From Dragonfly: When Prison Starts to Feel Normal

Last night, I was up way too late reading a book and then walked to the restroom. First, I looked at my watch - 1 a.m., "good, the midnight count is over...," I thought. I'd been so rapped up in my book, I hadn't even noticed the guards walking by and counting  us.

As I walked to the restroom, I thought of how normal my life felt right now. They say that it takes a month to make a habit and at least three months to make something a lifestyle change. I've been at this "prison thing" for nearly eight months. If asked what would feel more natural to me - being here or being somewhere else, I would have to be honest that the answer is being here. I am no where near "institutionalized," but I can easily see how it happens.

Yesterday, it felt totally normal for a fight to erupt in the back of my unit. It felt normal to watch a line of people in wheelchairs and walkers, waiting outside the main building until they are allowed in for pill line. It felt normal to have to show my i.d. in order to play games in the rec. It felt normal to look at barbed wire and a car slowly going around the fence, ensuring nothing "funny" is going on. It felt normal to have a conversation with a friend about how she is constipated from the food here. It felt normal to be in bed before 10pm (even though I was not yet sleeping due to my book). It felt normal to walk on concrete floors. It felt normal to use a shared hallway bathroom and to avoid the sinks that are not draining correctly.

It's the changes, here, that don't feel normal. For example, we are all up in arms this morning, as breakfast was served 1 1/2 hours late and we were not allowed to spend time on the compound before/after. It does not feel normal when there's no officer telling us when we can leave the food line and walk into the chow hall (all orderly and stuff). It did not feel normal when only one unit at a time was allowed in the chow hall. These are the things that make us uneasy - yet, they are so insignificant in reality.

It's normal, now, for me to be strip searched after visitations. It's normal to be locked down in the unit for hours. It's normal to stand count. It's normal to avoid the bathroom at certain hours of the day. It's normal to sit on my bed and crochet. It's normal to watch television without any sound. It's normal to fight my way into the right laundry washer at my pre-set time. It's normal to clean my room, wiping down the bars on the window.

Yes, life feels normal now. Normal does not mean good. It does not mean bad. We can all get used to being anywhere, the reality of life changing and our needing to accept those changes. I do not know how long it will take for me to have my new life on the outside feel normal. It could be days, weeks or months. It'll happen, though. And, if you are facing prison, life in here will feel "normal" to you at some point as well.

From Dragonfly: Shiny Happy People...

How do you make about 20 inmates excited, cheering, high 5ing, hugging, and crying tears of joy all at the same time? This is not intended as a joke... you inform them that the U.S. Sentencing Commission unanimously passed the new sentencing guidelines to take non-violent drug mandatory minimums down two points. This is what I announced yesterday evening, and that was the response of almost everyone around me.

The mandatory minimums for drug crimes have overfilled our prisons with sentences of five, ten, twenty, and even lifetime sentences. People who have never held a gun, never hit another person, are behind bars (and away from their children) for decades. Many people with drug-related crimes can receive sentences higher than murderers, sex offenders, or other violent crimes. This has been going on for many, many years. In my experience in this prison, nearly half the people I meet here are for a drug-related (conspiracy) charge.

When I announced that the new law passed (Congress could still act on it, but it is not expected) and will go into effect in November, with retro-activity, nearly everyone near me was here under one of those mandatory minimums. The amount of time off their sentences varies greatly, but generally they are looking at years off their original sentence. Some will be eligible for release the minute the law goes into effect, others will still have some time to serve, but the end is much closer. One inmate, standing near me, said, "That means I have only 14 months left... seven months once the law goes into effect. After six years of being here, I will go home next year!" She looked a little in shock and everyone around her gave her a high-five.

Another inmate announced that she will be eligible for immediate release. She received hugs. The thing is, I'm not quite sure there will be any "immediate releases." Imagine the paperwork that will need to be completed by every federal prison in the U.S. for each of the inmates who will be eligible for the reduction. Even if the computer system automatically reduces everyone's sentence, the case managers will need to prepare for each person's release - halfway house, home confinement, or straight home. Each inmate will have to go through all those hoops (especially in a medical facility like this one), to ensure they are medically able to leave. As of right now, no processes, no regulations, are yet written on this tremendous news. People will still need to have patience to see what will happen and the timing of everything.

It's easy for me to just write all that, the law does not affect me. I am a fraud case, a sentencing topic that the commission is also considering a 2-point reduction on, but has not taken action yet. Also, I will already be home when this law goes into affect. For others, this law will allow them to move forward in their lives, hold and hug their babies, and live without a fence blocking them from the rest of the world sooner than they imagine. I was very happy that I was the person who was able to deliver the news. I usually don't just make announcements, but this was news I was not going to keep to myself.

From Dragonfly: The Interested

Okay, best to know in advance and be prepared for it. I've written a couple times about it, but, still, people are surprised. Whether you are tall or short, thin or heavy, black or white, old or young, gay or straight, in a wheel chair, on a walker, or use your own two feet to get around, you will more than likely be approached, flirted with, wooed, and/or considered by another inmate in a "girlfriend" sort of way. Do not project onto the person who seems to like you all your built up homophobia in the world, as you can just easily show no interest. Truth is that people in prison get lonely, they want a "special" friend (sometimes), and they must like something about you. You should be flattered for their attempt, and you have a choice - also show interest or say, "no." There's nothing wrong with you, regardless of which you choose. This is whether you are a lesbian in the outside world, or not. Just because you may be a lesbian, does not mean that you have to choose to be in a prison relationship. Maybe you have someone special at home, or are even married to your wife. Maybe you don't think a prison romance is right for you. No matter the reasons, you have a right to not be in a relationship here.

I have been hit on several times since I arrived. Most of the women are very nice, and are probably "gay for the stay," as they have husbands/boyfriends in the outside world. My disinterest in having "prison romance" has been enough to keep it as a friendship and nothing more. I don't have to explain myself to anyone. I have pictures of all the people at home that are the reasons that I don't choose to be in an unhealthy prison romance. Nonetheless, the fact that someone thinks I'm cute, is something I just smile at. It always feels good to be liked. It's how we react to someone that matters. As long as I know I'm not interested in anything, I am left alone on that front.

Even if you are one of the people that does not wish to engage in a prison romance, please put your homophobic thoughts and responses at bay. There's no reason to lash out at someone who happens to be gay or is in a same-sex relationship, as it has absolutely nothing to do with you. Likewise, become aware of transgender folks and know that they will be housed right along with you. They may carry themselves quite well as guys, but there's a reason they are in a women's prison - sometimes it's for their protection - sometimes because they don't meet the BOP definition of a man - it matters not, what matters is that they are an inmate right along with you and deserve the same respect as anyone else. We are all just doing our time together, trying to get home to our families. No matter how different the people around you are to you, you will find that you have far more in common than you do different. It makes us much wiser and stronger to meet and get to know people who are different from ourselves.

I can't emphasize enough that no one causes your negative reactions to people and their lifestyles, except your own issues. Try to not project that on others. Everyone has a right to live their life the way they need/want to. You can have boundaries, though. You can say that you don't want someone's girlfriend in your room, because if they are caught, you all get in trouble. You can say that you are not quite comfortable with something. Allow it to be a conversation, a learning experience for you both. If all you do is act disgusted by behavior you may not understand or are just not prone to, then you close yourself off to finding peace in yourself. Like I said above, if you don't want to do it, don't do it. No one will force you.

Just this week, a woman I've known since my arrival has started to flirt with me. She's totally "straight" in real life, but it's honestly just playful flirting. I do not encourage it and I am fully able to stay friends with her. While I'm flattered by her attention, I know that I'm not interested and will not "go" there with her. I don't need to make it something about her, it's about myself, my boundaries, my choices, and my commitments to people back home. She can flirt all she wants, we all know that it's nice to be flirted with once in a while. She's not overbearing, stalking, trying to be physical, or putting me in a compromising position. She's just nice. What matters are my choices and my reactions. I choose to laugh, walk away, and be at peace.

From Dragonfly: No Habla Espanol

I have no idea as to the demographics of other prisons, specifically federal prisons, but here, at Carswell, about 50% of the inmates appear to be of Hispanic origin and the vast majority of those speak Spanish as a first language. Depending on how long they've been in the United States, they speak at all levels of English. Some have spent 20+ years, or were born in the U.S. Others never spent a day, before being arrested trying to cross into the U.S. They tend to have the hardest time with speaking English.

Generally speaking, I have no problem with people speaking any language they feel comfortable with. I have traveled internationally, and my language remains English. I think the U.S. is the only country that has one official language. There's actually a joke.... What do you call someone who speaks three languages? Answer: Trilingual. What do you call someone who speaks two languages? Answer: Bilingual. What do you call someone who speaks one language? Answer: American. Bad joke, I know, but true in many ways.

When I was in Junior High, I was given a choice - take French or Spanish classes as my chosen foreign language. Always having had a fascination with Paris, I chose French. There was no talk about practicality. I've been to only two places in my life that speaks any French, and that lasted only a couple days of my lifetime thus far. I did take one semester of Spanish in college, but by then I was so versed in basic French, that learning basic Spanish got confused in my head - I'd start saying the Spanish alphabet, and suddenly be doing the French one. Also, I never could quite roll my r's. Needless to say, I am able to say, "Gracias," and a few other basic terms - count to 20, etc., but Spanish is not my forte. In fact, neither is French anymore. I grew up learning Hebrew, but only how to read and speak it, not understand it. I don't think foreign languages are my strong point.

I mention all this because when Blondie left for home last week, we knew we'd be in for a new roommate. The new roommate is not new to the prison, but seems nice enough. Only thing is that her English is not strong. She speaks Spanish. This has resulted in my being in a room of three strong Spanish Speakers, so 95% of everything said in my room is in Spanish. I am able to pick up a word here and there, but generally speaking, I just am not part of the conversations. I know that they are not being rude, as some of my fellow inmates would claim, they are just leaning on a language they are comfortable with - why should I be accommodated when there's another woman in the room who can not understand the English as well? Whenever they need me, they speak to me in English, and we all get along pretty well. Longwinded often acts as a translator for the new woman to me, who I will call Mexico, as Mexico has difficulty with many words.

Like the others in the room, Mexico is already looking at her out date this year. She is expecting to leave in June. She's one of many Mexican nationals who are forced to go back to Mexico after serving their time here. She moved here with her parents when she was a teen and lived at a border town, which is why she really never learned English. She's had five children, all American citizens, the youngest is only 1 year old. However, she was only here on a visa, and being in prison takes away that visa, so she is forced back to Mexico. Her children will remain here with her parents. They will travel across the border on weekends to see their mom, and then come back to the U.S. for school and opportunities. Mexico will likely never be able to come back into the U.S. again.

So, I'm probably with my last group of roommates now. Of course, anything can change at any time. I have no problem with my room. Everyone is kind. We all keep the room clean. We go to bed early, and no one is mad if someone wakes early. These are the things that matter. As for language, we figure it out a day at a time - but I sure wish I had chosen Spanish as my foreign language! (My friends, Traveler and Joy, know many languages - given the opportunity, that is certainly the way to go!)

From Dragonfly: Loss...

I'd written about it before, and yet, it is something that cannot ever be properly described... when someone loses a loved one while incarcerated, the devastation is just overwhelming. My friend was on the phone, calling home as she does frequently to check in. Her husband has been ill, but stable, and she was looking forward to seeing him soon. In just 10 days, she is being transferred to a camp a short drive from home. They would see each other in less than 2 weeks. They talked frequently and could not wait to see and hug one another. He'd had a health scare last year, and it was truly a miracle, when he got off life support and started gaining his strength again. She kept praying for his health, and it seemed to be working.

So today, on the phone, we heard her scream, "no, no...," and then she just dropped to the ground, the phone receiver hanging down, the total devastation was beyond anything you could imagine. She was staring in space, unable to even see anyone around her, unable to accept anyone's touch, she could only say, "he's gone." Her tears led to mascara lines down her face and she just sat there, unable to get up to a chair, she'd not been able to say "goodbye," he'd been doing so much better. A crowd gathered, most of us her friends, hands over our mouths, tears in our eyes. My heart actually ached. This woman really loved her husband. She was raw and alone and in shock.

The only thing the officer could do, was to offer her to go off to the chaplains. Her good friend and roommate carried her off there, as she was more able to stare into space than see anything in front of her. We all just couldn't believe that she was going to be close in just days, just days...

From Dragonfly: Two Old Ladies

Aging in prison is not an easy thing. Aging anywhere is difficult, especially when we get to a certain age. But, what about those who arrive in prison already of a certain age? There are many of those...

In my unit there are many older women. Women who are already on social security before they enter prison, and will be returning to social security after. There are specifically two of these ladies that I'm going to write about right now. They each have short(ish) sentences, health issues, and must use a walker. They both have to stand in the awful pill line at least 2x/day. They live two doors down from one another, and they are inseparable. When you see one of them, or hear their walker coming near, you are bound to see the other turning the corner just after them. They eat meals together, watch television together, and look after one another.

In the outside world, their friendship would be like any two widows, who have formed a friendship so neither is alone in life. They share pictures of grandbabies, stories of ailments, and laughter from tales of woe throughout their lives. There's not a lifetime movie or game show they haven't watched, soaps make up the main part of their afternoons, and they have enough attitude to fight anyone in the unit to be able to watch what they want on television.

So, it's just sad, when suddenly, there comes a time when one of them is seen in the atrium, and the other is not. Illness and pain has caused one to not want to get out of bed, except when necessary. The other looks in on her, best she can, but the confines and rules of prison life, make helping one another difficult when confined to one's room. Hot soup will exchange hands with roommates for sustenance, and homemade cards for laughter.

It's hard to watch someone frail become more frail; to watch their excitement for life fade. I don't think this is anywhere near the "end" for either woman, but it's never good to just curl up in a ball and give up. It's too easy to do here, so the rest of us have to make sure it does not happen. We peek in, give a smile, ask, "how are you?," and actually listen for an answer.

On some days, she has enough energy to go and wait the awful pill line, knowing that the medication will help her feel better, if only she is able to walk to the other building and then sit on her walker chair. Many "friends" are there, glad to see her, the old biddy, kinda back to the person and attitude everyone expects. We hope it keeps up, and this evening, she is at a table, with her best friend, enjoying a movie, or working on a new craft project.

She asks what happened on her soaps? I suppose it's the day she stops caring about those characters is the real day we should worry about her future with us. It must be hard to grow old in prison, but I imagine coming here already in those later years of life, may be worst.

From Dragonfly: Women's vs. Men's

As I peered down at the televisions on my way to the restroom this morning, I was struck by the fact that it seems like Lifetime Movie Network is on non-stop in our unit. It made me laugh thinking, "this would never be the case in a men's prison." This of course led me to think of things that I imagine are different between men's and women's prisons:

AT A WOMEN'S PRISON:
- At least one television is always on OWN and another is on Lifetime Movies...
- You will see inmates holding hands and hugging one another nonstop...
- Inmates in their rooms cover up their front side while changing tshirts...
- It's a really big deal when an inmate decides to cut her hair short...
- Inmates will pay big bucks to find a ring for their new life partner...
- Haircare and makeup products are some of the most important commissary items...
- A book with a lot of sex scenes will make its way to dozens of inmates before falling apart at the binding...
- Male staff can be flirted with, female staff are scary...
- At every table in the atrium, someone is either crocheting or doing cross stitch to bide their time...
- Tight clothing is all the rage...
- If someone has nail polish, everyone asks where she got it from...
- A lap dance by one's "partner" is considered a good birthday gift...
- Step class is one of the most popular indoor rec offerings...
- Inmates weigh themselves almost daily to ensure they are sustaining or losing weight...
- New inmates are immediately assessed for whether or not they are lesbian, or at least "gay for the stay"...
- The same inmates that said, "no" to the last item, are re-assessed to see if they've changed their mind after two months...
- Getting hair colored, straightened, or conditioned is the most popular things offered in the cosmo school...
- Caring jobs, such as suicide watch, are so popular, that the hiring team has hundreds of cop-outs all the time for the jobs...
- The throw away panties offered in the SHU sell for big bucks on the compound...

Okay, now read over that list and imagine these things occurred at a male's prison... You can see what I mean :-)

From Dragonfly: Fellowship

Right now, as I am preparing to go to lunch on a Saturday afternoon, hundreds of people are at a GA conference in the Midwest. It's a conference I've attended every year since starting Gambler's Anonymous and one that I gain a lot of strength from. The workshops are wonderful, the speakers insightful, but I really, really like the fellowship. There's nothing like being surrounded by so many people who smile when you walk in the room. People who care about what you have to say and celebrate small victories with you. There are also people we meet for their first time, new to GA, not understanding why so many people can be smiling, as their life seems so utterly in a disaster. In time, though, if they keep attending meetings and work their program, they too will be smiling and laughing again. The devastation slowly turns into recovery and the people within our rooms are our new family.

I wish I were at the conference this weekend. There are a lot of people I would love to see. Some of them have written me, others constantly send their prayers. It matters not. They are all my friends, my people, and I miss them a lot. I hear there's a workshop at the conference about compulsive gamblers in prison. I certainly would have had a lot to say during that workshop - the federal prison is far different from the state prison experience. Last year I offered a workshop about facing legal issues from our compulsive gambling. I did not yet know that I would be going to prison, I would learn that a month later, in May, but the possibility was always there. I still gave my declaration of Hope, as I do today. It all is what it is and I will be stronger for the experiences.

While my fellowship is spending time supporting one another and celebrating recovery, I was able to celebrate a little something myself this morning. Since I became sick, just months after my sixth knee surgery, I was never able to really walk down stairs. I would only be able to bend my left leg far enough, so I would step down with my right, and my left would follow, requiring a double step on every step, slowly. Well, I am still slow, but this morning, without having to go super wide because of my lack of bend, and while holding on to the railing tightly, I took the steps down like a healthy person would. I have days where I can do nothing, as I hurt too much, but on those days where I have the energy and am not as sore, I have been working out as best as I am able. Everyday, I walk the track with Lola. Sometimes we can only do one time around, sometimes three. I've been stepping up and down using a wood block - both forwards and backwards - getting my balance and bend. Mostly, I've been working in my room, with one of those red exercise bands, doing strengthening, bending, and getting the best that a resistance band can offer. I'm surprised at the speed of my being able to walk down the stairs. I couldn't carry anything, yet, but at least on my good days, I can keep trying/practicing, and hopefully when I go home, I will be able to take my stairs like a pro. I wish I were at the conference to let my fellowship see the progress, but it's okay that I know about it - and now you do too!

Fellowship is very important. We have fellowship in prison, as well. Only people here, along with us, could understand the experience. For example, Freckles is now trying desperately to jump through those same hoops I did, as she was denied halfway house for no reason and doing RDAP, she is guaranteed halfway house. Even staff look at her record and do not understand why she's been denied the halfway house, but it's the team that does our exit summaries that needs to make the change - our doctor (same doctor as me) and the woman who does the summary. As she is going through all this, I am there, listening to her, providing her any support I can. That's fellowship and we all have our people, here in prison, that do for us what a fellowship on the outside does for us.

I really miss my GA fellowship. I miss my meetings. I miss my people. In some prisons, there is a recovery fellowship, but not here. Only drug addictions are taken seriously. It's sad, but true. So, I will enjoy the small fellowship of friends I have here for now, but I really look forward to my larger fellowship upon my return to civilization! Happy conference day friends!

From Dragonfly: Nicknames

I've had a lot of nicknames over my life. Some were just a shortened part of my name, others were given to me based on a personal characteristic. In fact, I lived under a nickname, given to me in law school, for more than a decade. I now live by my given name - a name that is a bit too common and is even shared by someone mildly famous. In fact, I almost was not given an interview for a job once, because they thought I could be her and they couldn't imagine why she would be applying at the place. I highly recommend, those of you yet to name your children, be mindful of famous names and don't name your kids after someone well known. Figure that "Tom Cruise," "Barbara Streisand," "Barry Manilow," "Jennifer Anniston," and "Henry Winkler," are already out of contention when naming your child. Actually, the person I share my name with (she's actually not the only one), wasn't well known when I was being named. We are probably less than a decade apart in age.

Anyway, I mention nicknames, because I've been surprised by the nicknames I've obtained since being imprisoned. While everyone is really called by the first name by all the other inmates, and by their last name by staff, I still find that people want to make up nicknames for folks. The first nickname I was aware I'd picked up was "Velma." I was named this by several women in my unit who were watching "Scooby Doo" and decided I looked like that character. I try to explain that I'm cuter, not as smart, and certainly heavier than the Scooby Doo character, but none the less, they think I look like her. They also think I'm incredibly smart. I'm glad I put off that vibe, even if I know that intelligence is not just one thing... I'm good at some things and not so good at others. If they were to call me a "nerd," I'd fully agree! Nonetheless, people weekly walk up to me and ask me if I knew that I looked like Velma. Total strangers ask me this. In fact, someone just asked me this morning. Well, okay, that's a new one for me.

The next nickname I picked up, that I'm aware of, is "Garfield." I'm not quite sure why everyone wants to name me after cartoon characters. I'm not quite that animated. It started with my education co-workers. I admit it, I'm neurotic and sometimes I, also, say things before I actually think about what's coming out of my mouth. People laugh at me. Curls started the nickname, saying I'm like "Garfield," then Freckles joined in. Freckles now gives me cut out Garfield cartoons and says, "see just like you!" I find it funny, a little annoying, but funny nonetheless. They are certainly teasing me in an affectionate way, so I have no reason to mad at the nickname.

The third nickname is one I'm not proud of. Someone in my unit said that she's going to call me, "Pigeon Sex Voyeur." It's because all the pigeons are in mating season right now and the ritual I find fascinating.... the male pigeon chasing around the female pigeon. Finally, the female will stop running. They may touch beaks (kiss). He gets on top of her for like seconds. Then he comes off. They touch beaks. Then he gets on her again. I became fascinated by the number of male pigeons chasing down the same females. My curiosity led me to wonder if chicks could come from multiple male birds (like how a dog can have pups from multiple male dogs at the same time). If my curiosity makes me a voyeur, it'd be the first time EVER I was considered one. It's just a funny thing to watch and I see that I'm not the only one. Luckily, it does not appear that this nickname has caught on at all.

I'm not all that worried what anyone chooses to call me. When I lived my life by a nickname for more than a decade, I became someone different, the nickname would in the end be connected to my life of addiction. I like nicknames, find them cute (usually). I just don't get too caught up in them anymore. I am who I am, and any nickname I am given or choose for myself, will not ever change who I am again.

From Dragonfly: Seeing Improvement

Region has been here for the week. I don't know what was said, but there's already some improvement that we are seeing. For example, a bunch of people were called to pack-out, and they are going to the camp across the street. Like me, these folks had been waiting, waiting, waiting... only, they were not denied due to medication like I was. We've seen four people from my unit and several from others heading to R&D to get processed and change their Khakis to Greens.

The food has been better this week as well (although, they appear to have run out of butter). They are following the menu and things are even tasty - like the soup I had two nights ago was the first time I could stomache their soup. My pork chop last night was really over-cooked, though, so some improvement is still required.

Tuesday, at sick call, a person from region sat in the corner. He saw how the papers were picked up at 6:15, but no one was seen until after 7. He questioned them, openly, and low and behold, everyone was seen by 10:30am. No 5 hour waits! People have been talking with the regional people about transfers, medical levels, halfway house denials, lack of accessibility, and more. They've gotten an earful. I imagine this happens at every institution, but we certainly had a lot to share that are probably unique to this one.

There's no way of knowing what will and will not change in the long term. Running a place this large, with so much turn-over, cannot be easy. I certainly would not want the job. I would say, straight out, that putting all these folks together would not work. The medical staff is overwhelmed, the lack of separation of security levels is cause for concern, and the inability to have anyone's papers processed timely borders on cruel. People are forced to stay incarcerated because they have yet to see a doctor, decisions are made based on paper notes and nothing actual medical, and people are not given straight forward answers on what and why. It's certainly troubling.

I know that I will be gone soon enough, but I hope that things do get better. There are good women here, and they deserve to be treated thoroughly and respectfully. A woman with a single lung should not have to live up 24 stairs. A woman shouldn't have to threaten, "take me to the hospital or take me to the SHU" because she absolutely knew something real was wrong... she went to the hospital and died there. A woman should not have to walk around with legs as blown up as tree trunks with no idea of what to do or how to get any relief. A woman should not have to wait months for her first doctor's appointment, when she was sent to a medical facility. A woman should not have to wait in line for hours to obtain pain medication for pain made worse by waiting in line for hours. A woman in a wheel chair should not have to do "extra duty" because her roommate did not clean her own bed area well. A woman should not have to urinate on herself because she was not given access to the elevator to use the bathroom for over an hour and a half. Her friends having to carry her up the stairs so she could then clean herself off in the shower. There are a lot of things people shouldn't have to do, even in prison. People deserve their dignity. So, improvement is really necessary.

I'm glad to see the improvements. I hope they continue and that the staff here are learning about ideas that are economical and, yet, necessary. Prison is not supposed to be comfortable or friendly, but it should provide the most essential things to every person behind the fence. I thank region for spending the week here. I know that a lot of people are excited about what they learned when talking with some of them at main line. Maybe, just maybe, that is why we are starting to see these improvements.

From Dragonfly: If Cement Walls Could Talk

There is so much that happens in a room throughout the day. The comings and goings. The food being cooked. The lockers being stuffed. The unauthorized friends coming for a visit. The naps. The snoring. The book reading. Okay, mostly it is just plain boring stuff. My room is filled with excitement right now, though, as Blondie plans to leave this place after about 4 years of incarceration. I wish her well and I'm excited to be cooking her last prison meal later tonight - cheesy rice, salami, with all sorts of spices and yumminess... plus fake doritos, and I'm still trying to come up with something sweet - it may have to be a bag of MnM's.

Every room really has it's own "vibe." There are rooms, like my former one, that are constantly on edge. By the way, my former two roommates are both no longer in my unit. There are rooms full of people having 'relations.' There are rooms where people sit on the bed all day doing crafts, and other rooms where there's no one there until night. We have rooms where there are people sniffing what they shouldn't be, and rooms where someone really needs a shower. We have rooms that have all institutional bedding, and other rooms where every bed is done in a different group of colors crocheted into blankets. Some rooms have bibles laying on their pillows, some the Koran, some a book of daily meditations.

Really, there is no way to compare the daily existence of a room to another one. We can all say that there are "good" rooms and "bad" rooms. Even with Blondie about to leave, my roommates and I fear WHO will be given her bed. Will that person kill our easy-going "vibe?" Will they be a night owl, keeping us up past our pitiful 10pm bedtime, and scream at us in the morning when we all get up? Or, will they have a girlfriend, trying to hide her under the blankets when a guard walks by? Will she be a loud snorer or will she scream at us for being snorers? There's always a couple days when someone comes into the room, where we need to assess the situation. We all agree that newbies are best - they can still be molded into good roommates. We don't want anyone too "institutionalized." Isn't that sad that we judge people before they even step one foot in our room?

For the most part, my room, surrounded by cinder block and cement, is really quite boring. We all pretty much get along. We are all looking forward to going home. We pretty much follow the rules. We take care of ourselves and each other. We share good letters/cards we've received, and laugh at a good joke. They listen to me as I read an important article out of the newspaper, and they share magazines. We share books and we talk about them when we finish. We share our sweets, our laundry times, and have each others backs.

I'm glad I was given this experience of a good room in Carswell. It certainly gives me more hope than my former rooms. Every room led to new friendships, though, so there's no reason to put down my former living quarters. It's just so nice to have a 70 sq. ft. place that we never fear coming home to and laying down for a nap. It's not home, but it's where I lay my head at night.

From Dragonfly: Fear

What is it that keeps us from living in integrity? Makes us passive? Results in lies? I think it's fear. Fear of reaction, fear of unknown. Our heads are our worst enemies, always imagining the worst thing happening. I lived in fear for most of my life. I always worried about reactions, reputation, and living in my false world. Working the steps and therapy helped me face these issues and slowly I've seen the changes. The changes don't happen overnight, but when a situation comes up, and I act the opposite of what I would have before, I know I've changed.

Such was a time yesterday. A woman whom I knew had heard from the "haters" about things I did, gossip I'd supposedly passed about her, that I didn't do, came back to my unit. She had been a friend and I was excited to see her, however, I FEARED what she thought of me. I knew the gossip about me was all-consuming for a bit, and that she wasn't around at the time for me to talk to. The old part of me popped up, avoidance and passivity. However, that only lasted a moment, when I found myself walking right up to her. I avoided all confrontation in the past, but here I was, walking up to her, ready to face any reaction I received. I spoke straight forward, telling her that what she'd heard was not true. I think she believed me to a point. It really does not matter if she does believe me, what matters is that I said it. I welcomed her back and told her I'd missed her and always considered her a friend. I then walked away.

It matters not if she believes me because she does not have to. As I say, "others opinions of me are none of my business." She is welcome to not like me if she does not want to. I don't like everyone. I don't have the need to be everyone's friend. I am just me, and I'm okay with that.

Now is a good time to write about how all this past gossip started. Someone on the outside read this, talked with someone on the inside, and rumors went around that I was telling people's gossip, naming them, and perhaps even being a snitch. I am none of these things, but it mattered not, the rumors flew. I was even threatened. Suddenly I was feared by others, "don't tell her anything." They did not understand the purpose of my writing. My purpose to help others facing similar situations. I've mentioned how gossip around here contorts and changes so rapidly, soon people I didn't even know were accusing me of the most outrageous things. I considered stopping writing.

Then, I wrote about "why I write," and I knew that I needed to keep on writing. These threats or lies were not going to bully me to stop something that is good for people and myself. I needed to believe in what I'm doing, and I do. People said that they were going to have their families send in copies. I said, "go ahead," it's not like I am writing anything I am not proud of. If people want to know about my journey of recovery and my journey in here, they are welcome to. Maybe they'd learn something. Had anyone actually received anything, no one told me. I think once they had their families look, they realized they were wrong. Amazingly, some of those "haters" and people who threatened are kind to me now. I did not back down and I faced it best I could. I won't say I didn't have fear, I had a lot. There was a phone call to a friend where my crying overwhelmed her and I. I was better after going through that, though. I was able to think more clearly and do the next right thing.

Lately, I've been so rewarded for what I'm doing. A woman, just yesterday, asked me if I write this and I said I did. She told me that she read it everyday before her self-surrender three weeks ago. She told me that she was less scared and ready to face this place, because she knew what to expect. If she were the only person who this helped, I would have succeeded, yet I know she is not. Last week, I answered some questions of a mother, worried about her daughter who is about to be sentenced. There is so little for us women out in cyberspace, I'm so glad I can make my journey a way to help others as they face theirs.

So, I face my fear and always, better things happen than I imagine in my head. We need to stop living in fear. We have no idea when the next moment will bring, we cannot predict our journeys/our futures. We must just live in integrity, in truth, and with confidence that it will all be okay in the end...

From Dragonfly: The Sounds of the Morning

Around 5:40 every morning, a mass amount of the nearly 300 women in my unit are awake and the sounds start. This morning, while stretching and after reading my daily meditation/serenity reader, I closed my eyes and just listened. This is what I heard between 5:45 and 6:05am.

The constant hummmmmmmm of the ice machine.
"Hey, can you grab my sweatshirt?"
Bang, bang, bang, boots going down the metal staircase.
Screech, someone pulling a plastic chair on the concrete.
Click, click, click, click, as people unstack plastic chairs to sit and wait on.
Chatter - can't make out the words as people wait near the front doors.
Swish - every toilet flush can be heard.
"R____!!!!" "R_____!!!" (calling someone's name).
Bing, bing, bing - an alarm clock going off
Bang, bang, bang, someone coming up the metal staircase.
Click, click, click, more chairs.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, two people going down the metal staircase.
"Hey, can you grab my mp3 player off the charger and bring it to me?"
SSSSSSSS, a new shower is turned on.
Flush.
Bang, bang, bang.
Pound, pound, metal on metal as someone empties their trash can into the larger receptacle.
Swoop, swoop, someone getting ice out of the ice machine.
Ice machine goes quiet for a moment.
Flutter, flutter - a new sound, pigeons in a fight on the small landing outside my window.
Flush.
Bing, bing, bing, bing, bing, bing, bing.
"Turn off that damn alarm!"
Bing, bing, bing, bing.
Sssssss.
Kaboom! The ice machine released a huge amount of ice.
Swoop, swoop.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter.
"Hey, S_____, going to breakfast??"
Flush.
Pound, pound, pound.
Flush.
Ssssssss.
Sweep, sweep, sweep, someone near my room is sweeping their floor.
Flutter, flutter - the birds are at it again.
Chatter, chatter, chatter.
Hhhhhhmmmmmmm - the ice machine pops on again with it's constant Hmmmmmmm.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Swoop, swoop, swoop.
Sssssssss.
Flush.
Laughter.
Click, click.
ZZZZZzzzzzzz - a hairdryer is turned on.
Hhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmm.
Chatter, chatter, chatter.
"Are you awake??"
Laughter.
Squeek - a desk stool that needs oiling.
Chatter, chatter.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Bang, bang, bang, bang.
Flush.
Ssssssss.
Swoop. Swoop.
Pound, pound.
Sweep, sweep, sweep.
"Hey, can you grab the dust pan??"
Chatter.
"Good morning everyone."
Screech.
Click, click.
"Hello."
Ring. Ring. The guards keys hitting each other.
Bang, bang, bang.
Chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Hhhhhmmmmmmmm.
Squeek.
Pound, pound, pound, pound.
Flush.
Flush.
Click. click.
Swoop.
"Ugh." - someone screams as all the lights are turned on.
Chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter.
Pound.
Flush.
"Ah, choo."
"God bless you!!!"
Screech.
Chatter, chatter, chatter.
bing, bing, bing, bing, bing.
Flush.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Pound, pound, pound.
"Shit, I forgot my i.d."
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Flush.
Pound.
Sweep, sweep.
"Hospital food service is now open, hospital food service is now open..." over the intercom.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring.
Clack, clack, clack - a person on a cane walking to the door.
Vvvvvvvvvvvv - women dragging their walkers.
Vvvvvvvvvv.
Bang, bang, bang.
Clack, clack, clack.
Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom - chairs being restacked.
Clack, clack, clack.
Vvvvvvv.
Screech.
Bang, bang, bang.
"You coming?"
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Flush.
Click, click.
"Wait up!"
Zzzzzzzzzzzzz
Bang, bang, bang.
Boom, boom, boom.

Well, I think you get the idea. These sounds will now continue until after 11:30pm tonight. Welcome to the sounds of Carswell.

From Dragonfly: Life on the Outside

I often talk with people here who are angry at their loved ones. Perhaps their spouse didn't handle the taxes right. Maybe their kids' birthday parties weren't up to par. Some people went on a great vacation, while they were sitting in prison. My fellow inmates get bitter, have expectations on those back home, and sometimes get into fights with their family/friends.

I have to say that my response to them is that we are the ones in prison, our loved ones are not. Yet, they are going through this along with us. Our lives may be stagnant, but their lives have to keep moving forward. Not everyone should suffer just because we are. That is a selfish attitude. We, also, cannot hold responsible those on the outside for their decisions and actions, as long as they were doing their best. They may not be able to figure out finances as well as we do, or plan a party to our expectation, but, really, these are not things we can control. While we are in prison, we must allow our loved ones to figure out how best to maneuver their lives without us around. They didn't expect this time without us, and they are just getting through it best they can.

Perhaps I am being a little too lenient on our loved ones. I do think they have some responsibility if they, also, love us. They need to keep in touch on a regular basis. They need to ask their incarcerated loved one how things are going and listen, even when it's hard to hear. Our free loved ones need to know that sometimes we will emotionally react on the phone, just by hearing their voices or our kids voices. All the advice to be strong will fail us when it comes to our loved ones. We miss you all, more than our freedom. Just today, a couple friends who are grandparents said that they miss their grandchildren the most. The kids will grow so fast while they are away and they cherish their time "sitting" for their grand kids. So the responsibility on the family members is to keep in touch, send pictures, and let their incarcerated loved one know that they are gone, but not forgotten.

As for us inmates, we need to learn gratitude and humility. We must be grateful for what our loved ones are doing and humble to their trying the best they can. Perhaps they fail in certain areas, so be it. I promise we fail in some areas as well. So, while your loved one is in prison, please move forward with your lives, take vacations, plan parties, and enjoy the holidays. Send us pictures and write us often. Don't forget our birthdays, anniversaries, or other important dates. Celebrate our time as it counts down, and always as how we are. Keeping a family together is hard, even without someone incarcerated for a period of time, so take the challenge to keep up good communication and let go of all the expectations. I promise, expectations will lead to disappointment, which will lead to anger and frustration. Practice compassion instead.

From Dragonfly: Images

There are so many times I wish I had a camera. I've always loved photography - as a hobby. Here, though, we have no access to be able to catch a moment with a picture or a short video. So, I'm trying to capture them in my mind. I started a journal solely of "images" I would have captured if I had a camera - good and bad, mundane and odd, interesting and different. There are a lot of moments here, and if I did have a camera, I'd call the photos, "Images of Carswell." So, all I can do is capture these images in my mind, and perhaps write them down.

Yesterday, I was able to see many interesting images. There was the softball game on the yard, that could be any women, enjoying America's favorite past time. The faces of those of us trying to watch the NCAA tournament at indoor rec as the scores bounced up and leadership changed several times. There was the elderly woman, curled up in a ball on her bed with bleeding kidneys, not knowing what to do. The image of the pigeons, in heat now, chasing each other around the yard until they start to kiss and then mate. The image of the woman in the wheelchair, who feeds the pigeons, allowing them to sit on her arms and legs.

There was the image of a beautiful, sunny day, with women swarming the outdoor blue benches, talking, gossiping, laughing, and, yet, some crying. There is the image of a couple, breaking up, fighting through words, with their friends surrounding them, picking sides. There's the image of an officer, telling our unit last night, that one of our own has passed away - a woman just in her 20's/early 30's who'd had a lung transplant prior to her incarceration. And then there's the image of us, receiving that information, grateful that an officer took a moment to actually tell us and sad at the news. There's the image of the women going to her former roommates, across the way from where my room is, and consoling them.

There's the image of a woman, being brought to the SHU for whatever reason. Then, the image of the officer, overloaded with all her locker contents, trying to do the necessary inventory before packing them in the required green bags. Then, there's the image of two women, getting out of the SHU after who knows how long (a couple days, weeks, months...) and carrying their green bags to the unit they are now assigned to. People rushing up to them to hug them and see how they are. Time without any word from them has left many curious and happy to finally see their friends.

There's the image of people in full uniform, heading into visitation, waiting for the officer to open the door. They have smiles on their faces. Later, images of women leaving visitation. Their uniform is usually no longer fully buttoned up, their t-shirt no longer tucked in, as they walk back to their housing units. Sometimes they look back, to see if their family members are not yet outside the prison gates, sometimes they are super happy, other times, they have a tear or a frown. They say, "yes," to everyone who asks if they had a good visit. Some ask them what they ate - everyone thinks about the different foods we get if/when we get a visit.

There's the vision of food, left at the curb next to the opening of the sewer. Sometimes people are gathered there, waiting or "awing" as they see the raccoon(s) (cat-coons according to me and Lola). Sometimes two eyes are staring at us, sometimes six or more - the mother and her babies still live in there. Sometimes one will come out to grab food, and eat an orange or bread or noodles, whatever has been provided to them, right there with people watching.

There's the images of spring, with trees starting to bloom. Inmates working the landscaping crew are planting new things around campus. People are in t-shirts and shorts, walking the track, or playing horseshoes. There's images of people swiftly walking in the rain, or laying on their back catching some rays.

Then, there are this morning's early images. The incredible sunrise with pink and orange and clouds swiftly moving, while other clouds, lower, stay dormant. The inmates running the path to breakfast and their bananas. The others, swiftly going to commissary with their white or green mesh bags, along with the mesh grey shoulder bag. The same inmates slowly making their way back to their housing units, carrying a bag full of goodies, almost looking like Santa Clause images on Christmas, the bag flung behind their back (wishing they had a sleigh so they could put the darn heavy bag down). Inmates with bananas in their pockets, bananas in their hands, bananas being traded, bananas being peeled and eaten.

There are images of women, trying to sneak where the 'law' doesn't go so they can get in a good morning hug or kiss; always aware that someone could be watching. There is the image of a woman sweeping her floor, with a roommate screaming at her from behind telling her she doesn't know how to clean the room correctly. There are women making their beds with pretty crocheted blankets of pink, or brown, or green, or white, or grey, or all of the above. Other beds being made with institutional sheets and blankets adorning them. Everyone is trying to get their room to look like the pictures, hanging on the bulletin boards, telling us how a proper room should look during weekdays - 7:30am-4pm - possible inspection hours.

There's the image of the bathroom sinks and mirrors, seven in a row, with ten people attempting to use them for brushing teeth, doing fancy hairdos, applying makeup, or just washing their hands after using the toilets. There is the woman on a phone, sitting on the floor in the corner, with the length of the phone cord stretched to it's end, crying, and saying, "I love you." There is the image of women, lined up at the laundry office, waiting to be able to trade in old uniforms and towels for something different, yet very much the same.

Carswell is full of images. All sorts of images. My mind captures so many of them and I often think to myself, gosh, I wish I had a camera. It would be an interesting take on life.

From Dragonfly: When the Tides Shift

I've written in past about how there were "haters" against me. It seems to actually shift around. Presently, I'm not being openly hated, but Freckles is. That's how things are here. They need to have someone to gossip about, make up stories about, and put on edge. Freckles certainly has done nothing to become the target. Someone must have disliked something she did or said, and decided to start a rumor. A rumor here goes through so many renditions, that by the time it gets back to you, it's been added to and changed over 100x. Freckles says that she doesn't care, but I know what it is like to be on the gossip list, and it sucks!!!

The good news, though, is that Freckles will not have to deal with this very long. Her RDAP program is going well, and earned her an extra 9 months at halfway house. Instead of leaving in late 2015, she will be leaving in July of this year!!! That's wonderful for her and her husband. While she will have to spend much of the time in halfway house, it is a requirement of the RDAP program, she will be back in the Midwest and a short drive from her spouse. It's nice to see the system work, but I'm not going to say she isn't fighting the same as I did. This is still tentative, because her exit summary is not yet complete. She is now stalking all those people I was, and is trying to jump through all the same hoops. She will, though, because we have the blueprint for what needs to be done now. Plus, she should not be a care level 3. At most, she should qualify for a care level 2, in which case, she wouldn't even need the exit summary.

So the haters will hate and gossip and condemn. In the end, they will still be here, and we will be home. I hope they find a nicer and calmer way of life and concentrate on getting out of here, rather than other people's business. It would do them a lot of good to focus on the positive and not the negative. I, for one, am currently in the mode of listening to no gossip about anyone anymore. It is more likely to be wrong, than right, and it is a personality defect to even care. Not all people in prison are grounded and secure in themselves. They put others down to make themselves feel better. I will not partake in that kind of behavior.

From Dragonfly: A Turn Around

I realize that I am not quite positively focused in many of my writings. I get caught up in the reality of being in a place like this, facing the daily pressures, and do not look at the good of it all. It's hard, sometimes, I currently have a friend with bleeding kidneys who is over 70 years old and in her bed, wondering what will happen. These images are daily and can bring us down, but we just get together, provide what support we are able to, and go about our days. One day at a time.

Well, I do have something positive to share. I had a nice day yesterday. I would even call it a good day. It started with my daily breakfast with Freckles. We had good conversation and I enjoyed the cereal I brought with me. Then I took a LONG nap - slept until 10am. I have not been feeling the best lately and this was a much needed extra bit of sleep. I made myself peanut butter and jelly on a rice cracker for lunch and thoroughly enjoyed it's simplicity (chicken - all dark meat - was in the chow hall). After my quick lunch, I joined Lola on the benches outside, as she is off for an hour before having to go back to work at 12:30pm. However, she informed me that she is off for the full afternoon, so we walked over to the track and walked a couple times around. Both of us fully feeling the effects of our arthritis, we only did two laps. We talked and laughed, often staring at the barbed wire and electric fence that surrounds the track - separating us from the prison camp across the street, and the military base beyond. We watched women from the camp walking onto the base for work. It was an odd weather day - with the temp literally going up and down and back up throughout the day.

After our lunchtime together, we went back to our units to get a pass for "indoor rec." During the week days, we need passes to be anywhere during the mornings/afternoons (other than during lunch/open compound). So, we met at indoor rec and played RummyQue for a while. We, then went to the clinic, so I could obtain my injection, and then went back to the rec center.

I was getting anxious, though. I knew that Sporty was doing me a HUGE favor, while I was playing RummyQue. Sporty made an appointment with my former supervisor, at the job I loved on campus. I had asked Sporty to call her and see if they could meet, to tell my whole story, and to see whether she was still interested in my coming back and/or volunteering. I was nervous. I didn't know what she'd heard about me since I'd left. Did she know that I was no longer a student? Did she never want to work with me again? Was she upset I didn't tell her everything?

Well, before dinner last night, I reached Sporty by phone. They had met for an hour. It went extremely well. My former supervisor misses me. She listened to my story, asked a few questions, and showed compassion. She told Sporty that she'd love to rehire me - as long as I can pass the background check. Luckily, Traveler had already done that favor for me and talked with Human Resources. They will do my background check, my felony will come up, but I can still be hired. It just depends on what the felony is for, all the circumstances, and if my new supervisor is okay with my working there. I don't have anything related to harming children. It still may be a battle - but I've fought harder ones and I'm prepared for any.

So, here's where that leaves me. If I can get back into school, which I will, I have funding while working with this organization on campus. It pays for my tuition, fees, health care coverage, and a living stipend. Knowing that I have a graduate research assistantship available to me, provides me with the piece of mind that all I need is to get back in, I don't also have to seek funding. This will also provide me with EXCELLENT health coverage, so I can return to all my same doctors and continue the care I was receiving in the outside world. My goal is to at least be admitted, possibly without a specific program, by the fall semester. Over the fall, I will apply to appropriate programs, and be able to continue my coursework, before I am actually fully admitted on the time lines of the programs. I'll have my work cut out for me, but I believe I can do it! Anything is possible and I know that I am ready for the hoops I will soon have to jump through on campus. Nothing can compare to what I've had to do here. This place has prepared me for any roadblocks I face in the future.

So, I was all smiles at dinner (a good turkey meal) and games after. We played tri-ominoes. It was fun. I couldn't be more grateful for Sporty going out on a lurch for me and it will not be forgotten how incredible she has been through my entire incarceration. She, along with so many others, have helped me to know that I am loved and supported.

My main goal after games was to figure out how to keep track of the NCAA basketball games being played. I wanted to know how several teams were doing - I never bet sports, I wouldn't even care to know how - but, I've always been a basketball fan - women's and men's bball. Taz lent me her radio and I was excited to find a station entirely dedicated to the NCAA. I was able to listen to several parts of different games, before I drifted off to sleep. I didn't know the final scores for the last games, but was able to know that several great teams from the Midwest were moving forward.

Yep, it was a good day. My life is so "rich" with special people in my life. I definitely have my low moments, but I need to celebrate the high moments. Yesterday was one of those days - exactly 60 days and a wake up from my release to home confinement. I have a feeling these last two months are going to actually move along quickly. I sure hope so.

From Dragonfly: Seeing Someone Different

They say that the change is slow in recovery. That people around you will notice the changes well before you will. I've definitely seen that in the people around me. Some grow so much, some just a little, but all for the better.

This morning I was looking in the mirror, washing my face. I smiled at myself. It was an honest smile. I used to avoid mirrors, hating what I'd see. I only saw my flaws, my failures... I always just saw a fat, round face, that grows hair in unfortunate places that I always needed to take care of, that didn't fit in, anywhere. I didn't notice my dimples, my birth mark, my eye color, my small nose, my chin, my forehead. I couldn't see those things. Mirrors were reminders of everything wrong in my life. I wasn't as "pretty" as the women in my family. I didn't even look Jewish. I burned, where they tanned. I had freckles. I was full of mistakes.

This morning, I smiled. I smiled because my dimples were cute. I smiled because yesterday I was able to talk with a friend about something "difficult" and I did it without fear, without being passive or worst, passive-aggressive. I smiled because I have two months left here. I smiled because I am loved and supported by so many people. I smiled because I don't care if I fit in anywhere. I smiled because I like myself. I smiled because it's morning and I have so much to be grateful for.

If anyone told me that I'd ever wake up feeling good about myself, I'd have told them they are crazy. I was so sick, I never could see me ever getting past the flaws I saw in myself. I'm not saying I don't still have "flaws," or a round face, or hair issues, or burn too easily, or make a ton of mistakes. I'm not saying that I'm all that different, but it's how I interpret myself that has changed. Who cares? I am who I am and that's okay! Once I stopped caring about what everyone else thought of me, I started to realize it all didn't really matter. I see someone very different in the mirror today!

From Dragonfly: Losing Faith in Humanity

It is so easy to lose faith in humanity while in prison. People lie to you. They lie right to your face and you have no idea, even your friends. Weak people get manipulated by the strong ones, and you just have to sit back and watch it. Everyone is only really looking out for themselves, they rarely want what's best for anyone else. Sometimes I do think back to the day before I arrived, "you come with no friends, you leave with no friends." I've often discounted this saying, but today, at least this moment, I'm not so sure.

Today I learned that someone I like and trust has been lying to me. She did something that got other friends in trouble, yet she said that she didn't do it. I don't know why she would have done it. I don't know why she needed to lie to me about it. If you have to lie about something, then you probably should NOT be doing it. It's kind of like people in here who fear that their "relationships" will be shared with the outside world. If they feel like they can't share it with the outside world, then they probably shouldn't be doing it. If you have to meet in out of bounds area to spend time with someone intimately, then you probably shouldn't be meeting with them.

While I've been reworking my steps, I have been writing out stories from my years prior to recovery. The stories are examples of how sick I really was. So many stories include me lying, manipulating, fearful of something/someone, afraid my reputation would be diminished, hating myself and my actions. Today, I don't live a life like that. There's nothing about my life that I fear. I am a felon. I am an addict in recovery. I love my family. I have done bad things. I am not a bad person. I never got out of my shorts and t-shirt today, I should really brush my hair, I ate a pouch of tuna for lunch, I did a dozen crossword puzzles this morning and finished none of them, etc. There's nothing about my life I'm ashamed of. It is my life and I'm just doing the best thing I can do every day. One day at a time.

I am also naive. I believe in the best in people. I believe when someone tells me something, they are speaking the truth. I wasn't that person, before, so why should they be. I should never have expectations on anyone else. We are all flawed. But, I am my true self with folks. I love openly and dislike openly. I feel hurt that this person was lying to me about something really important. It has nothing to do with me, yet it shows me the kind of person they are. I cannot change who they are or what they did. I need to give them the benefit of the doubt - so few did that to me when I was blamed for everything I did and didn't do. I need to allow them to tell me their side, to make amends if it is needed, and to move forward.

Even with my distaste at what this person did, I cannot judge them. He who casts the first stone... kind of thing. I need to be compassionate. I need to try to understand and speak the truth of how it makes me feel. That's my attempt at being humane. At being a better person than I once was. We all make mistakes - some big, some small - now that I know what this person did, they have a chance to be honest. I hope they make that choice. I hope she chooses honesty, over fear.

From Dragonfly: The Revolving Door

Some say that prison has a revolving door. Something like 65-85% of us are expected back on a violation of our supervision or a new charge. I see some of the people here, who become institutionalized. I can't imagine how they'll fare in the outside world. Others, however, first time offenders, usually (but not always) white collar criminals, of all ages and races, I believe have that ability to really turn their life back into something great after leaving here. This place scared them to the point they'd never come back. Not only that, they've gotten past whatever desperation it was that led to their crime. Although, others, are actually likely innocent, too. Most of the people I hang out with I anticipate being in the small percentage and walking out of prison never to return. I truly do. Maybe that makes me naive. I don't know.

This week, two of the women I believe will never return walked out. One is waiting to get released right now, another left Tuesday. The one leaving today, Neighbor, I have not written about much, but she's been included in writings about sitting in the atrium with "friends." Honestly, she hasn't been here all that long. She was transferred at the very end of her sentence and spent just a couple months with us. I call her Neighbor, because she grew up in the town next to mine. The same town my sister lived in as an adult, and my grandparents had called home for 20+ years. Although she went to Catholic schools, our experiences were much more similar, than different. She's a decade older than I, but it was still like talking to an old school friend reminiscing about our favorite restaurants and places. When most people leave, I say, "I hope to never see you again, and I mean that in the best possible sense." We all live so very far from one another and I can't imagine our paths ever crossing, unless for the worst possible reason - prison. However, when Neighbor left today, I said, "I look forward to seeing you again." It's just that possible that when I travel to see my parents, I may just run into her. Nothing like having a friend from the old neighborhood!!!

The other woman who left this week, couldn't be more different from me. Although she looks younger than even I do, she's a mom of several children. She had a drug related charge, but she'd never been involved in the law before in her life. She was my student, bringing extra math home every night to study. She hadn't yet passed, but I believe she will do so back home. She's very motivated. She has a full "grill." I've never seen so much gold in a mouth before. She pulls it off incredibly well. She was Lola's bunky, and they got along fabulously. This woman was just kind, intelligent, interesting, and caring. All she wanted to do was be home with her family. She's there now. I believe, she will not find her way back here. She was as freaked out by the experiences here as I am. She sees a very different path in her life now, and I believe she can do it. Just stay motivated... and don't fret over the bumps in the road!!!

Anyway, it's still a revolving door, because each of these women won't be out a day before a new woman is sleeping in their bunk, starting their journey in prison. A large group of new women just arrived and another is arriving this week. Some will have been here before. Some are being transferred from other institutions. Some are scary eyed, self surrenders, who are afraid to leave their bunks (like I was). Some will be here (or in some institution) for most of their lives. Some will swear they are innocent. Some will be appealing their sentence. Some will get jobs. Some will have to spend most of the day in pill line. Some will seek immediate transfer out of here (good luck!), and others will die here. It's that kind of place. I will never see it again. I will never be in prison again. Thank god, I'm not stuck in the revolving door!

From Dragonfly: A Whole Bunch of Goodies

Yesterday, I received a package from a friend that I wasn't expecting. It had four books in it: a journal, a cross stitch book, a guide on getting out of prison, and a fun quick-read book for adults by "little golden books." It was such a nice present. What's great about things like this, is that I not only am happy receiving them, but I get to share with others. I think I made four sad people smile with the "little golden book," and I allowed someone who is leaving tomorrow borrow the guide for what to do when we are first out of prison. Someone who is really into cross-stitch already asked if she can photo-copy a cross-stitch pattern of a large butterfly that is in the cross stitch...

I just took a couple hour break from writing. As I was putting together the last sentence, I heard the voice of a friend say to someone, "I need med-surge, I can't breathe." I quickly got off the computer to assist her. She has really, really bad asthma. It's the worst I've ever seen on someone. She can have an attack sleeping, walking, anything. She was unable to breathe in and was coughing if she tried. She fell to the floor and sat against a pillar. I just sat there, telling her to take short breaths, but to try to breathe, while we waited for help to arrive. It took a couple minutes for a couple nurses to arrive with a medical bed to move her. Another friend was searching the unit for the emergency wheelchair, but someone borrowed it to sit in during pill line. That's the way it is here. I'm sure my friend will be alright. They usually send people back from med-surge within a couple hours. She isn't back yet, but it's only been 3 1/2 hours. I'm sure she's getting a breathing treatment. I guess they recently changed her medication. She's been telling me that it's not working. Poor thing. When she is back, and laying on her bed (an upper bunk!!), I will let her read the "little golden book," I know she will smile while reading it. It's just too cute not to.

Anyway, I suppose some people keep everything they receive for themselves. They just want to cherish the gifts and the people who sent them. I know that the people who send me my gifts are happy that I enjoy them, but also that I share them with people who may not receive anything. I have friends who never receive any mail. It's very sad. They sit waiting and hoping their name will be called, or they just stay in their bed, knowing that their name will not be called. Everyday at mail call, I start to take the stairs slowly, knowing that it is very likely that my name will be called more than once; at least one time for the newspaper, and additional times for any letters/cards/packages I may receive. I am very grateful for everything I receive and I am also very glad that my friends would be happy that they make other people happy as well.

From Dragonfly: Cosmetic Beauty

We like to cover up our wrinkle, cracks in the wall, hide the defects, do just enough so that no one can see beneath the exterior at all the mistakes, damage, and ugliness. We think that if we put on a good enough "show," no one will notice the problems. We will be seen as perfect. We want to be perfect.

So it seems right now at Carswell. Region is coming this week and next. For the past month, we've been landscaping, painting, dry-walling, mopping, water blasting, hanging, scrubbing, touching up, and more to prepare. All the units were painted, no more colors on our columns. The walls throughout the facility are being painted and/or touched up. The floors are being fixed. The flowers are being planted. The books are being put away. The closets are being cleaned out. The top of shelves are being cleared. The washers/dryers that are broken are being replaced. The tables are being stabilized. New chow hall tables are being built. All surfaces are being deep cleaned. The exterior windows are being water blasted free of bird feces and other debris. This is region. We have to look good.

I, honestly, don't know what region is going to be doing while here. I can imagine every facility goes through a similar process when the "higher ups" are visiting. I would imagine they see 'through' the cosmetic fixing, and want to know what's happening on the inside. Although, I for one, am grateful for the clean window and newly painted walls. If only they'd do something about the cracked, ugly, hard, cold, and stained concrete floors.

I can't imagine trying to figure out the best way to run a prison. I suppose it's based on the goals you want for the inmates. Is the goal just to separate them from society? Rehabilitation? Well, actually, the idea of helping people become better citizens is something the prison system learned long ago is nearly impossible to do. There are just too many people in prison to have a broad enough impact. Some programs and education certainly do help, but the inmate needs to be motivated. The prison has a very hard time helping people find the motivation.

A couple days ago I was talking with a neighbor. She was telling me about her crimes - including bank robbery and more. She was desperate when it started - a one woman scheme - because she wanted to be able to purchase Christmas presents for her kids. Now, she's been away from those kids for several years. I asked if she would do it again. She said, "if I were that desperate, I'd do it again." I was very surprised by her answer. She's not the only person who feels like that. Everyone has a different level of desperation, where they'd do anything to survive. For me, the holidays can include no gifts, just good memories, and all would be good. For her, she believed she had to provide expensive gifts to her family. There are a lot of people like that in the world. Later, I learned a bit of her back story - scary things including being kidnapped for over a month and all the bad things that men do when they kidnap you and come from an ordeal like that.

Then I thought to myself, "she's lost her belief in humanity." Suddenly, her crimes made just a bit more sense. I don't think it justifies the crimes, it just may help make sense on how she may rationalize her criminal behavior. There are so few women in here who did not at some point rationalize their crimes to believe that what they were doing was what they "needed" to do. Sometimes it was for love, sometimes to feed their children, sometimes for medical care, sometimes to feed an addiction, sometimes to care for a parent, sometimes to help a friend, sometimes because they were naive, sometimes because they blamed the world... Once you commit a crime and get away with it, the next time, it is easier than the first to believe you will get away with it again. It's the rare person in here who got caught the first time.

This morning, while waiting for my commissary, Freckles came to check in with me and say, "good morning." I announced, "63 days and a wake-up."
She said, "you shouldn't count yet... not until you get your papers back from region."
I said, "I am asking, visualizing, and believing." The lessons from the 6 Keys to Happiness class.
She had a good point though, "don't count the days, make the days count." Ah, I said I'd have to take that statement forward, like writing it here. Make the days count. I really like that. I may not be able to help myself from counting the days, but making each day count is way more important.

I can't spend the next two months just counting the days and putting on a cosmetic smile. I need to be real. I need to be productive. I need to spend time with friends and write and call and email. I need to not be superficial, like like all the work being done around Carswell right now. It's not about getting through the days, it's about being the best we can be every day. Sure, I could just sit and try to look pretty, but I'd much rather be moving forward and being the person I'm meant to be.

From Dragonfly: Financials

My incredible friend, Survivor, sent me a breakdown of the finances I have remaining for the two months I am still in prison. So many incredible people donated to help me through this time. I know that many GA friends helped, several of my school friends, and others. I am beyond grateful for all these incredible acts of kindness. When I get home, I will have just a small bit left, but something is left. Without a job, I couldn't make it, but I will have a job. I believe it.

The financials in prison are tricky. We all could certainly survive with much less money. Hygeine, though, is important. Those items can cost an absurd amount of money - even basic shampoo is $5/bottle, deodorant $4, and then there are the other things: allergy pills, conditioner, makeup (for those that need it), aspirin, etc. That side of our commissary sheets is often well checked off. Then there's the expense of phone and email. Everyone prefers one or the other, it seems. I do more on email, friends do more on the phone. In total, it's between $50-$75/month for those forms of communication. Plus, add $10 for a book of stamps. Now, for some, coffee is really important - the basic is like $4, better is nearly $9, and it lasts just a couple weeks. Creamer is another $2 per bottle - lasting about 1 week. Others require soda - $3.30/6 pack, or juice, nearly $1/can. Then there's the food items - packaged meats are between $2-$5, cheeses run around the same, cereal is $4/bag.

My goal is to spend a lot less for my remaining two months here. I am going to stop purchasing the 6 pack of Sprite I get every week. I was drinking one can of Sprite each afternoon (a pep me up without caffeine), but I will just stick to the water I drink the rest of the day. I am, also, limiting any snacks - concentrating on just meals to replace those that I can't/won't eat in chow. This week is a good chow week, I will only have to replace 4 meals, next week, it looks like 6-8 meals. I wish they always had peanut butter and jelly available for those of us who don't like the planned meal, but that's only available there a couple times/week. Often the alternatives are just as bad or worst than the main offerings.

I have to admit, I was an expensive prisoner (or still am). Some receive no funds from the outside world. I see them hustle like crazy, though. As many say, "commissary is necessary." A friend of mine made $180 in commissary and stamps through her laundry/ironing hustle just in the past week. Even those who seem they are doing without, are certainly not. Some jobs pay far more than mine did, and those folks buy out the store just after paydays. Budgeting while in prison is important, and the longer your sentence, the easier it will get in time. We need far less over the months, but a lot more just as we arrive for several months. Sometimes, we need to buy greys or shoes. Sometimes, we need to replace something expensive. It just happens. My most important expense most months is just communicating with the outside world. I know I could have done less, but it's one way I stay centered and connected. I am one of those people who really wanted to stay focused on the world beyond these fences.

I will have to find my way in the world and rebuild my life quickly. I know it is possible and I know I'm capable. Survivor did me such a huge blessing, by maintaining my funds and paying all my bills, while I am incarcerated. She's an angel. I guess I am even high maintenance while in prison, shouldn't surprise anyone who knows me!

From Dragonfly: A Decent Day

Every visit is special, but I was really needing one and with Sporty here, we just talked and talked and talked. It was good. I still got tired toward the end, but I was able to take a nap and then go meet up with Lola for some games at inside rec tonight. I'm now back in my unit, showered, and enjoying just walking downstairs to use email. I wish everyday could go by as fast as this day did!!! For those wondering, today's food from the vending machine included french bread pizza and mini tacos. I think tomorrow I may do a ham and cheese hot pocket, although everyone recommends the bacon cheeseburger. I'm reluctant to try it without any fun condiments!

I told Sporty that when I'm home, we are going to be eating in a lot, so let's start collecting recipes. Truth is, I really don't know how to cook well. I lived in one of those homes that food was mostly cooked with the kids out of the kitchen. I never learned about spices or ingredients, I can only follow a recipe. In prison, though, I've actually learned a lot. Although I am starting with processed food items, I add some spices, other foods, and more to make it a more interesting meal. I can make the chicken wraps I make with real chicken breast at home, rather than the packaged chicken I get from commissary. Tuna has always been a staple food for me, but now I make it way yummier, adding in things like vegetable flakes (will be real veggies at home) and other spices, etc. I'm going to cook. That's going to be fun to try and do. Sporty is excited about it, too. It's something we can easily do together. I can, also, invite all my friends over for meals, and they'd actually like the food!!! Cache is a good cook, so I may ask her to teach me a couple great recipes. We will see.

Now that I know that I'm definitely not going to the camp, and that my exit paperwork is being mailed on Monday, I think there is about 50 pounds of stress lifted from my shoulders. Even Lola said that I'm back to my old fun/funny self again. I definitely wanted to go to the camp, get out of the secured FCI environment. However, once that door was officially closed, even for a stupid reason, I could just move to acceptance and start focusing on my remaining time here. Since my case manager had always said that "any day" I could be moved, I'd always had that anxiety... "am I being packed out tomorrow?" "Will I have the opportunity to say goodbye to my friends?" "What will it be like on the other side of the fence?" Well, now I needn't worry. I'm stuck in this pitiful place, but not for too much longer. I still receive such wonderful letters full of love and support from the outside world. I am still surrounded by many wonderful women here, although I do miss South a lot (I haven't heard from her at all). I have so much to be grateful for, even in a place like this.

Tomorrow is another day with Sporty. I think we will try to play a game - we noticed people were checking out UNO and other games today. I said that if we can grab one of the only 4 tables in the room (a new addition, along with the games), we should do a puzzle. That may take us the full 5 hours to complete while we talk. I have a feeling that tomorrow will be a decent day as well.

From Dragonfly: A Visit from Sporty

It's been more than two months since my last visit - the weekend of my birthday. So, today, I am really looking forward to my visit with Sporty. Sure, I'll enjoy the "different" food, the orange soda, the conversation, the laughs, but most of all, I look forward to the big BEAR hugs we will give each other when she comes and goes. There is really no "touch" when you are in prison (unless you violate rules). You don't realize what it's like to not be hugged, or have someone brush your hand to say, "It's going to be okay." Physical connection is important in life - I'm not talking sex - I'm talking just intimacy between two people. We all need to be hugged every now and then, so I'm looking forward to four great hugs this weekend - two today and two tomorrow. I suppose that will last me until I am home... in 64 days and a wakeup.

From Dragonfly: _____ Days and a Wake Up

So, how many days left in prison do I have? After spending hours in the clinic, nearly stalking the woman who hadn't uploaded my exit summary yet, I caught her in the hall, plead my case, and she said somewhat regretfully, "I'll get it done by the end of the day." Later, I headed to my case manager's office and she checked, no exit summary at 2pm. I said I'd check again at 3. Amazingly, she said, "okay," even though she doesn't offer open house hours today. She would be leaving by 4pm.

I woke at 3:35pm. Damn! I don't even remember falling asleep, wasn't I working on a People Magazine crossword? My entire room was asleep - late day nap, I suppose. I jumped into my shoes, didn't even put on my button down uniform shirt over my t-shirt, took the steps down (okay, I'm a Datsun in a Porshe world when it comes to getting down stairs... one leg, one leg, next step, one leg, next leg, next step... takes forever). I walk the hall to my case manager's office. She is still there. She prompts me to come in, and she says, "it just got uploaded." After months, starting in December, asking for this document, it is there, in my file, saying that I am approved and medically appropriate for home confinement. My knees hurt from jumping through so many hoops, but there it is.

My case manager is wrapping everything up for the day to go home. She tells me that Monday morning, she will do the papers (takes about 6 minutes of her time) and have me sign the forms (2 signatures are needed from me). Then it will be mailed off to my region. I believe I am going home in... 65 days and a wake-up...

From Dragonfly: The Six Keys to Happiness

We did not learn the six keys last night. I suppose that's why there are six weeks, 12 hours in total, to the course. We did learn some of the underlying principles - mostly based on Tony Robins and, also, "The Secret." We watched the film to "The Secret" last night. It's principles were easy for me to accept - they are closely related to my 12 step program. I'm not sure it's such a "secret." There is something to it, all. I do believe we need to choose to think positive and positive things happen.

Imagine over 350 inmates who signed up for this class. We were filtered into the multipurpose room, with metal chairs lined up in rows. The facilitator is our outdoor rec officer, who has a lot of passion as a facilitator. I think she was actually trying to be Tony Robins. Quite a site in a prison. She starts things out making us all stand and try and get into the groove with her. Okay, I'll move my arms, no prob. Then she says that she needs to bring some people up to the front of the room... she chooses a young boi two rows in front of me, a woman with a cane, a few other random women, and me. Really?? She then says that she chose us specifically because she thinks we are "shy," and we need to get over that if we are going to go out and be able to get a job. The room is filled with several women who know me, people I tutored with, students, friends, etc. They all know I AM NOT SHY! How I put off the "shy" factor was weird. So, she makes us do this crazy leg thing to the music, making fools of ourselves, get us out of our comfort zones. I watch the woman with a cane try to move. Was it really appropriate to do something physical with someone who can barely walk? People are laughing and yelling at us. We have to dance sillier, now, I'm sure my cheeks are bright red. I keep saying to myself, "like I'm shy..." Once done, everyone is clapping for us and I head back to my chair, next to Lola. I say, "I have facilitated groups bigger than this one, been a public speaker for years, and I'm the one she selects as shy?" Okay, I really didn't want to get up there, maybe that makes me shy.

We then watched the movie and then, as we exited, we were each given a paper key with a quote. The quotes were different for everyone. I received one about "believing." See, we can ask the universe all we want for the things we want. We can even visualize having whatever that is (money, love, kids, etc.) However, we also need to believe we can have these things. I felt it so appropriate that I was given that quote, because that is my struggle - Believing I DESERVE these things. I still fight my demons of my past, sometimes, but am getting so much better. For example, I need to say that I am going to get back into my school, I have to visualize myself walking across that stage obtaining my PhD, and I have to believe that I deserve it. I can do this. I believe.

From Dragonfly: Support for my Time on Home Confinement

A <slightly edited> draft of the letter I had to write to get myself approved for home confinement:

As requested, this letter is my typed statement of the ability for me to obtain medical insurance/support during the duration of my home confinement. Upon release, I will immediately go to the Affordable Healthcare Act website and sign-up for an inexpensive policy for healthcare coverage. I have been informed that the lowest cost policy is $9/month. Having this coverage, will make me eligible for Enbrel Support, which helps low-income individuals pay no more than $10/month for their Enbrel medication.

At the same time as completing this application for insurance, I will begin the process for medicaid coverage. My home state is an approved ACA medicaid extension state. With my income level, it is highly likely that I will qualify for medicaid and the coverage will be much more comprehensive. As a medicaid expansion state, my state will be able to provide assistance to ex-felons released from state or federal prisons. States have been encouraged to help ex-felons sign up for medicaid and approve them so that continuity of care can be achieved. If my Enbrel cannot be supported by medicaid, Enbrel support has stated that they will work with me to find other financial support for the medication.

All this information has been verified by myself and social work through the computer and phone calls.

--------------
<end letter>

I know that there is a lot of positive and negative talk about Obamacare in the nation, but I for one am a fan. If it were not for this affordable health insurance, I, along with countless others, would be forced to remain in prison due to our medical and/or medication needs. For a woman I know, who has an insulin pump, she will be receiving 6 months of home confinement due to the availability of support under the ACA. She's a good woman and I'm glad she will be given that opportunity to be home with her son. I realize the legislation and options are not perfect. They, likely, never will be. I don't plan on needing to be on federal/state assistance for long. I'm a worker bee, and I will find work and, hopefully, decent insurance. In the mean time, though, this safety net will make it possible for me to continue my care once I am home. Thank god for that and one less worry for my family to have regarding my transition back to the real world.

From Dragonfly: Snapped

I guess you could say that one of my defects came out this morning. I watched the person who was bullying me get into a fight - a good old fashion fight with scratches and punches and a lot of screaming. An officer saw the incident and immediately got the two brought to the office. We were all sure of the result, these two were going to the SHU. That's what happens when you fight, if a punch is thrown, both people go to the SHU - even the victim.

Well, no one went to the SHU. The "victim" of this situation certainly did not want to go to the SHU and the two individuals have a long history as roommates. So, they both said, "nothing happened." Although an officer was witness, the insistence that nothing happened resulted in no one going anywhere and the two of them remaining roommates, for the time being.

So, what was my "defect?" I was gloating after the fight. I had been questioning why I'd quit the job I loved. I've had many, many students come up to me, upset with my decision. I'm helping several outside of school - one with writing, a couple with math, etc. I love teaching, have two months left, and started to question whether I'd over reacted.

However, the fight this morning was assurance that I had, in fact, done the right thing. The number of times this individual stood over me, pointing at me, bullying me, had me knowing that had I done anything other than walk away, she would have been just moments from snapping at me. I had blamed myself for just "taking it" and not saying something back, but this morning showed me how close I really was to being on the wrong side of this woman's fist. I am not a fighter, it would have been a one-way fight. So, all those times I just walked away, that was the right thing to do. I thank God for the advice my gambling counselor gave me when we worked on what I should do when someone is acting crazy at me, "walk away" was her advice. Yep, best advice. It stopped the incidents, I didn't cower, and I didn't get angry back.

I need not gloat. The woman is still at the job I love and I pray is doing a great job with the students. I am the one who is in my unit during the day, trying to fill up my time productively. I did what I had to do for myself, but it's not something I would have ever wanted to do. I know, though, that I did the right thing, even if it was the hard thing, because I have no doubt that by today, it would have been me, it would have been me... she was that close to snapping and it would have been me.

From Dragonfly: A New Day

There's a quote that says something like, "I am a writer, because I write." I had always wanted to be a writer, but never realized that I already was one. I've kept journals/diaries off and on for years. I've thought up stories in my head numerous times. I've, also, always figured that someday I would write a book. I never knew if it would be fiction or non-fiction, just that I wanted to write. My most creative time writing are those sleepless nights. Last night, another night where I woke at 1pm and could not fall back asleep, I wrote. First, I wrote in my head, thoughts of many things going through it. Then, it came to me that I should grab one of the free psychology journals I have out of my locker and start writing it all down. I wrote and then I wrote, edited a little, and wrote some more. In the end, I wrote 9 pages. I couldn't stop until they were all written down and I felt good about it. I suppose I am a writer, because I write.

This evening I start a new class I signed up for called "6 keys to happiness" being taught through the recreation department. It advertises, "turn frustration into fascination." I figured, sounds interesting, mind as well sign-up. It is a popular workshop and was filled up weeks ago. It is one night per week, for two hours, for the next 6 weeks. We were told to come with one goal and three personal changes we'd like to work on. Here is what I've decided on:

Goal: To finish up my PhD (lots of mini-goals needed to get to that goal)
Change 1: Keep in contact through letters better with everyone who is writing me
Change 2: Eat less cookies
Change 3: Meditate and find some calmness every day

There are other ideas I had for my goals and changes. In fact, I'm never short on long-term or short-term goals (as you've probably noticed). So, by tonight, these may be tweaked a bit, but whatever I finally choose, I'm sure it will be okay. As we say in my program, it's all about progress not perfection. So, I dare not say, "eat no cookies," but eating less cookies may result in that. I do not want my change to be something I would give up on with a few days. These are things I need to achieve through knowing full well that I have a higher power and am helped toward the path I am supposed to take, not just the one I desire. We always need to stay flexible enough to see all the possibilities, and to know that it's okay to falter now and then.

I have a lot of hopes for today. The biggest is that I pray my exit summary will, in fact, be completed before 2pm. If it is or it is not, is out of my control. I know that what happens will be okay. I am okay. Today is a new day.