oil) and whole foods and nitrates and grass fed meats and organic and preservatives and nightshade veggies and even a little of how to cook better. It's been quite the month!

I'm not done. Over the next month, I will slowly reintroduce foods into my system. I'm starting with rice. I was once told by a naturopath that I may have an intolerance for rice. I'll find out on thurs/fri when I may have a reaction to eating it on Thursday. I will stay eating my whole30 on Friday/Saturday. Then I'll introduce something else on Sunday. It'll be that rotation for just over a month. 

I'll write down any symptoms I have to foods. They could include gut issues, headaches, inflammation, sleeping problems, skin reaction, etc. If I react to a food, then I make the decision to include it in my future diet or not. Somehow this past weekend something I ate was contaminated and I got really swollen - Unfortunately, I have no idea what food it was, but once I reintroduce the culprit and it happens again, I will be taking it out of my diet permanently!

I'm thinking about continuing Paleo after completing the reintroduction of foods. I really enjoy not having so much processed food in my life. I may do a specific autoimmune protocol that is a bit more food limiting for a bit as I read that people actually get off their medications. That would be something!!! Even if I could just slow down the progression of my illness, I'd be ecstatic.

I'm not sure how much weight I've lost. I know I've lost some pounds and some inches. That's good. What I like the most is that my energy is more consistent and I don't feel hungry all the time. The food all tastes so great too! I can't say enough about how much I have enjoyed the whole30 experience. Joy may have introduced me to it, but it's brought me a lot of joy myself!

FCI Lexington

This weekend, I attended a GA conference in Lexington, Kentucky. It was a fantastic conference. It was not the biggest gambler's anonymous conference I've been to, but it did not need to be. It had people who worked a serious recovery program and the workshops were wonderful. I met people from at least six states and many people with more than 20 years of recovery. I love hearing their stories and learning from those who have successfully continued their recovery for so long. It's an important part of my recovery to meet new people and getting to different conferences is always a learning experience.

Before leaving Lexington this morning, I reached for my phone and mapped out the directions to FCI Lexington. FCI Lexington is primarily a men's medical facility - much like Carswell is for women. It also has an adjacent minimum security women's satellite camp. Lola started her imprisonment at the Lexington satellite camp and Mama is there now (she was transferred there before the holidays). I'm so glad Mama is there - her parents and her children now can visit her every weekend! That's the way it should be. People should not be placed thousands of miles away from home. Had I not had a medical issue, I may have been placed at that camp.

I just felt like it was important to drive to the space, think about Mama, and to say the serenity prayer. Turned out that I was only 12 minutes away from the prison...

Seeing the sign say "federal medical center" felt a little too much like Carswell, but I knew that this place is nothing like Carswell. There are five medical centers for men and only one for women, so their experiences are different - they don't house all classifications of security together. They may have men at the same facilities that have different security levels, but they will house them in different kinds of units. They have separate medical facilities for cancer treatments (Butner) and mental health (Devens). The administrative units house all levels, but no place is like Carswell, Carswell is like an experiment on how much stress you can cause women who do not belong in a secured prison filled with fairly violent individuals. Truth be told, most the people I met were fairly decent women. There were just some scary ones thrown in that made the whole experience not so good. 

I actually met a woman at the conference this weekend who did about 15 months at Lexington for a crime related to her gambling. She said that it was like living at a really bad college dorm. I said that was nothing like my experience in prison. That's the thing... every prison is so different - just like Freckles at the HWH. Her experience is so different than my own. Plus, this woman I met was at a camp - what I was sentenced to - but I went to the FMC... as I've said before - avoid an FMC if you can!!!

Mama is doing well at Lexington, I believe. That's good. Not I got to see where she is. It makes me feel better knowing this. Unfortunately, a car pulled up behind Sporty and I as we were taking this picture and another and we continued for a second down the road until we realized we were about to get to the point of no return and I'd actually be headed TO THE PRISON. Let me tell you, that's the LAST place I plan to go!!! So I stopped so the car could pass me and I could back up. Well, as the car passed by me, the person driving looked over at us with the meanest eyes and the man was dressed as a C.O. and looked so mad and I KNEW that look and it brought me right back to my life at Carswell and I wanted to be anywhere than on the property of a federal prison!!!! We slowly backed the car up and stopped back at the main sign. I took Sporty's hand and said...

"God, grant me the serenity (Sporty joined in...)

to accept the things I cannot change

the courage to change the things I can

and the courage to know the difference..."

That serenity prayer was for Mama, it was for all the prisoners who are housed there. It was for all the people who will be there in the future and it was for me.

We drove away and started our drive back to home.

Freckles and Men at the HWH

Here's another edition of life at a federal halfway house by Freckles. I find it fascinating that her experience is so interlaced with the males, as at mine we were not ever allowed to even talk to the men and were separated in every way...

"As we are release from prison to the half way house - we have a pretty decent routine down and one part of that is always being around other females inmates, our only male contact are the guards and our visitors. Well, you can imagine my shock and surprise when I arrived at my half way house with only 4 women in two rooms tucked in the corner of the second story. There is a 10-1 ratio of men to women. Their "idea" of keeping us separate is having our two rooms and one bathroom down at the end of the second floor hallway. There are males roomed in the next room and their bathroom is at the other end of the hall. The third floor is all males and that is where the TV room is. The women have no separate work out area, dining area or even TV room. The TV room is more of a hang out and break rules room than anything - so bring your own TV and/or DVD player and stick to being in your own room. Yes, people may call this isolation, I call it surviving the half way house.

The males are told to "stay away" from our doors and do not use the women's only bathroom (that is clearly marked). But do you think this works? If you guessed "No" you are right. There were instances of men showering in our bathroom and one bigger gentlemen even broke our toilet seat - I won't get into the specifics on that one. They come and knock on my door at 2am, not looking for me but for a roommate. This really freaked me out considering they can basically "peep" in the window. The doors have a small let's say 12"x12" window that is covered with a towel hung up with push pins - very classy and secure stuff and easily accessible for peeping Tom's! There are areas of the house where the camera's can not see - and from what I was told from another inmate I was in RDAP with, these rooms are typically called the "boom boom room" - again, some things I don't need to explain. 

The half way house is required to provide hygiene - well, the men decided that they liked the Suave deodorant for the ladies better than the Speed Stick for men which left us out of deodorant and the half way house refusing to order any until the men's was gone. So yes, now you have women trying to find a job smelling like a man. Seems petty, but it's just one of the many instances when being a woman is definitely a disadvantage. And chow, well let's just say if you're not the first few in line, good luck getting certain items. They have gotten better at this and staff does most of the serving - but there is never a time where someone doesn't have 20 juices in their room and we have none for breakfast or the hard boiled eggs are gone by 5am because some weightlifting male is on an all protein kick (mind you breakfast starts at 6am) - maybe not just a "man" thing - but more like an untrained animal thing. Some do not show respect - and that's just how it is. I was told a women's place is to clean - the men shouldn't have chores in the half way house - we are lucky Freckles has not had to get her tongue surgically re-attached after biting it off!

I guess if you're heading there looking for a "date" (and you're not gay) you're odds are pretty good. Some of the men are genuine stalkers, 30+ phone calls and/or texts in maybe 10 minutes, professing their love for you and wondering why you won't give them any attention but you did kiss them in the courtyard - again, you can't tell "security" because then you are a "rat" but you may indeed feel threatened. If you are looking for other female support or time away from the gawking males who haven't seen women in years - well good luck. Like always, there are the respectful ones - and as a person my advice is to find them and don't date at the half way house. Like my boss in prison once said - "don't sh*t where you eat"...." -Freckles

There are different rules in every HWH. Freckles happens to have been placedin one where the number of men far outnumber the number of women and therefore, there is a lot of interaction. A roommate of mine in Carswell was from another city and she received brochures from four HWHs while we were there, each with different rules around how much interaction you could have with the opposite gender. In some, just being friendly can get you a violation, in others you can date. None will allow sexual interactions that I know of (not that it doesn't happen. While I was at my HWH, one girl, who was already pregnant, was always trying to talk with this guy on the other side of the dining wall who she kinda knew from before and make "plans" for meeting up. That's the only time we ever saw or heard the guys, during meals when we shared the same space separated by a folding half wall.

Anyway, more from Freckles to come next week!

Letters Home

Last night I stayed up late reading a pile of letters I wrote to Survivor. I asked Survivor, Cashe, Traveler, and Sporty to provide me with the letters I wrote them while I was incarcerated. I want to add what I wrote here on here (where appropriate) because often my detail of life at Carswell was in a lot more description.

Putting pen to paper, and not having to pay 5cents per minute with a line of women waiting for the computers behind me, especially as things unfolded through the day, can provide much more detail of life at Carswell. Survivor's very first letter from me was not even a letter. It was a bunch of short comments spread along the words, "I'm ok" written giant on the paper. I think too much shock led me to not being able to put together real sentences and paragraphs. By the next day or so I wrote her a real letter.

My plan is to type the relevant parts of the letters into this blog based on the timing of the letters. On blogger, I can backdate entries. So you all know that there is a new entry. I will provide links in the present day to the new posts that are put to the day they were actually written in real time. I think that makes the most sense. 

One fascinating letter I read last night was during a long lockdown we had that appeared to be a haz-mat medical situation. I wrote the entire time and shared the information of what was unfolding as we were learning it. I'd forgotten about that day until reading that letter!

Another set of letters I have are more academic. I wrote them to Cashe and Traveler. I wrote more in depth about gender and sexual orientation issues and observations. I look forward to sharing these thoughts with all of you!!

So, over the next several weeks, I'll be starting that process of blog updating. l hope you all enjoy the new editions!! I know I went through some periods of adjustments here with my blog, but as you can see, I think I've found my rhythm again lately. I guess it was blog writers block. I'm back!!!!

A Halfway House for Freckles

Before parting, I asked Freckles to be part of the future of this blog. I wanted her experience in her HWH to be able to be here since my HWH experience was so uncommon. Freckles was part of the RDAP (drug and alcohol program) at Carswell and was then released to a federal halfway house for an extended HWH stay where she needed to do continued drug/alcohol check-ins and programming. It has been about six months and her first installment has arrived for the blog:

Upon arrival I was terrified. I'm not sure why all the housing is located in the ghetto's of each city but that is the trend, so be prepared. In my area, the house is located in a neighborhood that I have never frequented and for sure would never head into as a white female after dark unescorted. But unfortunately, each night after work I headed back to a crime ridden area around 9pm - very dark at that time in my Midwestern state and had to go to the door and ring a bell and wait to be let in.  Most of the times the staff is very prompt at buzzing you in - but there are instances where you will wait. While waiting, you see the blood stains on the wheelchair ramp where a former resident got beat and had his money stolen from him, you watch the drug deals go on right in front of your face either from car windows or half opened crack house doors. It's terrifying - thank goodness most of the other residents recognized what a "square" I was, and were there to protect me and help me adjust. Which to this day is the one thing I find amazing about this place - regardless of color, background, felony charge, or "class status"; most of the people are just "people" and willing to help you out when needed (even while nicknaming you Martha Stewart or the square).

I cried the first night there - wishing I was back in Texas. Yes, I was longing for CarsHell compared to this dump. I was informed by another female resident that this was a "trap" house. Well, apparently that is "ghetto slang" for a drug house. And that's truly what goes on - there are tons of people smoking K-2 (which is "fake pot"), alcohol is sneaked in or thrown over the fence on a daily basis so you have the residents getting their "drink on" and then you have the occasional resident who sneaks off to another major city or State to hit the strip clubs during their so called "working" hours because they have someone to cover for them.

I obviously got over the wanting to go back to Texas and realized the positives outweighed the negatives of the halfway house. I was now only about 30 minutes from home and much closer to family. I was allowed a cell phone, so could talk to everyone as much as I wanted or whatever hours I wanted. For the first week you are trapped there - no movement whatsoever except to go to their doctor for a physical. You are allowed visitors on weekends, my sister and mom only came once, due to the neighborhood, they were not coming back but I don't blame them. Before prison, I wouldn't have come back either - another humility lesson that only prison can teach a person.

But like prison, your "cellie" makes a huge difference, not too long after getting there, my "funky bunky" as I called her, got hauled off by the marshalls (what a surprise, haha) and I had the room to myself for a bit which was nice, but also a bit odd since I had just spent the past year with no alone time period. So adjusting to "quiet" and alone time were also big obstacles. But you get over it quick and sleeping in a dark, quiet room are very much appreciated!

My strongest words of advice are do not forget where you came from, because you can easily be put back there and also remember that you are still in BOP custody and while at the "half wit" house and BOP still stands for "backwards on purpose". I am still in custody and will be until 3/30. So I will keep sending blurbs regarding the transition that hopefully can shed some light on what to expect. I'm not trying to scare anyone, but be prepared for the worst, but make the best out of it. You're almost done with your prison ordeal and now is time to move forward and keep your energy positive and yourself focused....until later, Freckles.

As you can tell, Freckles can be a bit blunt. Gotta love her! She was my rock at Carswell and by far one of the smartest people I know. She certainly comes from a class privilege above mine, so she's experiencing things for the first time from a point of view that I think is valuable to hear from. At times it may sound like she's being judgmental, but the funniest thing is that Freckles is the person who makes friends with everyone and has the biggest smile and laugh and makes everyone else smile. She's right, though, they will make up names for her just because of her being naive. It's more in fun than in judgment.

I hope it's okay that I include some of her experiences here as she chooses to add to the blog. Communication restrictions make it hard for me to know much of anything, but perhaps this blog is a nice way of allowing us to stay connected through supervision. Feel free to ask her questions through comments as I know she reads the blog as well.

No Cake?

Being on this Whole30 diet this month means that we had some limitations on how to celebrate my birthday. For the first time in over two weeks, we decided to go out to eat, and struggle to figure out how to stay compliant with the confines of no sugar, legumes, dairy, or grains. We went to a steakhouse.

Turns out the need for "clarified butter" was no problem. They cook with it all the time. Ghee (or clarified butter) is dairy-free butter. So, I ordered a nice steak, veggies that were sautéed in olive oil and garlic, and a baked potato. 100% whole30 compliant. Sporty ordered Sea Bass and pretty much the same as my sides. It wasn't easy. Thier sweet potato was sautéed in brown sugar - nope can't have that. Their lamb chops had a non-compliant marinade. Even most of the salads failed the Whole30 diet. At day 15, we were not about to cheat on our 30 day elimination for one evening's dinner!

Sporty even had some Ghee in her purse, just in case the restaurant didn't have it. We sneakily pulled it out and put it on our potato.

At the end of the night, Sporty was upset that she couldn't provide me with a dessert. Desserts in general, except fruit, are not Whole30 compliant, but especially sweet tooth desserts. We looked up some possibilities of almost compliant desserts that Sporty could make us using compliant foods, but nothing seemed all that appetizing nor did I want them that much.

Truth is, I don't need a cake to feel loved. I don't need any gifts to celebrate my birthday. In fact, I like to give gifts to those celebrating with me. I'm just happy to be alive another year. I'm happy to be living a life of honesty and willingness and openness and recovery. 

I do not need to make any birthday wishes, I'm living my wishes. This year, I am going to unexpectedly have another Master's Degree, move into a new home (albeit rental), possibly officially start the doctoral program (fingers crossed), write my heart on paper, love children, hopefully get off federal supervision, spend time with those I love, and more! What more could I wish for?!?!?

So, no regrets of no cake! In fact, I was in bed by 10pm. I was exhausted. They are switching me from Enbrel to Cimzia, and time has lapsed between my last injection while I'm waiting for my insurance to come through on the new one. Typical! So, I got a good night's sleep.

Another good thing happened yesterday. I usually get a phone call on my bday from my mom that kinda goes, "Happy Birthday... Your card is in the mail..." Well, this year, she actually mailed my card a couple days ago and it arrived on my birthday. I was so happy that she thought about it in advance and mailed me a card to arrive on my bday. That was something special - and different! 

Lastly, I just want to mention how warm and fuzzy all my friends and family made me feel yesterday. I received texts, phone calls, and so many Facebook messages. Cake may feel warm and sweet momentarily, but the warmth and sweetness of the people who love and support me will last me all the way to my next birthday!!!

The Scariest Weekend and the Week the Blog went Down

As my birthday approaches tomorrow, it is taking me back to last year, being at Carswell, and remembering the scariest weekend I had while incarcerated. I did not fully write of the experience then. I did write a little about it after, but I could not write about it. My fears were caused by this blog. Well, sort of. Here's the full story...

The weekend was looking to be a good one. It was a three day weekend from my job in education, due to MLK day on the Monday. My mother and step-father were going to visit me on Saturday and Sunday. I planned to spend much of my actual birthday (Monday) with my friends at the Rec after having to move from 1South to 1North. Sure, I was incarcerated, but I had a lot to look forward to. There was a party being planned, a cake being made, and knowing my friends, I was going to even get a gift or two! Plus, cards and letters from home were coming in and I felt well loved and cared for. Prison is the last place anyone wants to be for their birthday, but as I wrote a couple days after the date here on the blog, it was by far, not my worst bday. I actually have some pretty warm memories of the day.

What I don't have are very good memories of other things from that weekend. It started just as I was about to leave work actually earlier that week. I happened to be alone in my classroom - which were the moments I loved the most. The quiet. They were the times when the students were gone and we were doing lesson planning and assignment grading. Some classrooms had several tutors in them. Sometimes, we were lucky and sat alone in a classroom. Quiet. Ahhhhhhh.

The classroom I was in at the time happened to have one of the teacher's offices located within it. Since it was a male teacher, if he was ever in his office, there had to be two of us inmate/tutors in the classroom so that it was not 1-1 with a staff/inmate. This was the teacher who I respected and he always followed the rules, so when he walked in the classroom to head to his office, I immediately stood at my desk to walk to another classroom to seek out another tutor to come into my classroom or to sit in their classroom (those are the rules). However, the teacher who I respected started to talk to me and said that he was just grabbing his coat and heading out (which was something he did quite often). So, I just stayed at my desk grading. As he started to head out of the back door, though, he turned to me and said, "so, Dragonfly Hazel, eh?" and I just froze and slowly looked him in the face across the room. I said, "is that a problem?" He just laughed and continued to get his things together. I walked over toward his office and asked again, "ummm, is it a problem?" I did not know if keeping the blog was going to cause me any trouble. I knew that I was not exactly anonymous with how honest about myself I was, but I did not know how it would go down since he was letting me know he knew about it.

The rest of the conversation went something like this: he indicated that I needed to make sure I continued to not use any real names. He indicated that I should be careful. He had this weird laugh that I couldn't quite get as to whether he respected what I was doing or he thought it insane or what not. After he left the office, I just stood there, not sure how to react. It was the first time anyone approached me in a kinda negative way about this blog and it was someone who had a great deal of power over me.

It perhaps was foreshadowing for what was yet to come as later the same week. Back to the Friday of my birthday weekend. Things were fine between the teacher who I respected and myself and I took the whole conversation to be a bit of a warning and a bit of an acknowledgment. At the time, I thought, somewhere in my ego brain, that perhaps that teacher had some respect for me too. It's not that I ever learned that he didn't, but as someone who was an inmate, we are all just inmates to the staff - even as tutors in classrooms, we were all just replaceable. In reality, they were just doing their jobs. I digress.

So, that Friday, I am heading into my unit after work and I get approached by someone I do not even know who starts yelling at me about this blog and that I am telling everyone's secrets to the whole world by keeping a blog while I was at Carswell. At 5' tall and round, I am an easy target and I have never been in a fist fight, so when people start screaming at me, I tend to cower. However, this person just starts going off on me about things she knew nothing about. I said to her that I do keep a blog, but I am not writing about other people's happenings in it, that that is not the purpose. It is about me and my journey and experiences. I do write about things I see, but I do not use anyone's names or anything.

Well, then in turns out that someone on my unit's girlfriend found this blog and the person was nervous that her secrets from within Carswell would be revealed to the girlfriend through my blog. So, rumors started to go around all of Carswell, but especially my unit - 1 South at the time, then 1 North (we moved on January 20th - the same weekend). One woman on my unit went room to room to tell them that I keep a blog about Carswell and the Unit, that I write about the women there, that I use their real names, and that I expose all their secrets. Literally.

Next thing you know, by Saturday morning, perfect strangers were walking up to me and saying things like, "hey, do you know 'dragonfly hazel'?" and I'd say, "yes," and they'd threaten me and tell me to watch my back and it started to get really ugly. This was really soon after someone I really liked had gone to the SHU and her best friend thought my blog had something to do with it. I mean, it started to get really out of control. I kept trying to explain that this blog was not at all about those things, but I was not necessarily talking to folks who wanted real explanations. My friends on the inside were scared for me. Braids and bandana were telling people to get away from our room. It was like I had to be "watched." I really started to believe I may be jumped.

That's when I made the phone call. I tried calling Traveler. She maintained this site while I was away. I couldn't reach her. I reached Sporty. I was hysterically crying. I told her that I was being threatened. I told her that we had to take down Dragonfly Hazel. I told her about all the threats, the rumors, the lies. Here, my parents were in town to see me, it was my birthday weekend, and I was constantly watching my back. People who had been my acquaintances on the inside suddenly stopped talking to me. It was really scary.

The people I was closest to stuck by me. They knew what Dragonfly Hazel was really about. They knew it was not just an avenue for gossip. They helped me still make the best of the weekend and my visits with my folks. After a couple days, the rumors went to another direction, but some of those friendships never recovered. People did not know if they could trust me. I took down this site on January 19th for about a week and did not write at all. It was a very sad week for me.

That is when I wrote the piece called "why I write." I had never realized how important this blog was to me until I was forced to stop writing it. After I was home and saw the messages from people in January asking where the blog went both in email and on Prison Talk, I realize that week had an impact on many people, not just me. I wonder if that week caused people to believe the blog stopped entirely or if people wondered why it abruptly went down. Well, now you know.

It was a hard decision to put the the blog back up, knowing that people within Carswell were reading the blog and not happy about it. In a short period of time, I learned that several CO's and even the Warden were aware of it. I learned that SIS was made aware of it - that's the FBI of the prison system. I heard through the grapevine that perhaps I was protected by my 1st Amendment rights, but I wonder if I wrote anything too controversial if anything would have occurred... At one point I heard that the education department as a whole was not happy to know about my blog, but then there was little they could do to me about it. The CO that was often in my unit made comments to my friends like, "I know she keeps that blog, she don't know that I know, but I know..." That was a common statement by staff and inmates.... "you don't know that I know, but I know..." when it came to this blog.

Funny thing is, by the second half of my time at Carswell, I just pretty much assumed everyone knew. When I was moved to the second floor room where I would remain until I left, all three of my roommates had already heard the rumors about me and my blog. One was quite upset when I informed her that the rumors were not true and that I was not going to be using her real name and would only use a nickname if she approved of it. She thought I would somehow make her famous - hahaha. Perhaps my talking about her here, now will do that trick - no, oh well!!!! Sorry Longwinded!!!

I distinctly remember those feelings of helplessness and powerlessness a year ago, though. I was proud that I stood my ground when approached by others, but was in a situation where there was no way for me to just show my fellow inmates this site and say "see, this is the site, these are the entries, I'm not talking about you in those ways!!!" I'm also proud of myself for making a very difficult decision to keep writing, because I'm not sure how I would have survived my time in prison without the ability to keep my blog. It gave me purpose. It was a purpose I did not even know I had and now I get to use it for research purposes that has potential to be useful by people who study criminal justice and prison issues.

I guess this post reveals something very important to all of you - my blog could not tell you all everything. Too many eyes were watching. I was not being paranoid, I was being told. This was especially true after my birthday weekend and the week the blog went down. Maybe I was not as strong as I wanted to be in order to write everything I experienced and witnessed. My number one goal was to get home. Every prisoner's goal should be the same. I can do much more from out here than I could from in there. I still have the memories, though. They will have a very hard time leaving my soul.

Losing a Couch

Back in my gambling days, my poor steering wheel used to get a real beating. Nearly every time I left a casino, having gone after I'd told myself I would never go again, and once again losing far more money than I could afford to lose, I'd start banging that darn wheel. How could I do that again? Why couldn't I just stop? What about my bills? How was I going to pay rent? How would I live til my next paycheck? Etc. etc.

I'd then start calculating how many times I visited the ATM. I'd come up with that magic number of the number of times that I withdrew money and the total I lost. I'd say to myself, "well, I lost a couch today..." In terms of the amount of money. I never owned a nice couch back then. I lost every one I could ever own in my dreams to the reality of gambling. I never had real money to do real money with. Sure, I made a decent living at time, but access to money was just a short jump to my next gambling binge. I lost a lot of make believe sofas!

So today, when Sporty and I went shopping for a new sofa, I was overjoyed to know that it was not a figment of my imagination. Our current couch is alright, but is not comfortable for our backs, which is especially not good for me and my need to have decent support. We set our budget, have the funds to support the purchase, and found several places to compare. 

All those times I lost a couch in my head, and thus was my first ever time shopping for a decent one. We found several decent options under our budget, so now we just have to decide which one. 

The new sofa is my birthday gift for later this week. I told Sporty that I don't want or need much of anything, but would like this for us all. I doubt it will be delivered in time for Tuesday, but it will be nice knowing that it's coming soon. Plus, we are officially starting our move into our new rental home in April and it'll be great there! 

I may have never purchased a real sofa in the past (my current one was given to me) but I've lost many through my mind by gambling. Now, I have the opportunity to purchase one for real for the first time. It may not seem like a big deal to some, but for me, I will cherish it's comfort!!

A New Sponsee

One of the greatest gifts of being in a recovery program is the opportunity to give back. So many people are there for you when you first walk in the rooms. It then becomes our jobs to be there for those who are new to the rooms later, or who may not be new, but who continue to struggle with this baffling disease. There are many ways to give back in our recovery programs, one of the most important ways is to be a sponsor.

I have been asked to be a sponsor a handful of times over the years. It is a big responsibility and one that no one should take lightly. With so much stuff I've dealt with over the years, it has not always made sense for me to sponsor others, or I've had to tag-team sponsoring someone (for example sharing the duties since I went into FMC Carswell and could not be available to the woman I'd been sponsoring for the year prior).

I'm also a "tough" sponsor. There are all kinds of sponsors in the programs, and I'd put myself on the tough side of things. I believe in the 12 steps and sponsor people who are willing to do the hard work and follow the guidelines of the program. I also believe that change does not happen overnight, so people need to be patient and kind to themselves in the process. However, blaming the rest of the world for all ones problems will likely not get you anywhere.

I guess you could say I haven't had much 'luck' with my sponsees. In fact, other than some good success at working with a couple people through steps 1-5, I have yet to see one of my sponsees make it past two years clean. I don't take that personally, though. Overall, GA has a 3-5% success rate. Yes, that is all. It's really quite sad. Now, people who relapse, often come back, which makes me very happy, but many people struggle in this program. Many people do not fully accept step 1 - they are powerless over gambling. At some point, they go back, experiment with some form of gambling, and it destroys them all over again. It's so horrible to hear their stories. I personally think of my relapses as every time BEFORE I ever walked into a GA room when I would swear to myself that I would never gamble again and then find myself there a day or two later. Nothing could stop me from my addiction - only my recovery (consisting of GA and intensive counseling) helped me stop. I am proud that once I stepped foot in a GA room, and actually since just before the world came crashing down on me in May, 2008, I have not placed a single bet.

Recently, a sponsee of mine had a major gambling relapse and decided that she would not come back to GA. I guess she did not have the guts to let me know, as I learned it through a third party who she knew would let me know. She was working on her 4th step, which we were supposed to go over very soon and we were trying to schedule a financial pressure relief. I am not mad at her. I could never be angry at anyone in GA who relapses. Addiction is so overwhelming and hard for people who are not getting the care they need to overcome it. I knew when I walked in my first GA room that I either needed to quit or my only other option was death. I was that desperate. I think it is harder for people who are not at that level of desperation. Losing a house, their spouse, their job, their savings, whatever, may not be enough. Some people in the GA meetings haven't even gotten that far. They are the lucky ones who admitted they had a problem well before the progression went as far as it could. Staying away from gambling for them, though, I think is harder. I don't know, though, it's just my hypothesis. For those I know that were as desperate as me, we seemed to have less relapses after coming into the program. I hate to think that for most people you have to be that desperate to be successful! At least I do know of some people who never relapsed that never had it as bad as me...

Anyway, I have a new sponsee, and I am excited to start working with her. I am honored that she approached me to be one of her Sponsors. I say "one of" because sometimes people have more than one sponsor in the program and that's okay! She's had a sponsor in the program, but feels like she needs something different. So, we are starting back at step 1 and I gave her the book put out by the International Office of GA. She looked at it with a blank face - not knowing that the International GA office put out books on the steps. I follow the GA way of doing things. This is going to be a different experience for her. I really like who she is too. That's always good when a Sponsor and a Sponsee get along in terms of energy and personalities. I know I have a lot of my plate these days, but none of it would exist without my being in recovery and the GA program. So, when a nice woman asked me to be her Sponsor, I took a brief moment and thought about the time commitment and asked her some questions around expectations, and I said, "yes." This is what being in recovery is all about.

Crime Does Not Exist

I made it as far as the top paragraph of the first page of my criminal theory book before I picked up my phone and started typing this.  It is the quote at the top that I read. Read again. And again. I just need to share it here with all of you:

"Crime does not exist. Only acts exist, acts often given different meanings within various social frameworks. Acts and the meanings given to them are our data. Our challenge is to follow the destiny of acts through the universe of meanings. Particularly, what are the social conditions that encourage or prevent giving the acts the meaning of being crime" (Christie, 2004, p.3)

Welcome to my second semester of my criminal justice program! Classes started today. I have just a one hour seminar on Mondays and work before and after it. Tomorrow starts my first big new class- theory. I get to learn all the reasons why experts "believe" crime is committed. I'm actually really looking forward to the class and Professor!

Wednesdays, I have quantitative methods - better known as statistics. I could've likely fought to be excused from the course, since I've already taken and passed a doctoral level stats course. I don't feel as confident in stats as I want to be, though, so I'll plow forward through more beginner graduate stats happily. Plus, we get to play with statistical software!!! Fun graphs!!! I'm such a geek!

My final semester course is entirely online. It's been a while since I've taken an all online course and I usually don't prefer them. The professor seems pretty great, though, and they are doing me a favor letting me take the course online rather than forcing me to wait til it's offered on campus next fall. The online courses are usually just for the online students. It was fascinating today with everyone's intros. People are in the class from everywhere in the U.S.

I'm pretty excited for the semester. I feel much more ready to start it than I was last semester- when I wasn't even sure if I was allowed to attend til the day before classes. It's taken some time reflecting to realize that I need to be okay that it wasn't the best semester of my life - I was really carrying a lot of stress and only a couple months post-incarceration.

No excuses for this semester, though. I signed up for this and I want this. So, I better put my all into it! Back to reading chapter one... And considering all the contexts in which we decide what acts are given the meaning of being crimes.

70,000 Page Hits

Sometimes I wonder how many people stumble across this blog and are like "that's not what I was looking for..." and quickly leave never to return. 70,000 page hits over 18 months for a blog is not something that makes a blog a stand-out, but it is certainly special to me! The very fact that anyone would want to return to here and be updated on my life is quite amazing to me. I really am just a normal, everyday person doing normal, everyday things. I just happen to write about them.

I say "normal" because I think far too many people think it extraordinary when someone who has been incarcerated and wears that big F on their forehead (FELON) can make it in society. It shouldn't be extraordinary. That should be the norm. Once someone has done their time they "should" be able to still function - right???

I actually don't like the word "normal," I mean by who's definition? I prefer "healthy" or something like that. My GA program's second step has "return us to a normal way of thinking and living" as part of it. I really like to think of that as a healthy way of thinking and living.

It is so difficult to think healthy while incarcerated. We are surrounded by everything that is unhealthy and not in our best interest. How can we best help those who are incarcerated to be able to develop healthy lives on the outside? Think of defining the term "healthy" broadly - not just about body - but about where we live, how we live, who we live with, etc.

I have not mastered the healthy way of thinking and living. I do my best. Progress, not perfection. Last night I think I had an "oh my god, I'm taking on too much over the next six months" breakdown. It was short-lived. I let it out. I slept good. Whew.

I guess that's actually part of a healthy lifestyle - having stress, letting it go. So is this, keeping up with my blog. At least on my end. Maybe for some of you, it's part of yours to read it. I won't pretend to know why. I will just thank you from the bottom of my heart for choosing to spend part of your day with me. It means so much to me! Yay to my readers whether you stumble here and say, "whoa, not for me," or stick around for awhile. It means the world to me!!

The Whole30

I've decided to finally do the elimination diet I was planning on doing prior to the passing of my grandma. Then, I got through one day and my grandma passed away and then I was at a funeral and sitting shiva. My thoughts of eliminating foods to see the culprits of some of my aches and pains just didn't make sense at that time.

I'm now on my fifth day of the whole30 elimination plan. No sugar, no legumes, no dairy, no grains for 30 days. Eggs, however are okay and encouraged. Technically, there is a more severe elimination protocol for people with autoimmune conditions like myself, but I decided to do the general one first. Once I get through 30 days like this, I can choose to do this again or continue it if I decide to with the more restrictive diet.

I'm not struggling as much as I thought I would. I'm a happy little carnivore. I have always loved cheese, but haven't really missed my dairy products yet. Actually, even just a few days in, I notice that I'm enjoying the taste of my foods far more than usual. A sweet potato tastes sweeter, drinking a basic herbal tea with no additives (sugar or honey) is suddenly okay, and even the homemade mayo tastes pretty darn good! 

Joy and Sporty are also doing the Whole30 alongside me. They are going well so far too. It's always so good to embark on something like this having the support of others doing something similar. Today I'm going to search out recipes and make a shopping list and we will plan our meals for the week. Sporty and I got rid of all our forbidden foods to shelves that T.S. can eat from and enjoy her Oreos or Cheerios, while our shelves are packed with nuts, fruits, olive oils, spices, and foods we are allowed. Being a whole food diet, our fridge has fresh fruit, veggies and plenty of meats for the protein portions - and of course eggs! 

Last night's meal consisted of ribeye steak, stir fried onions, and homemade sweet potato chips. With meals like that (and half the ribeye ready to be eaten today), I think this is an elimination diet I can get through!!

I Must Be Doing Alright

I reported a couple months ago that after my mandatory counseling intake, the counselor felt I was not in need of the organization's services. In the end, my PO felt I should have three sessions to ensure that was the case. My third session was today and I was asked to sign my release today from their services. Counseling complete.

It was interesting to hear what the counselor felt were the reasons I was not in need of the services. Bluntly put, "I have my sh*t together..." Most people she sees upon release struggle in employment, relationships, financials, active addictions, housing, and more. I guess this is once again the advantage of my having had 4 1/2 years to get myself into recovery and counseling before I was indicted. I had my sh*t together before I went away - at least for the most part.

Let's not be too proud, though. I have very low moments still. I just handle them very differently than I did when I thought and acted like an addict thinks and acts. Recovery allowed me to live "through" the prison experience and continue to live "through" the ups and downs of life.

I also have incredible support- an essential in anyone's life. Counseling was there for me early on when I did not know if I had any other support and when I needed far more than those who support me could give. Counseling in any form, especially my addiction counseling, gave me an opportunity to really feel heard and explore issues I had to explore with people trained to help me through the pain and fear of dealing with those issues. Sometimes, counseling is the absolute best answer!

For now, I'm glad to be released from the court ordered mandatory counseling. The selected counselor was nice enough but it felt at times as if I were teaching her about compulsive gambling, more than gaining from the session. That is certainly not wasted time. Maybe a client of hers will walk in one of my GA rooms in the future.

So, I guess I'm doing a good job of keeping it positive after just 6 months of my official release. It's starting to feel like so much longer!! I am going to where I feel heard every week tonight - at my GA meeting - where I always know I'm not alone. If ever my GA meetings or friends are not enough for me, though, I know I can always seek counseling because life is about doing the right next thing as we need to.

Inner City Schools

I'm conducting student interviews at schools this week for new students to join our college preparation program that I work with. The buildings have history and I wonder if anyone appreciates the little architectural details - crown molding, window designs, etc. they are grand high schools that house hundreds of tomorrow's thinkers and workers.

These are inner-city high schools, though. Taxes do not pay enough per student to offer modern advancements or technology. They exist with the possibility of crime all the time. Police officers walk the halls and students refuse to use the lockers (too often they are broken into and everything is stolen).

While sitting this morning at one school, there was a pause in our interviews while a student was arrested. This is ordinary around here. Later in the day, I heard a familiar thing over the loud speaker, "we are going on lockdown." It was just a drill, but it took me right back to the many lockdowns at Carswell. The endless hours in our rooms waiting to be allowed to roam our units once again.

Here, the lockdown means locking your door, moving everyone away from doors and windows, and turning off lights. It's likely a drill due to all the school shootings that happen at every kind of school these days - Sandy Hook to Columbine. All schools have those issues today, not just inner-city schools.

It's scary to think that today's high schools could feel like prisons, ever! They are institutions of higher education. Students should feel safe, secure, and not need the police walking their halls to get themselves into college.

I pass little judgment on students of inner-city schools. I attended one myself for a period of time. Somehow, it just felt safer at that time. Now, 10 year olds have to walk through metal detectors. It all just makes me sad.

As I wait for my next student to interview, I will stare out of the large window before me, take in the beautiful crown molding, and appreciate the beauty of this old building.

The Grand Canyon

Sporty and I took an unexpected sidetrip today to the Grand Canyon. It was not out of the way and was not in violation of my approved travel through federal supervision. It was my first time there.

We really lucked out. Snow is moving in on New Year's Eve, and while it was a cold crisp day, clear skies gave us an incredible view.

It's really amazing what beauty is around us that we just need to take a little sidetrip to see. It really provides such great perspective on life and the grandness of everything and the smallness of everything as well. If time was on my side, I would have figured out a way to stay warm, pull out a pad of paper, and write my mission statement for grad school right there. If the Grand Canyon can't provide inspiration, I'm not sure what can. Ah, but that wasn't to be today, so with the images on my head, and the serenity in my heart, I will simply use the energy of the day to provide me with my words and thoughts.

It's actually been a fairly perfect day so far (knock on wood). I sadly said "goodbye" to my ailing father, promising to see him again soon, rented a planned vehicle without incident (the temp printed license I was emailed from my state was accepted), and a nice drive to and now from the Grand Canyon. Our next stop is going to Sporty's cousin's home in another state, where we will also meet up with Joy who is also nearby visiting family. This is really a good winter trip. Most of all, though, it's been seeing my dad who I have been worried about and praying for so much that is the reason this trip was so important! I wish he could have gone to the Grand Canyon with me and even though he's been there, just had the opportunity to take in its vastness and wonder one more time.

A Day with Dad

My dad is not the person he once was, then again, neither am I. The person he is today is relaxed, confused, simple, exhausted, frustrated, passive, kind, and quiet. I can't begin to tell you how many of those words would not be on this list ever in the past.

Health-wise, it's truly impossible for me to know what's going on. The cancer is still there - in his brain and in his bones, and he just finished another round of chemo and radiation. We will know in a couple weeks if it has spread more. When I try to bring up anything health related with him or my step-mother, I just don't get any straight answers.

The biggest effects on my dad has been from the stroke he suffered the same week as my sentencing. I wasn't told about it until the day before my sentencing. My dad was not lucky, he never regained his full communication functions and from what I can tell, his memory is also affected.

Where does this leave things? My step-monster pretty much talks and talks and complains and talks and whines and bosses my dad around and talks for him and talks some more... It's so hard to watch. I'm grateful she's taking care of him, very grateful, but I am upset by how she talks to him, at him, about him, etc. He is sick and desperately trying to do things right, and she screams that he didn't start the dish washer, pulled the hood rather than the gas cover, or can't remember going somewhere.

I can only imagine what it must be like for one's spouse to suddenly be ill and need you in unexpected ways. That's what you sign up for in marriage. Growing older means that we all change and sometimes we face very scary struggles. No one should be made to feel worse about the struggles they are facing.

I have one more full day with my dad. I'll enjoy every minute of it and lean on my program of recovery to deal with the stresses of the unknowns of his health and the behaviors of my step monster. She tries hard, perhaps she tries too hard. She's just very judgmental. My dad used to be that way. He's not anymore. Now, he's just my quiet, simple, loving dad. I'll take him this way and hope he can still live a while yet!

I am Really Me!

It was a good Christmas Day. Not that I have that many to compare from. Most were full of Chinese food and movies. Spending time with Sporty's family is always full of energy, imagination, and food! She has a large family and there are a lot of cousins, kids, and drama. There's always a ton of laughter. Last time there was a small food fight. Today, three separate adults got scared as they opened the food pantry and a person jumped out at them. This is family. 

I had one responsibility upon leaving the house - grab the two tins of Christmas cookies to take with us to my dads and to Sporty's cousin in New Mexico. About halfway to the airport, we realized I failed in that one task. I got distracted by Super Dog and looking for T.S. who had my phone. So, no cookies for the relatives.

Once at the airport, Sporty and I approach the counter for baggage check. We only brought small carry on suitcases, but this is one of those airlines that allows no carry-ons. They charge for everything!

Pull out my wallet and everything is there... Except my driver's license. The start of a 8 day trip and no license?!? Really?!? I pulled everything out of my wallet and my backpack. No license. T.S. pulled off the highway and searched my car, nope. I have all my other pieces of id and cards in my wallet, just missed that one critical document.

I nervously stood in the TSA security line. Would my university ID get my through airport security? Not a good line to be nervous in!! I smiled as "next," was called and I walked up to the next agent. I showed my ID as if it was normal. It was not. She took one look at me, and asked me for a state issued ID. I explained the situation and was asked to show several other cards in my wallet. This got me through to the next level of security where I once again explained my situation and had to prove my address. My many medication bottles came in handy for that purpose!!

Finally, I was passed on to the next level - the hand security check. Another frisk. Oh, I'm used to this. Stand up spread legs, hands out to sides, glove covered hands patting through every crevice of my clothed body. Doesn't seem to matter the situation, I'm always selected for hand screening. It's been nearly six months without a pat-down, guess it was time!!!

Then they emptied everything from my backpack again! They had to make sure there were no bad chemicals or anything. Once I re packed it, I have no idea where anything is anymore in that bag! Can't say it was an especially special beginning to our trip.

I'm now stuck trying to problem solve. I'm supposed to rent a car Monday to drive between two states - impossible without my license. I need to figure out how to get something temporarily. I have NO idea where my license could be. I had no reason to doubt it would be where it always was in its place in my wallet. Did I really just take off for another state without a license??

Merry Christmas

I imagine that the vast majority of the people that read this blog celebrate Christmas and I want to wish each and every one of you a great holiday. After a very long drive to my moms home today, I enjoyed a nice dinner with my folks. It was nice to be back home with my parents as the last time I was with them was for my grandma's funeral. Tonight was much more positive!

For me, my holiday is over so I think it would be a good time to write a gratitude list. Since it's now the wee hours of the morning, I'll write 5 things I'm grateful for - although there are so many more!!!

1. I love my family and that includes my chosen family. 

2. G.A. and my special friends in the program fill my life with recovery, a connection to a higher power, and a constant reminder of the progress I've made in my life.

3. The open mindedness and acceptance of so many people I've met in the past six months. They make it easier for me to face telling my truth the next time.

4. Life has so many possibilities. Instead of making my life having limits, my experiences have only broadened what opportunities are available to me.

5. I am finally being given the opportunity to see my father tomorrow. It will be the first time since 2010 and since he's been ill.

Holidays are always a time to remember what we are grateful for and trying to keep everything else in perspective!

Officially on Vacation Supported by my PO

Vacation? Yes. Vacation! With my PO's permission!! Today was my last day of work for 1 1/2 weeks. I thought I'd have to work tomorrow, but at 5:50pm tonight, my boss and I uploaded our cover sheet to the federal government and officially filed our annual performance review a week early and we high fived one another. There's no reason to come in tomorrow, she informed me. I'm off til the 5th.

I have plenty to be doing, but it's all on my time now for a bit. I like that flexibility. Right now I'm focusing on finishing wrapping gifts and packing for our trip. We leave tomorrow late afternoon and spend tomorrow night with my mom. My mom, being the good Jew she is, is making a ham, green bean casserole, jello mold and more for dinner. We usually do Chinese food and a movie, but I guess she wanted to do something a little different this year.

Christmas Day will be with Sporty's family with likely more ham, more green bean casserole, and a lot of Christmas cookies! We fly out that night to Arizona to see my father.

My dad's brain tumor is still there, but has not grown. I guess that's good news?!? His cancer is also in his hip bone now. That puts his cancer starting in his bladder to his brain and then his hip. They will do another PET scan next week and I'm a bit scared for where they'll find the next location. It was a miracle he made it to now and I fear if these three days with him may ... Well, I shouldn't go there, should I?

Anyway, I'm not expecting much from the trip. My dad's stroke in 2013 left him unable to fully communicate his thoughts. 

In other news, I stopped in on my PO today. Took an hour to get through talking to him. Nothing is quick. He approved me to go to a GA conference out of state at the end of January and to a couple meetings I have out of state as well. So far so good with him. As I was finishing up, he realized it has been nearly six months of my supervision and he hasn't done a urine analysis since the beginning... So even though I just happened to stop in, suddenly I was told to pee in a cup with a female PO watching. No problem... Except, I always have the worst aim!!! I made a total mess! Their cups are like really narrow and especially splashy and ... Well... Let's just say nothing was dry by the time I finished my sample - eeewwww. Glad I don't have to do that often. I have nothing to worry about in terms of results!

I think I should start bringing a funnel with me just in case...

Anyway, right now, I have no worries. I'm on vacation. It's a vacation I can afford because I'm staying with family and I no longer gamble. It's a vacation where I can spend time with people I care about. I love vacations!!!