A friend of mine, here, told me to stop setting my goal on getting to the camp. She said I should set my goal on getting home. I've been trying to work both angles for the last several months, but it really is looking like getting across the street is a losing battle. And, I am within months of going home - or through halfway house and then home. So, I made the decision to set my goals on a date - April 14, 2014 - that date would allow me, possibly, to enjoy a Passover Seder with my family.
It's not going to be an easy goal to reach. All the pieces are outside of my control. The only thing I can do is to stay on the staff to try and get my paperwork completed. Yesterday, I finally talked with the woman responsible for doing my "exit summary" paperwork. She informed me that because I am a level 3, my doctor is required to approve my halfway house/ home confinement. She'd sent my doctor a list of names a bit ago and she hasn't heard back. So, I submitted a cop-out to my doctor. Since I am not scheduled to see my doctor (whom I've never met) until late May, I'm praying that she will use my medical records and see that I am eligible for halfway house. Not sure how long it will take, but it's a necessary step in this process.
I hate that there are so many cogs in the wheel and it's dependant on so many people doing something. Talk about bureaucracy - nothing happens quickly. Things get lost. Things are forgotten. This is people's lives, and, yet, we just have to sit and wait. But I can wait... April 14th, that's my goal. I will do whatever I need to do to meet the goal, knowing full well, there's not much I can do. But, putting that date out in the Universe, may help make it come true. You never know... anything is possible. Never give up hope!
Friday, February 21, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
From Dragonfly: Changing Things Up
As I've mentioned before, the staff like to "change things up" in the units every so often. Yesterday, that change occurred when Bandana was moved out and Peppers was moved in. Bandana went to a new unit and Peppers came from that unit. Braids and I curiously tried to get to know Peppers a bit. She's been in three years. She sleeps a lot. She takes some serious medications, which make her tired and a bit high. She drinks the pepper juice from the bottle that the hot peppers come from, which depletes her potassium, so she complains of charley horses all day. She has a picture board that displays a nice family, and perhaps some friends. She is well-known in the Carswell community - especially people who have been here for a while. She likes things clean (good!). So, for the first time in 4 1/2 months, I am going to get used to a new roommate again. I will miss Bandana. As serious as she was, and even a little frightening at times, she was a softy to me (always talking about the woman she loves who is very ill), and I saw her in her most fragile moments of tears and fear. The truth is that most people's "prison persona" starts once they walk outside their room, but their real side shows when they are in the safety of their room.
I'm not the only person dealing with a new roommate. My pal, Lola, also has a new one. In her case, she is not too happy about the new woman in her room. She has to wear diapers and often smells of urine. She, also, had a severe head injury, resulting in her head having a large dent. It looks super painful, but results in the women needing a lot of assistance with getting to/from her wheelchair, going to the restroom, going to meals and pillline, etc. She probably needs an INA, but for some reason was moved out of the hospital units into our exterior unit. I hope things work out well for them. I have a feeling that she could be moved again quickly, as she probably needs to be placed much closer to the restroom, which is about as far as can be from Lola's room.
Another move was for a friend who has the broken foot from being run over by a wheelchair. So, this friend now has to sit in her own wheelchair. Irony, right? She was placed in a unit that currently has no showers on the floor that she is on. Well, she can't do the stairs... so, I am not sure if she will be moved again soon, as well. Seems I am pretty secure in my location. Most of the people being moved are based on who their "team staff" are, and I'm already in my team staff's unit. Braids, on the other hand, is not, so I may end up with all new roommates. I'm not sure, but anything is possible when that staff is "changing things up."
I'm not the only person dealing with a new roommate. My pal, Lola, also has a new one. In her case, she is not too happy about the new woman in her room. She has to wear diapers and often smells of urine. She, also, had a severe head injury, resulting in her head having a large dent. It looks super painful, but results in the women needing a lot of assistance with getting to/from her wheelchair, going to the restroom, going to meals and pillline, etc. She probably needs an INA, but for some reason was moved out of the hospital units into our exterior unit. I hope things work out well for them. I have a feeling that she could be moved again quickly, as she probably needs to be placed much closer to the restroom, which is about as far as can be from Lola's room.
Another move was for a friend who has the broken foot from being run over by a wheelchair. So, this friend now has to sit in her own wheelchair. Irony, right? She was placed in a unit that currently has no showers on the floor that she is on. Well, she can't do the stairs... so, I am not sure if she will be moved again soon, as well. Seems I am pretty secure in my location. Most of the people being moved are based on who their "team staff" are, and I'm already in my team staff's unit. Braids, on the other hand, is not, so I may end up with all new roommates. I'm not sure, but anything is possible when that staff is "changing things up."
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
From Dragonfly: 6 Months
Today is officially 6 months - looking at the date. I self-surrendered on August 19th and it is February 19th. There were times when I thought I may be elsewhere by this point, but here I am. I am here. I suppose I am where I am meant to be. In honor of my 6 months, I am making my own throw blanket. It's striped with tons of colors and will be super colorful when it's done. I was never into super colorful things, but I'm having fun mixing and matching the very limited choices of yarns I have access to. They had banana bread at breakfast, I like to think that such goodness was also in support of my 6 month anniversary of imprisonment.
Six months in prison comes with some benefits. I am able to get a new bunch of socks and underwear at laundry next week. Since we only get 5 at a time, I'm excited to finally be able to move on from the one's I received my second day here. Well, I think that's the only benefit, but it's a good one!
At six months, I am happy to say, that my pre-bought timex watch is still going strong, my hair has grown out well, I am not totally grey, my glasses are still in one piece, I am still able to walk, I sleep, I've gained new craft skills, I've read countless books, I've completed many, many crosswords, I've taught in three classrooms and with three teachers, I've taken a beginning drawing class, I've lost 23 pounds, I've made some good friends, I've written (probably) 150 times, I've received hundreds of letters, I've written far less letters (sorry, friends!), I've moved rooms three times, I've moved units once, I've been strip searched at least 15 times, I've been patted down just once, I have become a jailhouse cook, I've eaten off of a dozen or so homemade cheesecakes, I officially know what a "potato roll" is, I've discovered the goodness of Sazon seasoning, I've met my first "cat-coon," and I've seen a small guard take down a very large woman (well, more than once). I guess it's been a productive six months.
I am so grateful, knowing, that I will not need to be here another 6 months. My exit will be within 4 1/2 months (hopefully sooner, rather than later). I need my family, and they need me. One day at a time will one day equal a week, then a month, then six months, and later a year. Any time is hard, but taking it a day at a time, we can look back and see all the things we accomplished, even in prison.
Six months in prison comes with some benefits. I am able to get a new bunch of socks and underwear at laundry next week. Since we only get 5 at a time, I'm excited to finally be able to move on from the one's I received my second day here. Well, I think that's the only benefit, but it's a good one!
At six months, I am happy to say, that my pre-bought timex watch is still going strong, my hair has grown out well, I am not totally grey, my glasses are still in one piece, I am still able to walk, I sleep, I've gained new craft skills, I've read countless books, I've completed many, many crosswords, I've taught in three classrooms and with three teachers, I've taken a beginning drawing class, I've lost 23 pounds, I've made some good friends, I've written (probably) 150 times, I've received hundreds of letters, I've written far less letters (sorry, friends!), I've moved rooms three times, I've moved units once, I've been strip searched at least 15 times, I've been patted down just once, I have become a jailhouse cook, I've eaten off of a dozen or so homemade cheesecakes, I officially know what a "potato roll" is, I've discovered the goodness of Sazon seasoning, I've met my first "cat-coon," and I've seen a small guard take down a very large woman (well, more than once). I guess it's been a productive six months.
I am so grateful, knowing, that I will not need to be here another 6 months. My exit will be within 4 1/2 months (hopefully sooner, rather than later). I need my family, and they need me. One day at a time will one day equal a week, then a month, then six months, and later a year. Any time is hard, but taking it a day at a time, we can look back and see all the things we accomplished, even in prison.
From Dragonfly: The Journey of Patience
If prison teaches you anything, it is patience. Nothing happens quickly. Nothing happens in the time you would expect in the outside world. Everything is out of your control, and you have to be able to sit patiently and wait. I've mentioned the lines and wait times to be seen. I have mentioned the length of the pill line. I've mentioned a lot of waiting... a lot of hurry up and wait.
Patience has never been my strong suit. When I applied to my higher education programs, I checked constantly to ensure the applications were complete and to see when decisions would be made. When waiting to see if I was selected for the Vietnam or South Africa trips, I'd gotten myself to the point of believing I would not be accepted, because the wait to hear was so long. When I finish a semester of school, I am usually the first person who receives their grades online, and tells everyone else that they were posted. When I was told that I would be going to prison, I was in distress waiting for when my surrender date would be and what institution I would be sent to. It makes me crazy, waiting.
However, now I am so used to waiting, that I don't depend on anything happening. This is especially true for my paperwork to be completed by the medical staff so that I can officially transfer to the camp across the street and so that my halfway house paperwork can be completed. My situation is not unique, but it makes it no easier. Had my paperwork been completed before the holidays, as I was told it would, I would already be living across the street and I would, possibly, be leaving very soon to my halfway house. However, not only was the paperwork never completed then, it still has not been done. There's nothing I can do about it either - except wait. And wait. And wait.
At this point, I'll be lucky to be transferred to the camp in March and I'll be even luckier if I can go to the halfway house in April. Soon, as time keeps clicking, I'll be looking at my home confinement date in May, and my official out date in July. If the paperwork is not completed, I will have to max out at July 2nd (my July 4th out date is a holiday, so it became July 3rd - I received one day credit for the day I went to the Marshall's office to be finger printed and photographed prior to self surrender). I should not have to wait for July to be released. But, we are powerless while we are in prison. All we can do is accept. All I can do is accept. And wait. And wait. And wait.
Patience has never been my strong suit. When I applied to my higher education programs, I checked constantly to ensure the applications were complete and to see when decisions would be made. When waiting to see if I was selected for the Vietnam or South Africa trips, I'd gotten myself to the point of believing I would not be accepted, because the wait to hear was so long. When I finish a semester of school, I am usually the first person who receives their grades online, and tells everyone else that they were posted. When I was told that I would be going to prison, I was in distress waiting for when my surrender date would be and what institution I would be sent to. It makes me crazy, waiting.
However, now I am so used to waiting, that I don't depend on anything happening. This is especially true for my paperwork to be completed by the medical staff so that I can officially transfer to the camp across the street and so that my halfway house paperwork can be completed. My situation is not unique, but it makes it no easier. Had my paperwork been completed before the holidays, as I was told it would, I would already be living across the street and I would, possibly, be leaving very soon to my halfway house. However, not only was the paperwork never completed then, it still has not been done. There's nothing I can do about it either - except wait. And wait. And wait.
At this point, I'll be lucky to be transferred to the camp in March and I'll be even luckier if I can go to the halfway house in April. Soon, as time keeps clicking, I'll be looking at my home confinement date in May, and my official out date in July. If the paperwork is not completed, I will have to max out at July 2nd (my July 4th out date is a holiday, so it became July 3rd - I received one day credit for the day I went to the Marshall's office to be finger printed and photographed prior to self surrender). I should not have to wait for July to be released. But, we are powerless while we are in prison. All we can do is accept. All I can do is accept. And wait. And wait. And wait.
From Dragonfly: Olympics
Every now and then, a television in the atrium will show the Olympics. I watch in awe as huge sleds speed down a track, people jump 100 feet in the air on skis (and do twists on top of that), snowboarders do tricks I've never seen before, and skaters land back on their feet after jumping and twisting in the air. These are all things I could never do. They not only have talent, but these athletes have a dedication to their craft that demands health of mind and body. If your head isn't totally in, your body will not do what you need it to do. If your body is not totally in, your head may not be able to overcome the pain. Although, last night, I saw a man driving the USA 1 bobsled overcome great pain in his calf to win a medal in the 2-man sled for the first time in over 60 years. I'm sure he's limping around Sochi today - proudly wearing the bronze around his neck. We can always overcome obstacles if our will is strong enough.
Life also has many obstacles. There are those that are put before us and those we build ourselves. So often, we are our own worst enemies. We believe bad will happen, so we do what we "think" will overcome the bad, only to cause that bad thing to happen. The number one way we do this is through lies. I am not immune from this by any means. When in the reality of my addiction, lying just came with the compulsion. In order to keep destroying myself, I had to lie to everyone around me, strangers, and especially myself. Today, I do my best to live in honesty. Sometimes the old me comes out, and I tell a white lie to protect myself or someone, but then it just weighs heavy on me and, practicing the final steps of my program, "when wrong, promptly admit it," I will apologize and say that I have no idea why I just said what I did, but here's the truth. It is always better to face your fears, than to not take the chance on the truth.
Recently, I've heard of a number of "lies" that people here told on the outside to try and "protect" themselves. For example, a woman I know did not tell her ex-husband that she was going to prison. She feared that he would try to gain custody of her children. After almost 6 months of maintaining the lie, her ex-husband found out, is furious with her not telling him, and now may go after custody. Had my friend been honest from the beginning, the best interest of the children would have probably led them to live with their grandparents, as the father has many issues of his own, and everything may have worked out. But, now, the dishonesty may lead to my friend's fear of losing custody.
Another "lie" I've recently heard about is a different person who claimed to have education that she does not have. The DOP did a little background check and now she is known to be a liar. I'm not sure why this inmate felt the need to lie, but it caught up with her and she did not get the job she was trying to get. Had she been honest, her intelligence may have been enough to get her the job.
To be honest actually takes a lot of dedication - not unlike the dedication of the Olympians we watch on television. We need to breath deeply and believe that we can face our fears and still land on our feet. "We are only as sick as our lies," is a common statement in 12-step programs. There's a lot more to gain through honesty, than what we can lose through our lies and tales.
I'm going to enjoy watching the rest of the week of the Olympics, when someone is kind enough to turn it on. Had these athletes lied to their parents, their coaches, themselves, or others, likely they would not be where they are today. It's hard work to be your best person, and we don't get medals for being good, but life will give us many opportunities we never imagined, when we live in honesty.
Life also has many obstacles. There are those that are put before us and those we build ourselves. So often, we are our own worst enemies. We believe bad will happen, so we do what we "think" will overcome the bad, only to cause that bad thing to happen. The number one way we do this is through lies. I am not immune from this by any means. When in the reality of my addiction, lying just came with the compulsion. In order to keep destroying myself, I had to lie to everyone around me, strangers, and especially myself. Today, I do my best to live in honesty. Sometimes the old me comes out, and I tell a white lie to protect myself or someone, but then it just weighs heavy on me and, practicing the final steps of my program, "when wrong, promptly admit it," I will apologize and say that I have no idea why I just said what I did, but here's the truth. It is always better to face your fears, than to not take the chance on the truth.
Recently, I've heard of a number of "lies" that people here told on the outside to try and "protect" themselves. For example, a woman I know did not tell her ex-husband that she was going to prison. She feared that he would try to gain custody of her children. After almost 6 months of maintaining the lie, her ex-husband found out, is furious with her not telling him, and now may go after custody. Had my friend been honest from the beginning, the best interest of the children would have probably led them to live with their grandparents, as the father has many issues of his own, and everything may have worked out. But, now, the dishonesty may lead to my friend's fear of losing custody.
Another "lie" I've recently heard about is a different person who claimed to have education that she does not have. The DOP did a little background check and now she is known to be a liar. I'm not sure why this inmate felt the need to lie, but it caught up with her and she did not get the job she was trying to get. Had she been honest, her intelligence may have been enough to get her the job.
To be honest actually takes a lot of dedication - not unlike the dedication of the Olympians we watch on television. We need to breath deeply and believe that we can face our fears and still land on our feet. "We are only as sick as our lies," is a common statement in 12-step programs. There's a lot more to gain through honesty, than what we can lose through our lies and tales.
I'm going to enjoy watching the rest of the week of the Olympics, when someone is kind enough to turn it on. Had these athletes lied to their parents, their coaches, themselves, or others, likely they would not be where they are today. It's hard work to be your best person, and we don't get medals for being good, but life will give us many opportunities we never imagined, when we live in honesty.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
From Dragonfly: Conversations I Don't Enjoy
In the RDAP program through the Feds, which is the residential drug and alcohol program and includes a couple hours of programming every day. People who qualify for the program can receive up to 9 months off their time in prison (they receive extra halfway house time). Their "out date" is changed as soon as they start the program. If they finish it, and don't quit or get into trouble, they are guaranteed that new out date. For those who come into prison with a history of drug or alcohol abuse, it's a great way to change your thinking, yourself, and hope for a different future.
My struggle with the program is that they discount the beliefs of 12-step programs. They focus on changing thoughts and behaviors, but not on the emotional illness that underlies the addiction. They tell the people in the program that addiction is not a disease and they have articles from some journals to back up their ideas.
I have a friend in RDAP who calls the 12-step programs "extreme." She doesn't believe that you can never participate in the behavior again. Based on her program in RDAP, she can drink again, she just would need to make a different choice about driving while drunk. I struggle greatly with this, because once you are drinking, how rational a choice are you able to make? In my program, we believe that the minute you go back to what was your addiction, you start right where you left off, even if you've worked on changing yourself. A first gamble, a first drink, a first pill, what ever the addiction may be, will lead you right back to stinking thinking and irrational behavior you had that brought you into the 12-step program.
At breakfast today, there was no room for conversation about why 12-step programs do work and that addiction is an illness. My friend was entirely closed off to that idea. She's closed off to the idea that she should never engage in the behavior again. Her addiction-recovery program is telling her that she can.
I became frustrated. I said, "my 12-step program saved my life." Then there was the "differences" of well, I must have crossed a different line. "Some people can be functional alcoholics," she said, "functional alcoholics would not need a 12-step program."
These ideas lead me to think about cross-addiction. If we don't really change ourselves and get to the heart of why we are addicts, we can just cross addict. I've seen so many people go from alcoholics to compulsive gamblers, or the other way around. From drug addicts to money addicts. We are unable to stop our addictive behaviors (the actual type of addiction is a symptom) because we are not getting to the root of the problems. The 12-steps, worked honestly, can help make the change. I'm not saying that any program is for everyone, but discounting a program is just plain closed-minded and harmful to those that have relied on the programs for decades.
I said, "can we go from 'either-or' to 'both-and'?" Meaning - can we accept that different programs can work, but neither program is bad in itself. Anyone can say they are "different" than the people in the 12-step rooms, in fact all of us usually start by doing that. It's once we are open and start to see the similarities and understand the "well, I didn't do that 'yet'" that we truly can understand the program. It can take a good 3 months of working a program for the changes to start. At first, our fog that brought us into the rooms needs to lift.
If you, or someone you know, is going to RDAP, I think that's wonderful. It will help you. However, don't discount the programs that have been working for hundreds of thousands of people for decades. There's a reason they help us not continue our irrational, baffling, addiction and I for one know it works if you work it!
My struggle with the program is that they discount the beliefs of 12-step programs. They focus on changing thoughts and behaviors, but not on the emotional illness that underlies the addiction. They tell the people in the program that addiction is not a disease and they have articles from some journals to back up their ideas.
I have a friend in RDAP who calls the 12-step programs "extreme." She doesn't believe that you can never participate in the behavior again. Based on her program in RDAP, she can drink again, she just would need to make a different choice about driving while drunk. I struggle greatly with this, because once you are drinking, how rational a choice are you able to make? In my program, we believe that the minute you go back to what was your addiction, you start right where you left off, even if you've worked on changing yourself. A first gamble, a first drink, a first pill, what ever the addiction may be, will lead you right back to stinking thinking and irrational behavior you had that brought you into the 12-step program.
At breakfast today, there was no room for conversation about why 12-step programs do work and that addiction is an illness. My friend was entirely closed off to that idea. She's closed off to the idea that she should never engage in the behavior again. Her addiction-recovery program is telling her that she can.
I became frustrated. I said, "my 12-step program saved my life." Then there was the "differences" of well, I must have crossed a different line. "Some people can be functional alcoholics," she said, "functional alcoholics would not need a 12-step program."
These ideas lead me to think about cross-addiction. If we don't really change ourselves and get to the heart of why we are addicts, we can just cross addict. I've seen so many people go from alcoholics to compulsive gamblers, or the other way around. From drug addicts to money addicts. We are unable to stop our addictive behaviors (the actual type of addiction is a symptom) because we are not getting to the root of the problems. The 12-steps, worked honestly, can help make the change. I'm not saying that any program is for everyone, but discounting a program is just plain closed-minded and harmful to those that have relied on the programs for decades.
I said, "can we go from 'either-or' to 'both-and'?" Meaning - can we accept that different programs can work, but neither program is bad in itself. Anyone can say they are "different" than the people in the 12-step rooms, in fact all of us usually start by doing that. It's once we are open and start to see the similarities and understand the "well, I didn't do that 'yet'" that we truly can understand the program. It can take a good 3 months of working a program for the changes to start. At first, our fog that brought us into the rooms needs to lift.
If you, or someone you know, is going to RDAP, I think that's wonderful. It will help you. However, don't discount the programs that have been working for hundreds of thousands of people for decades. There's a reason they help us not continue our irrational, baffling, addiction and I for one know it works if you work it!
Saturday, February 15, 2014
From Dragonfly: Another Three Day Weekend
Back home, I love long weekends. It's great time to take a short road trip, clean up the house, get things off my to-do list, relax, see movies, spend time with friends, catch up on sleep, eat a good breakfast out, and more. Here, a three-day weekend just means more of the same things I do every other weekend day. Usually, by Monday morning, I am so happy to have my job to go back to.
This weekend is President's Day Weekend. I guess on the outside, everyone is reading the newspaper flyers to see what big President's Day sales are going on. In here, it's three days of the same. Luckily, it is warm outside (I'm actually in my grey shorts), so I can spend some time outside in the sun today. The natural vitamin D should do me some good.
Other things I will do this weekend include helping a friend out writing something, starting a new project (intended to make my locker space more usable), watch the Olympics (if it is on any of the televisions), and clean my room. I am responsible for weekend cleaning. All three days will include this.
I dream for the day that I can go out and do something more. It will happen soon enough. There's no word on "when" my paperwork will be done for my transfer to the camp or my halfway house. Everything is waiting on medical to do their exit summary. If they fail to get it done, there is nothing I can do. So, I think I'll have many more weekends of new projects and cleaning my room.
This weekend is President's Day Weekend. I guess on the outside, everyone is reading the newspaper flyers to see what big President's Day sales are going on. In here, it's three days of the same. Luckily, it is warm outside (I'm actually in my grey shorts), so I can spend some time outside in the sun today. The natural vitamin D should do me some good.
Other things I will do this weekend include helping a friend out writing something, starting a new project (intended to make my locker space more usable), watch the Olympics (if it is on any of the televisions), and clean my room. I am responsible for weekend cleaning. All three days will include this.
I dream for the day that I can go out and do something more. It will happen soon enough. There's no word on "when" my paperwork will be done for my transfer to the camp or my halfway house. Everything is waiting on medical to do their exit summary. If they fail to get it done, there is nothing I can do. So, I think I'll have many more weekends of new projects and cleaning my room.
Friday, February 14, 2014
From Dragonfly: Relationships with the Outside
Everyday I hear stories from people who are struggling with keeping their marriages and romantic relationships strong, while they are in prison. There are many who fear their spouse/partner will have an affair (or are having an affair), will never forgive their crime or the fact that they are imprisoned, or have lost their trust. Since it is Valentine's Day, I thought I would share some of the hints that I have noticed that seem to be keeping some relationships strong or are those things that seem to distance relationships.
Tell the truth: Honesty truly is the best policy. Tell your spouse/partner everything and answer their questions honestly. You can only do this, totally, if you have forgiven yourself and are honest with yourself. If you are unwilling to do the hard work with yourself, then you cannot expect someone else to do it for you. If your spouse/partner was unaware of the behavior that got you in trouble with the law, then you will need to rebuild the trust. Do as much as you can before you come to prison, because once you are here, the ability to have good communication diminishes.
Focus on them: Remember that we cannot be the center of everyone's attention. If we are going to, or are in prison, they are dealing with not having you around. Often, that means increased demands on them: child rearing, bill paying, ... i.e. doing all the things you used to do when you were home. Try to put together a list of everything you do to keep the house going before you go. Leave behind all the passwords, phone numbers, etc that are needed for transition to go smoothly. Try to transition all these things prior to your self-surrender, so that there can be trial runs. If you are unsure of everything you do, then keep a log for a couple weeks, that will come in handy for the lists you need to make. I see a lot of fights over the little things, because there's nothing we can do from in here, but if our family is not sure how to proceed on the outside, it causes frustration for everyone.
Also, remember that they are alone and lonely as well. Sure, they have their friends and other family, but you were their best friend as their spouse/partner. When you write/call them, don't just complain about life in prison, focus some attention on them. Ask them about their day, their work, etc. Let them have a "normal" conversation with you now and then. If all the attention is on you every day, they can end up frustrated.
Communicate often: We know that communication is the most important thing in any relationship. Use the devices available - phone, email, and snail mail, to maintain a consistent presence in each others lives. Make some of the communication caring/romantic, some of it fact-telling, and some of it problem-solving. Consider this a time to once again "woo" each other with kind thoughts and dreams of the future. If you are a "problem-solver" - keep in mind that it is impossible to help solve each others problem's. You need to depend on yourselves for a while. Don't make this an area of broken communication because you feel so powerless.
Visit: It is so important to see the person you love so that you can reconnect the intimacy. I know that you cannot hold each other or have total privacy, but just being able to look into one another's eyes, hug, and just be side by side is so important. Think of the days, early in your relationship, when you were still nervous about kissing the other person or holding their hand. There are rules against touching (except for the kiss/hug hello and goodbye), so that restraint can actually build up the excitement for when your partner/spouse is once again home. You do not need to visit weekly or monthly, most people can't. Also, the incarcerated person cannot be upset if their spouse/partner is unable to visit for some time (remember, life goes on outside of prison), but try to visit at least once every quarter or 6 months. It will be something for you both to look forward to. You can make plans and build the anxiety of seeing each other once again. When the visit occurs, make the conversation about everything, not just the reality of prison-life.
I think that it is vitally important to not be angry with your spouse/partner on the outside. If your relationship was unhealthy before you went to prison, I promise that it will be unhealthy while you are in prison. If you lied to your partner for months/years, I can promise you that they will be hurt and untrusting of what you say. It is up to your partner if they want to see a therapist or do anything - we cannot control other people's thoughts, actions, or anything. Stop trying to tell someone else how they should feel or what they should do. A relationship will only be strong through incarceration and beyond if both people are fully committed to making it work - for better or for worse.
Financials: Our crimes put others into financial uncertainty. There's the cost of our defense, our restitution, the government's rights to our assets, etc. Work with a financial expert/attorney to protect the household finances as much as possible - in a legal way. Don't put all the pressure on your partner/spouse to figure it all out. Also, don't get mad if your partner/spouse makes a financial decision you don't agree with. Remember, no one is perfect and everyone gets overwhelmed when it comes to finances. Whatever loss you end up with is not as important as the people in your life. Things can be replaced, people cannot. Put aside your ego and your need to live a certain lifestyle. Once you are out of prison, you will have the opportunity to build a new life with your partner/spouse. There is no way to go back to before your incarceration, so let the "things" go.
Don't "cheat" on your partner/spouse: This is physical or emotional "cheating." For the time that you are apart, find hobbies, education, family members, work, etc. to keep yourself busy. It does not need to be a time of loneliness, if you have each other by communication and other things to occupy your time. Consider relationships that last while one person is in the military overseas or where someone has a very demanding job. What matters is that they trust one another - and that is especially true when it comes to the commitment you have for one another.
Love: The is the most important item. Make sure you tell each other that you "love" them every time you talk. It may be difficult at times, when things are going uneasy or you don't agree with a decision they made, but your love is the number one connection you will have throughout the imprisonment. If you aren't sure you "love" the person, then there is not a lot that can be done to save the relationship while one partner is incarcerated. Absence can either "make the heart grow stronger," or it can lead to "out of sight, out of mind." Whichever way you are going, honesty continues to be the best policy. If you know before the person goes to prison that things aren't working out, don't just pretend out of guilt, it will just make things really bad when the person leaves.
Well, I'm sure there's a lot more advice myself and others can give, but the most important thing is to be your best person every day, even through the hard days. Your strength will bind you together.
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone trying to maintain a healthy relationship while incarcerated! It may be difficult, but most of you will have many more years together on the outside, than the years that separate you for now.
Happy Valentine's Day, also, to all my friends and family. I love you all!
Tell the truth: Honesty truly is the best policy. Tell your spouse/partner everything and answer their questions honestly. You can only do this, totally, if you have forgiven yourself and are honest with yourself. If you are unwilling to do the hard work with yourself, then you cannot expect someone else to do it for you. If your spouse/partner was unaware of the behavior that got you in trouble with the law, then you will need to rebuild the trust. Do as much as you can before you come to prison, because once you are here, the ability to have good communication diminishes.
Focus on them: Remember that we cannot be the center of everyone's attention. If we are going to, or are in prison, they are dealing with not having you around. Often, that means increased demands on them: child rearing, bill paying, ... i.e. doing all the things you used to do when you were home. Try to put together a list of everything you do to keep the house going before you go. Leave behind all the passwords, phone numbers, etc that are needed for transition to go smoothly. Try to transition all these things prior to your self-surrender, so that there can be trial runs. If you are unsure of everything you do, then keep a log for a couple weeks, that will come in handy for the lists you need to make. I see a lot of fights over the little things, because there's nothing we can do from in here, but if our family is not sure how to proceed on the outside, it causes frustration for everyone.
Also, remember that they are alone and lonely as well. Sure, they have their friends and other family, but you were their best friend as their spouse/partner. When you write/call them, don't just complain about life in prison, focus some attention on them. Ask them about their day, their work, etc. Let them have a "normal" conversation with you now and then. If all the attention is on you every day, they can end up frustrated.
Communicate often: We know that communication is the most important thing in any relationship. Use the devices available - phone, email, and snail mail, to maintain a consistent presence in each others lives. Make some of the communication caring/romantic, some of it fact-telling, and some of it problem-solving. Consider this a time to once again "woo" each other with kind thoughts and dreams of the future. If you are a "problem-solver" - keep in mind that it is impossible to help solve each others problem's. You need to depend on yourselves for a while. Don't make this an area of broken communication because you feel so powerless.
Visit: It is so important to see the person you love so that you can reconnect the intimacy. I know that you cannot hold each other or have total privacy, but just being able to look into one another's eyes, hug, and just be side by side is so important. Think of the days, early in your relationship, when you were still nervous about kissing the other person or holding their hand. There are rules against touching (except for the kiss/hug hello and goodbye), so that restraint can actually build up the excitement for when your partner/spouse is once again home. You do not need to visit weekly or monthly, most people can't. Also, the incarcerated person cannot be upset if their spouse/partner is unable to visit for some time (remember, life goes on outside of prison), but try to visit at least once every quarter or 6 months. It will be something for you both to look forward to. You can make plans and build the anxiety of seeing each other once again. When the visit occurs, make the conversation about everything, not just the reality of prison-life.
I think that it is vitally important to not be angry with your spouse/partner on the outside. If your relationship was unhealthy before you went to prison, I promise that it will be unhealthy while you are in prison. If you lied to your partner for months/years, I can promise you that they will be hurt and untrusting of what you say. It is up to your partner if they want to see a therapist or do anything - we cannot control other people's thoughts, actions, or anything. Stop trying to tell someone else how they should feel or what they should do. A relationship will only be strong through incarceration and beyond if both people are fully committed to making it work - for better or for worse.
Financials: Our crimes put others into financial uncertainty. There's the cost of our defense, our restitution, the government's rights to our assets, etc. Work with a financial expert/attorney to protect the household finances as much as possible - in a legal way. Don't put all the pressure on your partner/spouse to figure it all out. Also, don't get mad if your partner/spouse makes a financial decision you don't agree with. Remember, no one is perfect and everyone gets overwhelmed when it comes to finances. Whatever loss you end up with is not as important as the people in your life. Things can be replaced, people cannot. Put aside your ego and your need to live a certain lifestyle. Once you are out of prison, you will have the opportunity to build a new life with your partner/spouse. There is no way to go back to before your incarceration, so let the "things" go.
Don't "cheat" on your partner/spouse: This is physical or emotional "cheating." For the time that you are apart, find hobbies, education, family members, work, etc. to keep yourself busy. It does not need to be a time of loneliness, if you have each other by communication and other things to occupy your time. Consider relationships that last while one person is in the military overseas or where someone has a very demanding job. What matters is that they trust one another - and that is especially true when it comes to the commitment you have for one another.
Love: The is the most important item. Make sure you tell each other that you "love" them every time you talk. It may be difficult at times, when things are going uneasy or you don't agree with a decision they made, but your love is the number one connection you will have throughout the imprisonment. If you aren't sure you "love" the person, then there is not a lot that can be done to save the relationship while one partner is incarcerated. Absence can either "make the heart grow stronger," or it can lead to "out of sight, out of mind." Whichever way you are going, honesty continues to be the best policy. If you know before the person goes to prison that things aren't working out, don't just pretend out of guilt, it will just make things really bad when the person leaves.
Well, I'm sure there's a lot more advice myself and others can give, but the most important thing is to be your best person every day, even through the hard days. Your strength will bind you together.
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone trying to maintain a healthy relationship while incarcerated! It may be difficult, but most of you will have many more years together on the outside, than the years that separate you for now.
Happy Valentine's Day, also, to all my friends and family. I love you all!
From Dragonfly: 4 1/2 Hours
There are many ways to spend 4 1/2 hours here. I could be reading a book. I could be helping students with their studies. I could be making a new locker organizer. I could be sleeping. The one way I do not like spending 4 1/2 hours is sitting in the clinic waiting room to be called.
I woke up early today to go to sick call. I had three reasons: 1) I wanted to get the results of my labs from January; 2) I wanted to see if my restrictions are updated from my trip to the rheumatologist; and 3) I had to renew most of my prescriptions. So, I had to be at the clinic around 6 a.m. My blood pressure was taken at 6:45 a.m. My name was called to see the Physicians Assistant at 10:30 a.m. I missed the entire morning of work. I spent my time in the clinic reading a "Reader's Digest." Then I did some crosswords. I also read several chapters of a book of fiction that a fellow inmate wants edited. Finally, I just closed my eyes and tried to relax.
The sights and sounds of the clinic are nothing great. The sounds are mostly people speaking quick spanish to one another. There are a couple posters on the wall about flu v. cold and protecting yourself against HIV/AIDS. I've read them more times than I can remember. There's also a display about the inmate co-pay program. Since I was attending sick call, I would be responsible for paying $2. It was deducted from my account before I was even seen.
My $2 got me 5 minutes with my assigned P.A. who would not give me the results of my labs, would not update my restrictions, but was more than willing to renew my medications (without asking me any questions about how I'm feeling or if they are working). In fact, my methotraxate labs were low, which is weird because I've been on methotrexate for over a year now, but no adjustments were made. The PA informed me that the rheumatologist has not yet sent over any detailed notes of our appointment. After nearly a month, something tells me that she may not. So, after 4 1/2 hours, I left the clinic with no new answers and just a sore butt from the blue uncomfortable benches.
It was only my second full sick-call, and I think I will make it my last. My last time there was no more successful than today's. Yet, it is the only way to be seen by a medical provider. I dear not mention that I'm having increased fatigue, or that my right hand hurts in a new way, or that my back has been hurting. I know these things only make things worse here for inmates. I can handle the pain. I just want to get out. I just want to go home. I know, once I am home, I will NEVER complain again about the wait to see a medical provider. At least I know, the wait will provide me with something of value.
I woke up early today to go to sick call. I had three reasons: 1) I wanted to get the results of my labs from January; 2) I wanted to see if my restrictions are updated from my trip to the rheumatologist; and 3) I had to renew most of my prescriptions. So, I had to be at the clinic around 6 a.m. My blood pressure was taken at 6:45 a.m. My name was called to see the Physicians Assistant at 10:30 a.m. I missed the entire morning of work. I spent my time in the clinic reading a "Reader's Digest." Then I did some crosswords. I also read several chapters of a book of fiction that a fellow inmate wants edited. Finally, I just closed my eyes and tried to relax.
The sights and sounds of the clinic are nothing great. The sounds are mostly people speaking quick spanish to one another. There are a couple posters on the wall about flu v. cold and protecting yourself against HIV/AIDS. I've read them more times than I can remember. There's also a display about the inmate co-pay program. Since I was attending sick call, I would be responsible for paying $2. It was deducted from my account before I was even seen.
My $2 got me 5 minutes with my assigned P.A. who would not give me the results of my labs, would not update my restrictions, but was more than willing to renew my medications (without asking me any questions about how I'm feeling or if they are working). In fact, my methotraxate labs were low, which is weird because I've been on methotrexate for over a year now, but no adjustments were made. The PA informed me that the rheumatologist has not yet sent over any detailed notes of our appointment. After nearly a month, something tells me that she may not. So, after 4 1/2 hours, I left the clinic with no new answers and just a sore butt from the blue uncomfortable benches.
It was only my second full sick-call, and I think I will make it my last. My last time there was no more successful than today's. Yet, it is the only way to be seen by a medical provider. I dear not mention that I'm having increased fatigue, or that my right hand hurts in a new way, or that my back has been hurting. I know these things only make things worse here for inmates. I can handle the pain. I just want to get out. I just want to go home. I know, once I am home, I will NEVER complain again about the wait to see a medical provider. At least I know, the wait will provide me with something of value.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
From Dragonfly: Seeing the Differences
Yesterday, I received several pieces of mail. Some were Valentine's cards, others were letters. I continue to be so grateful to everyone back home who continues the regular communication with me. One friend writes me at least weekly and tells me the tales about her life and watching her baby grow. Another, sends me cards nearly every week that are funny and bring a smile not just to my face, but to those around me. Some friends include stickers on their letters/envelopes. Some want me to write back (I will try). Mail call continues to be a highlight of my days.
The thing is, though, that my daily highlights used to be SO much bigger. I used to present important research and ideas to academics. I used to help students through a syllabus they helped build. I used to write research papers, conduct qualitative and quantitative research projects, and travel. I used to be an academic and my highlights were finding out that something was accepted to a conference or a journal. My highlights were learning a new concept that just made so much sense. My highlights were figuring out a statistical idea that had confused me. My highlights were spending time with top academics from their fields and learning amazing things and listening to amazing stories.
My days used to consist of reading, writing, asking questions, and being professional. My days, here, consist of smelling spoiled milk, trying to get a nap in during lunch time, getting a banana, and stitching yarn into a plastic canvas. I know there's still good I do - including my work with the GED students and teaching ACE classes, however, it is not the atmosphere I grew used to at school and, specifically, at a research university.
Yesterday's mail included a letter from one of my good friends back home. I asked all my friends to keep me updated about their lives; even though I am here, I want them to share life out there. I am so glad she wrote the truth, because the letter was all about the juggling she is doing with classes, academic and research projects, work, fellowship, and more. She is in the final academic year before she is on her dissertation full time. It's the life I would have been living this year, had I not been incarcerated. I read the paragraph three times, and then I read it to my friends. So much of the language is distant to me while I'm incarcerated, "pedagogy," "research," "fellowship," "dissertation," "professor," "guidance committee," "advisor," etc. I read it out loud because for the moment, I was just amazed at how fast my life can change. My words here consist of: "banana," "toilet paper," "cleaning," "bull dagger," "baby daddy," "family," "ice," "transfer," "home," "camp," "cheese cake," and "mail." There is not much academic about my current experience, except for the observations of living it.
I hope my friends continue to write me about the reality of their lives. Until yesterday, I'd almost forgotten what it was like being a PhD student. I'm glad my friend brought me back into it, because it gives me increased motivation to find my way back into it. I've been studying from a GRE study guide, in preparation for taking a new GRE upon my release. I will watch all my cohort friends graduate, likely, while I may be still trying to get back into school. I'm proud of them and it will just motivate me that much more. I, also, know, that this experience will make me an even better student and a stronger person.
The thing is, though, that my daily highlights used to be SO much bigger. I used to present important research and ideas to academics. I used to help students through a syllabus they helped build. I used to write research papers, conduct qualitative and quantitative research projects, and travel. I used to be an academic and my highlights were finding out that something was accepted to a conference or a journal. My highlights were learning a new concept that just made so much sense. My highlights were figuring out a statistical idea that had confused me. My highlights were spending time with top academics from their fields and learning amazing things and listening to amazing stories.
My days used to consist of reading, writing, asking questions, and being professional. My days, here, consist of smelling spoiled milk, trying to get a nap in during lunch time, getting a banana, and stitching yarn into a plastic canvas. I know there's still good I do - including my work with the GED students and teaching ACE classes, however, it is not the atmosphere I grew used to at school and, specifically, at a research university.
Yesterday's mail included a letter from one of my good friends back home. I asked all my friends to keep me updated about their lives; even though I am here, I want them to share life out there. I am so glad she wrote the truth, because the letter was all about the juggling she is doing with classes, academic and research projects, work, fellowship, and more. She is in the final academic year before she is on her dissertation full time. It's the life I would have been living this year, had I not been incarcerated. I read the paragraph three times, and then I read it to my friends. So much of the language is distant to me while I'm incarcerated, "pedagogy," "research," "fellowship," "dissertation," "professor," "guidance committee," "advisor," etc. I read it out loud because for the moment, I was just amazed at how fast my life can change. My words here consist of: "banana," "toilet paper," "cleaning," "bull dagger," "baby daddy," "family," "ice," "transfer," "home," "camp," "cheese cake," and "mail." There is not much academic about my current experience, except for the observations of living it.
I hope my friends continue to write me about the reality of their lives. Until yesterday, I'd almost forgotten what it was like being a PhD student. I'm glad my friend brought me back into it, because it gives me increased motivation to find my way back into it. I've been studying from a GRE study guide, in preparation for taking a new GRE upon my release. I will watch all my cohort friends graduate, likely, while I may be still trying to get back into school. I'm proud of them and it will just motivate me that much more. I, also, know, that this experience will make me an even better student and a stronger person.
Tuesday, February 11, 2014
From Dragonfly: Sleeping In
At home, if we sleep through our alarm clocks, we wake up slowly, look at the time and suddenly jump to our feet knowing we are late for something. Well, the same is certainly true here in prison.
Tuesday mornings, this quarter, is my commissary shopping day. Due to my job in education, I am required to shop between 6-7am, and must be there by 6:10am in order for my sheet to be taken on the "work detail" side of the line. Work detail has their shopping first, so that we can be at work on time at 7:30am.
Last night I set my watch alarm for 5:35am. I had my clothing already out at the end of my bed. I had my full commissary sheet filled out and my grey shoulder bag ready to carry my commissary back to the unit. When 6am hit, I would be out the doors of my unit and by 6:07, I would be standing in the work detail line. I would have time to spare.
Well, today I must have turned off my alarm in my sleep, because I jumped up at the sound of the morning announcement, "attention housing inmates, male and female staff routinely work in and visit inmate housing areas." Well, that meant it was 6am. I probably slurred something bad under my breath, as I threw off my shorts and on my work pants, grabbed a hair band, my sweatshirt, my i.d., and my commissary sheet and bag, and headed for the door. It was 6:07am when I left and I was already running late.
Commissary is down in the basement of the medical/main building, next to our chow hall. It is located either at or close to where the morgue was when this was officially a military hospital. The way commissary works is that we each get a "commissary sheet." It lists all the items for sale with their prices (although prices change much more often than the sheet is updated). In advance, we sit down with a pencil and highlighter, and start putting "1," "2," "3," or "4" next to the items we wish to purchase. A rare item, like packets of ranch dressing, allows us to put a "10" next to it. That's how many we wish to purchase. All items have some limit on how many you can purchase at a time. Once we feel good about our list, we have to go through and highlight the items that we are purchasing, or the actual "shoppers" may miss that item on the long list - that is 3 pages in total.
We stand in line to hand in our lists. The guard comes by at 6:10/6:15 for the first pick-up. Then he picks up again about 20-30 minutes later and then again at 7am. The same routine occurs at lunch time, but being work detail, I am not allowed to do my commissary over my lunch. Once our sheet is picked up, and they've looked at our i.d. to see that we are giving our own sheet AND that it is our proper day to shop (1/4 of the people go each day), then we are left to sit against the walls in the hallway and wait for our name to be called. Most people sit on these really uncomfortable guard rails that are way too low to the ground and too close to the wall to ever be comfortable. My knees don't bend enough for the rail, so I sit my butt right down on the tiled ground and lean in to the rail. It works.
As work detail, they take our sheets only during the first round and we are called on first. I was about 20 people back in the work detail line and my name of called to go to the window at 6:30am. If I were forced to be in the regular line, I would have likely been over 100 people back and my name would not be called until after 7am, sometimes after 7:30am. Those folks give their lists and then head on to breakfast, but if you miss your name being called, you get no commissary for the week.
My commissary list included some of my staples: rice crackers (for peanut butter and jelly), a packet of tuna, a package of m&m's, relish (for the tuna), cheese crackers (for snacking), a 6-pack of Sprite, a bar of olive soap, three sheets of plastic canvas, batteries (for my book light), a pint of ice cream for me and Lola later, etc. I had about $40 in commissary purchases on my list. At the window, I received about $30 of the purchases. They gave me no batteries, no soap, no plastic canvas, and were out of other things as well. That's how it goes. You write what you want, but they are out of many of the items you write in.
When my name is called to the window, it is a small room like at a Western Union, with plastic glass windows and a small hole to speak through. There is also a conveyor belt that drops things in front of you on a small platform. Once my thumb print is accepted, the purchases start coming down the conveyor and I have to pick them up quickly and put them in the bag I brought. It is not until I am back at my unit that I actually have time to look and see what I was and wasn't given. A new commissary sheet is always in the pile, so we have a clean one to use next week.
Since I slept in today, I had to squish the purchases into my already overflowing 3' locker and then get ready for work. I made my bed. Got myself dressed in real work clothing. But still ran out the door, buttoning up my shirt, and throwing on my sweatshirt, so I could have a couple minutes to email before work. Sleeping in on commissary day is not the best way to start my day!
Tuesday mornings, this quarter, is my commissary shopping day. Due to my job in education, I am required to shop between 6-7am, and must be there by 6:10am in order for my sheet to be taken on the "work detail" side of the line. Work detail has their shopping first, so that we can be at work on time at 7:30am.
Last night I set my watch alarm for 5:35am. I had my clothing already out at the end of my bed. I had my full commissary sheet filled out and my grey shoulder bag ready to carry my commissary back to the unit. When 6am hit, I would be out the doors of my unit and by 6:07, I would be standing in the work detail line. I would have time to spare.
Well, today I must have turned off my alarm in my sleep, because I jumped up at the sound of the morning announcement, "attention housing inmates, male and female staff routinely work in and visit inmate housing areas." Well, that meant it was 6am. I probably slurred something bad under my breath, as I threw off my shorts and on my work pants, grabbed a hair band, my sweatshirt, my i.d., and my commissary sheet and bag, and headed for the door. It was 6:07am when I left and I was already running late.
Commissary is down in the basement of the medical/main building, next to our chow hall. It is located either at or close to where the morgue was when this was officially a military hospital. The way commissary works is that we each get a "commissary sheet." It lists all the items for sale with their prices (although prices change much more often than the sheet is updated). In advance, we sit down with a pencil and highlighter, and start putting "1," "2," "3," or "4" next to the items we wish to purchase. A rare item, like packets of ranch dressing, allows us to put a "10" next to it. That's how many we wish to purchase. All items have some limit on how many you can purchase at a time. Once we feel good about our list, we have to go through and highlight the items that we are purchasing, or the actual "shoppers" may miss that item on the long list - that is 3 pages in total.
We stand in line to hand in our lists. The guard comes by at 6:10/6:15 for the first pick-up. Then he picks up again about 20-30 minutes later and then again at 7am. The same routine occurs at lunch time, but being work detail, I am not allowed to do my commissary over my lunch. Once our sheet is picked up, and they've looked at our i.d. to see that we are giving our own sheet AND that it is our proper day to shop (1/4 of the people go each day), then we are left to sit against the walls in the hallway and wait for our name to be called. Most people sit on these really uncomfortable guard rails that are way too low to the ground and too close to the wall to ever be comfortable. My knees don't bend enough for the rail, so I sit my butt right down on the tiled ground and lean in to the rail. It works.
As work detail, they take our sheets only during the first round and we are called on first. I was about 20 people back in the work detail line and my name of called to go to the window at 6:30am. If I were forced to be in the regular line, I would have likely been over 100 people back and my name would not be called until after 7am, sometimes after 7:30am. Those folks give their lists and then head on to breakfast, but if you miss your name being called, you get no commissary for the week.
My commissary list included some of my staples: rice crackers (for peanut butter and jelly), a packet of tuna, a package of m&m's, relish (for the tuna), cheese crackers (for snacking), a 6-pack of Sprite, a bar of olive soap, three sheets of plastic canvas, batteries (for my book light), a pint of ice cream for me and Lola later, etc. I had about $40 in commissary purchases on my list. At the window, I received about $30 of the purchases. They gave me no batteries, no soap, no plastic canvas, and were out of other things as well. That's how it goes. You write what you want, but they are out of many of the items you write in.
When my name is called to the window, it is a small room like at a Western Union, with plastic glass windows and a small hole to speak through. There is also a conveyor belt that drops things in front of you on a small platform. Once my thumb print is accepted, the purchases start coming down the conveyor and I have to pick them up quickly and put them in the bag I brought. It is not until I am back at my unit that I actually have time to look and see what I was and wasn't given. A new commissary sheet is always in the pile, so we have a clean one to use next week.
Since I slept in today, I had to squish the purchases into my already overflowing 3' locker and then get ready for work. I made my bed. Got myself dressed in real work clothing. But still ran out the door, buttoning up my shirt, and throwing on my sweatshirt, so I could have a couple minutes to email before work. Sleeping in on commissary day is not the best way to start my day!
From Dragonfly: Goodbye South
South is currently in R&D, getting her DNA and thumbprint taken, and then she will walk out of the prison fences for the last time. She has a smile on her face, a small bag of everything she is taking home with her, and will be on a bus sometime later this morning. She promised that if the bus ride is bad, she will take a cab to the nearest airport and buy a ticket home. She is free!!!
South has been my number one support since I arrived here a week after her. She understood me, and I understood her. She is sarcastic, fun, interesting, strong, intelligent, capable, and sincere. She was someone many people, here, called "grandma," due to her grey/silver hair. She stands at about 100 lbs and 5 ft tall. She always called me "little one," but in reality, she is the 'little one.' We have a special bond, having gotten each other through the hardest of days here, and it's one that does not sever just because she is leaving. I know we will see one another again in the future. I will not say that about too many folks here.
I guess this makes today another landmark. It is South's and Freckle's 6 month anniversary of their arrival. Freckles will leave late this year, after she finishes the RDAP program (which got her an extra 9 months of halfway house post-program). My 6 months will be a week from today. We were talking about whether it goes slow or fast. I put it in these words, "each day feels like forever, and each week an eternity, but when we look back, it's all gone by so fast. It's the living of each day that is difficult." They all agreed. South will be walking back into her life at home just 6 months after she left it. I told her to tell everyone that she was at "fat camp" (she's never been more than 102 lbs.) and say it worked!
South didn't belong here. Her supposed 'crime' should have been handled civilly. But, in a very selfish way, I am so grateful to have served my time along with her. I hope that I can be as strong as she is when I grow older. She has taught me a lot, things that I will carry forward with me throughout my life. Perhaps one day I will make a quilt (her favorite hobby), and I will know it is because of the passion for quilting she brought into my life. That's just the way she is - she can talk about things she loves and suddenly you feel like you love them too. South is a very special woman. As so many people said to her this morning, as we walked to the R&D doors, "god-speed" my friend, god-speed!
South has been my number one support since I arrived here a week after her. She understood me, and I understood her. She is sarcastic, fun, interesting, strong, intelligent, capable, and sincere. She was someone many people, here, called "grandma," due to her grey/silver hair. She stands at about 100 lbs and 5 ft tall. She always called me "little one," but in reality, she is the 'little one.' We have a special bond, having gotten each other through the hardest of days here, and it's one that does not sever just because she is leaving. I know we will see one another again in the future. I will not say that about too many folks here.
I guess this makes today another landmark. It is South's and Freckle's 6 month anniversary of their arrival. Freckles will leave late this year, after she finishes the RDAP program (which got her an extra 9 months of halfway house post-program). My 6 months will be a week from today. We were talking about whether it goes slow or fast. I put it in these words, "each day feels like forever, and each week an eternity, but when we look back, it's all gone by so fast. It's the living of each day that is difficult." They all agreed. South will be walking back into her life at home just 6 months after she left it. I told her to tell everyone that she was at "fat camp" (she's never been more than 102 lbs.) and say it worked!
South didn't belong here. Her supposed 'crime' should have been handled civilly. But, in a very selfish way, I am so grateful to have served my time along with her. I hope that I can be as strong as she is when I grow older. She has taught me a lot, things that I will carry forward with me throughout my life. Perhaps one day I will make a quilt (her favorite hobby), and I will know it is because of the passion for quilting she brought into my life. That's just the way she is - she can talk about things she loves and suddenly you feel like you love them too. South is a very special woman. As so many people said to her this morning, as we walked to the R&D doors, "god-speed" my friend, god-speed!
Saturday, February 8, 2014
from Dragonfly: The Wheels Are Turning
Last week I went right up to the prison warden and told him about my "camp" transfer approval from October and that I was repeatedly told that that clearance had never occurred. Well, I guess that got things moving, because I just received an email from the Warden's email letting me know that my "exit" paperwork (i.e. transfer to the camp) is being processed. Looks like I will actually be going there to finish out my sentence. Not sure when, but this is definitely a cog in that direction.
Meanwhile, I am still waiting on medical to sign the form that allows my case worker to send off my halfway house request papers. It'll be a good 60 days before we know my fate, once those are sent. My current case worker promised that she will stay on getting it processed, even though I will have a different case worker at the camp.
Obviously, one piece of my move that I am not happy about, is the fact that at some time in the near future, I will need to resign my job in education. The good news is that my 'newish' co-tutor is excellent and the transition will go very smoothly (I believe) for the students and my supervising teacher. I am scheduled to teach two new ACE classes starting in just a couple weeks (Employment Skills I and Word Problems), but I believe I already have tutors who are willing to replace me in those courses. I would have really enjoyed working with the students in those areas. I will see if I can get hired by the education department at the camp, but knowing that I have only months left, I don't believe I would be a good candidate. I will try though.
South leaves on Monday - just 2 days and a wake-up. I guess those wheels are turning as well. She chose the scenic 24 hour bus ride home, rather than have her family fly her home. I'm not sure I would ever choose the bus ride, but she wants to take pictures of places she sees and get the "down time" before she is inundated by family. I can totally understand the need to clear our head fog once we leave here. I'll probably want to lock myself in my bedroom for days... although, I won't. I know that there are many, many people awaiting my release, and I will want their hugs as well.
The wheels are also turning on my attempts to get back into school. Sporty sent me a GRE study book and I am learning about the new GRE test. When I took it a couple years back, it was a different test. The scoring is totally different, now, as well as the exact contents of the test. Plus, we can now use a calculator on the mathematics sections. Sometimes, using a calculator is a hindrance, so I think I'll practice with both the calculator and without. Plus, the screen calculator does not have all the "magic" keys on it - like the fractions or exponents keys. I like the challenge of some of the difficult questions in the study book. They are certainly a step higher than in my GED courses, but still it only goes up to Geometry (just like the GED).
When I do transfer, I will be very sad leaving Lola behind. Her sentence is much longer than mine and we are the best of buddies. Once at the camp, I will not be allowed (or able) to communicate with her at all. She needs to get her wheels turning on getting transferred to the camp, too. That will be awesome, but not knowing if she will get there, especially before my "out" date, will be sad. Everyone needs a friend here, and she's one of the few I trust. I will also miss my morning conversations with Freckles. She's been a shining light (so positive) since I arrived here. She will leave in about 9 months from now. In the meantime, we will have no communication either. Sometimes, the rules of making friendships and then leaving them behind suck!
A friend sent me a Looney Tunes cross stitch pattern book and I'm excited to get back to my room and finish designing a "tweetie bird" on a plastic canvas. That will be my highlight of the day. But at least, the wheels keep on turning.
Meanwhile, I am still waiting on medical to sign the form that allows my case worker to send off my halfway house request papers. It'll be a good 60 days before we know my fate, once those are sent. My current case worker promised that she will stay on getting it processed, even though I will have a different case worker at the camp.
Obviously, one piece of my move that I am not happy about, is the fact that at some time in the near future, I will need to resign my job in education. The good news is that my 'newish' co-tutor is excellent and the transition will go very smoothly (I believe) for the students and my supervising teacher. I am scheduled to teach two new ACE classes starting in just a couple weeks (Employment Skills I and Word Problems), but I believe I already have tutors who are willing to replace me in those courses. I would have really enjoyed working with the students in those areas. I will see if I can get hired by the education department at the camp, but knowing that I have only months left, I don't believe I would be a good candidate. I will try though.
South leaves on Monday - just 2 days and a wake-up. I guess those wheels are turning as well. She chose the scenic 24 hour bus ride home, rather than have her family fly her home. I'm not sure I would ever choose the bus ride, but she wants to take pictures of places she sees and get the "down time" before she is inundated by family. I can totally understand the need to clear our head fog once we leave here. I'll probably want to lock myself in my bedroom for days... although, I won't. I know that there are many, many people awaiting my release, and I will want their hugs as well.
The wheels are also turning on my attempts to get back into school. Sporty sent me a GRE study book and I am learning about the new GRE test. When I took it a couple years back, it was a different test. The scoring is totally different, now, as well as the exact contents of the test. Plus, we can now use a calculator on the mathematics sections. Sometimes, using a calculator is a hindrance, so I think I'll practice with both the calculator and without. Plus, the screen calculator does not have all the "magic" keys on it - like the fractions or exponents keys. I like the challenge of some of the difficult questions in the study book. They are certainly a step higher than in my GED courses, but still it only goes up to Geometry (just like the GED).
When I do transfer, I will be very sad leaving Lola behind. Her sentence is much longer than mine and we are the best of buddies. Once at the camp, I will not be allowed (or able) to communicate with her at all. She needs to get her wheels turning on getting transferred to the camp, too. That will be awesome, but not knowing if she will get there, especially before my "out" date, will be sad. Everyone needs a friend here, and she's one of the few I trust. I will also miss my morning conversations with Freckles. She's been a shining light (so positive) since I arrived here. She will leave in about 9 months from now. In the meantime, we will have no communication either. Sometimes, the rules of making friendships and then leaving them behind suck!
A friend sent me a Looney Tunes cross stitch pattern book and I'm excited to get back to my room and finish designing a "tweetie bird" on a plastic canvas. That will be my highlight of the day. But at least, the wheels keep on turning.
Friday, February 7, 2014
From Dragonfly: Normalcy
It's so easy to write about things that are different about being incarcerated, and funny observations, but I realize that I've not written much about the normal behavior of so many here. So, here's a list to consider:
- Many people get up early to get ready for work. Some like their jobs, some dislike them. They go to work because they have to. They do not make as much money as they think they should, but they are grateful for a paycheck nonetheless.
- Many women are very into making sure their hair looks good every day. They will buy products to help their hair be straighter or curlier. They will have it done in a salon. They will color the roots and get rid of the grey. They will have someone who is excellent at braiding, design their new braided hairdo.
- Similarly, many women will not leave the unit without making up their face. They purchase way too expensive eye shadow, eye pencils, lipstick, blush, foundation, and much more to beautify their faces before going out.
- There are women who are doing the best job they can as parents. They call their kids every night. They sing lullabies to them. They listen to their kids talk about their days and encourage them to do their homework. They pray for their kids' wellness and they worry about them all the time.
- There are women going through menopause. They are dealing with "having their personal summers," trying to get on the right hormone treatments or going natural, their bodies changing, and the emotional ups and downs of the change.
- Some women are working hard to save their marriages. They are doing anything in their power to help build trust and communication between themselves and their spouse.
- On the other hand, there are women going through divorce. Some women started the process themselves, surprising their husband with the divorce papers or having come to agreement already for the divorce. There are women who have been surprised in here with divorce papers or husband's having affairs. Some women are only here for less than a year, but keeping a relationship going on the outside can be quite difficult.
- Some women believe they don't deserve any happiness. Their past relationships, crimes, and/or just low self-esteem leads them to feel that they deserve nothing good in their life. They don't apply for the second chance act because they don't think they deserve it. They don't get into healthy relationships, because they don't think they deserve it. So many women on the outside struggle with these same issues.
- There are real tears of joy and tears of sadness.
- There are many women trying to get through school - GED, cosmetology, apprenticeship, college courses... They are learning concepts that are foreign to them in order to get a step up in life. They need to balance their school with the demands of work, a tight schedule, and maintain some social life. So many women have these struggles outside as well.
- There are so many women fighting illness. They are dealing with the strain of an uncertain future, some going through chemo and radiation, others suddenly finding themselves in wheel chairs. They struggle to keep up their spirits.
- There are women reading newspapers and doing crosswords to bide their time. Just yesterday I was laughing after dinner. Lola and Appeal were reading sections of USA Today, while I worked on a plastic canvas project. I laughed and said, "this is not the image people think of when they consider prison." We are three women, one in her 40's one 50's and one 60's. We are intelligent, capable, and giving of our time. We want to know the news of the world and can have good conversations around what we are reading in the paper. Images such as this one is common, and it's so normal.
- There are women who will do anything for a cigarette (not allowed in prison). With so many laws on the outside about no smoking that people defy, there are the same defiers within prison. They just need that tobacco stick to relieve their anxiety.
- Women read books. They read a lot of books. There are some women reading as many as five or more books a week. They love a good read and are always searching for a series or an author to love.
- There are women who love to clean. They get rid of stress by deep cleaning their room, their locker, or even the atrium. It gives them joy to see a clean floor and dust-free surface.
There is a lot of normalcy here. For each women, it's a different normal - just like on the outside. Prison can mean a lot of change and difference, but not everything is different. We are still the women we were before we walked behind the fence. Some of us actually become better people in prison. Some women lose themselves here, but not all. The key is to do your time, but not let the time do you.
- Many people get up early to get ready for work. Some like their jobs, some dislike them. They go to work because they have to. They do not make as much money as they think they should, but they are grateful for a paycheck nonetheless.
- Many women are very into making sure their hair looks good every day. They will buy products to help their hair be straighter or curlier. They will have it done in a salon. They will color the roots and get rid of the grey. They will have someone who is excellent at braiding, design their new braided hairdo.
- Similarly, many women will not leave the unit without making up their face. They purchase way too expensive eye shadow, eye pencils, lipstick, blush, foundation, and much more to beautify their faces before going out.
- There are women who are doing the best job they can as parents. They call their kids every night. They sing lullabies to them. They listen to their kids talk about their days and encourage them to do their homework. They pray for their kids' wellness and they worry about them all the time.
- There are women going through menopause. They are dealing with "having their personal summers," trying to get on the right hormone treatments or going natural, their bodies changing, and the emotional ups and downs of the change.
- Some women are working hard to save their marriages. They are doing anything in their power to help build trust and communication between themselves and their spouse.
- On the other hand, there are women going through divorce. Some women started the process themselves, surprising their husband with the divorce papers or having come to agreement already for the divorce. There are women who have been surprised in here with divorce papers or husband's having affairs. Some women are only here for less than a year, but keeping a relationship going on the outside can be quite difficult.
- Some women believe they don't deserve any happiness. Their past relationships, crimes, and/or just low self-esteem leads them to feel that they deserve nothing good in their life. They don't apply for the second chance act because they don't think they deserve it. They don't get into healthy relationships, because they don't think they deserve it. So many women on the outside struggle with these same issues.
- There are real tears of joy and tears of sadness.
- There are many women trying to get through school - GED, cosmetology, apprenticeship, college courses... They are learning concepts that are foreign to them in order to get a step up in life. They need to balance their school with the demands of work, a tight schedule, and maintain some social life. So many women have these struggles outside as well.
- There are so many women fighting illness. They are dealing with the strain of an uncertain future, some going through chemo and radiation, others suddenly finding themselves in wheel chairs. They struggle to keep up their spirits.
- There are women reading newspapers and doing crosswords to bide their time. Just yesterday I was laughing after dinner. Lola and Appeal were reading sections of USA Today, while I worked on a plastic canvas project. I laughed and said, "this is not the image people think of when they consider prison." We are three women, one in her 40's one 50's and one 60's. We are intelligent, capable, and giving of our time. We want to know the news of the world and can have good conversations around what we are reading in the paper. Images such as this one is common, and it's so normal.
- There are women who will do anything for a cigarette (not allowed in prison). With so many laws on the outside about no smoking that people defy, there are the same defiers within prison. They just need that tobacco stick to relieve their anxiety.
- Women read books. They read a lot of books. There are some women reading as many as five or more books a week. They love a good read and are always searching for a series or an author to love.
- There are women who love to clean. They get rid of stress by deep cleaning their room, their locker, or even the atrium. It gives them joy to see a clean floor and dust-free surface.
There is a lot of normalcy here. For each women, it's a different normal - just like on the outside. Prison can mean a lot of change and difference, but not everything is different. We are still the women we were before we walked behind the fence. Some of us actually become better people in prison. Some women lose themselves here, but not all. The key is to do your time, but not let the time do you.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
From Dragonfly: When It Is Hard To Stay Positive
I admit that some days I struggle with trying to stay positive. I get so frustrated with everything and my mood gets sour. But, I certainly don't want to spend the next several months in such negativity, so I have to find peace within myself some way. One thing I keep reminding myself, is that I will not be here forever. I try to think of Nelson Mandela or people suffering in the Holocaust, and perspective helps a lot. This is just one year of my life. There are people in the rooms around me who will, literally, spend the last days of their lives here (or in some prison somewhere). I, also, received a sentence far below the minimum standards, so I am here for far less time than I could have been. I need to be grateful for all of that, and not maintain a bad mood.
Honestly, my favorite part of the day, is the minutes between 9:30pm count and 10pm, when I am getting all snugly in my bed and know that I will fall asleep soon. One issue is that my fatigue is extremely heightened right now, but, also, it will be another day gone by and a day closer to getting home. I used to suffer from extreme insomnia. Not since I got sick. Now, I could sleep all day long if I am allowed to. It's been that way for the past 1 1/2 years, and sometimes it is a real struggle to stay awake in the afternoons, but I do. So, when it's officially time to lie down for the night, and get a good 6-8 hours of sleep, my body is more than happy to comply.
I no longer wake up surprised by my surroundings. That will probably happen next when I am in the comfort of my own bed. Instead, I expect the cinder block squares staring me in the face. I expect the light snores of my roommates. I expect the hard, cold, concrete floors when I walk, slowly, to the bathroom. Slowly because I hurt when I wake and I need time to wake up my joints and muscles. I'm not the only one who walks quite stiffly in the morning. In fact, just this morning I was thinking about how we must all look like zombies, slowly, and stiffly, walking ourselves to the restroom in the morning. We do not say anything, but maybe "grunt" a 'hello' as we pass one another, for fear of waking up folks. Zombies, yep, that's what we are.
By the time I head to breakfast with Freckles, I'm usually much more limber. Just the walk between the housing unit and the hospital in this freezing weather will wake anyone up. I head to the email room and wait for Freckles to meet me. Then, we head downstairs to the chow hall. I tend to bring my own cereal (from commissary), because I don't like the breakfast options. But, breakfast is not really an option to me, because it's the only time we are given access to milk or anything really dairy. I need the calcium and always look forward to that clear bag of milk.
These routines can weigh heavy on me, though. Some days, I just want to sleep, but I wake up nonetheless. I go about all my daily expectations, doing the same thing day in and day out. Some days, I don't really know the day of the week, but luckily my watch will remind me. Last Friday, South went through the entire day thinking it was Thursday. These things happen here. I always have my call-out for my injections on Mondays and Fridays, so it's a little easier for me to keep track of the days that way. It's kind of like in a casino - where they provide no clocks and tinted windows and it encourages people to gamble much longer, because the time of day is hidden. Here, there are no calendars, so our number of days here or left is hidden.
Although all this is true, my battle is just with getting through each day in a positive mood. The best parts of my waking hours are still at work, helping students learn, and learning so much myself. I think I'm going to re-take the Graduate Record Exam (GRE) when I am released. I hope to score higher (although it's a different test), now that I've been helping people with algebra and geometry on a daily basis. A higher score will give me more latitude in my attempts to get back in school.
I think my positivity is also affected by the fact of so many unknowns as to why I'm not at the camp across the street yet and, also, if I will be given halfway house. Technically, I am currently within the months I was "given" for halfway house (120-150 days). However, my halfway house papers have not yet been sent off. There are a million excuses on why not, but I don't want to be one of the statistics of people who have to stay here until their actual "out" date, because of paperwork. I think once the days come that are possible to be home, and you are still here, it weighs heavy on you. I just keep wondering, "when will I be leaving?" I ask this to blank faces. My case worker "promises" that I am leaving soon, before my home confinement date. I hold onto that for hope!
Okay, I have to run to work. I'm going to do my best to stay positive today. I was paid my $23 payroll for the month of January. Whoo hoo. I paid out my $40/month FRP. Whoo hoo. I had breakfast with Freckles. Whoo hoo. I am alive, walking, talking, thinking, and feeling. Whoo hoo. I watched someone I like walk out of prison today. Whoo hoo. Someday, that will be me.
Honestly, my favorite part of the day, is the minutes between 9:30pm count and 10pm, when I am getting all snugly in my bed and know that I will fall asleep soon. One issue is that my fatigue is extremely heightened right now, but, also, it will be another day gone by and a day closer to getting home. I used to suffer from extreme insomnia. Not since I got sick. Now, I could sleep all day long if I am allowed to. It's been that way for the past 1 1/2 years, and sometimes it is a real struggle to stay awake in the afternoons, but I do. So, when it's officially time to lie down for the night, and get a good 6-8 hours of sleep, my body is more than happy to comply.
I no longer wake up surprised by my surroundings. That will probably happen next when I am in the comfort of my own bed. Instead, I expect the cinder block squares staring me in the face. I expect the light snores of my roommates. I expect the hard, cold, concrete floors when I walk, slowly, to the bathroom. Slowly because I hurt when I wake and I need time to wake up my joints and muscles. I'm not the only one who walks quite stiffly in the morning. In fact, just this morning I was thinking about how we must all look like zombies, slowly, and stiffly, walking ourselves to the restroom in the morning. We do not say anything, but maybe "grunt" a 'hello' as we pass one another, for fear of waking up folks. Zombies, yep, that's what we are.
By the time I head to breakfast with Freckles, I'm usually much more limber. Just the walk between the housing unit and the hospital in this freezing weather will wake anyone up. I head to the email room and wait for Freckles to meet me. Then, we head downstairs to the chow hall. I tend to bring my own cereal (from commissary), because I don't like the breakfast options. But, breakfast is not really an option to me, because it's the only time we are given access to milk or anything really dairy. I need the calcium and always look forward to that clear bag of milk.
These routines can weigh heavy on me, though. Some days, I just want to sleep, but I wake up nonetheless. I go about all my daily expectations, doing the same thing day in and day out. Some days, I don't really know the day of the week, but luckily my watch will remind me. Last Friday, South went through the entire day thinking it was Thursday. These things happen here. I always have my call-out for my injections on Mondays and Fridays, so it's a little easier for me to keep track of the days that way. It's kind of like in a casino - where they provide no clocks and tinted windows and it encourages people to gamble much longer, because the time of day is hidden. Here, there are no calendars, so our number of days here or left is hidden.
Although all this is true, my battle is just with getting through each day in a positive mood. The best parts of my waking hours are still at work, helping students learn, and learning so much myself. I think I'm going to re-take the Graduate Record Exam (GRE) when I am released. I hope to score higher (although it's a different test), now that I've been helping people with algebra and geometry on a daily basis. A higher score will give me more latitude in my attempts to get back in school.
I think my positivity is also affected by the fact of so many unknowns as to why I'm not at the camp across the street yet and, also, if I will be given halfway house. Technically, I am currently within the months I was "given" for halfway house (120-150 days). However, my halfway house papers have not yet been sent off. There are a million excuses on why not, but I don't want to be one of the statistics of people who have to stay here until their actual "out" date, because of paperwork. I think once the days come that are possible to be home, and you are still here, it weighs heavy on you. I just keep wondering, "when will I be leaving?" I ask this to blank faces. My case worker "promises" that I am leaving soon, before my home confinement date. I hold onto that for hope!
Okay, I have to run to work. I'm going to do my best to stay positive today. I was paid my $23 payroll for the month of January. Whoo hoo. I paid out my $40/month FRP. Whoo hoo. I had breakfast with Freckles. Whoo hoo. I am alive, walking, talking, thinking, and feeling. Whoo hoo. I watched someone I like walk out of prison today. Whoo hoo. Someday, that will be me.
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
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