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.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
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.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
From Dragonfly: Crazy or In Prison?
Lately, I've been noticing the behavior of many inmates, including myself, and realizing, if we were doing what we are, anywhere but here, we would be deemed crazy. I don't do all the following, but I certainly see people who do:
- wash our dishes in the bathroom sink
- wear the same outfit for 5 days in a row
- only own two pair of pants and shirts in the same exact color and style
- never walk barefoot
- dry hair using the air put off by a giant ice machine (okay, maybe that's crazy here, too)
- only dress in the shower stall
- wait until someone tells us we can use the bathroom
- strip naked after every visit
- climb a ladder to get into our bed
- use a maxi pad to dry our hands
- eat at the same restaurant every day
- keep our clothing, food, and hygiene in the same space
- put clean clothing with our dirty clothes, so we can fit all our groceries in our locker
- stock up on as many boxes of gobstoppers as possible
- use ramen noodles as a basis for any kind of pasta
- smell our milk every time before we drink it
- hide food in our bra from the chow hall
- hide food in other parts of our bodies
- fight people in order to use the washing machine
- iron for over an hour at a time
- spend all our income on groceries
- pay our bills with food items (I'll give you this ham to pay off that $5 bill...)
- pay twice the cost of a new t-shirt for a used t-shirt in a slightly darker shade of grey
- pay over $100 for a pair of used shoes that are different from everyone else
- paint our eye glasses
- monogram our hats, scarves, and bags
- write our name in our socks and underwear (or the days of the week on the butt)
- eat at the same times every single day
- hide brooms and mops in our room so no one else can use them
- wait more than five hours to see a physicians assistant
- always want to go home
- push anyone aside to get the table you want
- wake up in the night to stand by our bed to be counted
- feed a raccoon (okay, it's officially being called the "cat-coon")
- let those who wash and iron our clothing make more per month than the ones working "traditional jobs"
- eat a pint of ice cream for breakfast
- go shopping using our laundry bag
- sit on the floor waiting to be "rung out" when shopping
- walk around/over someone having a seizure
- never carry any money
- being constantly locked inside or outside of our "home"
- mail call is the best part of the day
- believing the feds are watching our every move (oh, yeah, they are!)
- believing the feds are listening to our phone calls and reading our mail (oh, yeah, they are!)
- waiting in 2-hour+ lines three times/day to get our medications
- waiting in an hour long line to get a lunch box with 6 chicken wings
- hoarding food
- preferring being at work, than at "home"
- crying on a regular basis
- getting excited every night, when the call-out sheet is available, to see if we have an appointment
- packing up all our belongings is a good thing
- carrying our toilet paper roll everywhere we go
- waiting in line in a bathroom for a haircut
- never giving a "tip" in the salon
- using "mozzarella" as a valuable trading item
- use rolled up paper to keep earring holes open
- always wanting to go to "camp" as an adult
- moving every couple weeks/months
- constantly changing our roommates
- sneaking in a bathroom stall for sex (ew)
- getting in a fist fight over a plastic chair
- taking a program to better oneself, just to get increased time off or a living arrangement with your girlfriend
- sitting at the same table as murderers and child molesters
- walking up and talking to the president (okay, it's a warden here)
- treating iceberg lettuce as and entire salad
- cleaning the floors 3+ times/day
- borrowing someone else's walker to use for bringing your groceries home or wait for your pills
- allowing pigeons to land on your arm and feed them (okay, that's kind of crazy here too)
- using mayonnaise in your hair (ew)
- sleeping near someone who hasn't showered in weeks
Okay, there are a lot of crazy things that would be crazier in the outside world, but appear perfectly normal in prison. I certainly never thought about the million ways I would use a maxi pad, that having an appointment would be a highlight to my day, that I would ever want to go home as bad as I do, or that I would have such a specific schedule (including always waking before 6am). But, there is a life of order here in prison. We learn from each other and we do things we never thought we would. Let's hope it's only temporary.
-
- wash our dishes in the bathroom sink
- wear the same outfit for 5 days in a row
- only own two pair of pants and shirts in the same exact color and style
- never walk barefoot
- dry hair using the air put off by a giant ice machine (okay, maybe that's crazy here, too)
- only dress in the shower stall
- wait until someone tells us we can use the bathroom
- strip naked after every visit
- climb a ladder to get into our bed
- use a maxi pad to dry our hands
- eat at the same restaurant every day
- keep our clothing, food, and hygiene in the same space
- put clean clothing with our dirty clothes, so we can fit all our groceries in our locker
- stock up on as many boxes of gobstoppers as possible
- use ramen noodles as a basis for any kind of pasta
- smell our milk every time before we drink it
- hide food in our bra from the chow hall
- hide food in other parts of our bodies
- fight people in order to use the washing machine
- iron for over an hour at a time
- spend all our income on groceries
- pay our bills with food items (I'll give you this ham to pay off that $5 bill...)
- pay twice the cost of a new t-shirt for a used t-shirt in a slightly darker shade of grey
- pay over $100 for a pair of used shoes that are different from everyone else
- paint our eye glasses
- monogram our hats, scarves, and bags
- write our name in our socks and underwear (or the days of the week on the butt)
- eat at the same times every single day
- hide brooms and mops in our room so no one else can use them
- wait more than five hours to see a physicians assistant
- always want to go home
- push anyone aside to get the table you want
- wake up in the night to stand by our bed to be counted
- feed a raccoon (okay, it's officially being called the "cat-coon")
- let those who wash and iron our clothing make more per month than the ones working "traditional jobs"
- eat a pint of ice cream for breakfast
- go shopping using our laundry bag
- sit on the floor waiting to be "rung out" when shopping
- walk around/over someone having a seizure
- never carry any money
- being constantly locked inside or outside of our "home"
- mail call is the best part of the day
- believing the feds are watching our every move (oh, yeah, they are!)
- believing the feds are listening to our phone calls and reading our mail (oh, yeah, they are!)
- waiting in 2-hour+ lines three times/day to get our medications
- waiting in an hour long line to get a lunch box with 6 chicken wings
- hoarding food
- preferring being at work, than at "home"
- crying on a regular basis
- getting excited every night, when the call-out sheet is available, to see if we have an appointment
- packing up all our belongings is a good thing
- carrying our toilet paper roll everywhere we go
- waiting in line in a bathroom for a haircut
- never giving a "tip" in the salon
- using "mozzarella" as a valuable trading item
- use rolled up paper to keep earring holes open
- always wanting to go to "camp" as an adult
- moving every couple weeks/months
- constantly changing our roommates
- sneaking in a bathroom stall for sex (ew)
- getting in a fist fight over a plastic chair
- taking a program to better oneself, just to get increased time off or a living arrangement with your girlfriend
- sitting at the same table as murderers and child molesters
- walking up and talking to the president (okay, it's a warden here)
- treating iceberg lettuce as and entire salad
- cleaning the floors 3+ times/day
- borrowing someone else's walker to use for bringing your groceries home or wait for your pills
- allowing pigeons to land on your arm and feed them (okay, that's kind of crazy here too)
- using mayonnaise in your hair (ew)
- sleeping near someone who hasn't showered in weeks
Okay, there are a lot of crazy things that would be crazier in the outside world, but appear perfectly normal in prison. I certainly never thought about the million ways I would use a maxi pad, that having an appointment would be a highlight to my day, that I would ever want to go home as bad as I do, or that I would have such a specific schedule (including always waking before 6am). But, there is a life of order here in prison. We learn from each other and we do things we never thought we would. Let's hope it's only temporary.
-
Sunday, February 2, 2014
From Dragonfly: Television
Last night is the first night in more than 4 months that I sat and watched a TV show. It was the Lifetime movie about Gabby Douglas. I really liked the message of hope and determination in the movie. I'd say that I liked the end of the film, but as tears were coming to my eyes toward the end, the televisions were abruptly turned off and everyone was told, "get ready for 9:30 count." Everyone said, "ugh," at the same time, wanting to just finish up the last seconds of a movie we'd been watching for nearly 2 hours. But, here, we do not do our time on our terms, the C.O. is in charge of the televisions and if she turns them off, we must pile up our chairs, grab all our belongings, and start shuffling ourselves back to our rooms.
It's weird how little television I've watched here. Back home, I could be seen, nearly every evening, sprawled out on my couch, laptop on my lap, watching one of my shows: Doctor Who, Scandal, Downton Abbey, Big Bang Theory, The Good Wife, Shark Tank, Idol, etc. But here, there is no couch to sprawl out on, no laptop to be surfing the web on, and even if I start watching one of these shows, it would likely be turned off before the end, or people will start talking so loud that I would not be able to hear it (even with the earphones we have to wear). I tried several weeks to do Big Bang Theory, but people were just too rude to let us actually watch the show. I guess when I am home, I'll have plenty of shows to catch up on.
I, actually, never bought one of the radio options that allow us to hear the televisions. I was given one to borrow, but it is broken, and, so, whenever I watch the televisions, I borrow one from a friend. Lola has the mp3 player and one of the radios, so I borrowed from her last night. In our old unit, there were two television rooms that actually had sound, but in our new unit, every television requires a radio/mp3 and headphones. There's nothing weirder than looking into a television room with no sound and everyone is just staring at a television with headphones on. Then, simultaneously, everyone will laugh. It's like they are all in on some joke that you didn't hear. Today, for Superbowl Sunday, it'll be yelling at the television, once again, with everyone wearing their headgear.
Interestingly, Superbowl Sunday is a federal holiday in prison. Not literally, but they are treating it like one. In order to give staff time off, they are closing the kitchen early and giving us boxed dinners (I hear they are treating us to a couple hot wings). We will all be in our units all night, with most the televisions playing the game. I can't say I care much about the game this year, none of the teams I really care to see are playing.
I'll probably spend the extended time inside working on the locker organizer I'm making for Lola. It's truly an original, as I am teaching myself many new stitches. I even signed the bottom of one of the pockets. She'll have it for a while here, yet, so she'll remember who made her the organizer. Not that she could ever forget me. Ha!
South has one week left here, and she's officially counting down her days. She'll say things like, "tomorrow is my last Monday here," or "when I get home..." It's so real for her. Tomorrow, we have someone else going home. She's been locked up 10 years and is finally being released. There's a beautiful poster hanging outside her room with a suitcase on it that says, "we all come with baggage, thanks for helping us unpack ours." I thought that was cool. Various people are signing the poster and wishing her luck. I don't know her all that well, but I know she'll be missed and many people are excited for her. Ten years. Wow.
It's cold, here, today, and it's going to be icy again tonight. This may cause more extended television days. We shall see. Last time we had an ice storm, we were held in our units for three days. I pray that isn't the case again. It makes for very long days, and I'll have to borrow another radio to watch some television... something I hope to continue to barely do throughout my remaining time here in Carswell.
It's weird how little television I've watched here. Back home, I could be seen, nearly every evening, sprawled out on my couch, laptop on my lap, watching one of my shows: Doctor Who, Scandal, Downton Abbey, Big Bang Theory, The Good Wife, Shark Tank, Idol, etc. But here, there is no couch to sprawl out on, no laptop to be surfing the web on, and even if I start watching one of these shows, it would likely be turned off before the end, or people will start talking so loud that I would not be able to hear it (even with the earphones we have to wear). I tried several weeks to do Big Bang Theory, but people were just too rude to let us actually watch the show. I guess when I am home, I'll have plenty of shows to catch up on.
I, actually, never bought one of the radio options that allow us to hear the televisions. I was given one to borrow, but it is broken, and, so, whenever I watch the televisions, I borrow one from a friend. Lola has the mp3 player and one of the radios, so I borrowed from her last night. In our old unit, there were two television rooms that actually had sound, but in our new unit, every television requires a radio/mp3 and headphones. There's nothing weirder than looking into a television room with no sound and everyone is just staring at a television with headphones on. Then, simultaneously, everyone will laugh. It's like they are all in on some joke that you didn't hear. Today, for Superbowl Sunday, it'll be yelling at the television, once again, with everyone wearing their headgear.
Interestingly, Superbowl Sunday is a federal holiday in prison. Not literally, but they are treating it like one. In order to give staff time off, they are closing the kitchen early and giving us boxed dinners (I hear they are treating us to a couple hot wings). We will all be in our units all night, with most the televisions playing the game. I can't say I care much about the game this year, none of the teams I really care to see are playing.
I'll probably spend the extended time inside working on the locker organizer I'm making for Lola. It's truly an original, as I am teaching myself many new stitches. I even signed the bottom of one of the pockets. She'll have it for a while here, yet, so she'll remember who made her the organizer. Not that she could ever forget me. Ha!
South has one week left here, and she's officially counting down her days. She'll say things like, "tomorrow is my last Monday here," or "when I get home..." It's so real for her. Tomorrow, we have someone else going home. She's been locked up 10 years and is finally being released. There's a beautiful poster hanging outside her room with a suitcase on it that says, "we all come with baggage, thanks for helping us unpack ours." I thought that was cool. Various people are signing the poster and wishing her luck. I don't know her all that well, but I know she'll be missed and many people are excited for her. Ten years. Wow.
It's cold, here, today, and it's going to be icy again tonight. This may cause more extended television days. We shall see. Last time we had an ice storm, we were held in our units for three days. I pray that isn't the case again. It makes for very long days, and I'll have to borrow another radio to watch some television... something I hope to continue to barely do throughout my remaining time here in Carswell.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
From Dragonfly: Camp Eligibility
In order to be qualified to go to the Carswell Camp, you have to be minimal-out security status and be medically cleared. This is not full "medical clearance." At a care level 3, you can only be at Carswell, but the Carswell camp is available. Also, obviously, the camp has to have room available.
As you know, I was told that I am being transferred to the camp in November. I was told that this transfer would occur prior to Christmas. Like most information, here, I chose not to put all my eggs in that basket until the change occurred. So often, we are told something, but it doesn't exactly happen that way. As it turns out, when I went to medical in December to inquire whether this transfer was occurring, I was told that I was not medically cleared to go. My doctor was not signing off on it until she has a chance to see me. I had no choice but to accept that reality and start sending in "cop-outs" to try to get my doctor to make an appointment with me. If you are not medically cleared, there's very little you can do.
Yesterday, while walking out of the clinic from getting my enbryl injection, I stopped at the window. On the other side of the window is a woman, not sure if she is a nurse, but she is very helpful to many, many people here and is usually the first to arrive if there's a medical emergency. She is very serious about her job, but she is friendly to those she knows and usually can answer some questions we all have related to appointments, etc. Well, I asked her if I could obtain a copy of my updated restrictions. The rheumatologist had stated that I have a climbing restriction, and I wanted to make sure that my paperwork reflected that. Over the past week, many people played musical beds, as the counselor in our new unit moved a dozen people upstairs, including South, if their paperwork did not indicate they needed to be on a lower bunk on the first floor. As long as my papers are updated, I would not have to risk being moved back upstairs.
When I received my papers, I immediately noticed that the lower bunk was checked, but not the first floor, and I walked away knowing that I have to go to sick call soon to get that updated. While walking back to work, I read through the rest of the form. On the bottom, typed into my form is the following sentence, "If she otherwise qualifies, inmate medically clear to go to CRW camp." That's the carswell camp code. It was signed October 21, 2013. Say WHAT?!?!?!?!?
So, the "otherwise cleared" means that I am minimum-out security level. Which I am. The only thing I've been told is that I am not medically cleared, but that is clearly not true, as my own paperwork says I was cleared in October. No wonder my case worker had told me I was going. So, for the past 3+ months I have been in the secured environment of the medical center side of Carswell, when I could have been on the other side of the fence. When people visited me, we could have walked around and not been forced to be in an uncomfortable "airport seating" environment. My mom, step-dad, and T.S., would not have had to go through the increased security measures to see me and would not have been left with the memories of seeing me behind the barbed wire.
I have to believe that everything happens for a reason. During the last 3+ months, I have developed a closer friendship with Lola, which would not have occurred. I have helped several students in their quest for their GED, I have developed trust and friendships with my roommates, I have developed new craft skills, I have been able to spend South's last days in here with her, I've been able to have breakfast with Freckles nearly every day, I was able to say "goodbye" to Danbury and wish her well, I got to see pictures of Star's new baby boy, I was able to help train a new fabulous co-tutor (who will carry forward our classes incredibly well), I was able to teach U.S. Government and Essay Writing to eager students, and much, much more. I guess I cannot regret this extra time I've spent behind the fences. I will never know the impact of my interactions with others, but I hope that some will remember me as having a positive influence on their life.
So, what now? I have to talk to the Warden. I am bringing the paperwork with me and will ask, "why am I not at the camp?" This should get things moving forward. South leaves one week from Monday, perhaps, maybe, I can move just after her. I am imploring Lola to get approval for across the street as well. She started at a Camp, before being shipped here for her rheumatoid arthritis, so I hope her process goes swiftly. She has never had any security status other than "minimum-out."
I don't know, and I can't know, what will happen. Will I be spending my next four months in my same room or will I be moved upstairs or will I actually be going to the camp... I don't know the answers to those questions. This is a perfect time for the serenity prayer. I cannot control what the prison administration does. However, I have a few things that I need the courage to change - which includes going to the Warden on Monday to talk about why I'm being told that I'm not medically cleared, when my paperwork states I was cleared in October. It's a conversation worth having. I hear the Warden is approachable. I pray that is true. We shall see.
As you know, I was told that I am being transferred to the camp in November. I was told that this transfer would occur prior to Christmas. Like most information, here, I chose not to put all my eggs in that basket until the change occurred. So often, we are told something, but it doesn't exactly happen that way. As it turns out, when I went to medical in December to inquire whether this transfer was occurring, I was told that I was not medically cleared to go. My doctor was not signing off on it until she has a chance to see me. I had no choice but to accept that reality and start sending in "cop-outs" to try to get my doctor to make an appointment with me. If you are not medically cleared, there's very little you can do.
Yesterday, while walking out of the clinic from getting my enbryl injection, I stopped at the window. On the other side of the window is a woman, not sure if she is a nurse, but she is very helpful to many, many people here and is usually the first to arrive if there's a medical emergency. She is very serious about her job, but she is friendly to those she knows and usually can answer some questions we all have related to appointments, etc. Well, I asked her if I could obtain a copy of my updated restrictions. The rheumatologist had stated that I have a climbing restriction, and I wanted to make sure that my paperwork reflected that. Over the past week, many people played musical beds, as the counselor in our new unit moved a dozen people upstairs, including South, if their paperwork did not indicate they needed to be on a lower bunk on the first floor. As long as my papers are updated, I would not have to risk being moved back upstairs.
When I received my papers, I immediately noticed that the lower bunk was checked, but not the first floor, and I walked away knowing that I have to go to sick call soon to get that updated. While walking back to work, I read through the rest of the form. On the bottom, typed into my form is the following sentence, "If she otherwise qualifies, inmate medically clear to go to CRW camp." That's the carswell camp code. It was signed October 21, 2013. Say WHAT?!?!?!?!?
So, the "otherwise cleared" means that I am minimum-out security level. Which I am. The only thing I've been told is that I am not medically cleared, but that is clearly not true, as my own paperwork says I was cleared in October. No wonder my case worker had told me I was going. So, for the past 3+ months I have been in the secured environment of the medical center side of Carswell, when I could have been on the other side of the fence. When people visited me, we could have walked around and not been forced to be in an uncomfortable "airport seating" environment. My mom, step-dad, and T.S., would not have had to go through the increased security measures to see me and would not have been left with the memories of seeing me behind the barbed wire.
I have to believe that everything happens for a reason. During the last 3+ months, I have developed a closer friendship with Lola, which would not have occurred. I have helped several students in their quest for their GED, I have developed trust and friendships with my roommates, I have developed new craft skills, I have been able to spend South's last days in here with her, I've been able to have breakfast with Freckles nearly every day, I was able to say "goodbye" to Danbury and wish her well, I got to see pictures of Star's new baby boy, I was able to help train a new fabulous co-tutor (who will carry forward our classes incredibly well), I was able to teach U.S. Government and Essay Writing to eager students, and much, much more. I guess I cannot regret this extra time I've spent behind the fences. I will never know the impact of my interactions with others, but I hope that some will remember me as having a positive influence on their life.
So, what now? I have to talk to the Warden. I am bringing the paperwork with me and will ask, "why am I not at the camp?" This should get things moving forward. South leaves one week from Monday, perhaps, maybe, I can move just after her. I am imploring Lola to get approval for across the street as well. She started at a Camp, before being shipped here for her rheumatoid arthritis, so I hope her process goes swiftly. She has never had any security status other than "minimum-out."
I don't know, and I can't know, what will happen. Will I be spending my next four months in my same room or will I be moved upstairs or will I actually be going to the camp... I don't know the answers to those questions. This is a perfect time for the serenity prayer. I cannot control what the prison administration does. However, I have a few things that I need the courage to change - which includes going to the Warden on Monday to talk about why I'm being told that I'm not medically cleared, when my paperwork states I was cleared in October. It's a conversation worth having. I hear the Warden is approachable. I pray that is true. We shall see.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
From Dragonfly: Welcome Back to Junior High
Junior High was definitely not the highlight of my life. The hormones going through everyone's bodies made everything strange. Male "friends" immediately were termed "boy friend." Girls got meaner to one another. Everyone dressed in fads, even if it didn't look quite right on the person. People became popular and other's became targets. Athletes were decided and nerds were, also, decided. Junior High is all about factions, emotions, fitting in, and friendships won and lost.
I would never choose to go back to Junior High, but here I am. Being in a woman's prison is just like back in junior high, especially in one way. I remember a week of 6th or 7th grade, where I went from popular to a target. All the girls made fun of me, gossiped about me, and left me not understanding what I'd done wrong. A week later, I was "welcome" back to the popular crowd. I asked, "why did you treat me that way?" The answer was, "because we have to pick on someone and it was your turn." I didn't want to "fit in" any more. I never chose to be mean over kind. I was friendly to the popular kids and the nerds (not realizing that later in life I would realize that I, in fact, am a nerd). Sure, I wore the right clothes, was popular in the Junior High dating scene, and continued to be friendly with everyone, but I never trusted the girls again. Being mean, just to be mean, and targeting/bullying someone because it is fun, is just not my style.
Here, the same thing happened to me starting about a week and a half ago. I've written a little about it, but somehow, people mistook my writing for something it is not and I became the target. The gossip, stares, sides-taken, popularity circles, fakeness, and meanness was once again my reality. It didn't even make sense. People no longer knew why they were targeting me for all the gossip and lies, but it just festered forth. A couple women even went to my boss and told her that I've been bad-mouthing her behind her back and she should fire me. Such an incident never occurred. I love my job and think highly of the teachers. But, suddenly, they were considering terminating my employment. I made it through the "meeting" last Friday without being fired. I spoke the truth about the gossip and how some women were choosing to target me - going after my job was the #1 way they knew they could hurt me. I love teaching/tutoring that much. But, even with still holding my job, nothing is the same. The damage was done. I don't blame my supervisor for a second to question whether she can trust me. How would she know if I am telling the truth or if the others were. Hopefully, in time, this, too, will pass over.
I will never understand the reasons girls/women can be so mean to one another. I don't understand why I've always been an easy target. At least, through my recovery, I am able to take each day one at a time and know that tomorrow, anything is possible. I do my best not to fret on the lies told about me and instead to focus on the positivity of a day worth living. Being in prison is a brutal experience, but the junior high mannerism is probably the worst part of it.
I would never choose to go back to Junior High, but here I am. Being in a woman's prison is just like back in junior high, especially in one way. I remember a week of 6th or 7th grade, where I went from popular to a target. All the girls made fun of me, gossiped about me, and left me not understanding what I'd done wrong. A week later, I was "welcome" back to the popular crowd. I asked, "why did you treat me that way?" The answer was, "because we have to pick on someone and it was your turn." I didn't want to "fit in" any more. I never chose to be mean over kind. I was friendly to the popular kids and the nerds (not realizing that later in life I would realize that I, in fact, am a nerd). Sure, I wore the right clothes, was popular in the Junior High dating scene, and continued to be friendly with everyone, but I never trusted the girls again. Being mean, just to be mean, and targeting/bullying someone because it is fun, is just not my style.
Here, the same thing happened to me starting about a week and a half ago. I've written a little about it, but somehow, people mistook my writing for something it is not and I became the target. The gossip, stares, sides-taken, popularity circles, fakeness, and meanness was once again my reality. It didn't even make sense. People no longer knew why they were targeting me for all the gossip and lies, but it just festered forth. A couple women even went to my boss and told her that I've been bad-mouthing her behind her back and she should fire me. Such an incident never occurred. I love my job and think highly of the teachers. But, suddenly, they were considering terminating my employment. I made it through the "meeting" last Friday without being fired. I spoke the truth about the gossip and how some women were choosing to target me - going after my job was the #1 way they knew they could hurt me. I love teaching/tutoring that much. But, even with still holding my job, nothing is the same. The damage was done. I don't blame my supervisor for a second to question whether she can trust me. How would she know if I am telling the truth or if the others were. Hopefully, in time, this, too, will pass over.
I will never understand the reasons girls/women can be so mean to one another. I don't understand why I've always been an easy target. At least, through my recovery, I am able to take each day one at a time and know that tomorrow, anything is possible. I do my best not to fret on the lies told about me and instead to focus on the positivity of a day worth living. Being in prison is a brutal experience, but the junior high mannerism is probably the worst part of it.
From Dragonfly: A Bad Week
It doesn't matter how many times I write about the positive, there are still some times where this place will bring me down. This week has been an emotional roller coaster for me. It actually made me think about the last episode of the first season of "Orange is the New Black," where everything is pulling Piper down and she pretty much loses it at the end. Only I don't act "out," I always act "in." Last night all I felt like doing was curling up into a ball on my bed and never doing another thing here until I go home. That's the old emotional "broken" thoughts I used to have before recovery.
Luckily, if I go there in my mind, the serenity prayer, daily readings I have, and my friends bring me right back to the survivor I am. We are so much stronger than we give ourselves credit for. Life is going to try to take us down on life's terms, but we have to learn to survive life on life's terms. WE are not in control of everything, or anybody. The rules are not always fair, the situations not always thrivable, but there's always tomorrow. Tomorrow, anything can happen. In fact, in five minutes anything can happen. We just have to be strong enough to wait out those five minutes or until tomorrow. Look back on your life and realize that you've been hurt before, gossiped about before, neglected before, hated before, unloved before, unemployed before, etc... but each time, time allowed you to life yourself back up. You will once again. You just have to wait it out. You just have to believe.
Luckily, if I go there in my mind, the serenity prayer, daily readings I have, and my friends bring me right back to the survivor I am. We are so much stronger than we give ourselves credit for. Life is going to try to take us down on life's terms, but we have to learn to survive life on life's terms. WE are not in control of everything, or anybody. The rules are not always fair, the situations not always thrivable, but there's always tomorrow. Tomorrow, anything can happen. In fact, in five minutes anything can happen. We just have to be strong enough to wait out those five minutes or until tomorrow. Look back on your life and realize that you've been hurt before, gossiped about before, neglected before, hated before, unloved before, unemployed before, etc... but each time, time allowed you to life yourself back up. You will once again. You just have to wait it out. You just have to believe.
From Dragonfly: Frien-emies
When you are in prison, not everyone is going to like you. It's just a matter of fact. Sometimes, it is because of how you act. Sometimes, it is because you said the wrong thing once to a person and they never let it go. Sometimes, it's because you are dating someone they want to date or you are dating their ex - both can make enemies quickly. People may not like you because of who you hang out with, because you get commissary and they don't, because they don't like a look you once made at them that you never knew you made, because you wear your hair a certain way, because you were the person before/after them during "laundry wars," because they wanted to cut in line once and you didn't let them, because you walk too slow, because you are skinny, because you are fat... it doesn't matter. There's not a person I know, here, who is liked by everyone. It just is too complicated a place.
If you are someone that really needs to be liked, you will need to check that at the front gate. Prison is not about that. It's about survival, filling time, and finding your way home. There will be nay-sayers in here. Ignore them. There will be gossip about you. Ignore it. People may say things about you that you have no idea where the lie started from. Look the other way. Everyone wants to rile you. Don't let them. You may never know who is against you, until a smile backfires, a "good morning" goes unanswered, someone walks up to you and says something like, "you have an enemy... I heard blah, blah, blah talking all kinds of sh** about you...". Etc.
The key is to stay strong despite these realities. Over the past weekend, I became a target of some of this negativity. It made me really upset, but then I turned to my recovery program. Do I really care what people, who I barely know, think of me? No. Have any of my good friends joined in on it? No. In fact, they totally have my back. Am I safe? Yes. Is there anything I can make amends for? Yes. Why yes? Because I need to always clean up my side of the street and if I said/did anything that hurt another person, I must apologize. For me, my apology was for allowing someone to ask me something and I did not directly respond to her, which caused her to think my answer was one thing, when it was really another. It helped feed the gossip. I did not intend that, but I felt better saying, "sorry," for my part of the misunderstanding. That's what we need to do. The right next thing... even if others don't do it back. Once I did that, I knew that I did not need to do anything more. It's up to the other person to do an amends or not. I cannot expect anything and nothing has happened.
Another example, recently, was when I heard something through inmate.com and shared it with another person. I don't know why I felt the need to "gossip." Well, the person I was gossiping about had a friend sitting nearby who overheard and immediately laid into me. I stopped what I was saying, thought for one second, and told her that she was right, I shouldn't have been gossiping, especially about someone I don't even personally know. No matter how many times I said, "you're right... I'm sorry," she did not forgive me. It was a couple weeks ago and now she believes I caused the rumor, even though I was just forwarding what I had heard. We all know, do not believe anything in prison until it happens. Sometimes, it is hard to not get mixed up in what everyone is saying, but we have to do our best. This is not a place to intentionally make enemies. You don't have to have a lot of friends, but people here are not always rational with their actions/thoughts in a place like this. I was probably feeling too "comfortable" with my friends and surroundings and I was not being rational myself. Irrational behavior will undoubtedly have negative consequences.
Thing is, though, that I can honestly say that I don't care what others, here, think of me. It's not like I want to fit into prison or prison life. I don't want to call all the people my friends, because they are not. Many people, here, would scare me out on the streets. It's a little different when we are all wearing the same uniforms and have to act under the same set of rules. It is no loss to me that someone does not like me. It is on them. I will still say, "good morning" to them every day. Them not being kind is not an excuse for me to not be kind. My only important relationship, here, is between me and my higher power. I know that the truth is way more important than being liked. I will continue to do the next right thing, even if it results in enemies. I can't care. Thankfully, there are plenty more people here who do like me, than that hate me. That doesn't matter either, though, because it is not about the quantity of friends one has, it is about the quality of friends. Here, and back home, I have the highest quality friends in the world. So, go ahead, hate me, spread rumors about me. The people who really know me, know who I am, and have my back. Be yourself, and the same will be true for you.
If you are someone that really needs to be liked, you will need to check that at the front gate. Prison is not about that. It's about survival, filling time, and finding your way home. There will be nay-sayers in here. Ignore them. There will be gossip about you. Ignore it. People may say things about you that you have no idea where the lie started from. Look the other way. Everyone wants to rile you. Don't let them. You may never know who is against you, until a smile backfires, a "good morning" goes unanswered, someone walks up to you and says something like, "you have an enemy... I heard blah, blah, blah talking all kinds of sh** about you...". Etc.
The key is to stay strong despite these realities. Over the past weekend, I became a target of some of this negativity. It made me really upset, but then I turned to my recovery program. Do I really care what people, who I barely know, think of me? No. Have any of my good friends joined in on it? No. In fact, they totally have my back. Am I safe? Yes. Is there anything I can make amends for? Yes. Why yes? Because I need to always clean up my side of the street and if I said/did anything that hurt another person, I must apologize. For me, my apology was for allowing someone to ask me something and I did not directly respond to her, which caused her to think my answer was one thing, when it was really another. It helped feed the gossip. I did not intend that, but I felt better saying, "sorry," for my part of the misunderstanding. That's what we need to do. The right next thing... even if others don't do it back. Once I did that, I knew that I did not need to do anything more. It's up to the other person to do an amends or not. I cannot expect anything and nothing has happened.
Another example, recently, was when I heard something through inmate.com and shared it with another person. I don't know why I felt the need to "gossip." Well, the person I was gossiping about had a friend sitting nearby who overheard and immediately laid into me. I stopped what I was saying, thought for one second, and told her that she was right, I shouldn't have been gossiping, especially about someone I don't even personally know. No matter how many times I said, "you're right... I'm sorry," she did not forgive me. It was a couple weeks ago and now she believes I caused the rumor, even though I was just forwarding what I had heard. We all know, do not believe anything in prison until it happens. Sometimes, it is hard to not get mixed up in what everyone is saying, but we have to do our best. This is not a place to intentionally make enemies. You don't have to have a lot of friends, but people here are not always rational with their actions/thoughts in a place like this. I was probably feeling too "comfortable" with my friends and surroundings and I was not being rational myself. Irrational behavior will undoubtedly have negative consequences.
Thing is, though, that I can honestly say that I don't care what others, here, think of me. It's not like I want to fit into prison or prison life. I don't want to call all the people my friends, because they are not. Many people, here, would scare me out on the streets. It's a little different when we are all wearing the same uniforms and have to act under the same set of rules. It is no loss to me that someone does not like me. It is on them. I will still say, "good morning" to them every day. Them not being kind is not an excuse for me to not be kind. My only important relationship, here, is between me and my higher power. I know that the truth is way more important than being liked. I will continue to do the next right thing, even if it results in enemies. I can't care. Thankfully, there are plenty more people here who do like me, than that hate me. That doesn't matter either, though, because it is not about the quantity of friends one has, it is about the quality of friends. Here, and back home, I have the highest quality friends in the world. So, go ahead, hate me, spread rumors about me. The people who really know me, know who I am, and have my back. Be yourself, and the same will be true for you.
From Dragonfly: A Different Sort of Birthday
I don't generally have terrific birthdays. Last year, I was taking my comprehensive exams, the year prior, I had torn my ACL two days earlier, then there's the bday that my first love broke up with me or the birthday where there was a blizzard... It really doesn't matter. It's just one day - there are 364 other days (and sometimes 365 in a leap year) to make up for a bday gone bad.
My birthday this year, actually, does not rank on the bottom of my birthday list. I started the day being woken before 6am with the announcement, "you must move your rooms before 8:45am" - about 300 people had to move from two units (switching rooms) and the first carts pulled up in front of my room by 6:15am. This rude awakening was then followed by various people screaming at each other, a very limited supply of moving carts, and people running in all directions. I just slowly picked up my mattress with Lola and we carried it to the other unit. It's light, and it got us just for a moment away from the chaos of our own rooms. We set up a couple chairs to put everything on (leaning against the staircase) and South kept close watch. We continued to slowly get our things from 1 South to 1 North. People were constantly saying something or another was coming up missing. It was a lot of people to move at once, and yet, two hours later, almost everyone was in their new rooms, settled, and even unpacked (it's taking 3' worth of items that fit in one locker, a bed and bed set, and laundry, and moving it to another 3' locker, bed, etc.). The chaos was finally over in total after 10am count and we waited to be called for lunch. Meanwhile, people were wishing me birthday wishes and my friends were giving me birthday hugs. I'd, also, started receiving bday cards/gifts from people on the outside the prior Friday. We have no mail on the weekend or holiday. So, I had to look forward to mail going forward, as people's letters and cards caught up with me through this week.
Lunch was brunch food and then it was bday party time. My friends had made a wonderful cheesecake, with m&m's and other goodies throughout. All I can say is "yummmmmm!" They also made me a wonderful gift. Ironic in many ways, it is a plastic mug with 'Dragonfly Hazel' written beautifully on it with a dragonfly with hazel eyes drawn. It was a weekend where I had thought about stopping writing, and this gift was a sign to keep on going. I nearly cried.
Dinner was a fried chicken, due to the MLK holiday, so that was considered a treat. There was a cake dessert. I told everyone that they baked a cake in honor of me. Hah! Actually, I didn't like the cake, although the frosting was good. I really didn't like the chicken much either. I'm very picky - although prison is making me less so.
I sat with my friends that night. We were all exhausted do to our move and all the sunshine we were able to get during the day (it was beautiful and in the high 60's). We laughed, I started a new craft project, and my day was over. For a birthday in prison, I feel more grateful than anyone can imagine. My friends at home and my friends here, all took a moment of their day to be there with me - either in thought or person. I think this should actually go on the list of one of my better birthdays!!!
My birthday this year, actually, does not rank on the bottom of my birthday list. I started the day being woken before 6am with the announcement, "you must move your rooms before 8:45am" - about 300 people had to move from two units (switching rooms) and the first carts pulled up in front of my room by 6:15am. This rude awakening was then followed by various people screaming at each other, a very limited supply of moving carts, and people running in all directions. I just slowly picked up my mattress with Lola and we carried it to the other unit. It's light, and it got us just for a moment away from the chaos of our own rooms. We set up a couple chairs to put everything on (leaning against the staircase) and South kept close watch. We continued to slowly get our things from 1 South to 1 North. People were constantly saying something or another was coming up missing. It was a lot of people to move at once, and yet, two hours later, almost everyone was in their new rooms, settled, and even unpacked (it's taking 3' worth of items that fit in one locker, a bed and bed set, and laundry, and moving it to another 3' locker, bed, etc.). The chaos was finally over in total after 10am count and we waited to be called for lunch. Meanwhile, people were wishing me birthday wishes and my friends were giving me birthday hugs. I'd, also, started receiving bday cards/gifts from people on the outside the prior Friday. We have no mail on the weekend or holiday. So, I had to look forward to mail going forward, as people's letters and cards caught up with me through this week.
Lunch was brunch food and then it was bday party time. My friends had made a wonderful cheesecake, with m&m's and other goodies throughout. All I can say is "yummmmmm!" They also made me a wonderful gift. Ironic in many ways, it is a plastic mug with 'Dragonfly Hazel' written beautifully on it with a dragonfly with hazel eyes drawn. It was a weekend where I had thought about stopping writing, and this gift was a sign to keep on going. I nearly cried.
Dinner was a fried chicken, due to the MLK holiday, so that was considered a treat. There was a cake dessert. I told everyone that they baked a cake in honor of me. Hah! Actually, I didn't like the cake, although the frosting was good. I really didn't like the chicken much either. I'm very picky - although prison is making me less so.
I sat with my friends that night. We were all exhausted do to our move and all the sunshine we were able to get during the day (it was beautiful and in the high 60's). We laughed, I started a new craft project, and my day was over. For a birthday in prison, I feel more grateful than anyone can imagine. My friends at home and my friends here, all took a moment of their day to be there with me - either in thought or person. I think this should actually go on the list of one of my better birthdays!!!
From Dragonfly: Sightseeing
This morning started pretty much like most mornings... shower, dressed, meeting Freckles for breakfast, and then checking my email. It was a fine morning. At 7:15 am, I decided to check-in to education/work early, because I needed to grab some tissue to use the restroom. As I was checking-in, an officer, carrying a well known "med trip bag" with her, started down the hall. I asked her if she were looking for someone and she said my last name. She said it wrong, like everyone here does, but it was mine! I held my arms out wide and said, "that's me!" I have never been more excited for a doctor appointment, but this trip is my chance to reduce my care level, ensure my halfway house papers can be done, and possibly get home a little bit earlier than my "out" date in July.
The officer who was my security (or secured me from the world) was a young woman about my age. She was incredibly kind, even through the process of walking into the "strip search room" in order to process me for my trip away. I had to go through the typical strip search, although, I was able to keep my bra, underwear, and socks on. She did make me lift, drop, squat, cough, like usual, but I only had to hold them down, not take them entirely off.
After my search, I was given R&D pants, shirt, and jacket. The R&D clothing are those clothes we receive when we first get here... pants and shirt that say our size about 20x on them in black marker and nothing fits just right. I was also given R&D shoes. I have to say, I did not miss those faded, flat, used to be blue, shoes. They didn't have my size, so I had to wear a pair a size too big. They didn't match. It reminded me of my early days when I had those shoes and one was blue and the other white. This pair was about the same shade, but they had subtle differences between them... must have been received in different shipments. NO doubt, they've been warn by many, many other inmates. Good thing I had on thick socks!
After I was dressed and the officer filled out some paperwork, she brought me to the dental benches to wait. I felt kind of bad sitting there, as the people waiting for dental were told to go and sit in the hall. Not sure why I would get the priority than them. Also, we are all always together, but now that I'm in R&D clothing and have been searched, I can have no contact with another inmate. I get that, I guess. The officer called the lieutenant for a signature on my paperwork.
After 20 minutes, the officer called the lieutenant for a second time, because he hadn't signed me out yet. We waited another 15 minutes. I heard the dental patients ask the officer if they can at least sit in the hall. They were permitted. Only myself was sitting on the uncomfortable blue benches in the dental waiting room... enough sitting for at least 15 people. We continued to wait.
About 5 minutes later, the officer got a little restless and started to walk me toward the lieutenant's office. The lieutenant, instead, met us on the way. He asked my name and id number and then signed the paperwork. Finally, we were off.
We walked from the R&D office to the compound exit. It has two barred doors that we must pass, and a guard asked me my identification again in order to open those gates. Then, we just walked out of the building. For the first time in over 5 months, I was on the other side of the prison fences. Words can't express all the emotions - it even seemed sunnier. I was placed in the back seat of a rundown Chevy Malibu, which had the child protective locks so I couldn't try anything (not that I would), and sat there for a couple minutes. I stared at the prison camp, just across the street. I could see inmates playing with puppies, others working. It's a totally different environment there - and there's no barbed wire.
As we started to drive, we drove through the base. It was the same trip the guard took who brought me from the front gates of the naval base to the prison. I saw family housing, barracks, stores, a gas station, a kids park, sample jets, and lots of people. So many things I haven't seen in SOOOO long. It was even weird riding in the car - I haven't been on a speed bump, on a highway, moving more than my slow walking pace, for almost half a year. The grass looks greener. The restaurants look more appealing. The sky looks clearer. Oh yeah, this is how the rest of the people live.
It took just less than a half an hour to get to the building for my appointment. It was a large building with many different doctor offices in it. The officer and I stepped into the elevator. Other's were on it too. I kept my eyes on the officer. I didn't dare say anything to anyone. No one had to tell me that I couldn't. Instinctively, I knew. Once we got to the right floor, my officer picked up a special phone. A woman came down the hall, unlocked a door, and led me into a special "holding" medical office. It is literally an exam room, a locked holding cell, a waiting room, and a bathroom all meant for people from the area prisons. I had no idea anything like this existed in the world. I was allowed to sit in the waiting room, while we waiting for the nurse to arrive. When she did, I was brought into the exam room and my vitals were taken. She did an initial intake - with quite a reaction when I said, "seronegative spondyloarthropathy." She said, "I'm sorry." I don't know if the sorry was because she couldn't spell it, had never heard of it, or knew what it causes. She went through all my meds and then went to get the doctor.
The doctor was a woman, of Indian descent, who reminds me a lot of my rheumatologist in the outside world. She agreed that my condition is mimicking rheumatoid arthritis and lupus and that my enthesitis definitely connects it to spondyloarthropathy. She was starting to say that she wants to see me in two months, when I told her, "no, you don't." I explained that nothing happens in two months... it would be more like 5 (again) and I would not be allowed to be released from my medical hold at Carswell. I explained that I will follow up with my rheumatologist back home. The officer with me verified what I was saying. So, the doctor ordered some labs and wrote that I am to follow up with my rheumatologist back at home upon release. Perfect, now, I pray, that will release my medical hold. She also wrote the recommendation of limited climbing, which will ensure me a first floor, lower bunk. That is the one accommodation I must have. I can live with a lot of pain, but climbing is really, really difficult.
The doctor ordered my labs, wished me well, and left me in the room while she got the paperwork together. Meanwhile, a male inmate from a men's federal prison was brought into the holding room. He was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, orange shoes, and had on shackles. They put him in the locked holding cell. However, since I was done with the doctor, when the nurse came in for his vitals, I was switched with him. Now, I was locked in the holding cell. It's a huge window, so I could see and hear my officer talking with the man's officer. Surreal, yes.
Once my officer had my paperwork, we were heading back out to our car. Just walking along a sidewalk, with cars driving next to us, was odd. We passed several nice houses as we drove back to the prison. Definitely, two extremes of life in the U.S. As I saw us heading back onto the naval base, I knew my tour was just about over. I immediately became sad. At just about half time to my stay here, I got a short piece of viewing the world beyond. Now, I have to spend my time again behind the barbed wire and fences. It's hamburger day, so that's the only thing to look forward to for the rest of the day.
The officer came and got me at 8am. I was back at 11am. I was with the doctor 15 minutes and at the medical office there about 45. That was my medical trip. The trip I've been waiting for, for more than 5 months. Upon my return, I had to go to the clinic, have my vitals taken here, and then I was released to lunch. Now, I will pay forward as much knowledge as I have to everyone I know here, waiting for a med-trip. It's how we learn what to expect. Of course, it is always different. But, it helps with anxiety of unknown. I was allowed a short sightseeing trip today. That's a good day.
The officer who was my security (or secured me from the world) was a young woman about my age. She was incredibly kind, even through the process of walking into the "strip search room" in order to process me for my trip away. I had to go through the typical strip search, although, I was able to keep my bra, underwear, and socks on. She did make me lift, drop, squat, cough, like usual, but I only had to hold them down, not take them entirely off.
After my search, I was given R&D pants, shirt, and jacket. The R&D clothing are those clothes we receive when we first get here... pants and shirt that say our size about 20x on them in black marker and nothing fits just right. I was also given R&D shoes. I have to say, I did not miss those faded, flat, used to be blue, shoes. They didn't have my size, so I had to wear a pair a size too big. They didn't match. It reminded me of my early days when I had those shoes and one was blue and the other white. This pair was about the same shade, but they had subtle differences between them... must have been received in different shipments. NO doubt, they've been warn by many, many other inmates. Good thing I had on thick socks!
After I was dressed and the officer filled out some paperwork, she brought me to the dental benches to wait. I felt kind of bad sitting there, as the people waiting for dental were told to go and sit in the hall. Not sure why I would get the priority than them. Also, we are all always together, but now that I'm in R&D clothing and have been searched, I can have no contact with another inmate. I get that, I guess. The officer called the lieutenant for a signature on my paperwork.
After 20 minutes, the officer called the lieutenant for a second time, because he hadn't signed me out yet. We waited another 15 minutes. I heard the dental patients ask the officer if they can at least sit in the hall. They were permitted. Only myself was sitting on the uncomfortable blue benches in the dental waiting room... enough sitting for at least 15 people. We continued to wait.
About 5 minutes later, the officer got a little restless and started to walk me toward the lieutenant's office. The lieutenant, instead, met us on the way. He asked my name and id number and then signed the paperwork. Finally, we were off.
We walked from the R&D office to the compound exit. It has two barred doors that we must pass, and a guard asked me my identification again in order to open those gates. Then, we just walked out of the building. For the first time in over 5 months, I was on the other side of the prison fences. Words can't express all the emotions - it even seemed sunnier. I was placed in the back seat of a rundown Chevy Malibu, which had the child protective locks so I couldn't try anything (not that I would), and sat there for a couple minutes. I stared at the prison camp, just across the street. I could see inmates playing with puppies, others working. It's a totally different environment there - and there's no barbed wire.
As we started to drive, we drove through the base. It was the same trip the guard took who brought me from the front gates of the naval base to the prison. I saw family housing, barracks, stores, a gas station, a kids park, sample jets, and lots of people. So many things I haven't seen in SOOOO long. It was even weird riding in the car - I haven't been on a speed bump, on a highway, moving more than my slow walking pace, for almost half a year. The grass looks greener. The restaurants look more appealing. The sky looks clearer. Oh yeah, this is how the rest of the people live.
It took just less than a half an hour to get to the building for my appointment. It was a large building with many different doctor offices in it. The officer and I stepped into the elevator. Other's were on it too. I kept my eyes on the officer. I didn't dare say anything to anyone. No one had to tell me that I couldn't. Instinctively, I knew. Once we got to the right floor, my officer picked up a special phone. A woman came down the hall, unlocked a door, and led me into a special "holding" medical office. It is literally an exam room, a locked holding cell, a waiting room, and a bathroom all meant for people from the area prisons. I had no idea anything like this existed in the world. I was allowed to sit in the waiting room, while we waiting for the nurse to arrive. When she did, I was brought into the exam room and my vitals were taken. She did an initial intake - with quite a reaction when I said, "seronegative spondyloarthropathy." She said, "I'm sorry." I don't know if the sorry was because she couldn't spell it, had never heard of it, or knew what it causes. She went through all my meds and then went to get the doctor.
The doctor was a woman, of Indian descent, who reminds me a lot of my rheumatologist in the outside world. She agreed that my condition is mimicking rheumatoid arthritis and lupus and that my enthesitis definitely connects it to spondyloarthropathy. She was starting to say that she wants to see me in two months, when I told her, "no, you don't." I explained that nothing happens in two months... it would be more like 5 (again) and I would not be allowed to be released from my medical hold at Carswell. I explained that I will follow up with my rheumatologist back home. The officer with me verified what I was saying. So, the doctor ordered some labs and wrote that I am to follow up with my rheumatologist back at home upon release. Perfect, now, I pray, that will release my medical hold. She also wrote the recommendation of limited climbing, which will ensure me a first floor, lower bunk. That is the one accommodation I must have. I can live with a lot of pain, but climbing is really, really difficult.
The doctor ordered my labs, wished me well, and left me in the room while she got the paperwork together. Meanwhile, a male inmate from a men's federal prison was brought into the holding room. He was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, orange shoes, and had on shackles. They put him in the locked holding cell. However, since I was done with the doctor, when the nurse came in for his vitals, I was switched with him. Now, I was locked in the holding cell. It's a huge window, so I could see and hear my officer talking with the man's officer. Surreal, yes.
Once my officer had my paperwork, we were heading back out to our car. Just walking along a sidewalk, with cars driving next to us, was odd. We passed several nice houses as we drove back to the prison. Definitely, two extremes of life in the U.S. As I saw us heading back onto the naval base, I knew my tour was just about over. I immediately became sad. At just about half time to my stay here, I got a short piece of viewing the world beyond. Now, I have to spend my time again behind the barbed wire and fences. It's hamburger day, so that's the only thing to look forward to for the rest of the day.
The officer came and got me at 8am. I was back at 11am. I was with the doctor 15 minutes and at the medical office there about 45. That was my medical trip. The trip I've been waiting for, for more than 5 months. Upon my return, I had to go to the clinic, have my vitals taken here, and then I was released to lunch. Now, I will pay forward as much knowledge as I have to everyone I know here, waiting for a med-trip. It's how we learn what to expect. Of course, it is always different. But, it helps with anxiety of unknown. I was allowed a short sightseeing trip today. That's a good day.
From Dragonfly: Why I Write
When I was young, I remember the first time I received a diary. I was in 5th grade. I wrote about my friends, what was happening on my favorite soap operas, and just a bit about the emotional pain I had. I was afraid to write it down, because it would make it true. Plus, I always feared my diary being read by my sister or parents. It was not one of those diaries that claims to be secret, with a keyhole and key. I could only hide it in a drawer.
As I grew older, I discovered a creative side. I was really into theater and film as a teenager. I started to write plays, stories and poems. Many were shared with teachers, fellow friends, and others. I remember one day my playwriting teacher looking at a one-act play I'd written that was partially autobiographical. He said, "you need to stop looking to others for your self esteem." I did not yet know what he meant, but it came out in my writing.
When I was 18/19 years old, I had a friend several years older than I, who worked at local gas station on the night shifts, near my college. I would often visit her for a laugh and a chat. If I came in crying, angry, etc., she would immediately hand me a notebook and a pen, so I could write even before we talked. She was a musician and a songwriter. She must have understood my need to write.
It was during my early 20's that my emotional numbness really got bad. I stopped be able to cry. I became more and more passive. I always thought I'd lost my ability to write because of law school (and the way they make you see everything with an analytical lens), but in fact, I realize, now, the truth: I was unable to write because I was emotionally broken. The same emotional issues that brought me to addiction. The same that showed through my writing before I even knew what it was. A new gift that I now realize my recovery gave me, is my "need" to write.
It is not just a desire to write. I've written over the years by choice - such as a journal about my every step during a vacation I took by myself to Costa Rica, some started diaries that really say so little, etc. But, now, it is once again a need. This need, now, carried on to my time here. I write because I have to. Doing this has given my time here purpose. I know I am helping others. It's allowing me to observe and feel and share that with you. Without writing, I would just be overwhelmed with emotions. Writing is my outlet.
My friends, here, all support my writing. My friends, on the outside, also, support my writing. They know that I have to do it. It's my reflection on the world and the world's reflection on me. It keeps me sane and lets me share the insane. It is how I think, learn, reflect, share, find substance, care, and pay everything forward. I need to keep writing. I will not allow myself to become emotionally numb, once again, due to the fact that I have no outlet. Here, people's outlets tend to be negative behavior. Some use creativity through the crafts. Others, they work out. For me, I need a little of all those things, but most of all, I need to write. I just appreciate, beyond words, that people, also, choose to read!
As I grew older, I discovered a creative side. I was really into theater and film as a teenager. I started to write plays, stories and poems. Many were shared with teachers, fellow friends, and others. I remember one day my playwriting teacher looking at a one-act play I'd written that was partially autobiographical. He said, "you need to stop looking to others for your self esteem." I did not yet know what he meant, but it came out in my writing.
When I was 18/19 years old, I had a friend several years older than I, who worked at local gas station on the night shifts, near my college. I would often visit her for a laugh and a chat. If I came in crying, angry, etc., she would immediately hand me a notebook and a pen, so I could write even before we talked. She was a musician and a songwriter. She must have understood my need to write.
It was during my early 20's that my emotional numbness really got bad. I stopped be able to cry. I became more and more passive. I always thought I'd lost my ability to write because of law school (and the way they make you see everything with an analytical lens), but in fact, I realize, now, the truth: I was unable to write because I was emotionally broken. The same emotional issues that brought me to addiction. The same that showed through my writing before I even knew what it was. A new gift that I now realize my recovery gave me, is my "need" to write.
It is not just a desire to write. I've written over the years by choice - such as a journal about my every step during a vacation I took by myself to Costa Rica, some started diaries that really say so little, etc. But, now, it is once again a need. This need, now, carried on to my time here. I write because I have to. Doing this has given my time here purpose. I know I am helping others. It's allowing me to observe and feel and share that with you. Without writing, I would just be overwhelmed with emotions. Writing is my outlet.
My friends, here, all support my writing. My friends, on the outside, also, support my writing. They know that I have to do it. It's my reflection on the world and the world's reflection on me. It keeps me sane and lets me share the insane. It is how I think, learn, reflect, share, find substance, care, and pay everything forward. I need to keep writing. I will not allow myself to become emotionally numb, once again, due to the fact that I have no outlet. Here, people's outlets tend to be negative behavior. Some use creativity through the crafts. Others, they work out. For me, I need a little of all those things, but most of all, I need to write. I just appreciate, beyond words, that people, also, choose to read!
From Dragonfly: A Visit From My Parents
My mother and step-father visited me yesterday. I was having a lot of anxiety about their coming, as I knew that neither of them have ever stepped foot near a prison in their lives. It turned out that my mom seemed better able to handle it than my step-dad, who had a really hard time with accepting that this is where I am at - at least for the meantime. I told him that it's really not that bad, you get used to it. They were mostly concerned about the lack of medical care I am receiving, but I told them that I'm okay. I know that I need to be seeing a medical professional more often, but I will be able to pick that up again this summer. Right now, as long as I am still walking, talking, working, and able to care for myself, I think I'm getting through this experience pretty well. One does not thrive in prison, but it is possible to live through the experience. My mom and SIL will be coming for a visit today.
In other news, I did receive a letter back from my school's Provost. It was one paragraph and just upheld the decision of the Dean to revoke my admission. Once again, it stated something like, "this does not preclude you from re-applying for graduate study..." The Dean's letter said the same thing. I don't know if it's just the way they write these kinds of letters, or if it was a choice of theirs to encourage me to reapply. I'm concerned about the reapplication process... given everything, who would I be able to use as references? What does my transcript say (does it say that my admission was revoked)? It may be very difficult for me to get back in... but I do not shy away from challenges. One day, I am going to walk across the stage and receive that degree that I've put so much time and effort toward. As long as I believe I will, there will be a way to make it happen. It's when we start to doubt ourselves that we cause our own failures.
As a person in recovery, it is important that no matter what my dreams/goals may be, I allow for life to occur on life's terms. Someone recently wrote me the following quote, "we plan and god laughs." It is so true. There's no way to know what lies ahead, because it has not yet occurred. A million possibilities exist for each of us. We have to remain flexible and open to all the possibilities.
For example, I was exhausted after my visit yesterday and all I could imagine was going to bed. However, I was invited to inside rec for a game of Tri-Ominos last night, and I said, "yes." I'm so glad I did, because Lola, Freckles, Glitter and I ended up talking and laughing... laughing so hard. Turns out Glitter was engaged to a guy who she never told she was going to prison until a week before she left. I asked her, "well, doesn't he read the papers... I mean your story was in the papers..." Well, since there wasn't the right time to tell him... Well, he lost trust in her. Here's the lesson, if you are going to prison, tell your spouse/fiance... because if you don't, they may get just a teenie bit angry. We were joking around, "so, you just thought you'd disappear for three years and he wouldn't notice." "You said you were taking a long vacation."
Here's the thing, not telling people that you are going to prison takes away their right to make the decision to support you or not. It's not our decision to make, it's theirs, and we cannot control their reaction. A life experience like this certainly helps define who our "real" friends are. I've been amazed by the outpouring of support I've received, even from strangers. Others, in here, face divorce, lost friends, and broken relationships. It happens. But, you are not in control of your relationships, it is a two-sided emotional bond. You deserve to be surrounded by people who love and support you, despite your mistakes, who do not judge you. Be strong. Tell the truth.
I did. I faced consequences of the truth, including facing what I am with my school and several people turning on me. However, their judgement is on them. I cannot control their actions or reactions. However, because I told the truth, I have a visit today from family. Had I lied, I would only have distanced myself further from people who choose to care about me. I am looking forward to my visit today and will try to find some more laughter as the day goes on.
In other news, I did receive a letter back from my school's Provost. It was one paragraph and just upheld the decision of the Dean to revoke my admission. Once again, it stated something like, "this does not preclude you from re-applying for graduate study..." The Dean's letter said the same thing. I don't know if it's just the way they write these kinds of letters, or if it was a choice of theirs to encourage me to reapply. I'm concerned about the reapplication process... given everything, who would I be able to use as references? What does my transcript say (does it say that my admission was revoked)? It may be very difficult for me to get back in... but I do not shy away from challenges. One day, I am going to walk across the stage and receive that degree that I've put so much time and effort toward. As long as I believe I will, there will be a way to make it happen. It's when we start to doubt ourselves that we cause our own failures.
As a person in recovery, it is important that no matter what my dreams/goals may be, I allow for life to occur on life's terms. Someone recently wrote me the following quote, "we plan and god laughs." It is so true. There's no way to know what lies ahead, because it has not yet occurred. A million possibilities exist for each of us. We have to remain flexible and open to all the possibilities.
For example, I was exhausted after my visit yesterday and all I could imagine was going to bed. However, I was invited to inside rec for a game of Tri-Ominos last night, and I said, "yes." I'm so glad I did, because Lola, Freckles, Glitter and I ended up talking and laughing... laughing so hard. Turns out Glitter was engaged to a guy who she never told she was going to prison until a week before she left. I asked her, "well, doesn't he read the papers... I mean your story was in the papers..." Well, since there wasn't the right time to tell him... Well, he lost trust in her. Here's the lesson, if you are going to prison, tell your spouse/fiance... because if you don't, they may get just a teenie bit angry. We were joking around, "so, you just thought you'd disappear for three years and he wouldn't notice." "You said you were taking a long vacation."
Here's the thing, not telling people that you are going to prison takes away their right to make the decision to support you or not. It's not our decision to make, it's theirs, and we cannot control their reaction. A life experience like this certainly helps define who our "real" friends are. I've been amazed by the outpouring of support I've received, even from strangers. Others, in here, face divorce, lost friends, and broken relationships. It happens. But, you are not in control of your relationships, it is a two-sided emotional bond. You deserve to be surrounded by people who love and support you, despite your mistakes, who do not judge you. Be strong. Tell the truth.
I did. I faced consequences of the truth, including facing what I am with my school and several people turning on me. However, their judgement is on them. I cannot control their actions or reactions. However, because I told the truth, I have a visit today from family. Had I lied, I would only have distanced myself further from people who choose to care about me. I am looking forward to my visit today and will try to find some more laughter as the day goes on.
Monday, January 27, 2014
A January Letter Tells All to Survivor
As done earlier in this blog - I am posting a letters that was written during my time of incarceration. The following is the explanation posted on 9/13/13 in the first letter posting:
Survivor -
I haven't been writing letters much. It's a failure of my emotions and my hand. It hurts when I write a lot. Also, I always write less when I most need to write - when my emotions are in overdrive. It's so much easier to write when I'm fine and I can just observe everything around me. It's much more difficult when my thoughts are lost in my head, my senses on overdrive, and I can't exactly put words to what I'm feeling. That has been the case for sometime now.
I am honestly okay. I will survive this and I will be stronger for it. In fact, this place helped me find my creative side again and I hope it lasts - not just crafts or writing Hazel - but I wrote a play in my head a couple days ago - that hasn't happened since I was a teen. In many ways I am inspired in new ways, although I am not giving up on my old goals.
I am going to fight my way back into [my University]. I know it's not the end of the world if I don't receive my PhD, but I've worked too hard and am too determined not to keep moving forward. If I give up now, I'm a victim, but if I hold my head up high and reach my goal, I can be living proof of moving forward, succeeding when others want you to fail, and following healthy ways of living.
We can either wear our addictions, recovery, and convictions as chains or they can be scars - always there, but forever healing and fading. My life just got a little more interesting, that's all.
My visit with my folks was alright. it's the first time someone left and I cried. I want to be able to be there for my folks, my grandparents. The stress on my mom is highly noticeable. The reality of visiting me here showed on their faces. [My step dad] was brought to silence, my mom to shock.
I am currently in the "lab." I was on a call-out to have blood pulled today. I'm supposed to be tested every 1-2 months, but this is the first time since early October. I'm very curious what the results will show. I had to send cop-outs (requests) to get them to order the labs, saying, "please look at my paperwork and order appropriate labs..." But what I think officially got me in was my trip to the rheumatologist last week. She immediately asked why my labs are so old, I just looked at the C.O. with me. "I'm in prison", is my thought. So she ordered Carswell to do my labs. I pray everything looks good enough, so I can get medically cleared. Otherwise, I may be here until my out date in July :-(
I'm not upset to be missing work today. There are a lot of mean people there who decide to gang up against me and try to get me fired. It has nothing really to do with me, but I just take it all as it comes. I'll be out of here long before them.
I'm becoming quite the crafter. I can't sit and do nothing, so I always have a project going. My crochet is getting much better. My plastic canvas designs are a hit. Unfortunately, it's hurting my hand a lot. The way the rheumatologist talked about my condition is form of spondyloarthropathy that is mimicking rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, and fibromyalgia. Why can't anything with me be simple? My fatigue is super bad right now and I've had a cough for several weeks. I'm going to sick call this week.
Being at Carswell is truly a one of a kind experience. Throw away all the "how to survive prison" handbooks. They simply do not apply here. Also, it's b.s. that you walk out with no friends - all us white collar folks tend to find one another. It'd like people in G.A., people you never thought you'd make friends with, but in the end, we support one another through this. It's not like my relationship with you, or people on the outside, but it is real. [The officer we met the day before I surrendered] made many statements that day before my self-surrender, that are just not true. Even the people I room with show kindness and goodness at times.
I think Sporty is coming in for another weekend in March. She's been so good to me. She sent me pics of my new room and it looks very warm, cozy, and comforting. I can't wait to sleep in a real bed again - with enough blankets, a comfy pillow, and no alarm, count, or people yelling out, "dryer three." (that's the call to tell the person in Dryer 3 that their clothes will be removed from the dryer unless they immediately com e and remove them as it is time for the next person's clothes). I wash on Sunday's & Wednesdays. The laundry wars are fierce - how do 260+ women wash their clothes 2x each week in 45 min wash/dry cycles? Fights, yelling, stolen items, etc are all part of the daily routing in the laundry wars. I think A & E should pick it up as a new show.
I've not yet given up on going to the camp across the street. My doc just needs to sign off on it, but I've never seen my doc. I'm thinking I should have an appt within 2 weeks. Perhaps God wants me here to see South off. She leaves 2/10. I can't wait to introduce you two some day. You will love her!! We'll have to take a road trip some time to see her.
Well, move is about to open. Back to work for the rest of the morning.
Miss you tons - Love you more!
Dragonfly
"In a later post - after I am home - I state that I will post some of my letters home on the date that they were written. I post everything from the letter except for things that are personal about the person I am writing that is not relevant to the experience of myself or prison. In the letters I may not have used their pseudonyms - however that is changed for the purpose to keep this blog consistent and to keep everyone anonymous as always. Other than those few changes for the purposes of consistency and anonymity, everything listed here is exactly as it it written in the letter - including how I used shorthand or symbols. Some things may be similar to what I write in prior/later blogs. Other things I may not have written at the time on the blog because I knew it was being monitored. I take photos of any images and include that as well."1/27/14
Survivor -
I haven't been writing letters much. It's a failure of my emotions and my hand. It hurts when I write a lot. Also, I always write less when I most need to write - when my emotions are in overdrive. It's so much easier to write when I'm fine and I can just observe everything around me. It's much more difficult when my thoughts are lost in my head, my senses on overdrive, and I can't exactly put words to what I'm feeling. That has been the case for sometime now.
I am honestly okay. I will survive this and I will be stronger for it. In fact, this place helped me find my creative side again and I hope it lasts - not just crafts or writing Hazel - but I wrote a play in my head a couple days ago - that hasn't happened since I was a teen. In many ways I am inspired in new ways, although I am not giving up on my old goals.
I am going to fight my way back into [my University]. I know it's not the end of the world if I don't receive my PhD, but I've worked too hard and am too determined not to keep moving forward. If I give up now, I'm a victim, but if I hold my head up high and reach my goal, I can be living proof of moving forward, succeeding when others want you to fail, and following healthy ways of living.
We can either wear our addictions, recovery, and convictions as chains or they can be scars - always there, but forever healing and fading. My life just got a little more interesting, that's all.
My visit with my folks was alright. it's the first time someone left and I cried. I want to be able to be there for my folks, my grandparents. The stress on my mom is highly noticeable. The reality of visiting me here showed on their faces. [My step dad] was brought to silence, my mom to shock.
I am currently in the "lab." I was on a call-out to have blood pulled today. I'm supposed to be tested every 1-2 months, but this is the first time since early October. I'm very curious what the results will show. I had to send cop-outs (requests) to get them to order the labs, saying, "please look at my paperwork and order appropriate labs..." But what I think officially got me in was my trip to the rheumatologist last week. She immediately asked why my labs are so old, I just looked at the C.O. with me. "I'm in prison", is my thought. So she ordered Carswell to do my labs. I pray everything looks good enough, so I can get medically cleared. Otherwise, I may be here until my out date in July :-(
I'm not upset to be missing work today. There are a lot of mean people there who decide to gang up against me and try to get me fired. It has nothing really to do with me, but I just take it all as it comes. I'll be out of here long before them.
I'm becoming quite the crafter. I can't sit and do nothing, so I always have a project going. My crochet is getting much better. My plastic canvas designs are a hit. Unfortunately, it's hurting my hand a lot. The way the rheumatologist talked about my condition is form of spondyloarthropathy that is mimicking rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, and fibromyalgia. Why can't anything with me be simple? My fatigue is super bad right now and I've had a cough for several weeks. I'm going to sick call this week.
Being at Carswell is truly a one of a kind experience. Throw away all the "how to survive prison" handbooks. They simply do not apply here. Also, it's b.s. that you walk out with no friends - all us white collar folks tend to find one another. It'd like people in G.A., people you never thought you'd make friends with, but in the end, we support one another through this. It's not like my relationship with you, or people on the outside, but it is real. [The officer we met the day before I surrendered] made many statements that day before my self-surrender, that are just not true. Even the people I room with show kindness and goodness at times.
I think Sporty is coming in for another weekend in March. She's been so good to me. She sent me pics of my new room and it looks very warm, cozy, and comforting. I can't wait to sleep in a real bed again - with enough blankets, a comfy pillow, and no alarm, count, or people yelling out, "dryer three." (that's the call to tell the person in Dryer 3 that their clothes will be removed from the dryer unless they immediately com e and remove them as it is time for the next person's clothes). I wash on Sunday's & Wednesdays. The laundry wars are fierce - how do 260+ women wash their clothes 2x each week in 45 min wash/dry cycles? Fights, yelling, stolen items, etc are all part of the daily routing in the laundry wars. I think A & E should pick it up as a new show.
I've not yet given up on going to the camp across the street. My doc just needs to sign off on it, but I've never seen my doc. I'm thinking I should have an appt within 2 weeks. Perhaps God wants me here to see South off. She leaves 2/10. I can't wait to introduce you two some day. You will love her!! We'll have to take a road trip some time to see her.
Well, move is about to open. Back to work for the rest of the morning.
Miss you tons - Love you more!
Dragonfly
Friday, January 17, 2014
From Dragonfly: Anxiety, Anyone?
How do you ensure that you will cause major anxiety for over 550 inmates all at the same time? Let them find out through inmate.com, or ROY (rumor on the yard), that they are all being moved. Then start moving people, slowly, so that everyone starts to wonder, "When am I being moved?" "Who will my roommates be?" "Am I going to be on the first or second floor?" "Can I take my mattress with me?" The other anxiety is around, "I pray I will not be roomed with _______." Unfortunately, for me, I am already roomed with the people whose names fill in that blank. Everyone tells me that I need to get out of my room. If only it were that easy.
So, the anxiety of the "move" started just over a week ago. No staff person ever talked to those of us on 1 South - but they did talk with the people in the other unit that we are trading places with - 1 North. 1 North will become the chronic care unit and 1 South will be the programming unit. This requires moving just about every person in both units. At first, it seemed that people were getting new rooms and new roommates/bunkies. The first larger move started yesterday, 13 rooms on the first floor of 1 South were switched with 1 North. However, people were being moved into different room numbers and those of us left started doing the math... if they move the upper bunks this many people to the left and the lower bunks this many people to the right, my roommates/bunkie will be... We were all anxious and nervous. Everyone has at least one person they could never live with. There's also a lot of mental health issues with people in our unit. I certainly didn't want to be roomed with the woman who washes her clothes while taking a shower, brushes her hair over the trash bin, and dries her hair using the warm air coming off the large ice maker. I, also, didn't want to room with the woman who never stops talking at a very high tone which will wake us up very early each morning. I, also, wouldn't choose to room with the woman who wheezes so bad and loud while she snores, that you can hear it even when in the bathroom.
South moves today, and she is keeping her exact room number and roommates. They are happy. They all get along really, really well. Plus South and one of her roommates leave on February 10th. You would think they wouldn't want to move them to the new unit with them leaving so soon, but they are even moving a woman today who is already packed out and leaving Carswell on Monday. Everyone moves. Period.
The anxiety was over last night for myself and Lola. We both learned that we are moving on Monday (based on a posted list). We are both keeping our rooms and our roommates. Everyone said, "I'm so sorry," to me, while relieved that they were not picking up my bunkie. My bunkie gets a bad rap - she has a foul mouth and starts a lot of fights. But, she is also a nice woman if you don't get on her bad side. I pretty much do my best to stay out of her way and avoid any conflict. I can do that, I did it most of my life with others. I'm not going to worry about it. I can handle more of the same. I've learned to live here, this way. Different is scary, because different can be worse than things already are. In a weird way, I have gained the respect of both my roommates. They actually laugh at me when I swear, and always ask me how to spell words. They think I'm incredibly naive and narrow and don't belong in prison. I like that they think that way. To me, that's not an insult.
So, at 7:45 am on Monday, I will be moving from my current room to the room bearing the same number across the narrow hallway that separates 1N and 1S. It's a hallway we are not allowed down without permission and I've only been inside 1N on two occasions in the past. It looks a lot like 1S, but has something like 2 more rooms on each side. It is set up almost backwards from our unit. They've just redone the bathrooms/showers on the first floor (except for two showers from my understanding). I am looking forward to showering on a cleaner and newer surface (still wearing my shower shoes, of course).
As for the rest of my pals, like Nurse, Mama, and others, we do not yet know when they will be moving and if they will stay in their same rooms. They are in upstairs level rooms. Given how this move is going, anything is possible - it could be days, weeks, or months. They don't tell us anything. So, it just keeps the anxiety going for them. I'll miss having South in my unit for the weekend, but glad we will be together, once again, on Monday. My anxiety will be over, once my things are fully moved, and I'm laying back on my mattress, which I am taking with me.
So, the anxiety of the "move" started just over a week ago. No staff person ever talked to those of us on 1 South - but they did talk with the people in the other unit that we are trading places with - 1 North. 1 North will become the chronic care unit and 1 South will be the programming unit. This requires moving just about every person in both units. At first, it seemed that people were getting new rooms and new roommates/bunkies. The first larger move started yesterday, 13 rooms on the first floor of 1 South were switched with 1 North. However, people were being moved into different room numbers and those of us left started doing the math... if they move the upper bunks this many people to the left and the lower bunks this many people to the right, my roommates/bunkie will be... We were all anxious and nervous. Everyone has at least one person they could never live with. There's also a lot of mental health issues with people in our unit. I certainly didn't want to be roomed with the woman who washes her clothes while taking a shower, brushes her hair over the trash bin, and dries her hair using the warm air coming off the large ice maker. I, also, didn't want to room with the woman who never stops talking at a very high tone which will wake us up very early each morning. I, also, wouldn't choose to room with the woman who wheezes so bad and loud while she snores, that you can hear it even when in the bathroom.
South moves today, and she is keeping her exact room number and roommates. They are happy. They all get along really, really well. Plus South and one of her roommates leave on February 10th. You would think they wouldn't want to move them to the new unit with them leaving so soon, but they are even moving a woman today who is already packed out and leaving Carswell on Monday. Everyone moves. Period.
The anxiety was over last night for myself and Lola. We both learned that we are moving on Monday (based on a posted list). We are both keeping our rooms and our roommates. Everyone said, "I'm so sorry," to me, while relieved that they were not picking up my bunkie. My bunkie gets a bad rap - she has a foul mouth and starts a lot of fights. But, she is also a nice woman if you don't get on her bad side. I pretty much do my best to stay out of her way and avoid any conflict. I can do that, I did it most of my life with others. I'm not going to worry about it. I can handle more of the same. I've learned to live here, this way. Different is scary, because different can be worse than things already are. In a weird way, I have gained the respect of both my roommates. They actually laugh at me when I swear, and always ask me how to spell words. They think I'm incredibly naive and narrow and don't belong in prison. I like that they think that way. To me, that's not an insult.
So, at 7:45 am on Monday, I will be moving from my current room to the room bearing the same number across the narrow hallway that separates 1N and 1S. It's a hallway we are not allowed down without permission and I've only been inside 1N on two occasions in the past. It looks a lot like 1S, but has something like 2 more rooms on each side. It is set up almost backwards from our unit. They've just redone the bathrooms/showers on the first floor (except for two showers from my understanding). I am looking forward to showering on a cleaner and newer surface (still wearing my shower shoes, of course).
As for the rest of my pals, like Nurse, Mama, and others, we do not yet know when they will be moving and if they will stay in their same rooms. They are in upstairs level rooms. Given how this move is going, anything is possible - it could be days, weeks, or months. They don't tell us anything. So, it just keeps the anxiety going for them. I'll miss having South in my unit for the weekend, but glad we will be together, once again, on Monday. My anxiety will be over, once my things are fully moved, and I'm laying back on my mattress, which I am taking with me.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
From Dragonfly: ACE
One way to keep yourself busy, while at Carswell, is to take ACE (Adult Continuing Education) courses. They are offered two ways, in six-one hour sessions (one night/week), or quick 1-2 hour video based classes. At the beginning of each class, all the students take a "pre-test" and at the end, the same test as a "post-test" gauging how much the student learned. If the student attends all the sessions and passes the post-test, they receive a certificate, which also grants them "sentry" points. Sentry points can be used to lower someone's security level, making them eligible for camp or a lower security facility at some point (if they start at a medium or low security level).
As a tutor, one of my functions is to teach ACE courses. Last round, I taught a U.S. Government course. I had about 10 students and I can verify that they all learned a lot about how the U.S. Government really works. At one point, I had all the students trying to pass bills/laws, and the students were the different branches of government. After 30 minutes, only 1 of four bills made it into law... just like the stalemate we often get in the real congress and government.
This time, I am teaching essay writing. I have ten students, again, all trying to understand the 5-paragraph essay, so that they can pass the writing sections of the GED. It's a lot of fun working with students on their writing. I love seeing their improvement over time... from not being able to write a sentence, to interesting full paragraphs. It just makes me smile when I can see a student "get it."
I think that the next session, I will be teaching employment skills. It's another topic I know fairly well. I look forward to helping others find some "hope" in finding work, now that they are stamped with "felon" across their forehead. I like a statement one of the teachers said to me. Forty doors may be shut in our faces, but that 41st door may just be open. The more employable we are, the more likely that door will be open, even though we are felons.
The best part of ACE classes, though, is that we can also take them. I teach my classes on Monday evenings, which allows me to sit in on others during the rest of the week. In the last session, I took a personal finance class. It was a requirement on my PSI, but it was interesting anyway. It definitely got me thinking about my finances once I actually hold money again. What does a 1 dollar bill look like? Hah, it's been so long since I've seen one.
This session of classes, though, I took two... one video one hour class, and one 6 week class. The video class I did with Lola and Freckles... believe it or not, it was called "Cruising Around the World." It had NOTHING to do with "cruises." There was no buffet. It was about places you can visit from the sea... it started in Nova Scotia (a place I can never visit since Canada is closed to all U.S. felons), went through the Caribbean, went to Guatamala, through the Panama Canal, and then up the Western Coast of North America, stopping in California and British Columbia before hitting Alaska. At each "stop," the video talked about the culture and people there and things that tourists can see and do. It was magnificent to see all the places. I've been to several of them, but the video really explained them in ways I never knew. I believe we all "passed" the post-test.
My other course this session is "Mental Math." Yes, after teaching math ALL day long, I chose to take a class about math at night. If you want to call me a "Nerd" that is perfectly fine with me. We've had two weeks so far (2 classes) and I've learned a great way to multiply 11 by any number in my head (up to four digit numbers). Very cool. I have also learned quick ways to do other multiplications, subtractions, etc., all in seconds in my brain. Some of the "tricks" seem to work great for me, and other's just slow me down. But, it is a really cool class. I'm taking many of the tricks and teaching them to the students I work with. I look forward to seeing the next four evenings of math tricks as the class continues. They just announced a "Mental Math 2" course for next session. I will definitely be there once again.
As a tutor, one of my functions is to teach ACE courses. Last round, I taught a U.S. Government course. I had about 10 students and I can verify that they all learned a lot about how the U.S. Government really works. At one point, I had all the students trying to pass bills/laws, and the students were the different branches of government. After 30 minutes, only 1 of four bills made it into law... just like the stalemate we often get in the real congress and government.
This time, I am teaching essay writing. I have ten students, again, all trying to understand the 5-paragraph essay, so that they can pass the writing sections of the GED. It's a lot of fun working with students on their writing. I love seeing their improvement over time... from not being able to write a sentence, to interesting full paragraphs. It just makes me smile when I can see a student "get it."
I think that the next session, I will be teaching employment skills. It's another topic I know fairly well. I look forward to helping others find some "hope" in finding work, now that they are stamped with "felon" across their forehead. I like a statement one of the teachers said to me. Forty doors may be shut in our faces, but that 41st door may just be open. The more employable we are, the more likely that door will be open, even though we are felons.
The best part of ACE classes, though, is that we can also take them. I teach my classes on Monday evenings, which allows me to sit in on others during the rest of the week. In the last session, I took a personal finance class. It was a requirement on my PSI, but it was interesting anyway. It definitely got me thinking about my finances once I actually hold money again. What does a 1 dollar bill look like? Hah, it's been so long since I've seen one.
This session of classes, though, I took two... one video one hour class, and one 6 week class. The video class I did with Lola and Freckles... believe it or not, it was called "Cruising Around the World." It had NOTHING to do with "cruises." There was no buffet. It was about places you can visit from the sea... it started in Nova Scotia (a place I can never visit since Canada is closed to all U.S. felons), went through the Caribbean, went to Guatamala, through the Panama Canal, and then up the Western Coast of North America, stopping in California and British Columbia before hitting Alaska. At each "stop," the video talked about the culture and people there and things that tourists can see and do. It was magnificent to see all the places. I've been to several of them, but the video really explained them in ways I never knew. I believe we all "passed" the post-test.
My other course this session is "Mental Math." Yes, after teaching math ALL day long, I chose to take a class about math at night. If you want to call me a "Nerd" that is perfectly fine with me. We've had two weeks so far (2 classes) and I've learned a great way to multiply 11 by any number in my head (up to four digit numbers). Very cool. I have also learned quick ways to do other multiplications, subtractions, etc., all in seconds in my brain. Some of the "tricks" seem to work great for me, and other's just slow me down. But, it is a really cool class. I'm taking many of the tricks and teaching them to the students I work with. I look forward to seeing the next four evenings of math tricks as the class continues. They just announced a "Mental Math 2" course for next session. I will definitely be there once again.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
From Dragonfly: Wheelchair Games
Carswell is filled with people who need assistance with getting around. If you looked at my unit, you would see nearly a walker or wheelchair for just about every first floor room (and some of the upper floor rooms too!). People need them for different reasons - advanced arthritis, autoimmune conditions, diabetes, inability for standing long periods, missing limbs (yes, there are many, many people here with one or both legs amputated), cancer, well, you get the idea. People here have REAL health issues and the devices help make their lives a little easier. Most of the women utilizing these walking/moving aids, control them themselves. There are no electric wheelchairs that I've seen, rather they are all manual. So, for those that can't control the manual chairs themselves, they have INA's (nursing aids) who push them around the facility. The INA's are inmates as well, but they wear a maroon smock over their uniform to indicate their job. Not only do they do the wheel chair pushing, but INA's help with sponge baths, bathroom visits, etc. It's a very important job, for the people with enough patience, as so many women are aging. In some ways, this facility is also a prison nursing home.
Back to the wheelchairs, though. Most of the wheelchairs are self operated. The vast majority of women move themselves by walking their chairs, while seated in the chair. Imagine a chair low enough to the ground so that their feet can walk it. I barely ever see a woman using the wheels to guide themselves. Ironically, some of the women in wheelchairs seem to have the ability to RUN their chairs when they need to. They stand behind their chairs and run with them empty, in order to get themselves better placement in the pill line. Yes, the pill line can be a 2-3 hour wait, but "really" running your wheelchair?!?! I could understand a walker, maybe, but if you can run, while pushing your chair, are you really "needing" that chair? Okay, I would probably need one of the walkers with a "seat" on it if I had to be at pill line, but I promise you, I would NOT be running with the walker. In fact, I cannot run at all. There are many, many women here who NEED their wheelchairs, but I must say that the first time you see someone running with their wheelchair, you would laugh as well. When you see all the women moving around in their chair by "walking" them, you would laugh. This is one weird place.
The wheelchair "games" don't stop there, though. Even those being pushed by INA's can be a sight. Sometimes the INA is pushing the chair so fast, that people literally have to jump out of the way in the hall, or they will be run over. I know a woman who needed back surgery after being hit by a woman in a wheelchair. Another woman I know has three broken bones in her foot because an INA rolled a chair, with a rather large woman in it, right over her foot. Three broken bones!!!! She is now looking at surgery, rather than going to a halfway house or getting out of here before she maxes out later this year.
On the positive side, Carswell does cater to those in a wheelchair in some ways. Last weekend, women got to enjoy wheelchair bowling in the rec. There are wheelchair aerobics as well.
Interestingly, there are no accessible doors here, though. There are no blue buttons that magically open doors (probably because the doors have to be locked so often during closed move or something like that). It is sad watching women try to maneuver their chairs through heavy doors that they also need to hold open for themselves. I am very aware of the issues, as I spent more than 6 months last year on crutches and longer on a cane. Over the years, I have spent some time (not a lot thank God) using a wheel chair. It's really hard in inaccessible places. The funny thing is that it's federal law that every public accommodation has to be accessible under the ADA, but in a federal facility...
They are considering those in chairs in this supposed upcoming move, however. My understanding is that one of the reasons they are moving all the medical people from 1South to 1North is because the first floor bathrooms in 1South are about to be worked on and everyone would have to walk upstairs during that time. I guess the 1North bathrooms are just about redone. So, it's a good thing that everyone will have accessibility to bathrooms and showers. I can't imagine trying to figure out living here while also being in a wheelchair. When I think of all the things I am grateful for, being able to walk on my own is definitely one of those things. I may have a limp, but I am walking.
Honestly, I don't hear people in wheelchairs, here, complain much about the predicament. We all have to come to acceptance at some time, and being here in lines all the time, makes having a walking/moving aid just that much more valuable. Even South has a walker (with a seat) now. She does not need to use it much. On commissary days, and days where she needs to be in long lines, you will see her pushing it around the compound. Sometimes, we all need a little help. Let's just keep out of the way of the wheelchair games!
Back to the wheelchairs, though. Most of the wheelchairs are self operated. The vast majority of women move themselves by walking their chairs, while seated in the chair. Imagine a chair low enough to the ground so that their feet can walk it. I barely ever see a woman using the wheels to guide themselves. Ironically, some of the women in wheelchairs seem to have the ability to RUN their chairs when they need to. They stand behind their chairs and run with them empty, in order to get themselves better placement in the pill line. Yes, the pill line can be a 2-3 hour wait, but "really" running your wheelchair?!?! I could understand a walker, maybe, but if you can run, while pushing your chair, are you really "needing" that chair? Okay, I would probably need one of the walkers with a "seat" on it if I had to be at pill line, but I promise you, I would NOT be running with the walker. In fact, I cannot run at all. There are many, many women here who NEED their wheelchairs, but I must say that the first time you see someone running with their wheelchair, you would laugh as well. When you see all the women moving around in their chair by "walking" them, you would laugh. This is one weird place.
The wheelchair "games" don't stop there, though. Even those being pushed by INA's can be a sight. Sometimes the INA is pushing the chair so fast, that people literally have to jump out of the way in the hall, or they will be run over. I know a woman who needed back surgery after being hit by a woman in a wheelchair. Another woman I know has three broken bones in her foot because an INA rolled a chair, with a rather large woman in it, right over her foot. Three broken bones!!!! She is now looking at surgery, rather than going to a halfway house or getting out of here before she maxes out later this year.
On the positive side, Carswell does cater to those in a wheelchair in some ways. Last weekend, women got to enjoy wheelchair bowling in the rec. There are wheelchair aerobics as well.
Interestingly, there are no accessible doors here, though. There are no blue buttons that magically open doors (probably because the doors have to be locked so often during closed move or something like that). It is sad watching women try to maneuver their chairs through heavy doors that they also need to hold open for themselves. I am very aware of the issues, as I spent more than 6 months last year on crutches and longer on a cane. Over the years, I have spent some time (not a lot thank God) using a wheel chair. It's really hard in inaccessible places. The funny thing is that it's federal law that every public accommodation has to be accessible under the ADA, but in a federal facility...
They are considering those in chairs in this supposed upcoming move, however. My understanding is that one of the reasons they are moving all the medical people from 1South to 1North is because the first floor bathrooms in 1South are about to be worked on and everyone would have to walk upstairs during that time. I guess the 1North bathrooms are just about redone. So, it's a good thing that everyone will have accessibility to bathrooms and showers. I can't imagine trying to figure out living here while also being in a wheelchair. When I think of all the things I am grateful for, being able to walk on my own is definitely one of those things. I may have a limp, but I am walking.
Honestly, I don't hear people in wheelchairs, here, complain much about the predicament. We all have to come to acceptance at some time, and being here in lines all the time, makes having a walking/moving aid just that much more valuable. Even South has a walker (with a seat) now. She does not need to use it much. On commissary days, and days where she needs to be in long lines, you will see her pushing it around the compound. Sometimes, we all need a little help. Let's just keep out of the way of the wheelchair games!
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
From Dragonfly: Reaching Out
One of the tenants of my recovery program is to help others. Those "others" don't have to be in recovery as well, it's just a way to connect with people and realize that we make ourselves happy when we make someone else happy. One of my friends here is having a real hard time with things right now. She is facing several years. Most of us will be gone before her, even though our "crimes" are not all that dissimilar from one another. She "HATES" it here (her words). I understand her feelings and her inability to see anything good out of this place. I wish I had something to magically take her pain away, but I am not a genie and this is definitely not a fairy tale.
So, I told her that we were going to make a "grateful" list. She didn't want to "play." I named things I am grateful for, "shoes on my feet, food in my stomach, a mattress, sunshine, ..." She still did not want to play. But I kept going, "friends, not having to be alone on my birthday coming up, ability to buy things in commissary, deodorant..." Finally, she piped in and said something sarcastic. It was movement in the right direction.
In my room, I read my daily reading and it was all about "connecting to others" and how our connection with people is what can bring us peace and purpose. I read it out loud to my friend. Tears welled up in her eyes. I know, she knows, that the thing we are most grateful for are those few hours of sitting around with our friends acting "normal," like playing scrabble, or filling out a crossword, or sharing a meal. She says that she never cries here, but I've made her cry three times. Each time was about my telling her things like, "you have to forgive yourself," "you are a good person," "there is a future when all of this is over," "other people's opinions do not matter, what matters is your own opinion of yourself," the serenity prayer, and things like that. All of which I believe. I assured her that I am her friend. I gave her a chocolate bar (that brought a little smile). Seeing her come out of her head and all the negativity is so rewarding. By the end of yesterday, my friend was her old self again. Perhaps, a little sadder than usual, but we all have those days here.
In other news, Star's baby was born on Friday and I just saw her for the first time since. It's weird to not see her "baby bump." The baby was born with Star's color hair and he is going home from the hospital today or tomorrow. He is healthy, but they needed to keep an eye on him for a couple reasons early on. Star says that the hospital treated her great, although once the baby was born, she was shackled to the hospital bed. An officer was with her the entire time. She did eat better food. Sad to think that hospital food is better than what we get here, but there you go... She said she enjoyed a real turkey sandwich. That sounds good! Star's parents and oldest daughter are heading to Fort Worth today to pick up the baby. He will live with them until her release, which is just over one month from now. Actually, she is moving in with her parents upon release to get herself and her children settled. She is very lucky that her parents are supporting her and taking care of her children.
Yesterday, after our workday was done, I was in my bed waiting for 4pm count, when I realized, "oh my god, it's Monday, I teach Monday nights." I, luckily, had plenty of time to prepare and the class went well. It says a lot when the students are not interested in leaving at the end of the hour! One of the things I love about teaching is seeing the "spark" in the students as they "get it." I had them all write a paragraph last night and they didn't even realize it until it was done, because we literally wrote it one sentence at a time. But they all did it, and they all wrote GOOD paragraphs!!
We are just about half way through my sentence (with good time)... 5 months is within the next week. I guess that means I'm about to get over the "hump" of being here. There's no way of knowing what the second half of this experience will be like, but I'm glad I get to connect with my people back home and I promise to try and write more often to them... for some reason, writing the same thing over and over again gets difficult. There's just not much to share. I do love reading about their lives, though, which they continue to send me in letters all the time!! I guess it's their version of "reaching out" and it is sooooo appreciated!!!
So, I told her that we were going to make a "grateful" list. She didn't want to "play." I named things I am grateful for, "shoes on my feet, food in my stomach, a mattress, sunshine, ..." She still did not want to play. But I kept going, "friends, not having to be alone on my birthday coming up, ability to buy things in commissary, deodorant..." Finally, she piped in and said something sarcastic. It was movement in the right direction.
In my room, I read my daily reading and it was all about "connecting to others" and how our connection with people is what can bring us peace and purpose. I read it out loud to my friend. Tears welled up in her eyes. I know, she knows, that the thing we are most grateful for are those few hours of sitting around with our friends acting "normal," like playing scrabble, or filling out a crossword, or sharing a meal. She says that she never cries here, but I've made her cry three times. Each time was about my telling her things like, "you have to forgive yourself," "you are a good person," "there is a future when all of this is over," "other people's opinions do not matter, what matters is your own opinion of yourself," the serenity prayer, and things like that. All of which I believe. I assured her that I am her friend. I gave her a chocolate bar (that brought a little smile). Seeing her come out of her head and all the negativity is so rewarding. By the end of yesterday, my friend was her old self again. Perhaps, a little sadder than usual, but we all have those days here.
In other news, Star's baby was born on Friday and I just saw her for the first time since. It's weird to not see her "baby bump." The baby was born with Star's color hair and he is going home from the hospital today or tomorrow. He is healthy, but they needed to keep an eye on him for a couple reasons early on. Star says that the hospital treated her great, although once the baby was born, she was shackled to the hospital bed. An officer was with her the entire time. She did eat better food. Sad to think that hospital food is better than what we get here, but there you go... She said she enjoyed a real turkey sandwich. That sounds good! Star's parents and oldest daughter are heading to Fort Worth today to pick up the baby. He will live with them until her release, which is just over one month from now. Actually, she is moving in with her parents upon release to get herself and her children settled. She is very lucky that her parents are supporting her and taking care of her children.
Yesterday, after our workday was done, I was in my bed waiting for 4pm count, when I realized, "oh my god, it's Monday, I teach Monday nights." I, luckily, had plenty of time to prepare and the class went well. It says a lot when the students are not interested in leaving at the end of the hour! One of the things I love about teaching is seeing the "spark" in the students as they "get it." I had them all write a paragraph last night and they didn't even realize it until it was done, because we literally wrote it one sentence at a time. But they all did it, and they all wrote GOOD paragraphs!!
We are just about half way through my sentence (with good time)... 5 months is within the next week. I guess that means I'm about to get over the "hump" of being here. There's no way of knowing what the second half of this experience will be like, but I'm glad I get to connect with my people back home and I promise to try and write more often to them... for some reason, writing the same thing over and over again gets difficult. There's just not much to share. I do love reading about their lives, though, which they continue to send me in letters all the time!! I guess it's their version of "reaching out" and it is sooooo appreciated!!!
Sunday, January 12, 2014
From Dragonfly: Wrong Side of the Bed
Some days I just wake up on the wrong side of the bed. Today, was one of those days. I don't mean that I woke up all the way pressed up to the cinder block wall (which I was), but rather, somehow I did not wake up cheery eyed and in the best mind-set. Last night, I had a dream about school. I was happy in my dream and I was back doing what I love. But, then I woke up, and the reality hit me instantly --- I am no longer a student. I may never be a student again. And then the next thought hit me like a ton of bricks --- my past advisor informing me that she went to "bat" to allow a student, accused of and jailed for, having a relationship with someone underage --- who was allowed back into the program. So, I am, in her book, and perhaps the university's, worse than a sex offender. Okay, I know this goes a bit too far, but we all know, we do not think rationally the minute we wake up. So, I rolled over, and I tried to put positive thoughts into my head. I said the serenity prayer numerous times. I thought about all those things and people I am grateful for. And then, I just decided to get up and watch the news, where I saw a news story about a young boy with rapidly aging disease who died at the age of 17. Perspective, right? He was an amazing young man, whose parents would do anything and everything to slow down the progression of his debilitating disease, but in the end, he was unable to become a young adult. I don't care what side of the bed I wake in, it's a choice for me to try to see each day as a promise of hope. I am in a lot better shape and circumstances than many, many people in this world. Sometimes our minds play tricks on us and try to take us down, but we have a choice. To me, it may not have been a pleasant morning, but I am going to make the best of this day. I started by eating a decent breakfast and having a V-8. (I didn't want to go through the day thinking, "I could've had a V-8!"). I will play some scrabble this afternoon with the set in our unit - it has missing tiles, which we made little cardboard squares for and ensured we had all our playing pieces. You've never seen a sadder scrabble set, but we still get to play. South acts as our scrabble dictionary - what she says goes. Later, I will do my laundry, and 'choose' to not let the laundry politics get to me. Tonight is taco salad for dinner - one of my faves both inside and outside of prison. It tastes better on the outside, but I will enjoy it nonetheless. I will read my new Reader's Digest and do some crosswords in my new crossword book. I will sit outside with friends - in 74 degree weather - in the middle of January! - and gain some vitamin D. So, I may have started my day in anger, but I am filling it with things that may bring me a little joy. I will not let anxiety take me down.
I will admit that it's hard sometimes. When one day looks just like the day before and we know that tomorrow will look just like today. There will be no "good" surprises. Prison is just a test in how much "same" one can get used to. But, my birthday is coming up soon. My mom, stepdad, and SIL will be visiting me next weekend. I have some "good" heading my way. That is enough to hold onto. I cherish the moments of "difference" here and that helps get through the mundane. We can actually choose whether we wake up on the "wrong side of the bed" or if we just have to work a little harder to get outside our negativity and see the potential of each and every day. As always, the serenity prayer helps guide my thoughts in that direction. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I will admit that it's hard sometimes. When one day looks just like the day before and we know that tomorrow will look just like today. There will be no "good" surprises. Prison is just a test in how much "same" one can get used to. But, my birthday is coming up soon. My mom, stepdad, and SIL will be visiting me next weekend. I have some "good" heading my way. That is enough to hold onto. I cherish the moments of "difference" here and that helps get through the mundane. We can actually choose whether we wake up on the "wrong side of the bed" or if we just have to work a little harder to get outside our negativity and see the potential of each and every day. As always, the serenity prayer helps guide my thoughts in that direction. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
From Dragonfly: A Feminist
This is not going to be the most academic view of what it means to be a feminist in prison, but it's time that I reveal some of the thoughts I have about some of the things I see. One who is a feminist may think that a community entirely women-oriented would be a wonderful place for budding feminism. This is certainly not the case here.
I can't remember if I wrote about this before, but one night in my room, my bunkie was talking about how her girlfriend pissed her off and so she hit her. I was not part of the conversation, having been lost in the world of a good book, but I spoke up at that moment and said, "you hit her?" She said, "yes" and that sometimes it is the right thing to do. I then said, "it is never okay to hit a woman." My other two roomies disagreed with me and said that they believe that sometimes, someone deserves to be hit - especially someone we are dating. I spoke up and said, "okay, let's please talk about something else. My little feminist brain can't handle any more of this conversation. It is NEVER okay to hit a woman. It is never okay to hit someone we are dating. I've participated in countless activities to stop this kind of domestic violence." They stopped and moved on to a different topic. I laid in my bed, wondering, where in the world had we all gone wrong that women actually think it's okay to hit their female partners.
The thing is, I've seen too many "couples" get into physical fights here. The next day, after swearing they'll never go back with that person, the person abused goes right back to the relationship. I've seen fat lips, bruised arms, knotted heads, black eyes, as well as heard all the made-up excuses: "my locker did it," "I fell out of bed," "I tripped on the sidewalk." Meanwhile, they cry to their closest friends about how ABC punched them because they accused them of cheating or how they both punched each other in the rage of a fight. This happens so often, that I've become desensitized to the reality.
I'm not exactly sure how to best understand my experience under any feminist pedagogy. So many women, here, do stand up for themselves. In a community where women outnumber the men about 95:5, the women still back down if a male enters the space. They treat male staff differently than female staff. They talk about them differently, too. They respect them differently.
Even when I try to speak up about these observations, people just stare at me. Even those educated around me, would probably not refer to themselves as feminists. If ever there was a place to build the ideals of feminism: such as being independent, standing up for oneself, believing that females and males are equal and deserve equal treatment, demanding for tolerance of diversity, this is the place I would think it possible. But, then again, we are all "broken" and away from our comfort zones. Perhaps, that makes us the women society always said we were. I don't know. Just wanted to share a couple thoughts.
I can't remember if I wrote about this before, but one night in my room, my bunkie was talking about how her girlfriend pissed her off and so she hit her. I was not part of the conversation, having been lost in the world of a good book, but I spoke up at that moment and said, "you hit her?" She said, "yes" and that sometimes it is the right thing to do. I then said, "it is never okay to hit a woman." My other two roomies disagreed with me and said that they believe that sometimes, someone deserves to be hit - especially someone we are dating. I spoke up and said, "okay, let's please talk about something else. My little feminist brain can't handle any more of this conversation. It is NEVER okay to hit a woman. It is never okay to hit someone we are dating. I've participated in countless activities to stop this kind of domestic violence." They stopped and moved on to a different topic. I laid in my bed, wondering, where in the world had we all gone wrong that women actually think it's okay to hit their female partners.
The thing is, I've seen too many "couples" get into physical fights here. The next day, after swearing they'll never go back with that person, the person abused goes right back to the relationship. I've seen fat lips, bruised arms, knotted heads, black eyes, as well as heard all the made-up excuses: "my locker did it," "I fell out of bed," "I tripped on the sidewalk." Meanwhile, they cry to their closest friends about how ABC punched them because they accused them of cheating or how they both punched each other in the rage of a fight. This happens so often, that I've become desensitized to the reality.
I'm not exactly sure how to best understand my experience under any feminist pedagogy. So many women, here, do stand up for themselves. In a community where women outnumber the men about 95:5, the women still back down if a male enters the space. They treat male staff differently than female staff. They talk about them differently, too. They respect them differently.
Even when I try to speak up about these observations, people just stare at me. Even those educated around me, would probably not refer to themselves as feminists. If ever there was a place to build the ideals of feminism: such as being independent, standing up for oneself, believing that females and males are equal and deserve equal treatment, demanding for tolerance of diversity, this is the place I would think it possible. But, then again, we are all "broken" and away from our comfort zones. Perhaps, that makes us the women society always said we were. I don't know. Just wanted to share a couple thoughts.
Friday, January 10, 2014
From Dragonfly: A Public Announcement
Yesterday, our friends were officially "released" from isolation after 4 days of being treated with high security in the SHU because their roommate was suspected of having the flu. Even though they did nothing wrong, they were treated the exact same in the SHU as any other person who has to go there for discipline. Their stories are scary and I'm so glad they are back out in general population. I was told by them that, now, they appreciate the "comforts" of being in general population - going outside, real mattresses, pillows, clothing, private toilets, etc. I shall remain grateful and hopeful that I never have to go through that experience.
However, the flu scare in the U.S. is not over. Two people from medical came to our unit to give a public announcement yesterday afternoon. I guess 12 people have died in Dallas from the current H1N1 flu outbreak. I hope all my loved ones chose to get the flu shot!!! The flu is also inside Carswell, although they admitted that none of the people isolated for having the flu have confirmed cases, they believe they have the flu based on symptomology. I'm not sure if they have to send out samples to the CDC or some health department.
As part of the announcement, they informed us that if we have not yet been vaccinated, that we can submit a "cop-out" to the clinic to get ourselves the flu vaccine. They had offered it to everyone in the Fall, but I think like 1/3 of the inmates refused the vaccine for various reasons. For me, I asked the nurse if I could take the vaccine based on my medication restrictions (including no live vaccines) and she handed me the "refusal" papers. From what I have heard, the flu vaccine is a "dead" vaccine and has no live cultures. But, I want someone here to tell me that it's okay for me to take it. So, when they opened for questions, I asked, "can I take the vaccine if I am not allowed any live vaccines?" The response, "send a cop-out to your doctor." Meaning, 'we will not make that decision.' I'm supposed to send a cop-out to my doctor, even though I have two other cop-outs to the same doctor and neither has been responded to... Being immunocompromised, I really, really can't fight off the flu, so if I am allowed the vaccine, I need to take it!!!
In other news, I know several people going home today. Two of them were roommates of mine in the bus stop. I remember my first days here, hearing that they had about six months left, and now they are headed to their halfway houses. I pray that I do not see them ever again - meaning they do not come back! Too many people are back here on parole violations. Just the other day, my roommate who has been incarcerated for 12 years, since she was 19 years old, told me that she only knows life inside prisons. She's a hustler. How will she be able to live a "clean" life on the outside? I pray that those walking out of prison today, never come back!
South learned, officially, that she will not be going home on her home confinement date, but rather she will have to max out. That makes her out date exactly one month from today. I'm frustrated that we are given all these dates, but in reality, so many people are forced to max out their time. I don't know why no one made the arrangements for her to be able to go home, but she still has to see someone about her travel arrangements, even though they are currently doing travel for people not leaving until March. Somehow, since her case worker left late last year, someone seems to have dropped the ball on her paperwork. The one good thing, though, is that they cannot keep her a day after February 10th. I will be counting down with her! Right now, 30 days and a wake-up!!
However, the flu scare in the U.S. is not over. Two people from medical came to our unit to give a public announcement yesterday afternoon. I guess 12 people have died in Dallas from the current H1N1 flu outbreak. I hope all my loved ones chose to get the flu shot!!! The flu is also inside Carswell, although they admitted that none of the people isolated for having the flu have confirmed cases, they believe they have the flu based on symptomology. I'm not sure if they have to send out samples to the CDC or some health department.
As part of the announcement, they informed us that if we have not yet been vaccinated, that we can submit a "cop-out" to the clinic to get ourselves the flu vaccine. They had offered it to everyone in the Fall, but I think like 1/3 of the inmates refused the vaccine for various reasons. For me, I asked the nurse if I could take the vaccine based on my medication restrictions (including no live vaccines) and she handed me the "refusal" papers. From what I have heard, the flu vaccine is a "dead" vaccine and has no live cultures. But, I want someone here to tell me that it's okay for me to take it. So, when they opened for questions, I asked, "can I take the vaccine if I am not allowed any live vaccines?" The response, "send a cop-out to your doctor." Meaning, 'we will not make that decision.' I'm supposed to send a cop-out to my doctor, even though I have two other cop-outs to the same doctor and neither has been responded to... Being immunocompromised, I really, really can't fight off the flu, so if I am allowed the vaccine, I need to take it!!!
In other news, I know several people going home today. Two of them were roommates of mine in the bus stop. I remember my first days here, hearing that they had about six months left, and now they are headed to their halfway houses. I pray that I do not see them ever again - meaning they do not come back! Too many people are back here on parole violations. Just the other day, my roommate who has been incarcerated for 12 years, since she was 19 years old, told me that she only knows life inside prisons. She's a hustler. How will she be able to live a "clean" life on the outside? I pray that those walking out of prison today, never come back!
South learned, officially, that she will not be going home on her home confinement date, but rather she will have to max out. That makes her out date exactly one month from today. I'm frustrated that we are given all these dates, but in reality, so many people are forced to max out their time. I don't know why no one made the arrangements for her to be able to go home, but she still has to see someone about her travel arrangements, even though they are currently doing travel for people not leaving until March. Somehow, since her case worker left late last year, someone seems to have dropped the ball on her paperwork. The one good thing, though, is that they cannot keep her a day after February 10th. I will be counting down with her! Right now, 30 days and a wake-up!!
Thursday, January 9, 2014
From Dragonfly: Can You Smell That?
There's a constant noise every morning at breakfast, "can you smell this for me?" Why? Because our milk comes in small, clear plastic pouches, that we use our teeth to open at a corner. Yes, it sounds weird, but it's a lot like a clear "Capri-sun" without the straw. The one problem, though, is that "often" the milk is spoiled.
We have to smell the milk to ensure that we are not about to drink spoiled milk. But, often, I have to have "back up" to ensure my smell is working well. Less frequently, the plastic of the pouch will actually have hardened milk on it - that's a sure sign that something is wrong!!! This happened to me with two pouches in a row this morning - ew!!! Then, the third pouch I received smelled rotten. Finally, on a fourth try, I got a nice, healthy pouch of unspoiled milk. I used more than half on my cereal and the little bit left in my cup. Most days, I try to have two pouches of milk (getting milk/dairy is the primary reason Freckles and I go to breakfast most mornings!), but with my bad-milk-luck this a.m., I didn't try to find another unspoiled milk.
Okay, I do admit that I am a bit compulsive about the freshness of my milk. There are many people who will drink milk well past the date on a carton back home. Not me, once the date hits, my milk is going down the drain, even if it doesn't smell bad. Now, after the experience of so much bad milk, here, I think I will be even more adamant to "smell" my milk before each use. That will probably be a bit "weird" at a restaurant or a friend's house (ha).
I can honestly say that I do not know why some of the milk is always bad and other milk is wonderfully fresh, here, when they seem to come out of the same batch from the kitchen. Perhaps the "pouches" are not as air tight as they need to be. Maybe the freshness date has long passed. Maybe it has sat outside the refrigerator for just a little too long. I don't know. But, I will always check my milk carefully, as drinking spoiled milk will not be a very good start to my day.
We have to smell the milk to ensure that we are not about to drink spoiled milk. But, often, I have to have "back up" to ensure my smell is working well. Less frequently, the plastic of the pouch will actually have hardened milk on it - that's a sure sign that something is wrong!!! This happened to me with two pouches in a row this morning - ew!!! Then, the third pouch I received smelled rotten. Finally, on a fourth try, I got a nice, healthy pouch of unspoiled milk. I used more than half on my cereal and the little bit left in my cup. Most days, I try to have two pouches of milk (getting milk/dairy is the primary reason Freckles and I go to breakfast most mornings!), but with my bad-milk-luck this a.m., I didn't try to find another unspoiled milk.
Okay, I do admit that I am a bit compulsive about the freshness of my milk. There are many people who will drink milk well past the date on a carton back home. Not me, once the date hits, my milk is going down the drain, even if it doesn't smell bad. Now, after the experience of so much bad milk, here, I think I will be even more adamant to "smell" my milk before each use. That will probably be a bit "weird" at a restaurant or a friend's house (ha).
I can honestly say that I do not know why some of the milk is always bad and other milk is wonderfully fresh, here, when they seem to come out of the same batch from the kitchen. Perhaps the "pouches" are not as air tight as they need to be. Maybe the freshness date has long passed. Maybe it has sat outside the refrigerator for just a little too long. I don't know. But, I will always check my milk carefully, as drinking spoiled milk will not be a very good start to my day.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
From Dragonfly: The Long and Short of It
It's been a good couple days at work. After not having a co-tutor since I was reassigned to a new teacher and classroom, a new woman started this week in her probationary period. When I was tutoring alone, it was nearly impossible to adequately meet the needs of all the students and to effectively get grading done and tracked timely. Putting the student's needs first often meant taking work back to my unit to grade or going several days with piles of assignments needing grading. But now, for two whole days, there are two of us helping students AND getting the grading done. At the end of each day, the "in" boxes are empty and the trays with graded assignments to go back to students are full. It is such satisfaction to see this change.
Plus, my new co-tutor is really nice, interesting, and intelligent. I'm going to call her Tall, because she is tall, like really, really tall. She is also thin. We make quite the team, with me at a mere 5' tall and overweight, and her tall, skinny body. I joked that we are the "long and short of it." It's true. Tall has wonderful ideas for the class and is really interested in helping the students succeed.
Tall was diagnosed with breast cancer, and had to come to Carswell to undergo treatment. I learned that, when it was discovered, she was at a stage 3. How absolutely frightening to have to face that while incarcerated. The good news, though, is that she is done with all her chemo/radiation and her outlook looks good. I mentioned to Tall that it seems that this place does a good job with people with breast cancer. She told me that she saw all her doctors on med-trips outside of Carswell and that she was seen by a true cancer specialist. If for some reason an appointment was missed, the doctor would be on the phone to Carswell telling them that they need to bring Tall right away. I'm so grateful for their medical miracles!
I am looking forward to developing a great teamwork environment with Tall and she seems open to it. She will be here longer than I will, so I'm trying to give her all the ins and outs, because when I leave, she may be the only tutor for a while and then it will be her responsibility to train the next one. It's all about "paying it forward." It's a good, rewarding, job. I am so grateful to have this job and I'm glad that Tall is now able to be part of the team!
Plus, my new co-tutor is really nice, interesting, and intelligent. I'm going to call her Tall, because she is tall, like really, really tall. She is also thin. We make quite the team, with me at a mere 5' tall and overweight, and her tall, skinny body. I joked that we are the "long and short of it." It's true. Tall has wonderful ideas for the class and is really interested in helping the students succeed.
Tall was diagnosed with breast cancer, and had to come to Carswell to undergo treatment. I learned that, when it was discovered, she was at a stage 3. How absolutely frightening to have to face that while incarcerated. The good news, though, is that she is done with all her chemo/radiation and her outlook looks good. I mentioned to Tall that it seems that this place does a good job with people with breast cancer. She told me that she saw all her doctors on med-trips outside of Carswell and that she was seen by a true cancer specialist. If for some reason an appointment was missed, the doctor would be on the phone to Carswell telling them that they need to bring Tall right away. I'm so grateful for their medical miracles!
I am looking forward to developing a great teamwork environment with Tall and she seems open to it. She will be here longer than I will, so I'm trying to give her all the ins and outs, because when I leave, she may be the only tutor for a while and then it will be her responsibility to train the next one. It's all about "paying it forward." It's a good, rewarding, job. I am so grateful to have this job and I'm glad that Tall is now able to be part of the team!
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
From Dragonfly: Staff
I don't write much about the staff at Carswell, well, because each one is so unique. But, I will write some general observations. First, the jobs that have high interaction with inmates (such as C.O., clinic reception, counselor, case worker, etc.) has to be a tough job. So, often, you have to deliver news the inmate does not want to hear, and so many inmates do not have good control of their emotions. Yes, the staff puts on a tough exterior, but they are just like the rest of us - going to work to make a living to care for their family. In fact, I truly believe that many of them go into this line of work with the hope that they may influence inmates in a positive manner.
But, if I had a job, where people can become violent, where some people turn to incredible anger before thinking through their actions, where there is overcrowding and little space for oneself, I think I would act "hard" like the rest of them do. If you look "soft" in the job, people will try to overtake your authority. Even though most of us are not bad people, or violent people, the fact that any of us may be, has to be on the tip of their minds at all times. It's a tough job and not one I could do well. I respect them, even if I don't respect all their actions.
The truth is, no one here works for themselves. They are part of a huge bureaucracy of the Department of Prisons, and they are given stringent rules to follow. At the same time, one on one, almost any staff member shows a softer side to themselves. In fact, recently, a doctor resigned because he could no longer handle the limitations of what he could medically do here. Is the goal in medicine to keep people alive, or to help them get well? He wanted to help people, but was limited by the restraints on his job. A new doctor, a woman, who seems very nice, has picked up his caseload (she will be my new doctor). I hope she cares as much about her patients and sees us as patients, not just inmates.
I've seen C.O.'s cry when they are being appreciated. I have seen their happiness when they are commended for a job well done by their superiors. The best C.O.'s and staff seem to be the ones that follow the rules and, also, do not play favorites among the inmates. C.O.'s and staff who do appear to have favorites, tend to be the ones that are "gossiped" about the most. They are the ones where people "make up" stories of them having affairs with inmates and/or violating some rule. I'm not saying that a staff member never crosses the line, but from my experience, I see people who are more concerned about doing a job well and getting home to their families, than wanting anything "special" from an inmate. A staff member who does cross the line with an inmate, risks imprisonment themselves. I just know that, at least most, would never consider crossing that line. (A small minority of inmates, on the other hand, may be open to the advances of staff, but that's a one-way relationship). Consider my earlier writings about the fact that many people here could really use some help on "healthy relationships" and "boundaries."
Whenever a staff member is on vacation, or gone for whatever reason, for a week or longer, the rumors usually start. I'll hear: "they are under investigation," "they were having an affair," "they quit," etc. When, in fact, they had been in Hawaii for two weeks with their family enjoying the sun, or helping a sibling move, or dealing with the death of a loved one. Just because we are not given the reasons for staff being absent, does not mean that they are absent for a bad reason. But, inmate.com is a vicious gossip reality, leading one person's made up story, the talk of all the women here. Suddenly, so many people are saying the same thing, even saying they heard it from a staff member (did they really?!?!?), that we all start to believe the gossip. What I've learned to do is to believe nothing fully, until it is told directly to me by a staff member. Seems to be good policy.
It may seem I am defending the people who work here. I am not going to claim that everyone does the right thing all the time. I'm just saying, it is a tough place to work. Some inmates say that they don't care if they are tough on the staff, as the staff "go home at the end of the day," whereas the inmates do not. However, it is not the staff's fault that we are each incarcerated. They were not at our trials. They did not choose for us to be here. I'm sure they'd prefer the place to be much less populated. It is their job. For better or worse, it is what allows them to feed and clothe their children. It gives them necessary health insurance and other benefits. It allows them to take vacations and retire at a decent age. Yes, they do go home at the end of each day, although for many shifts, that home is at midnight or 8am (I could never work a midnight shift!). I imagine it takes them their entire drive home to clear their head of everything they experienced during their shift - from slurs, to breaking up fights - to laughter - to crying inmates - to non-stop questions - to having to give bad news...
Finally, I must admit, some of the staff are just plain "A**Holes." It's true. There are staff who like to hear themselves talk, a lot, but refuse to listen. There are staff who treat us all like the dirt on the bottom of sewers. There are those who love to scream into the loud speaker and treat us all as if we are in kindergarten. There are staff that just have no respect at all for themselves or their colleagues. Sure, there is some scum here, but that is not what I think makes up the majority of staff. The rules they must "obey" may seem even ridiculous to them. In fact, I've heard two staff members say that they "HATE SNITCHES." They do not want to know that someone is doing something wrong. They want us to be able to work things out like adults. Snitches are usually the ones doing the worst stuff on campus. Or, at least that's what they think.
What I think, is that there is good staff and not so good staff. There are staff members that should retire, and others that should be commended for a job well done. There are people who will treat inmates with respect, and those who won't. The bad ones give the rest a bad rap, but as long as the inmates are doing what they should be doing, most of the staff will leave them alone. Live and let live. One day, hopefully, we will all be going home to our families.
But, if I had a job, where people can become violent, where some people turn to incredible anger before thinking through their actions, where there is overcrowding and little space for oneself, I think I would act "hard" like the rest of them do. If you look "soft" in the job, people will try to overtake your authority. Even though most of us are not bad people, or violent people, the fact that any of us may be, has to be on the tip of their minds at all times. It's a tough job and not one I could do well. I respect them, even if I don't respect all their actions.
The truth is, no one here works for themselves. They are part of a huge bureaucracy of the Department of Prisons, and they are given stringent rules to follow. At the same time, one on one, almost any staff member shows a softer side to themselves. In fact, recently, a doctor resigned because he could no longer handle the limitations of what he could medically do here. Is the goal in medicine to keep people alive, or to help them get well? He wanted to help people, but was limited by the restraints on his job. A new doctor, a woman, who seems very nice, has picked up his caseload (she will be my new doctor). I hope she cares as much about her patients and sees us as patients, not just inmates.
I've seen C.O.'s cry when they are being appreciated. I have seen their happiness when they are commended for a job well done by their superiors. The best C.O.'s and staff seem to be the ones that follow the rules and, also, do not play favorites among the inmates. C.O.'s and staff who do appear to have favorites, tend to be the ones that are "gossiped" about the most. They are the ones where people "make up" stories of them having affairs with inmates and/or violating some rule. I'm not saying that a staff member never crosses the line, but from my experience, I see people who are more concerned about doing a job well and getting home to their families, than wanting anything "special" from an inmate. A staff member who does cross the line with an inmate, risks imprisonment themselves. I just know that, at least most, would never consider crossing that line. (A small minority of inmates, on the other hand, may be open to the advances of staff, but that's a one-way relationship). Consider my earlier writings about the fact that many people here could really use some help on "healthy relationships" and "boundaries."
Whenever a staff member is on vacation, or gone for whatever reason, for a week or longer, the rumors usually start. I'll hear: "they are under investigation," "they were having an affair," "they quit," etc. When, in fact, they had been in Hawaii for two weeks with their family enjoying the sun, or helping a sibling move, or dealing with the death of a loved one. Just because we are not given the reasons for staff being absent, does not mean that they are absent for a bad reason. But, inmate.com is a vicious gossip reality, leading one person's made up story, the talk of all the women here. Suddenly, so many people are saying the same thing, even saying they heard it from a staff member (did they really?!?!?), that we all start to believe the gossip. What I've learned to do is to believe nothing fully, until it is told directly to me by a staff member. Seems to be good policy.
It may seem I am defending the people who work here. I am not going to claim that everyone does the right thing all the time. I'm just saying, it is a tough place to work. Some inmates say that they don't care if they are tough on the staff, as the staff "go home at the end of the day," whereas the inmates do not. However, it is not the staff's fault that we are each incarcerated. They were not at our trials. They did not choose for us to be here. I'm sure they'd prefer the place to be much less populated. It is their job. For better or worse, it is what allows them to feed and clothe their children. It gives them necessary health insurance and other benefits. It allows them to take vacations and retire at a decent age. Yes, they do go home at the end of each day, although for many shifts, that home is at midnight or 8am (I could never work a midnight shift!). I imagine it takes them their entire drive home to clear their head of everything they experienced during their shift - from slurs, to breaking up fights - to laughter - to crying inmates - to non-stop questions - to having to give bad news...
Finally, I must admit, some of the staff are just plain "A**Holes." It's true. There are staff who like to hear themselves talk, a lot, but refuse to listen. There are staff who treat us all like the dirt on the bottom of sewers. There are those who love to scream into the loud speaker and treat us all as if we are in kindergarten. There are staff that just have no respect at all for themselves or their colleagues. Sure, there is some scum here, but that is not what I think makes up the majority of staff. The rules they must "obey" may seem even ridiculous to them. In fact, I've heard two staff members say that they "HATE SNITCHES." They do not want to know that someone is doing something wrong. They want us to be able to work things out like adults. Snitches are usually the ones doing the worst stuff on campus. Or, at least that's what they think.
What I think, is that there is good staff and not so good staff. There are staff members that should retire, and others that should be commended for a job well done. There are people who will treat inmates with respect, and those who won't. The bad ones give the rest a bad rap, but as long as the inmates are doing what they should be doing, most of the staff will leave them alone. Live and let live. One day, hopefully, we will all be going home to our families.
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