Purgatory is about being in that halfway place (right??). Well, that is where I am right now. It is 11 days and a wake up before I am supposedly going to home confinement. Region had me go through more hoops, like Sporty was successful getting me an appointment at my rheumatologist for May 29th (means I must be home on the 28th, right??), so they moved my file forward to the halfway house. Well, a couple halfway houses... they need to see who may be able to take me in for a day or two in just 1 1/2 weeks. Once they hear back, my electronic file will show my new designation and that's when the wheels start moving here at Carswell.
The most important thing is getting me home. Since this is a medical facility, some people are flown home, but the vast majority are bused. Greyhound must make a fortune off the BOP. Families are allowed to purchase a flight for their loved one, but there are time parameters and you have to know where in a state you are going... unfortunately, I have none of this information. Today was the first time I was close enough to a "yes, you are leaving in 1 1/2 weeks" to actually talk to the woman who I need to talk to about travel, and she is off. Monday morning, I will be stationed outside her door at 7:30am (as I was today, but she never came in).
I was going to have my family possibly fly me home. A two-day bus ride sounds tortuous on my body. Plus, I will be carrying medication that needs to stay cold. However, I have not been told yet what halfway house I will be going to. I don't know if the BOP has me designated to be flown. Flights are getting much more expensive by the day. I'd rather that money help me get myself back on my feet at home. So, I decided to put it in god's hands. All I care about is getting out. I would walk home (even though it would take me a year), if I had to. The BOP will be responsible for ensuring my medication gets packed in ice. The BOP will pay for all my travel meals, cab rides, and the bus/plane ticket. It will be up to the BOP to decide if I have to leave prior to my home confinement date, in order to ensure I make that doctor appointment on the morning of the 29th. The BOP will have to consider that Monday will be Memorial Day, and I can't leave that day... maybe that can help make it a flight home. Who knows? I'm beyond the ability to control that situation. So, I release it (although, I will stay checking in with staff to make sure I don't fall through the cracks again).
Maybe I can pick up a disposable camera as I take the bus. I can take photos of all the small towns we stop in. I can people watch and try to figure out who else is in a similar situation to me. I can journal the experience. I can read a book or three. Maybe the bus will have a movie and I'll have to purchase some headphones. Maybe the plane will. I will pray that they fly me home on the morning of the 28th. If not, though, it will be okay.
So, I'm in purgatory. I think I am going home. It's like 95% definite. People who are leaving 2 months after me already have their travel booked. I do not. My case is still under review. It's hard to be in purgatory, but not impossible. If I could do 9 months of prison and all it's uncertainties, changes, and chaos, I certainly can handle not knowing how or when I am leaving.
Saturday, May 17, 2014
From Dragonfly: Cleaning House
I'm a pack rat. I've always been a pack rat, someone who hates throwing something away, thinking, "I just may want this someday..." I kept the cartons and containers from Passover; I have small scraps of colored paper; I have every letter and every card sent to me over the last 9 months; I have small pieces of paper with notes on them; I notes from my GRE practicing; I have small scraps of yarn; I have unfinished projects; I have books I've already read; well, you get the idea. Don't forget, I fit all this, plus my clothing, active projects, food, hygiene, cleaning supplies, etc. all in a 3' x 1 1/2' locker. Don't get me wrong, I don't belong on the show, "hoarders," there are no mouse droppings or cat carcasses hidden in my locker. I can get what I want out of my locker (as long as I don't mind something ALWAYS falling out while I search for it). My locker always closes (with a little push here, pull there). Well, maybe I could be on a "nearly hoarders" tv show...
The thing is, though, that in recent years, I have learned to sift through everything and once in a while, purge. I can't say I end up giving away/throwing away much - but those little scraps of paper with old notes go in the garbage; any photographs find their way to one of my two photo albums; letters get put into a manila envelope and their outside envelopes are tossed (once I write down any new addresses for folks); books get sifted through and most given away; my food shelf is emptied and put back in neatly so I know what I have exactly (which lasts for about 2 days before the shelf is a complete disaster again); my clothing gets rearranged by type and refolded; I use my handmade locker organizers to separate my cards from my socks/underwear; from my cleaning supplies; other handmade shelves are separated by craft project type; the shelf with all my important documents is emptied, documents are put into piles of type, and they are put into different brown document files. At least one of these tasks is done on a weekly basis.
Today, however, is my BIG purge day. I am going to empty my full locker (probably done about 5 times since I arrived besides when I've moved), and really clear things out. I need to decide what I am taking home, shipping home, or giving away. I will put hobby craft together to do a mail out next week - most specifically my blankets. So, I need to finish my blanket project in the next week... I can do that. Then, the small amount of yarn I have left will be given to someone who is in need. We all pay it forward in here, especially to those that have no/little outside support or a long time inside. Any hygiene products (except soap of course) that I do not use up will go to Taz. Food items (there won't be much) will be split among Taz, my roommates, and Mama - depending on their tastes (remaining rice to Taz, ranch dressing to Mama, and my roommates (especially Mexico and Long winded) will happily take ANYTHING! I'm not giving this all away today. I still have weeks (still can't be specific on how many, but things are looking up...) to do here, and will continue to feed myself, work on projects, read books, do crosswords, wear clothes, etc. I am just making my plan, and I'm purging what I can (so my darn seasoned salt won't fall out of my locker every time I open it... so I can grab out my yarn colors without half the lockers being on the floor...). Yep, I'm a pack rat.
I remember back in a sociology course in college. My professor was talking about how hoarders and neat freaks can not get along... I'm both in one. I love everything to look pretty, clean and for everything to be in it's proper place. It just takes me a bit to get around to doing the work. So, maybe I am a secret pack rat (was a public pack rat during my years of addiction). Maybe my home looks clean and everything looks like it belongs where it is, but don't open my drawers... don't ask me to find something specific. You will shortly learn that my cleanliness is possibly only cosmetic and my pack rat self found Ikea as to help me come up with creative ways to hide my inadequacies.
The thing is, though, that in recent years, I have learned to sift through everything and once in a while, purge. I can't say I end up giving away/throwing away much - but those little scraps of paper with old notes go in the garbage; any photographs find their way to one of my two photo albums; letters get put into a manila envelope and their outside envelopes are tossed (once I write down any new addresses for folks); books get sifted through and most given away; my food shelf is emptied and put back in neatly so I know what I have exactly (which lasts for about 2 days before the shelf is a complete disaster again); my clothing gets rearranged by type and refolded; I use my handmade locker organizers to separate my cards from my socks/underwear; from my cleaning supplies; other handmade shelves are separated by craft project type; the shelf with all my important documents is emptied, documents are put into piles of type, and they are put into different brown document files. At least one of these tasks is done on a weekly basis.
Today, however, is my BIG purge day. I am going to empty my full locker (probably done about 5 times since I arrived besides when I've moved), and really clear things out. I need to decide what I am taking home, shipping home, or giving away. I will put hobby craft together to do a mail out next week - most specifically my blankets. So, I need to finish my blanket project in the next week... I can do that. Then, the small amount of yarn I have left will be given to someone who is in need. We all pay it forward in here, especially to those that have no/little outside support or a long time inside. Any hygiene products (except soap of course) that I do not use up will go to Taz. Food items (there won't be much) will be split among Taz, my roommates, and Mama - depending on their tastes (remaining rice to Taz, ranch dressing to Mama, and my roommates (especially Mexico and Long winded) will happily take ANYTHING! I'm not giving this all away today. I still have weeks (still can't be specific on how many, but things are looking up...) to do here, and will continue to feed myself, work on projects, read books, do crosswords, wear clothes, etc. I am just making my plan, and I'm purging what I can (so my darn seasoned salt won't fall out of my locker every time I open it... so I can grab out my yarn colors without half the lockers being on the floor...). Yep, I'm a pack rat.
I remember back in a sociology course in college. My professor was talking about how hoarders and neat freaks can not get along... I'm both in one. I love everything to look pretty, clean and for everything to be in it's proper place. It just takes me a bit to get around to doing the work. So, maybe I am a secret pack rat (was a public pack rat during my years of addiction). Maybe my home looks clean and everything looks like it belongs where it is, but don't open my drawers... don't ask me to find something specific. You will shortly learn that my cleanliness is possibly only cosmetic and my pack rat self found Ikea as to help me come up with creative ways to hide my inadequacies.
From Dragonfly: The Klutz
I've been a bit of a klutz throughout life. I once attended a cardboard boat regatta, slipped on some mud, and slid my way to the edge of the water. Walking around after, was a real eye sore for everyone else. Lots of laughs. When I attended my first women's basketball game in college, I (along with everyone else), jumped out of my seat excited for a 3-pointer, and when I went to sit back down, my chair had flipped up and I fell flat on the cement. The entire seating area was in tears laughing so hard. My friend with me couldn't even look at me. Once, when I was in prison, I was trying to talk to someone on the second tier, while walking to turn in a cop-out and I walked right into the stair bannister, got a huge knot on my shin, another on my stomache (it's a big bannister), and woke people up I was laughing so hard. Okay, that last one happened just now, and I had soooooo many eyes on my kluziness. It's something I will not live down for my time remaining here. The knot on my leg formed within seconds and is growing bigger and bigger. It doesn't really hurt, but it may be very sore tomorrow. So much for being suave in prison!!!
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
From Dragonfly: The Cheesy Poem Writer
I'd love for this to be about someone else, but alas, it is not. I am officially the "cheesy poem writer." Sometime in my youth, I got it in my head to start rhyming words. Simple words rhyme easily, and so my 5th grade vocabulary and I rhyme away. Sometimes I just do it in my head. Sometimes, I write down what comes to me.
Somehow, it got out that I can write some cheesy poems with rhyming. "Can you write a birthday poem for my husband?" "Can you write a get well poem?" "Can you write me an anniversary poem?" And each time, I said, "yes." Why not? So, I labor for about 5-10 minutes... sometimes a long one with a lot of detail will take longer... sometimes I have it written in just 2 minutes... and walah, a poem for your greeting card, letter, etc.
I even write cheesy poems sometimes to my friends. They just come to me. It's a skill I am not particularly proud of. None of the poems follow a good iambic pentameter. They are literally what your third grader writes. For example, "day" rhymes with "way," so those are two words to use to end a phrase. It's sad, really, how very simple this is.
When people do send them home, though, their families and friends seem to love them. They always tell a story and even when I have no idea who I'm writing the poem for, I always ask just a few questions to make it a little personal for the sender and receiver. I write nearly none for myself. However, often when I wake up, one is sitting in my head and I think it all the way through, writing and rewriting lines in my head to make it flow. I have no idea what dream leads to these cheesy poems, but there they are, most mornings, in my head.
This morning was no different. Perhaps it is because I wrote one of my cheesy poems for someone yesterday who is going through a difficult time right now. I woke this morning around 3:45am, which is my typical time as of late. My bunkie wakes up then to get ready to go to her job in food service, and while she is very quiet, something wakes me. I do not complain, it is her job and way more important than anything I have to do these days. Sometimes I fall back to sleep, most times it takes a long while or I don't. I'm okay either way, by that time, I usually have enough energy to face at least my morning.
This morning, however, I did a rare thing. I wrote the cheesy poem in my head down on paper. I guess I have my release in my head, because it focused on that. So, since you read everything about me, I suppose you may enjoy reading one of my very cheesy poems. Here it goes:
Home is where I am heading,
to my own room and bedding.
I will leave the fences and prison behind,
and will live in the present, not rewind.
I am leaving a bit stronger,
fear guiding me no longer.
For I do not hide from my past,
I can truly love myself at last.
Recovery carries me through my days,
and guides my life in so many ways.
It's gratitude and humility I feel,
so I can stay focused and 'keep it real.'
I will not look back in shame,
as there can exist no blame.
Our experiences make us who we are,
and walking through difficulty can take us far.
Looking back at this place,
it will be just another space,
where I was led by God to grow,
I can survive anything, I now know.
(See the "heading" and "bedding" rhyme is just SOOOOO very cheesy... but, hey, it worked!)
Somehow, it got out that I can write some cheesy poems with rhyming. "Can you write a birthday poem for my husband?" "Can you write a get well poem?" "Can you write me an anniversary poem?" And each time, I said, "yes." Why not? So, I labor for about 5-10 minutes... sometimes a long one with a lot of detail will take longer... sometimes I have it written in just 2 minutes... and walah, a poem for your greeting card, letter, etc.
I even write cheesy poems sometimes to my friends. They just come to me. It's a skill I am not particularly proud of. None of the poems follow a good iambic pentameter. They are literally what your third grader writes. For example, "day" rhymes with "way," so those are two words to use to end a phrase. It's sad, really, how very simple this is.
When people do send them home, though, their families and friends seem to love them. They always tell a story and even when I have no idea who I'm writing the poem for, I always ask just a few questions to make it a little personal for the sender and receiver. I write nearly none for myself. However, often when I wake up, one is sitting in my head and I think it all the way through, writing and rewriting lines in my head to make it flow. I have no idea what dream leads to these cheesy poems, but there they are, most mornings, in my head.
This morning was no different. Perhaps it is because I wrote one of my cheesy poems for someone yesterday who is going through a difficult time right now. I woke this morning around 3:45am, which is my typical time as of late. My bunkie wakes up then to get ready to go to her job in food service, and while she is very quiet, something wakes me. I do not complain, it is her job and way more important than anything I have to do these days. Sometimes I fall back to sleep, most times it takes a long while or I don't. I'm okay either way, by that time, I usually have enough energy to face at least my morning.
This morning, however, I did a rare thing. I wrote the cheesy poem in my head down on paper. I guess I have my release in my head, because it focused on that. So, since you read everything about me, I suppose you may enjoy reading one of my very cheesy poems. Here it goes:
Home is where I am heading,
to my own room and bedding.
I will leave the fences and prison behind,
and will live in the present, not rewind.
I am leaving a bit stronger,
fear guiding me no longer.
For I do not hide from my past,
I can truly love myself at last.
Recovery carries me through my days,
and guides my life in so many ways.
It's gratitude and humility I feel,
so I can stay focused and 'keep it real.'
I will not look back in shame,
as there can exist no blame.
Our experiences make us who we are,
and walking through difficulty can take us far.
Looking back at this place,
it will be just another space,
where I was led by God to grow,
I can survive anything, I now know.
(See the "heading" and "bedding" rhyme is just SOOOOO very cheesy... but, hey, it worked!)
From Dragonfly: A New Hoop
Okay, I promised NOT to write about when I'm getting out of prison, yet here I am, writing about it AGAIN... truth be told, it's really the most important thing right now for me... And, actually there's an update, which I, of course, want to share...
So, my case manager called my region office again this afternoon. I could tell by the conversation that it seemed to be going well. They were talking DATES!!! Well, she hangs up and this is what she tells me - they can still make my May 28th date, BUT I need to find a clinic by my home that will administer my first embryl shot that Friday. Okay, well... I always got my healthcare on campus - can't go there until I'm back in school. My rheumatologist and the other specialists are SUPER expensive, and I won't have health insurance that fast... SOOOOOOO, Sporty is making calls for me. She is doing her best to find a clinic or doctor's office that will make me an appointment. I actually administer my own injections, but the BOP/probation requires that I have it administered this first time at a clinic. Really?!??!?
Sporty has called three places so far. No luck... she will call my rheumatologist tomorrow... maybe they'll do it without a big charge - I don't have to see the doctor, I just need to come in for my injection. If they can't accommodate me, she will keep trying and I'll ask everyone who lives near there to try as well... Okay, I'm that desperate.
Once I have the appointment, Sporty has to send confirmation of the appointment by fax to my case worker... hopefully by the end of the day tomorrow...
Do I know if once we find me an appointment, if there will be another hoop???? Of course not. I only learn one small thing at a time and then find there's something else to do that I wasn't aware of.
Something tells me, though, that this is really going to work out. Two weeks from tomorrow (Wednesday), I will be heading to a halfway house for a brief orientation and then to home confinement. I'm getting out of here... I can feel it!!!
So, my case manager called my region office again this afternoon. I could tell by the conversation that it seemed to be going well. They were talking DATES!!! Well, she hangs up and this is what she tells me - they can still make my May 28th date, BUT I need to find a clinic by my home that will administer my first embryl shot that Friday. Okay, well... I always got my healthcare on campus - can't go there until I'm back in school. My rheumatologist and the other specialists are SUPER expensive, and I won't have health insurance that fast... SOOOOOOO, Sporty is making calls for me. She is doing her best to find a clinic or doctor's office that will make me an appointment. I actually administer my own injections, but the BOP/probation requires that I have it administered this first time at a clinic. Really?!??!?
Sporty has called three places so far. No luck... she will call my rheumatologist tomorrow... maybe they'll do it without a big charge - I don't have to see the doctor, I just need to come in for my injection. If they can't accommodate me, she will keep trying and I'll ask everyone who lives near there to try as well... Okay, I'm that desperate.
Once I have the appointment, Sporty has to send confirmation of the appointment by fax to my case worker... hopefully by the end of the day tomorrow...
Do I know if once we find me an appointment, if there will be another hoop???? Of course not. I only learn one small thing at a time and then find there's something else to do that I wasn't aware of.
Something tells me, though, that this is really going to work out. Two weeks from tomorrow (Wednesday), I will be heading to a halfway house for a brief orientation and then to home confinement. I'm getting out of here... I can feel it!!!
From Dragonfly: The Set Up
Yesterday afternoon, I am playing Canasta with Mama and some other friends, when a case manager (not my own) walks by and says, "[NAME], did you get the good news?"
I say, "good news??" I know that the only good news around here is an out date... she tells me that she saw my name and my date came in... "Really???" I was confused, because my case manager hadn't called me in. So, I quickly - like quicker than quick, walked with this case manager directly to my case manager's office. When we get there, I realize I am wearing a tshirt, shorts and my shower shoes (crocs), this is not how we are supposed to be dressed to talk with staff, but I was too excited to think about anything but seeing if I am actually leaving in 2 weeks.
My case manager and the other case manager proceed to talk to each other about whether or not my date has come in. My case manager says, "I think you're talking about her street date," that's the date for maxing out, not home confinement. The other says, "no, it was a May or June date..." They go back and forth until my case manager opens my electronic file. Meanwhile I am just standing there, heart pounding, thinking, "I'm going home, I'm going home..."
They scroll down my electronic record and lo and behold... nothing. My date has not come in. It was my "street date" that the woman saw, she just hadn't realized that it would start popping up on the "exit soon" report --- I leave within 2 months no matter what, so my name will now be on that weekly report I guess.
I slowly made my way back to my game. My friends looking at me with smiles and excitement. I tell them, "it was a mistake." They seemed as sad about it as me. We all like to see good happen for one another. I went back to my Canasta game... maybe the next time it will be for real.
Meanwhile, we've been having a lot of storms down here in Fort Worth. The age of the main building is showing. When you walk into the building, there are about 25 bucks and a bunch of potted plants lined up to catch the leaks from the ceiling. It kind of reminds me of the bucket game - where you have to throw a ball into a close bucket, then the next bucket, and the next... Only here, the rain falls in all the buckets at the same time. Everything here is really just "cosmetic," the buildings may look good, but they leak. Perhaps, next time their repairs, like the news of my leaving, will be for real.
I say, "good news??" I know that the only good news around here is an out date... she tells me that she saw my name and my date came in... "Really???" I was confused, because my case manager hadn't called me in. So, I quickly - like quicker than quick, walked with this case manager directly to my case manager's office. When we get there, I realize I am wearing a tshirt, shorts and my shower shoes (crocs), this is not how we are supposed to be dressed to talk with staff, but I was too excited to think about anything but seeing if I am actually leaving in 2 weeks.
My case manager and the other case manager proceed to talk to each other about whether or not my date has come in. My case manager says, "I think you're talking about her street date," that's the date for maxing out, not home confinement. The other says, "no, it was a May or June date..." They go back and forth until my case manager opens my electronic file. Meanwhile I am just standing there, heart pounding, thinking, "I'm going home, I'm going home..."
They scroll down my electronic record and lo and behold... nothing. My date has not come in. It was my "street date" that the woman saw, she just hadn't realized that it would start popping up on the "exit soon" report --- I leave within 2 months no matter what, so my name will now be on that weekly report I guess.
I slowly made my way back to my game. My friends looking at me with smiles and excitement. I tell them, "it was a mistake." They seemed as sad about it as me. We all like to see good happen for one another. I went back to my Canasta game... maybe the next time it will be for real.
Meanwhile, we've been having a lot of storms down here in Fort Worth. The age of the main building is showing. When you walk into the building, there are about 25 bucks and a bunch of potted plants lined up to catch the leaks from the ceiling. It kind of reminds me of the bucket game - where you have to throw a ball into a close bucket, then the next bucket, and the next... Only here, the rain falls in all the buckets at the same time. Everything here is really just "cosmetic," the buildings may look good, but they leak. Perhaps, next time their repairs, like the news of my leaving, will be for real.
From Dragonfly: Not My Best Person
Let's face it, prison does NOT bring the best out. Lately, I've struggled with moodiness, anger, boredom, loneliness, selfishness, fatigue, hunger, fear, frustration, and more. Such emotions lead to bad choices. For example, I talked to my roommate about a situation, rather than going directly to the person. The person got angry, and I don't blame her. It's not my way, anymore, but all I can do is apologize and try to do better. I am definitely not the person I strive to be, while here in prison.
In recovery programs, we have this statement about HALT (Hunger, Anger, Loneliness, Tired)... these are the emotions we must be aware of and take care of, because they inevitably lead to our worst "defects." I struggle with these and so many other negative emotions here. My early focus on the positive waned... but I still have time to adjust and make every day a day of gratitude. I am alive, I am walking, I am breathing, I am not gambling, I am loving, I am cared for, I am intelligent, I am capable, I am cute, I am fed, I am housed, I am clothed, I am kind, I am helpful, I am helped, ... there is so much for me to focus on that is good, so I need to make the conscious effort to focus on the positive.
There are some things that bring me up. My daily breakfasts with Freckles has been one of the highlights of my time here, and has been a guiding force since I left my job. Instead of sleeping in, or being lazy, I get up and meet her and start my day right. It gets me moving. We talk about everything. We trust one another. Just yesterday, she was saying "thank you" to me for the breakfasts, when it's really been just as important, if not more so, for me.
I have not been as grateful for everything as I strive to be. I know how lucky I am to have so many people who love and care for me, yet I get caught up in the craziness of prison. I start to actually care what people here think of me; something I know is just nuts. Once you've been here for a certain amount of time, it becomes your normal, and you start to forget that this isn't "really" your life. You will leave here and go home, and that's your life. The chaos, gossip, craziness of prison is just a temporary experience for the vast majority of us.
I'm not sure how many more days I have here, but I make this promise to myself. I will make each day a better day than the one before. I will work on me. I will stay out of the drama. I will prepare for my time in the "real" world. I will laugh and enjoy friendship, and expect nothing from anyone else. I will try and do another round of letters with the ones who write me so often (I just can't always do it, and it is selfish of me to not write back more often!). Each day I will strive to be my best person.
In recovery programs, we have this statement about HALT (Hunger, Anger, Loneliness, Tired)... these are the emotions we must be aware of and take care of, because they inevitably lead to our worst "defects." I struggle with these and so many other negative emotions here. My early focus on the positive waned... but I still have time to adjust and make every day a day of gratitude. I am alive, I am walking, I am breathing, I am not gambling, I am loving, I am cared for, I am intelligent, I am capable, I am cute, I am fed, I am housed, I am clothed, I am kind, I am helpful, I am helped, ... there is so much for me to focus on that is good, so I need to make the conscious effort to focus on the positive.
There are some things that bring me up. My daily breakfasts with Freckles has been one of the highlights of my time here, and has been a guiding force since I left my job. Instead of sleeping in, or being lazy, I get up and meet her and start my day right. It gets me moving. We talk about everything. We trust one another. Just yesterday, she was saying "thank you" to me for the breakfasts, when it's really been just as important, if not more so, for me.
I have not been as grateful for everything as I strive to be. I know how lucky I am to have so many people who love and care for me, yet I get caught up in the craziness of prison. I start to actually care what people here think of me; something I know is just nuts. Once you've been here for a certain amount of time, it becomes your normal, and you start to forget that this isn't "really" your life. You will leave here and go home, and that's your life. The chaos, gossip, craziness of prison is just a temporary experience for the vast majority of us.
I'm not sure how many more days I have here, but I make this promise to myself. I will make each day a better day than the one before. I will work on me. I will stay out of the drama. I will prepare for my time in the "real" world. I will laugh and enjoy friendship, and expect nothing from anyone else. I will try and do another round of letters with the ones who write me so often (I just can't always do it, and it is selfish of me to not write back more often!). Each day I will strive to be my best person.
From Dragonfly: The Worst Consequences
Some people might think that the worst consequence of my gambling addiction/crime is being here, in Carswell. Prison is hard. Very, very hard. However, I'll tell you that my absolute worst consequence happened exactly six years ago today... it was the last day I truly mothered three amazing kids.
In 2008, I was living as a family with a partner and three kids. They were not my biological kids, but I loved them with all my heart. We'd been together for a while and, at this point, the kids were 12, 10, and 2 1/2. I'd met their parent before the 2 1/2 year old was even born. I'd known the kids for two years before we became a true family. When we all moved in together, in summer, 2006, I thought I had met my future - a partner and kids that I would love dearly. When I had to have a hysterectomy in May, 2008, I wasn't worried. I told the doctor I already had three kids, so I was okay not being able to bear my own.
Mother's Day, 2008, May 11th... I was just four days post-hysterectomy. I was still barely eating and moving, but that was okay. I was going to celebrate Mother's Day and it was perfect. My partner's mom came for brunch. We gave her a refurbished computer that I'd spent hours on, making sure she had the programs she needed. She was ecstatic. Brunch was delicious. Everyone was happy. We were all invited to my partner's Mom's house to go set up the computer. I wasn't feeling up to it, so they all left me to nap. I went to my bed happy, happy to be a Mom.
It was two years earlier when I received a gift at some point from my partner. The gift included a statement that "I love the kids as if they are my own," then it said, "They Are." I believed in that. I was still gambling, though. My partner was involved in a tragedy at work - where a gun man opened fire. Nothing was the same after that point with our relationship, but I stepped up with the kids. My partner needed time and I believed I could fix everything. That is a gambler's/addictive mentality. I could not fix everything. I had a new high-stress job. I was, also, still running the summer camp I'd helped start years earlier. I now took on much responsibility with the kids. I loved my time with the kids. However, I was emotionally broken, and the tragedy that occurred at my partner's work affected me as well.
My gambling increased, as I found myself trying too hard to be the "savior" and take on too many responsibilities. I started to make really bad decisions for myself. I became desperate because I had no healthy outlet. It became the time when my addiction had taken over my life. On that Mother's Day, 2006, I had planned in my head to commit suicide just four days later. I had a meeting with the Board of my organization on Tuesday. My plan was to tell them everything. Knowing that my reputation was gone, and I held way too much belief in my reputation, I believed the only answer was suicide. I could never see an end to my gambling any other way. I knew that whatever I did to kill myself, though, I couldn't do it at home. I wouldn't want the kids to find me. What selfish thinking that was, but it is where my inability to think rationally brought me.
Asleep on my bed, I heard loud raps on my door downstairs. Due to my recent surgery, handling the stairs was still painful. Rap, rap, rap. It didn't sound like a typical knock. It was already dark, the house was still quiet (they weren't back from grandma's yet), so I slowly made my way downstairs. I peeked through a window that has a view of the front door. All I saw was two police officers, one using the back of his flashlight to hit my door. Immediately, my stomach fell, had something happened to my family? Was there a car accident? Is this how you find out your life has changed forever? At that moment, all I thought about was my family, not myself. I opened the door.
Standing right at the door were two very familiar faces. They were two members of my Board at work. One, I considered a good friend. I'd asked him to join the Board. The other was the Board President. The cops were there for "show," I suppose, because they said nothing. I invited them inside, but instead was handed a letter. It was a letter putting me on "administrative leave pending criminal investigation." My worst nightmare was unfolding. I thought the police were going to haul me off in handcuffs, instead, I was just asked to put together anything/everything I had that belonged to the organization. I had a lot of things at home, including my laptop computer, I was on sick-leave due to the recent surgery and had to be able to work from home. With my recent surgery, I wasn't supposed to lift. Then, I had to walk the stairs carrying a heavy(ish) box. I did it, though, slowly. My mind was racing, so I didn't have time to take it all in. I was on automatic pilot.
As soon as I closed the door, I began sobbing uncontrollably. I didn't know what this all meant, what was going to happen. I started to imagine being hauled off at anytime. I called my partner and we talked by phone. I said that if a police car were in front of our house, to not bring the kids in. I didn't want them to see it. We'd talk when they got back. A bit later they pulled in. No cops were casing my home. I was being very paranoid. I sat in the kitchen with my partner. I shared the letter and we talked next steps. The anger at me could be cut with a knife. She didn't know what I'd been doing. She didn't know how sick I really was. At the end is when I finally said the words for the first time, "I think I'm a compulsive gambler." It's the first time the words officially were told to another person. I was raw and becoming rawer. I wanted to just share everything.
While at first, I thought our family could survive this, it quickly became apparent that we could not. I needed help. My partner needed space. I was still suicidal. Being around the house caused horrible tension. The kids sensed something was wrong. I'd hated myself for so long, that it never occurred to me the harm that this could cause "my" kids. I just loved them so much, and believed I mothered them well, that I wasn't able to see how all this could unfold.
That was my last Mother's Day with "my" kids. I left and went to live with my family two thousand miles away. I started therapy and GA. I got stronger in every way. I no longer was suicidal. All I wanted to do was understand my addiction and finally realize that I was not "broken." I was always in fear of what would happen legally against me, but as time continued on, I was able to just accept that something could happen, and I could move forward in my life.
I was given an incredible gift a year later. After not talking at all for about 9 months, the kids came to visit for a week. I was allowed to spend a week of quality time - helping answer their questions and holding my "baby" - who was now 3 1/2 - once more. We built good memories that I cherish. My favorite moment was when we were in their hotel room. The baby was on my lap, the two others were doing things to make us laugh. I thought to myself, this is the happiest I've ever been in my life. I made a "memory" book of the week and kept one for myself and sent one to them. I thank god for the opportunity to love these children and what they brought to my life. I now love them from afar. I think of them often and they will always have a place in my heart. It took a long time for me to accept that they were never, really, my kids. I felt a parent's love, and perhaps they loved me as a parent, but they belonged to my partner.
Mother's Day is hard for me. T.S. usually gives me something, and that's the best! I'm a much better parent, generally, to T.S. because I am a much better person today. When I see a little boy, with blondish wavy hair, I immediately think of the baby I loved, and my heart breaks. T.S. knows that look and tells me that I need to become a "mom" again... adoption, surrogacy.. there are options. T.S. wants a baby sibling. I truly believe that T.S. was put in my life so that I could continue to feel a mother's love. She helped me heal in so many ways. I may have met her when she was entering her teen years, but our bond is real.
You do not have to be a biological parent to be a good and loving parent. Children just want someone in their life who tells them they are loved, who guides them, and who spends time with them. I will never know what it feels like to birth a child, but I know what it is like to mother a child. It is the most special bond in the world. I am lucky to have had two incredible experiences loving children. All four of them are my heart, even the three that I lost - the worst consequence of my actions.
In 2008, I was living as a family with a partner and three kids. They were not my biological kids, but I loved them with all my heart. We'd been together for a while and, at this point, the kids were 12, 10, and 2 1/2. I'd met their parent before the 2 1/2 year old was even born. I'd known the kids for two years before we became a true family. When we all moved in together, in summer, 2006, I thought I had met my future - a partner and kids that I would love dearly. When I had to have a hysterectomy in May, 2008, I wasn't worried. I told the doctor I already had three kids, so I was okay not being able to bear my own.
Mother's Day, 2008, May 11th... I was just four days post-hysterectomy. I was still barely eating and moving, but that was okay. I was going to celebrate Mother's Day and it was perfect. My partner's mom came for brunch. We gave her a refurbished computer that I'd spent hours on, making sure she had the programs she needed. She was ecstatic. Brunch was delicious. Everyone was happy. We were all invited to my partner's Mom's house to go set up the computer. I wasn't feeling up to it, so they all left me to nap. I went to my bed happy, happy to be a Mom.
It was two years earlier when I received a gift at some point from my partner. The gift included a statement that "I love the kids as if they are my own," then it said, "They Are." I believed in that. I was still gambling, though. My partner was involved in a tragedy at work - where a gun man opened fire. Nothing was the same after that point with our relationship, but I stepped up with the kids. My partner needed time and I believed I could fix everything. That is a gambler's/addictive mentality. I could not fix everything. I had a new high-stress job. I was, also, still running the summer camp I'd helped start years earlier. I now took on much responsibility with the kids. I loved my time with the kids. However, I was emotionally broken, and the tragedy that occurred at my partner's work affected me as well.
My gambling increased, as I found myself trying too hard to be the "savior" and take on too many responsibilities. I started to make really bad decisions for myself. I became desperate because I had no healthy outlet. It became the time when my addiction had taken over my life. On that Mother's Day, 2006, I had planned in my head to commit suicide just four days later. I had a meeting with the Board of my organization on Tuesday. My plan was to tell them everything. Knowing that my reputation was gone, and I held way too much belief in my reputation, I believed the only answer was suicide. I could never see an end to my gambling any other way. I knew that whatever I did to kill myself, though, I couldn't do it at home. I wouldn't want the kids to find me. What selfish thinking that was, but it is where my inability to think rationally brought me.
Asleep on my bed, I heard loud raps on my door downstairs. Due to my recent surgery, handling the stairs was still painful. Rap, rap, rap. It didn't sound like a typical knock. It was already dark, the house was still quiet (they weren't back from grandma's yet), so I slowly made my way downstairs. I peeked through a window that has a view of the front door. All I saw was two police officers, one using the back of his flashlight to hit my door. Immediately, my stomach fell, had something happened to my family? Was there a car accident? Is this how you find out your life has changed forever? At that moment, all I thought about was my family, not myself. I opened the door.
Standing right at the door were two very familiar faces. They were two members of my Board at work. One, I considered a good friend. I'd asked him to join the Board. The other was the Board President. The cops were there for "show," I suppose, because they said nothing. I invited them inside, but instead was handed a letter. It was a letter putting me on "administrative leave pending criminal investigation." My worst nightmare was unfolding. I thought the police were going to haul me off in handcuffs, instead, I was just asked to put together anything/everything I had that belonged to the organization. I had a lot of things at home, including my laptop computer, I was on sick-leave due to the recent surgery and had to be able to work from home. With my recent surgery, I wasn't supposed to lift. Then, I had to walk the stairs carrying a heavy(ish) box. I did it, though, slowly. My mind was racing, so I didn't have time to take it all in. I was on automatic pilot.
As soon as I closed the door, I began sobbing uncontrollably. I didn't know what this all meant, what was going to happen. I started to imagine being hauled off at anytime. I called my partner and we talked by phone. I said that if a police car were in front of our house, to not bring the kids in. I didn't want them to see it. We'd talk when they got back. A bit later they pulled in. No cops were casing my home. I was being very paranoid. I sat in the kitchen with my partner. I shared the letter and we talked next steps. The anger at me could be cut with a knife. She didn't know what I'd been doing. She didn't know how sick I really was. At the end is when I finally said the words for the first time, "I think I'm a compulsive gambler." It's the first time the words officially were told to another person. I was raw and becoming rawer. I wanted to just share everything.
While at first, I thought our family could survive this, it quickly became apparent that we could not. I needed help. My partner needed space. I was still suicidal. Being around the house caused horrible tension. The kids sensed something was wrong. I'd hated myself for so long, that it never occurred to me the harm that this could cause "my" kids. I just loved them so much, and believed I mothered them well, that I wasn't able to see how all this could unfold.
That was my last Mother's Day with "my" kids. I left and went to live with my family two thousand miles away. I started therapy and GA. I got stronger in every way. I no longer was suicidal. All I wanted to do was understand my addiction and finally realize that I was not "broken." I was always in fear of what would happen legally against me, but as time continued on, I was able to just accept that something could happen, and I could move forward in my life.
I was given an incredible gift a year later. After not talking at all for about 9 months, the kids came to visit for a week. I was allowed to spend a week of quality time - helping answer their questions and holding my "baby" - who was now 3 1/2 - once more. We built good memories that I cherish. My favorite moment was when we were in their hotel room. The baby was on my lap, the two others were doing things to make us laugh. I thought to myself, this is the happiest I've ever been in my life. I made a "memory" book of the week and kept one for myself and sent one to them. I thank god for the opportunity to love these children and what they brought to my life. I now love them from afar. I think of them often and they will always have a place in my heart. It took a long time for me to accept that they were never, really, my kids. I felt a parent's love, and perhaps they loved me as a parent, but they belonged to my partner.
Mother's Day is hard for me. T.S. usually gives me something, and that's the best! I'm a much better parent, generally, to T.S. because I am a much better person today. When I see a little boy, with blondish wavy hair, I immediately think of the baby I loved, and my heart breaks. T.S. knows that look and tells me that I need to become a "mom" again... adoption, surrogacy.. there are options. T.S. wants a baby sibling. I truly believe that T.S. was put in my life so that I could continue to feel a mother's love. She helped me heal in so many ways. I may have met her when she was entering her teen years, but our bond is real.
You do not have to be a biological parent to be a good and loving parent. Children just want someone in their life who tells them they are loved, who guides them, and who spends time with them. I will never know what it feels like to birth a child, but I know what it is like to mother a child. It is the most special bond in the world. I am lucky to have had two incredible experiences loving children. All four of them are my heart, even the three that I lost - the worst consequence of my actions.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
From Dragonfly: Everybody's Got Something
While incarcerated, I've read more books than ever before in my life. I've read great mysteries, biographies, romance, historical novels, non-fiction, self-help, even math books. My brain loves just escaping for the time to wherever the book takes me. Magazines, too, have helped me through my time. Due to all this reading, it's the rare book that really captivates me. Robin Roberts' "Everybody's Got Something," did just that.
My friend, Purple, who has her own struggles in life, felt I would appreciate the book. Having now read it (arrived last evening and finished it this morning), I would suggest right back to her to read it. I have been having some bad days lately, and some emotional turmoil. This book has brought me back to my center. It reminds me of what I've said from the beginning; I am having this experience for a reason. I may not know that reason. Perhaps there is an impact I had to make on someone or someone needed to make on me. Perhaps, my experiences will help another person. Perhaps, putting this out there through writing will ease the tension of someone facing something similar. Maybe I will help one less person face addiction. Maybe I can help someone do their time with gratitude and humbleness. I didn't realize this book would bring me back to just where I needed to be mentally, but it did. Thank you Purple!!
If you watch GMA or know of Robin Roberts' story, then you pretty much know what the book is about. She survived cancer, only to be diagnosed with a life-threatening illness a couple years later. Given her ability to reach many people, she used her experience to help others. She recognizes her privilege and does not take that for granted. The book is about so much more than her health - it is about love, family, friends, gratitude, acceptance, loss, anger, serenity, and so much more. I couldn't put the book down.
Throughout the book, Ms. Roberts puts in her own wisdom, and the wisdom of others... those lessons of life and faith that help make sense of what is so impossible to understand. I sat, reading the book, with my blue pen (well Cali's blue pen) in hand, underlining, like I was reading a school book. I just wanted to capture the wisdom. I wanted to hold onto the words and sayings. What better way, than to share some of them here, now (The following are direct quotes of the book by Robin Roberts and Veronica Chambers who helped her write it):
I've shared this one before, but it's early in the book (pages 38-39) and I found myself reading it over and over again last night. I then went and shared it with several people on my unit:
"If I found my self on that rooftop becoming depressed, I realized that I was living in the past. If I started to become anxious, I knew it was because I was living in the future. I was truly only at peace living in the present."
In struggling with faith:
"I feel it's okay to get angry with God. He can take it. Just don't stay angry. It takes courage to believe that the best is yet to come. I hold steadfast to that belief, especially when I come face-to-face with adversity" (pg. 44).
From her mother's wisdom to how she lives her life - and how I hope I live mine:
"Make your mess your message" (pg. 52). She explains this in detail. We can never learn the message of our experiences. We must find that message and help others with the message. (Didn't do it justice, but I want you to read this book!)
"I choose to be happy even in difficult times. Uplifting thoughts and actions. Nowhere is it written that we shouldn't be happy. We don't get extra bonus points for drudgingly going through life" (pg. 61).
"The thing about fear is that it only needs the tiniest space, the size of an eye of a needle, to get through and wreak havoc" (pg. 63). This page also shares some incredible wisdom of her mother who show's the epitome of what being humble means.
"Amazing things happen when you let your passion be your purpose" (pg. 70). That's always been my mantra and outside of here, I will continue to chase my passions.
"A prisoner was behind bars and had a decision to make. He could either look down at the dirt in his cell or look up, outside his window, and see the stars... " (pg. 90). How very fitting for this experience I am having.
"When fear knocks, let faith answer the door. Just imagine that for a moment. Fear knocks on your door, and when it opens faith is standing there. Trust me, fear will go looking for another door to knock on" (pg. 110). Oh, I love this one... Later, she writes, "Sometimes when fear knocks, faith shows itself through a friend who stands by the door, squeezes your hand and answers it with you" (pg. 160) - I know how true this is. My entire recovery, health battles, and being in prison I have been held by the hand of countless people. Thank god for you all.
"I'm not going to wait to embrace the perfectly imperfect moment that is now.... this is a chapter I'm about to go through; it is not the end of the book" (pg. 153-154). I've said so many times how I want to write my book, but this experience is merely a chapter, it is not the entire book.
"Again, once you know that someone else has walked that path before you, it makes it a little bit easier for you" (pg. 201). I got this experience in my GA rooms, and I hope I am providing this assistance to those who read my writings, now and into the future. It's how I can possibly help ease someone else's fears.
"You have to change the way you think in order to change the way you feel" (pg. 202).
"It might have looked as if life was beating me senseless with challenges and tragedies and los, but God was holding me the whole time.... Thank God that he had given me, bit by bit, the strength and courage and the good fortune to be a thriver, more than a survivor" (241). Wow, I love this one!!!
"I've learned that strength, true strength, isn't when you face down life's challenges on your own. It's when you take them on by accepting the help, faith, and love of others. And knowing you are lucky to have those..." (pg 244). This has been so true for the past 6 years of my life. I am so blessed.
"We try to identify what's an individual's North. You want to try to never take away somebody's North because you leave them without hope" (pg. 250). We all know that I love any quotes about Hope. I also see this as the roadblocks I must face to get back to my North, my passion. It was a doctor talking to Ms. Roberts that led to this quote. However, it speaks volumes about what we must to for all people who are struggling - give them back their passion/their North, and they can thrive through anything!
Okay, enough quotes. I promise, I did not ruin the book for you. I know many people will not purchase it or it may not resonate with them the way it did for me. If you are needing to get out of your own head and sorrow, though, this is the book to read. It's one of the few books that will go home with me as well.
My friend, Purple, who has her own struggles in life, felt I would appreciate the book. Having now read it (arrived last evening and finished it this morning), I would suggest right back to her to read it. I have been having some bad days lately, and some emotional turmoil. This book has brought me back to my center. It reminds me of what I've said from the beginning; I am having this experience for a reason. I may not know that reason. Perhaps there is an impact I had to make on someone or someone needed to make on me. Perhaps, my experiences will help another person. Perhaps, putting this out there through writing will ease the tension of someone facing something similar. Maybe I will help one less person face addiction. Maybe I can help someone do their time with gratitude and humbleness. I didn't realize this book would bring me back to just where I needed to be mentally, but it did. Thank you Purple!!
If you watch GMA or know of Robin Roberts' story, then you pretty much know what the book is about. She survived cancer, only to be diagnosed with a life-threatening illness a couple years later. Given her ability to reach many people, she used her experience to help others. She recognizes her privilege and does not take that for granted. The book is about so much more than her health - it is about love, family, friends, gratitude, acceptance, loss, anger, serenity, and so much more. I couldn't put the book down.
Throughout the book, Ms. Roberts puts in her own wisdom, and the wisdom of others... those lessons of life and faith that help make sense of what is so impossible to understand. I sat, reading the book, with my blue pen (well Cali's blue pen) in hand, underlining, like I was reading a school book. I just wanted to capture the wisdom. I wanted to hold onto the words and sayings. What better way, than to share some of them here, now (The following are direct quotes of the book by Robin Roberts and Veronica Chambers who helped her write it):
I've shared this one before, but it's early in the book (pages 38-39) and I found myself reading it over and over again last night. I then went and shared it with several people on my unit:
"If I found my self on that rooftop becoming depressed, I realized that I was living in the past. If I started to become anxious, I knew it was because I was living in the future. I was truly only at peace living in the present."
In struggling with faith:
"I feel it's okay to get angry with God. He can take it. Just don't stay angry. It takes courage to believe that the best is yet to come. I hold steadfast to that belief, especially when I come face-to-face with adversity" (pg. 44).
From her mother's wisdom to how she lives her life - and how I hope I live mine:
"Make your mess your message" (pg. 52). She explains this in detail. We can never learn the message of our experiences. We must find that message and help others with the message. (Didn't do it justice, but I want you to read this book!)
"I choose to be happy even in difficult times. Uplifting thoughts and actions. Nowhere is it written that we shouldn't be happy. We don't get extra bonus points for drudgingly going through life" (pg. 61).
"The thing about fear is that it only needs the tiniest space, the size of an eye of a needle, to get through and wreak havoc" (pg. 63). This page also shares some incredible wisdom of her mother who show's the epitome of what being humble means.
"Amazing things happen when you let your passion be your purpose" (pg. 70). That's always been my mantra and outside of here, I will continue to chase my passions.
"A prisoner was behind bars and had a decision to make. He could either look down at the dirt in his cell or look up, outside his window, and see the stars... " (pg. 90). How very fitting for this experience I am having.
"When fear knocks, let faith answer the door. Just imagine that for a moment. Fear knocks on your door, and when it opens faith is standing there. Trust me, fear will go looking for another door to knock on" (pg. 110). Oh, I love this one... Later, she writes, "Sometimes when fear knocks, faith shows itself through a friend who stands by the door, squeezes your hand and answers it with you" (pg. 160) - I know how true this is. My entire recovery, health battles, and being in prison I have been held by the hand of countless people. Thank god for you all.
"I'm not going to wait to embrace the perfectly imperfect moment that is now.... this is a chapter I'm about to go through; it is not the end of the book" (pg. 153-154). I've said so many times how I want to write my book, but this experience is merely a chapter, it is not the entire book.
"Again, once you know that someone else has walked that path before you, it makes it a little bit easier for you" (pg. 201). I got this experience in my GA rooms, and I hope I am providing this assistance to those who read my writings, now and into the future. It's how I can possibly help ease someone else's fears.
"You have to change the way you think in order to change the way you feel" (pg. 202).
"It might have looked as if life was beating me senseless with challenges and tragedies and los, but God was holding me the whole time.... Thank God that he had given me, bit by bit, the strength and courage and the good fortune to be a thriver, more than a survivor" (241). Wow, I love this one!!!
"I've learned that strength, true strength, isn't when you face down life's challenges on your own. It's when you take them on by accepting the help, faith, and love of others. And knowing you are lucky to have those..." (pg 244). This has been so true for the past 6 years of my life. I am so blessed.
"We try to identify what's an individual's North. You want to try to never take away somebody's North because you leave them without hope" (pg. 250). We all know that I love any quotes about Hope. I also see this as the roadblocks I must face to get back to my North, my passion. It was a doctor talking to Ms. Roberts that led to this quote. However, it speaks volumes about what we must to for all people who are struggling - give them back their passion/their North, and they can thrive through anything!
Okay, enough quotes. I promise, I did not ruin the book for you. I know many people will not purchase it or it may not resonate with them the way it did for me. If you are needing to get out of your own head and sorrow, though, this is the book to read. It's one of the few books that will go home with me as well.
From Dragonfly: Mother's Day Weekend
As a woman's prison, mother's day weekend can be both sobering and filled with happiness. From the young 18 year olds, to the 80 year olds, a woman here is likely to have one or more children. You wonder what happens to those teens that have children too young, well, they become moms and they love their children just as much as anyone else. Perhaps they were not ready to be moms, but they are and they miss their kids so much. The older women not only have children, but grandchildren. Throughout the compound, people wear pictures of their kids next to their i.d., in the pockets above their heart, and in the "keepsake" mug they drink their coffee out of. This is true 365 days/year, but this weekend, there's an even greater awareness of missing one's kids.
Mail call has been especially bulky this week, as people's children mailed in hand-made cards, pictures, and more to tell their moms that they miss them and love them. Even family pets reached out to their "moms." We all see the women, when the envelope arrives, slowly open them and then the tears come to their eyes, as they chuckles at their children's drawing or hold a picture close to their heart. Perhaps these women did something wrong, but they are not all bad people. Being away from their children is the biggest punishment they get - nothing of being in prison can compare to that hole in your heart when you are away from your loved ones.
Visitation this weekend is expected to be very dense. Local families were given a rare opportunity to visit Friday night. With only 24 hours notice, I'm not sure how many took advantage of the extra 4 hours of visitation, but I saw some women in full uniform heading to the visitation room. We are warned that on the weekend, they will likely have to ask people to shorten their visits - local families will be asked to leave first - giving the families that traveled further and can't see their loved one often, to have longer visits. It's going to be a hot day - 90's and humid - but I imagine they will open the outside section of visitation - just to be able to accommodate a few more families.
Parenting from prison has got to be a very difficult task. I know that my ability to be there for T.S. has been strained. Sometimes, I just can't call her - I don't want the phone to just hang up on her when time runs out. I don't want that feeling of not being there to help her through her difficult decisions. I am not a good example of parenting from a distance. Others, like Red, I'd say do a good job. She calls everyday, sometimes more than once. She emails with her oldest daughter. She releases control to those on the outside who are taking care of the kids, but she is still involved in decision making, celebrating, and even punishment when appropriate. Not a day goes by that Red doesn't have a good story about something her kids said or did. Just the other day, her youngest daughter said she wants to be a "smurf," and they had a long conversation about why. Her kids may have experienced her absence physically, but she never left them emotionally and that is something not to be taken lightly. In just 17 days and a wake up, Red will be heading back home and she and her family will be able to put all this behind them. The thing about children is that they are resilient. In time, they forgive. They just want to know that they are loved.
I am reading a book, right now, that shares so much joy about how a mother's love can carry us forward. The book is the new one by Robin Roberts and since I received it yesterday, I am just a short bit away from finishing it. I will write separately about the book, because it is that good and that inspirational. If I write my story, I can only hope I can write a book similar to Robin Roberts. It connects health, faith, forgiveness, family, friendship, and love in a way that few stories ever do. I mention the book because of the way Robin Roberts refers to her mother, and the relationship they shared for the 50 years her mother was walking on the earth. Her mom is now "home," meaning her "heavenly home," but was the kind of person that was able to give so much to her children and community. I know that Robin knows that she is able to fight anything because of the wisdom and encouragement and humility of her mother. As much as this book is about Robin's fight for life, it is about how we can not take the gifts our mom's give us for granted. We need to listen, really listen. I can't wait to share more from the book with you.
Anyway, Happy Mother's Day (tomorrow) to all who are moms. Please don't take for granted that your mom will be by your side forever. Even if your mom is not with you at the moment, lives far away or like so many here, incarcerated, love them. Send them prayers for health and coming home. Visit if you can. Call if you can't.
For me, I have been trying to call my Mom since yesterday. No answer yet. She works A LOT. I will try again today, wait in any length of line, to get to talk to her. If not today, then tomorrow, even though the lines will be that much longer. No line is too long to reach out to someone you care for. I love my Mom and I hope she has a wonderful Mother's Day!
Mail call has been especially bulky this week, as people's children mailed in hand-made cards, pictures, and more to tell their moms that they miss them and love them. Even family pets reached out to their "moms." We all see the women, when the envelope arrives, slowly open them and then the tears come to their eyes, as they chuckles at their children's drawing or hold a picture close to their heart. Perhaps these women did something wrong, but they are not all bad people. Being away from their children is the biggest punishment they get - nothing of being in prison can compare to that hole in your heart when you are away from your loved ones.
Visitation this weekend is expected to be very dense. Local families were given a rare opportunity to visit Friday night. With only 24 hours notice, I'm not sure how many took advantage of the extra 4 hours of visitation, but I saw some women in full uniform heading to the visitation room. We are warned that on the weekend, they will likely have to ask people to shorten their visits - local families will be asked to leave first - giving the families that traveled further and can't see their loved one often, to have longer visits. It's going to be a hot day - 90's and humid - but I imagine they will open the outside section of visitation - just to be able to accommodate a few more families.
Parenting from prison has got to be a very difficult task. I know that my ability to be there for T.S. has been strained. Sometimes, I just can't call her - I don't want the phone to just hang up on her when time runs out. I don't want that feeling of not being there to help her through her difficult decisions. I am not a good example of parenting from a distance. Others, like Red, I'd say do a good job. She calls everyday, sometimes more than once. She emails with her oldest daughter. She releases control to those on the outside who are taking care of the kids, but she is still involved in decision making, celebrating, and even punishment when appropriate. Not a day goes by that Red doesn't have a good story about something her kids said or did. Just the other day, her youngest daughter said she wants to be a "smurf," and they had a long conversation about why. Her kids may have experienced her absence physically, but she never left them emotionally and that is something not to be taken lightly. In just 17 days and a wake up, Red will be heading back home and she and her family will be able to put all this behind them. The thing about children is that they are resilient. In time, they forgive. They just want to know that they are loved.
I am reading a book, right now, that shares so much joy about how a mother's love can carry us forward. The book is the new one by Robin Roberts and since I received it yesterday, I am just a short bit away from finishing it. I will write separately about the book, because it is that good and that inspirational. If I write my story, I can only hope I can write a book similar to Robin Roberts. It connects health, faith, forgiveness, family, friendship, and love in a way that few stories ever do. I mention the book because of the way Robin Roberts refers to her mother, and the relationship they shared for the 50 years her mother was walking on the earth. Her mom is now "home," meaning her "heavenly home," but was the kind of person that was able to give so much to her children and community. I know that Robin knows that she is able to fight anything because of the wisdom and encouragement and humility of her mother. As much as this book is about Robin's fight for life, it is about how we can not take the gifts our mom's give us for granted. We need to listen, really listen. I can't wait to share more from the book with you.
Anyway, Happy Mother's Day (tomorrow) to all who are moms. Please don't take for granted that your mom will be by your side forever. Even if your mom is not with you at the moment, lives far away or like so many here, incarcerated, love them. Send them prayers for health and coming home. Visit if you can. Call if you can't.
For me, I have been trying to call my Mom since yesterday. No answer yet. She works A LOT. I will try again today, wait in any length of line, to get to talk to her. If not today, then tomorrow, even though the lines will be that much longer. No line is too long to reach out to someone you care for. I love my Mom and I hope she has a wonderful Mother's Day!
From Dragonfly: Days Like Yesterday
It's inevitable when you are in prison. Some days will just be bad days. There's no one thing that particularly made yesterday bad. Certainly, I was bored. I miss my friend Lola and worry about how her husband is doing. I know I can't see my case manager until Tuesday to find out if she's heard anything about my release. I put four rows on my forever project - the throw blanket. I worked out in the morning and walked the track by myself in the evening. I made myself a good tuna lunch. I had my friends Taz, Mama, Nurse, Red, and others to confer with. It was just a bad day. I actually cried. I am really 'done' with being in here and not out there.
Like a child I am told when to wake up, when to go to sleep, when I can and cannot use the restroom, when to eat my meals, what I am allowed to eat, when I am allowed to be outside, when I must be in my room, when I must stand up, when I am not allowed to be in my room, when I can use the phone, when I can use email, what paper I can write letters on, what pen I am allowed to own, what I have to wear, etc. Sometimes, all the rules make being a real adult difficult. Sometimes, seeing the fighting among inmates gets to me. Sometimes, having too much time on my hands is the worst thing for my brain.
Let's face it. I miss my job. I loved my job, here. I loved teaching. Yesterday, I tutored two of my past students - one in decimals, one in algebra. It felt good. Time went by so fast during the week when I worked. Time moves so much slower now. I don't regret resigning from my job. I had to. Truly. However, I miss the real impact that work had. If you want your time to go by quicker in prison, get a job - one that utilizes your brain!
There was some very good news, yesterday. The doctors are starting radiation and chemo on my father next week. They believe it could help prolong life - maybe even bring back his eyesight (always double vision now). He may actually become blind, but he may live for a lot longer. I'm not sure why they scared my family so much by telling them there was nothing they could do, at first, but my father has a top neurological team and maybe, just maybe, he'll get through this okay. One thing that's definite, now, is that he should be around when I am finally able to visit him. Funds and permission from probation will be my only obstacles - both are merely roadblocks and can be overcome.
Today, I already feel better. I'm not sure why yesterday was so difficult for me, but today I know I'm okay. I am grateful that I don't try to hold back my emotions or bad days, though. In my past life, I would have hidden such feelings by just going gambling. This week marks 6 years since my last gamble (my clean date of June 9th is my first GA meeting) but May 5th, 2008, was my last gamble. Sunday, mother's day, will mark 6 years from when my "Divine intervention" occurred - when I was officially caught/found out, and I had to leave a life I thought I loved. That day saved my life. I always get very reflective at this time of the year. This is the first year, since it all happened, that the dates line up - the 11th is on Mother's Day - which is the same day/date as 6 years ago. I will likely write about that day, here, in the coming days. It's important to reflect and see how much I've grown and how much good there is in my life. Today, I will focus on all the good.
Like a child I am told when to wake up, when to go to sleep, when I can and cannot use the restroom, when to eat my meals, what I am allowed to eat, when I am allowed to be outside, when I must be in my room, when I must stand up, when I am not allowed to be in my room, when I can use the phone, when I can use email, what paper I can write letters on, what pen I am allowed to own, what I have to wear, etc. Sometimes, all the rules make being a real adult difficult. Sometimes, seeing the fighting among inmates gets to me. Sometimes, having too much time on my hands is the worst thing for my brain.
Let's face it. I miss my job. I loved my job, here. I loved teaching. Yesterday, I tutored two of my past students - one in decimals, one in algebra. It felt good. Time went by so fast during the week when I worked. Time moves so much slower now. I don't regret resigning from my job. I had to. Truly. However, I miss the real impact that work had. If you want your time to go by quicker in prison, get a job - one that utilizes your brain!
There was some very good news, yesterday. The doctors are starting radiation and chemo on my father next week. They believe it could help prolong life - maybe even bring back his eyesight (always double vision now). He may actually become blind, but he may live for a lot longer. I'm not sure why they scared my family so much by telling them there was nothing they could do, at first, but my father has a top neurological team and maybe, just maybe, he'll get through this okay. One thing that's definite, now, is that he should be around when I am finally able to visit him. Funds and permission from probation will be my only obstacles - both are merely roadblocks and can be overcome.
Today, I already feel better. I'm not sure why yesterday was so difficult for me, but today I know I'm okay. I am grateful that I don't try to hold back my emotions or bad days, though. In my past life, I would have hidden such feelings by just going gambling. This week marks 6 years since my last gamble (my clean date of June 9th is my first GA meeting) but May 5th, 2008, was my last gamble. Sunday, mother's day, will mark 6 years from when my "Divine intervention" occurred - when I was officially caught/found out, and I had to leave a life I thought I loved. That day saved my life. I always get very reflective at this time of the year. This is the first year, since it all happened, that the dates line up - the 11th is on Mother's Day - which is the same day/date as 6 years ago. I will likely write about that day, here, in the coming days. It's important to reflect and see how much I've grown and how much good there is in my life. Today, I will focus on all the good.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
From Dragonfly: Out Date Update
Okay, I have some news - nothing definite for sure - but it's progress. Yesterday, my case manager and I finally reached someone at the right region and they had NOT started processing my paperwork for release yet. When my case manager informed him that I am supposed to be heading to home confinement on May 28th, I think my file just rose to the top. Here's what we did learn, though:
Since I am still a med care level 3, my file must go through a doctor on their end first. The doctor can either decide that I can go to home confinement or that I am not eligible for home confinement due to my health concerns. The thing is, I have no idea what my file says about my health. I've already been denied halfway house and camp due to my health - but I am able to work, I am active, and I don't need any assistance in giving myself my medication or taking care of my daily needs. According to BOP policy, I should be a care level 2, but here, for whatever reason they give, I am a care level 3. This extra point in care level could mean, for some people, still being denied home confinement, if the region's doctors (who have never seen you) make a determination that you are not medically qualified. Once again, I wish I just stopped all my medication for the time I was here and, somehow, got my medical care level down to a 1 or 2. I have no idea how my body would have fared, but the bureaucracy for people with medical conditions is crazy!
So, once the doctor "approves" me for my home confinement, my file will also have to go back to my P.O., who will again be required to visit my home. My case manager was surprised by this, because we submitted a letter approving my home residence by the P.O. with my exit packet.
Once the P.O. approves the home, again, my packet goes to the halfway house, which will be a different one that I originally was told (different region and all). I was told that I will spend 1-3 days at the halfway house and then go to my home. Since I am released on a Wednesday, if my May 28th date holds true, I will likely head home on Friday or the following Monday. The halfway house has to ensure they have a bed for me, so actually three different halfway houses are consulted by the region, and I will be placed in the one that is closest to my home that also has a bed on or near my date... if the halfway house is full, or all of them are full, then the date can be extended until a bed opens up.
So, how long does all this take? Usually, at least the 26 days I mentioned before, but can be longer, much, much longer. Since we talked to the guy at my region, yesterday, he promised to start the process on me today. I pray no one is on vacation and he can expedite the process. He told my case manager that they could still make the May 28th date IF they can get everything done by 10 days prior to that date... so we have just over a week... I say "go forth and make it happen!"
Since I am still a med care level 3, my file must go through a doctor on their end first. The doctor can either decide that I can go to home confinement or that I am not eligible for home confinement due to my health concerns. The thing is, I have no idea what my file says about my health. I've already been denied halfway house and camp due to my health - but I am able to work, I am active, and I don't need any assistance in giving myself my medication or taking care of my daily needs. According to BOP policy, I should be a care level 2, but here, for whatever reason they give, I am a care level 3. This extra point in care level could mean, for some people, still being denied home confinement, if the region's doctors (who have never seen you) make a determination that you are not medically qualified. Once again, I wish I just stopped all my medication for the time I was here and, somehow, got my medical care level down to a 1 or 2. I have no idea how my body would have fared, but the bureaucracy for people with medical conditions is crazy!
So, once the doctor "approves" me for my home confinement, my file will also have to go back to my P.O., who will again be required to visit my home. My case manager was surprised by this, because we submitted a letter approving my home residence by the P.O. with my exit packet.
Once the P.O. approves the home, again, my packet goes to the halfway house, which will be a different one that I originally was told (different region and all). I was told that I will spend 1-3 days at the halfway house and then go to my home. Since I am released on a Wednesday, if my May 28th date holds true, I will likely head home on Friday or the following Monday. The halfway house has to ensure they have a bed for me, so actually three different halfway houses are consulted by the region, and I will be placed in the one that is closest to my home that also has a bed on or near my date... if the halfway house is full, or all of them are full, then the date can be extended until a bed opens up.
So, how long does all this take? Usually, at least the 26 days I mentioned before, but can be longer, much, much longer. Since we talked to the guy at my region, yesterday, he promised to start the process on me today. I pray no one is on vacation and he can expedite the process. He told my case manager that they could still make the May 28th date IF they can get everything done by 10 days prior to that date... so we have just over a week... I say "go forth and make it happen!"
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
From Dragonfly: Hump Day
Today is Lola's husband's open heart surgery. If she were still here, I would be able to comfort her, as she waits for news of how he is faring. He was very nervous about the surgery and she wanted to be there more than anything. Since she couldn't, she sent a beautiful handmade teddy bear and an incredible card with a poem. He received them a couple days ago and loved them. They brought him out of his negativity for just a bit - which was good. But, like any spouse, it is times like these that he wants his wife close. An impossible situation for any marriage. So, I just want to put prayers out there for her husband today and into his recovery period after. I know he'll be okay.
Unfortunately, we have no phones for three days. In order to make a phone call, Lola will have to go to the Chaplains at the camp and have them call the number. She will likely only get to make one phone call before the phones are back on Friday. Not having phones for a couple days impacts a lot of people. There are birthdays (like my stepfathers was yesterday), anniversaries, good night calls to young children, and more that are missed for a couple days due to the lack of ability to call. It's so hard to explain to people on the outside how much we cannot control what we have access to and when. For the last two days, our email system has been down half the day as well. With no phones, when the email system is working, there are extremely long lines.
Plus, President Obama is doling out a clemency campaign that includes a long survey on the computers. Any inmate who has a non-violent charge and has served 10 years or more, can fill out the survey to be considered for Presidential Clemency. The President is expected to release thousands of non-violent offenders who were given extreme sentences. Here at Carswell, there are far too many women who fit in that category. When they finally get on a computer, the survey tends to take them a good amount of time to complete. I wish they had legal advice to know how to answer the questions, but there is none. I just hope some of them get through the process and go home, soon.
It's Wednesday - hump day - which also makes it banana and hamburger day. There are so many routines here, that we know our days by the routines. My routine will start with breakfast with Freckles and the morning at inside rec working out. It's a new routine, but one I hope to keep on the outside, as well (sans breakfast with Freckles, but I'll be thinking of her).
Unfortunately, we have no phones for three days. In order to make a phone call, Lola will have to go to the Chaplains at the camp and have them call the number. She will likely only get to make one phone call before the phones are back on Friday. Not having phones for a couple days impacts a lot of people. There are birthdays (like my stepfathers was yesterday), anniversaries, good night calls to young children, and more that are missed for a couple days due to the lack of ability to call. It's so hard to explain to people on the outside how much we cannot control what we have access to and when. For the last two days, our email system has been down half the day as well. With no phones, when the email system is working, there are extremely long lines.
Plus, President Obama is doling out a clemency campaign that includes a long survey on the computers. Any inmate who has a non-violent charge and has served 10 years or more, can fill out the survey to be considered for Presidential Clemency. The President is expected to release thousands of non-violent offenders who were given extreme sentences. Here at Carswell, there are far too many women who fit in that category. When they finally get on a computer, the survey tends to take them a good amount of time to complete. I wish they had legal advice to know how to answer the questions, but there is none. I just hope some of them get through the process and go home, soon.
It's Wednesday - hump day - which also makes it banana and hamburger day. There are so many routines here, that we know our days by the routines. My routine will start with breakfast with Freckles and the morning at inside rec working out. It's a new routine, but one I hope to keep on the outside, as well (sans breakfast with Freckles, but I'll be thinking of her).
Tuesday, May 6, 2014
From Dragonfly: Better News
I'll start with my father - they believe the cancer is a spread of his bladder cancer from a year ago. I don't understand why they didn't do radiation or chemo after they took it out. If it spread to his brain, it's likely elsewhere in his body. He is going to start radiation and chemo asap and they will see what happens. His sister died from brain cancer - spread from elsewhere on her body - just two years ago. The similarities are not good.
T.S. is on her way to Belize for a service learning trip. At nineteen years old, a trip like this will truly help her understand important concepts - like globalization, real poverty, giving back/making a difference, communication across cultures, and more. I'm so excited for her. She is one amazing young woman and I am truly lucky to have her in my life!
No real new news on my leaving prison. I went and talked with the unit manager (supervisor to the case manager) yesterday. He didn't know of my situation, but heard me out... Since the paperwork was emailed on Friday, there is still a "chance" that I will be able to be released for May 28th. They say that they can process a release in three days if they have to... so I guess I have until the Friday prior - May 23rd - to receive word. Of course, that means I will be taking a couple day Greyhound Bus to home. Well, to halfway house, where I was told yesterday, I will spend up to 10 days. If I am going to a Halfway House anyway, why on earth was I denied halfway house????!???! It makes no sense. But then again, little here or in the BOP does.
Regardless of how much more time I am here, I am taking it all in a day at a time. I continue to receive a good amount of mail (thank you friends!) and that continues to help the days go by with a smile. I have everything to be grateful for in my life and I will not waste my energy wanting more. I'm leaving soon, so many here have years, or dozens of years, remaining. I couldn't imagine their struggles. I am so lucky not to have them. I'm a short-timer; not that any amount of time goes by quickly, but I can always see myself on the other side of the fence.
There are three things I plan to do immediately upon my release. The first is attend a G.A. Meeting. I miss the meetings more than anyone can imagine. Not being able to have that fellowship in here makes no sense. I'll never understand why they wouldn't allow me to start a meeting. So many can use it! Just the other day, I met a woman who is also a compulsive gambler. She was talking the "big shotism" of gambling - having never entered recovery for gambling. She is in a drug program, but is unable to focus on her gambling addiction. When she leaves here, where will that lead her???
The second thing I am going to do is see/call all my friends and family. The support I've received has been amazing and everyone will receive a personal thank you from me. Being here without support, is so very hard on everyone who has to do their time alone. My goal is to NEVER forget, so I will make May/June a special time annually, where I am able to look back at all the people in my life and, once again, thank them for making my time here pass with an incredible amount of love and support.
The third thing I will do is get a full body physical. I may be at a medical facility, but my health has not been monitored. The last time I had blood tests was in February (they are supposed to do them every 1-2 months). I have not seen my assigned doctor, ever, since she started in December. I know my body and know that I probably need a change in my medication regiment, but I will do that on the outside. Plus, I read about a new pill for autoimmune issues - it replaces the enbryl. I am definitely going to see if I am a candidate. I look forward to being my own health care advocate once I am given the opportunity.
The end is near. I know this for sure. Perhaps my higher power is letting me remember, I must release the control to try and know exactly how and when I will be going home. It's part of step 3, and since I have Lola (somewhere on the other side of the fence) needing to release control, I shall as well. You won't hear more news about my release until I have definite news. It will happen and I will wait for it - a day at a time.
T.S. is on her way to Belize for a service learning trip. At nineteen years old, a trip like this will truly help her understand important concepts - like globalization, real poverty, giving back/making a difference, communication across cultures, and more. I'm so excited for her. She is one amazing young woman and I am truly lucky to have her in my life!
No real new news on my leaving prison. I went and talked with the unit manager (supervisor to the case manager) yesterday. He didn't know of my situation, but heard me out... Since the paperwork was emailed on Friday, there is still a "chance" that I will be able to be released for May 28th. They say that they can process a release in three days if they have to... so I guess I have until the Friday prior - May 23rd - to receive word. Of course, that means I will be taking a couple day Greyhound Bus to home. Well, to halfway house, where I was told yesterday, I will spend up to 10 days. If I am going to a Halfway House anyway, why on earth was I denied halfway house????!???! It makes no sense. But then again, little here or in the BOP does.
Regardless of how much more time I am here, I am taking it all in a day at a time. I continue to receive a good amount of mail (thank you friends!) and that continues to help the days go by with a smile. I have everything to be grateful for in my life and I will not waste my energy wanting more. I'm leaving soon, so many here have years, or dozens of years, remaining. I couldn't imagine their struggles. I am so lucky not to have them. I'm a short-timer; not that any amount of time goes by quickly, but I can always see myself on the other side of the fence.
There are three things I plan to do immediately upon my release. The first is attend a G.A. Meeting. I miss the meetings more than anyone can imagine. Not being able to have that fellowship in here makes no sense. I'll never understand why they wouldn't allow me to start a meeting. So many can use it! Just the other day, I met a woman who is also a compulsive gambler. She was talking the "big shotism" of gambling - having never entered recovery for gambling. She is in a drug program, but is unable to focus on her gambling addiction. When she leaves here, where will that lead her???
The second thing I am going to do is see/call all my friends and family. The support I've received has been amazing and everyone will receive a personal thank you from me. Being here without support, is so very hard on everyone who has to do their time alone. My goal is to NEVER forget, so I will make May/June a special time annually, where I am able to look back at all the people in my life and, once again, thank them for making my time here pass with an incredible amount of love and support.
The third thing I will do is get a full body physical. I may be at a medical facility, but my health has not been monitored. The last time I had blood tests was in February (they are supposed to do them every 1-2 months). I have not seen my assigned doctor, ever, since she started in December. I know my body and know that I probably need a change in my medication regiment, but I will do that on the outside. Plus, I read about a new pill for autoimmune issues - it replaces the enbryl. I am definitely going to see if I am a candidate. I look forward to being my own health care advocate once I am given the opportunity.
The end is near. I know this for sure. Perhaps my higher power is letting me remember, I must release the control to try and know exactly how and when I will be going home. It's part of step 3, and since I have Lola (somewhere on the other side of the fence) needing to release control, I shall as well. You won't hear more news about my release until I have definite news. It will happen and I will wait for it - a day at a time.
Monday, May 5, 2014
From Dragonfly: Don't Blink
(Yes Cache, the subject is meant for you!!). Also, the subject is quite appropriate for my day. Last night, we discovered that Chi was being sent to the camp across the street this morning. She was on the call-out for 9am to go to R&D, but they contacted her at 6am and told her to pack out immediately. She did, we hugged, and she left. We started this journey together, but she is now on her own... well, not on her own...
Lola was ALSO transferred across the street this morning. Neither she nor I knew she was going today. We sat on the benches this morning and made plans for tonight... Now, she is gone. I'm happy for her, but I am very sad that I couldn't say, "goodbye." She is such a great person and friend and I will miss her so much. Four other people walked across the street in green uniforms (rather than our Khaki) that I know of. Good people who will certainly enjoy the lake view and the additional freedoms afforded to camp status folks. No more barbed wire for them.
I feel like I blinked my eyes and suddenly my Carswell life has changed once again. My dear friend is no longer with me. Her husband has open heart surgery on Wednesday, and I will not be able to be there to support her. I was just talking to her this morning about Step 3 and "letting go..." I told her to practice not trying to "control" a situation this week and see how that feels. I had no idea that the situation wasn't going to be on Wednesdays and the unknowns about her dear husband. The situation happened immediately. She was at work, told to go pack out, and was gone. Had someone I know not seen her, I would be at indoor rec tonight waiting for her. Don't blink, because everything changes while our eyes are closed.
Don't blink is also appropriate for the incredible inmates who cooked all night last night (9pm-6am) to make a very special Cinco de Mayo lunch for everyone. The lunch was delicious, but these folks had to go right back to work this morning for their normal shifts. If they tried to get a couple hours of sleep eye in, the C.O.'s walked around telling them to get up, no sleeping during the day. They look like walking zombies in the Chow Hall.
I've stuck with my new fondness of Yoga so far. I have worked out 5 of the last 6 days. A wonderful woman (who happens to look just like the yoga instructor on Orange is the New Black) works with me and a few others in the mornings. I also do some low-impact/arthritis yoga videos. I enjoy it... a lot. The Warrior II pose and I are now "one." Ha!!! I'm glad I don't sleep through my mornings and am getting in some healthy activity. It feels good.
My last weeks/months here (depending on what happens with my paperwork) will be spent doing a lot of healthy things. My besties - South and Lola - are already gone. My remaining bestie - Freckles and I will walk out around the same time. Red and I are getting close, which is really cool. Taz is still here and she is really good to me - as I am to her. I never thought prison would be about the friendships we make. So, don't blink, and look at all the possibilities.
Lola was ALSO transferred across the street this morning. Neither she nor I knew she was going today. We sat on the benches this morning and made plans for tonight... Now, she is gone. I'm happy for her, but I am very sad that I couldn't say, "goodbye." She is such a great person and friend and I will miss her so much. Four other people walked across the street in green uniforms (rather than our Khaki) that I know of. Good people who will certainly enjoy the lake view and the additional freedoms afforded to camp status folks. No more barbed wire for them.
I feel like I blinked my eyes and suddenly my Carswell life has changed once again. My dear friend is no longer with me. Her husband has open heart surgery on Wednesday, and I will not be able to be there to support her. I was just talking to her this morning about Step 3 and "letting go..." I told her to practice not trying to "control" a situation this week and see how that feels. I had no idea that the situation wasn't going to be on Wednesdays and the unknowns about her dear husband. The situation happened immediately. She was at work, told to go pack out, and was gone. Had someone I know not seen her, I would be at indoor rec tonight waiting for her. Don't blink, because everything changes while our eyes are closed.
Don't blink is also appropriate for the incredible inmates who cooked all night last night (9pm-6am) to make a very special Cinco de Mayo lunch for everyone. The lunch was delicious, but these folks had to go right back to work this morning for their normal shifts. If they tried to get a couple hours of sleep eye in, the C.O.'s walked around telling them to get up, no sleeping during the day. They look like walking zombies in the Chow Hall.
I've stuck with my new fondness of Yoga so far. I have worked out 5 of the last 6 days. A wonderful woman (who happens to look just like the yoga instructor on Orange is the New Black) works with me and a few others in the mornings. I also do some low-impact/arthritis yoga videos. I enjoy it... a lot. The Warrior II pose and I are now "one." Ha!!! I'm glad I don't sleep through my mornings and am getting in some healthy activity. It feels good.
My last weeks/months here (depending on what happens with my paperwork) will be spent doing a lot of healthy things. My besties - South and Lola - are already gone. My remaining bestie - Freckles and I will walk out around the same time. Red and I are getting close, which is really cool. Taz is still here and she is really good to me - as I am to her. I never thought prison would be about the friendships we make. So, don't blink, and look at all the possibilities.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
From Dragonfly: Carswell Tan
It is not allowed at our facility to "sun bathe." The sun is not always our friend - there are people dying here due to skin cancer taking hold. So, no tanning allowed.
It's sunny and hot, and everyone spends their free time outside at outdoor rec or just on the compound. We sit on benches, play kickball/softball, walk the track, listen to music, hacky sack, shoot hoops, run, read, do homework, make bracelets, draw, etc. People are everywhere - relaxing and having fun.
So, what happens? It's the Carswell Tan. We ALL have farmer's tans! Our shoulder's are light, our arms are dark. Our legs are dark, our feet are white. Our thighs are white. We burn on half our body, but not the other half. Our scalps burn (mine did!). Our necks get color, our backs get none.
In the unit at night, when most people are wearing their shower shoes around the unit, it's funny to see everyone's "sock" line. There are no sandals, so it's where your socks cover, that remains white - kind of like a "golfer's" tan. Week after week, we watch people get darker and darker by the sun, even though there is no "tanning" allowed.
They do sell sun screen in commissary. However, you are more likely to find someone wearing "hot six oil" on their exposed parts, than the sunscreen. Of course, this is the more Caucasian people here. The darker skin folks, for the most part, still have the farmer's tan, but they are not burning as bad.
I have to admit. I look better when I have a little color on my face and arms. However, I do not like the feeling of getting burned and I certainly do not put oil on my skin. I suppose there's a "control" thing for inmates, wanting to be able to look the way they want to. At least it's nice, warm, and sunny - and we are all gaining some necessary vitamin D for our health!
It's sunny and hot, and everyone spends their free time outside at outdoor rec or just on the compound. We sit on benches, play kickball/softball, walk the track, listen to music, hacky sack, shoot hoops, run, read, do homework, make bracelets, draw, etc. People are everywhere - relaxing and having fun.
So, what happens? It's the Carswell Tan. We ALL have farmer's tans! Our shoulder's are light, our arms are dark. Our legs are dark, our feet are white. Our thighs are white. We burn on half our body, but not the other half. Our scalps burn (mine did!). Our necks get color, our backs get none.
In the unit at night, when most people are wearing their shower shoes around the unit, it's funny to see everyone's "sock" line. There are no sandals, so it's where your socks cover, that remains white - kind of like a "golfer's" tan. Week after week, we watch people get darker and darker by the sun, even though there is no "tanning" allowed.
They do sell sun screen in commissary. However, you are more likely to find someone wearing "hot six oil" on their exposed parts, than the sunscreen. Of course, this is the more Caucasian people here. The darker skin folks, for the most part, still have the farmer's tan, but they are not burning as bad.
I have to admit. I look better when I have a little color on my face and arms. However, I do not like the feeling of getting burned and I certainly do not put oil on my skin. I suppose there's a "control" thing for inmates, wanting to be able to look the way they want to. At least it's nice, warm, and sunny - and we are all gaining some necessary vitamin D for our health!
From Dragonfly: Special Olympics
This weekend features the Special Olympics of Carswell. About fifty participants, all in wheelchairs, are participating in a variety of challenges - such as being run around the track by an INA, basketball, strength challenges, wheel chair decor/theme, and so much more! Yesterday was the opening games - with a highlighted speaker who happens to be a single leg amputee. On Monday, at the closing ceremonies, we will hear from a double legged amputee who was allowed to RE-ENLIST in the military! With so many amputee's at Carswell, the messages of hope are going to the ears of those who need it most.
Yesterday, a parade of wheel chairs, headed by a fake train, made it's way down the main corridor of the compound. The streets were lined with onlookers, all cheering for their favorite 'athletes' and their favorite decorated chairs. There was the "flower child," who wore a crochet flower lei across her head and had her chair surrounded by a cardboard decorated sign saying "convertible of flowers." There was the "lollipop girl," who had two huge lollipops sticking up the sides of her chair. So many fun wheelchairs. All the chairs have fun designs in their wheels, so as the women roll or are rolled around the grounds, the glittered designs sparkle in the sun's rays. While such decor would be contraband any other time of the year, for this weekend, they can keep their chairs decorated, even in the chow hall.
Participants were young and old - 20's through 80's, but this is not a competition that looked at age. It was about fun, and fun was had by all. More than 30 volunteers helped move the participants around to where they needed to be, and ensured the safety of everyone. By 2pm, the festivities were done for the afternoon, leading many in their chairs to take naps from the exhausting schedule of events. In the clinic, participants who needed injections for various ailments, could be seen sleeping right in their chairs as they waited to be called to the back by the nursing staff.
Many offices around campus closed, so that staff and inmate workers had the opportunity to attend the festivities. The library and education were closed for the afternoon. There were dozens of Carswell staff present for the parade and opening speakers. The support for the participants was huge.
The Olympics will run all weekend. From what I can tell, not even the participants are aware of everything going on - they are just told the next place to show up, and they do. On Monday, the closing ceremonies will take place. There will be prizes for the top three winners. Bragging rights for being the compound's top wheelchair athletes will last for a year, until next year someone else, perhaps, takes the prize.
Yesterday, a parade of wheel chairs, headed by a fake train, made it's way down the main corridor of the compound. The streets were lined with onlookers, all cheering for their favorite 'athletes' and their favorite decorated chairs. There was the "flower child," who wore a crochet flower lei across her head and had her chair surrounded by a cardboard decorated sign saying "convertible of flowers." There was the "lollipop girl," who had two huge lollipops sticking up the sides of her chair. So many fun wheelchairs. All the chairs have fun designs in their wheels, so as the women roll or are rolled around the grounds, the glittered designs sparkle in the sun's rays. While such decor would be contraband any other time of the year, for this weekend, they can keep their chairs decorated, even in the chow hall.
Participants were young and old - 20's through 80's, but this is not a competition that looked at age. It was about fun, and fun was had by all. More than 30 volunteers helped move the participants around to where they needed to be, and ensured the safety of everyone. By 2pm, the festivities were done for the afternoon, leading many in their chairs to take naps from the exhausting schedule of events. In the clinic, participants who needed injections for various ailments, could be seen sleeping right in their chairs as they waited to be called to the back by the nursing staff.
Many offices around campus closed, so that staff and inmate workers had the opportunity to attend the festivities. The library and education were closed for the afternoon. There were dozens of Carswell staff present for the parade and opening speakers. The support for the participants was huge.
The Olympics will run all weekend. From what I can tell, not even the participants are aware of everything going on - they are just told the next place to show up, and they do. On Monday, the closing ceremonies will take place. There will be prizes for the top three winners. Bragging rights for being the compound's top wheelchair athletes will last for a year, until next year someone else, perhaps, takes the prize.
From Dragonfly: Starting Over
Today, we officially know that I am not in the system, yet, for heading home. It appears that neither region knows anything about my paperwork. So, my case worker was asked to send it again via email. She did. What I don't understand is, in this age of technology and secured servers, why don't they send it via email to begin with? We have no idea where the other set of my papers went, but I'm not processed for release, yet, which means it will once again be a waiting game.
I've heard rumors of people being expedited, but I'm not sure what that looks like in terms of time to be processed. If it takes the 26 day average, I will be processed on the day I am supposed to leave, meaning, I would not be leaving that day. I pray that they choose to expedite me and, somehow, in a week or two, we will know I'm leaving on my home confinement date. Otherwise, it could be any date between then and July 2nd. So, no matter what, two months from today, I will be home.
These last few weeks have been hard, and yet I am feeling content. At least, as content as one can be in prison. Freckles and I were talking today, as we walked a mile around the track, about how this experience has changed us. I guess Joy said something to Sporty about this experience changing me, and no doubt it has. Freckles and I started with some positive things - like we are stronger. We see the school system differently. We see drug charges differently. We see entitlement differently. We are more connected with our minds and bodies. We accept things easier. We know we can help make a difference and use this experience to help others. I am more feminine (sounds funny, but true... I love wearing my hair in braids and my hair has grown substantially!). I also love the smells of the perfume/cologne ads in magazines (I always ignored them in the past).
There were also bad things. For example, we despise bureaucracy even more. I jump at the slightest loud sound or distraction. It's hard to trust what people say to me. Medical care can not always be trusted. I have less compassion (something that Freckles and I said is inevitable when we have to walk around people having seizures or having four people die in the same week). There are so many changes - and we will probably know them when people point them out. We've had a short sentence, but it's become reality for us. Oh, I don't know if I ever want to wear grey or Khaki again!!!
Even with what's happening with my father, I am feeling okay. I have made new friends lately that make me laugh - as does Taz. I love my time with Lola and Freckles. Red does a good job getting me to get out of any negativity and to think positive. I can face this new challenge. I've faced many others and I'm stronger for doing so.
I've heard rumors of people being expedited, but I'm not sure what that looks like in terms of time to be processed. If it takes the 26 day average, I will be processed on the day I am supposed to leave, meaning, I would not be leaving that day. I pray that they choose to expedite me and, somehow, in a week or two, we will know I'm leaving on my home confinement date. Otherwise, it could be any date between then and July 2nd. So, no matter what, two months from today, I will be home.
These last few weeks have been hard, and yet I am feeling content. At least, as content as one can be in prison. Freckles and I were talking today, as we walked a mile around the track, about how this experience has changed us. I guess Joy said something to Sporty about this experience changing me, and no doubt it has. Freckles and I started with some positive things - like we are stronger. We see the school system differently. We see drug charges differently. We see entitlement differently. We are more connected with our minds and bodies. We accept things easier. We know we can help make a difference and use this experience to help others. I am more feminine (sounds funny, but true... I love wearing my hair in braids and my hair has grown substantially!). I also love the smells of the perfume/cologne ads in magazines (I always ignored them in the past).
There were also bad things. For example, we despise bureaucracy even more. I jump at the slightest loud sound or distraction. It's hard to trust what people say to me. Medical care can not always be trusted. I have less compassion (something that Freckles and I said is inevitable when we have to walk around people having seizures or having four people die in the same week). There are so many changes - and we will probably know them when people point them out. We've had a short sentence, but it's become reality for us. Oh, I don't know if I ever want to wear grey or Khaki again!!!
Even with what's happening with my father, I am feeling okay. I have made new friends lately that make me laugh - as does Taz. I love my time with Lola and Freckles. Red does a good job getting me to get out of any negativity and to think positive. I can face this new challenge. I've faced many others and I'm stronger for doing so.
Friday, May 2, 2014
From Dragonfly: The Smiles and Frowns
Every day, as I sit outside my case manager's office, I see the women enter and leave her office. We all just want to get out of here - some to transfer to a different facility, some to halfway house, some just across the street, and some to home confinement or home at the end of their sentence. No matter what, we stand there, waiting, for her attention to tell us our next steps and hear news. Often, many of us leave with frowns. No new news. No known next steps. Just wait.
However, today, I watched many people with smiles. Two women got news that they are being transferred to other facilities. A couple people learned that they will be transferred across the street, to the camp. Among those people, Lola was one of them. That means that before I even leave the prison, Lola will be safely across the street, with no fences. They have a puppy program, and she hopes to be given the opportunity to train a puppy. She'd be great at that. For the longest time, we had imagined her walking me out of here, but instead it will be me, walking her out.
I left with a frown. No new news on how processing my exit is going. My case worker called someone at the region I should have been processed through. They need to call her back. It's the first time we actually reached anyone, so that's progress.
On news about my dad, there's no update. He's home resting. The docs haven't received all his results yet. He'll have a game plan for treatments to extend life on May 15th (if there are any). His voice sounds better. I just hope his hope holds out too.
I will keep going, every day, to my case manager's office for an update. It's the only thing I have the ability to do. I will see many of the same faces that walked out with frowns today, as well. One day, each of us will be the one's with smiles.
However, today, I watched many people with smiles. Two women got news that they are being transferred to other facilities. A couple people learned that they will be transferred across the street, to the camp. Among those people, Lola was one of them. That means that before I even leave the prison, Lola will be safely across the street, with no fences. They have a puppy program, and she hopes to be given the opportunity to train a puppy. She'd be great at that. For the longest time, we had imagined her walking me out of here, but instead it will be me, walking her out.
I left with a frown. No new news on how processing my exit is going. My case worker called someone at the region I should have been processed through. They need to call her back. It's the first time we actually reached anyone, so that's progress.
On news about my dad, there's no update. He's home resting. The docs haven't received all his results yet. He'll have a game plan for treatments to extend life on May 15th (if there are any). His voice sounds better. I just hope his hope holds out too.
I will keep going, every day, to my case manager's office for an update. It's the only thing I have the ability to do. I will see many of the same faces that walked out with frowns today, as well. One day, each of us will be the one's with smiles.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
From Dragonfly: Sore from One End to the Other
When I was on the outside, I was told that I should exercise, even if it hurts. Since everything hurts, the docs recommended walking and swimming. I keep going to look for a swimming pool, here, but alas I have yet to find one. So, walking is what I have been doing. On an almost daily basis, I walk around the track. Some say 4x around is a mile, some say 5x. I don't walk fast, but I walk what I can - sometimes two laps, sometimes six. I usually walk with a friend, sometimes on my own.
As I wrote yesterday, I decided to try the yoga video for people with arthritis. Now I know exactly why I was recommended walking and swimming, and not other types of exercise. OUCH! I think every joint I have is inflamed at the moment. Obviously, when you start in yoga, you find muscles you didn't even know you had, but these are not my muscles hurting. It is all joints.
The thing that sucks the most about this, is that I really enjoyed doing the workout. I went with Cali and it's always better to have a "workout buddy," than to go it alone. She even chose to do my video with me. I learned poses - like Warrior I and Warrior II; Standing Mountain was by far the easiest. I enjoyed part of the warm-up, the standing poses, and the reclining poses. The video shows ways to do it with a chair, which would help some with bad balance (like myself), but we don't have chairs in there. So, I grabbed a large blow up "thingy" and used that to help with my balance. It worked. Until last night, when the expressions on my face led everyone to wonder what the heck was wrong with me... "ouch."
Red asked me to avoid the yoga today and to just try it on days I'm getting my injection or just after. It's not a bad idea. I don't know if my injection will help, but perhaps it would. I just got an injection on Monday, though, so a Wednesday workout should be close enough. It sucks when you no longer can make the healthiest decisions concerning your body. I want to be active. I want to run. I can never really run again. At least, that's what the doctor's and websites about my condition, say. I watch softball, kickball, and basketball. I can not play any of the three. I used to play all three. Well, I "could" play anything I want, but paying the price right away during/after, is just not good decision making.
Anyway, it is not going to stop me from trying to be more active. Even if I don't do a video today, I will go with Cali to Inside Rec this morning. I can just do some stretching, or basic mat exercises I learned in physical therapy back home. There's are exercise balls that I know some exercises for. There are steps, where I can continue to strengthen my walking up/down stairs. There are 1 pound weights, that I can use for toning - although I prefer my exercise band for that purpose (it's working, too!). It's been a long, long time since I've been active. I'm going to keep trying to find the right exercises and even stick with the yoga if I can, because being active feels good, even if my joints hate me for doing it!
As I wrote yesterday, I decided to try the yoga video for people with arthritis. Now I know exactly why I was recommended walking and swimming, and not other types of exercise. OUCH! I think every joint I have is inflamed at the moment. Obviously, when you start in yoga, you find muscles you didn't even know you had, but these are not my muscles hurting. It is all joints.
The thing that sucks the most about this, is that I really enjoyed doing the workout. I went with Cali and it's always better to have a "workout buddy," than to go it alone. She even chose to do my video with me. I learned poses - like Warrior I and Warrior II; Standing Mountain was by far the easiest. I enjoyed part of the warm-up, the standing poses, and the reclining poses. The video shows ways to do it with a chair, which would help some with bad balance (like myself), but we don't have chairs in there. So, I grabbed a large blow up "thingy" and used that to help with my balance. It worked. Until last night, when the expressions on my face led everyone to wonder what the heck was wrong with me... "ouch."
Red asked me to avoid the yoga today and to just try it on days I'm getting my injection or just after. It's not a bad idea. I don't know if my injection will help, but perhaps it would. I just got an injection on Monday, though, so a Wednesday workout should be close enough. It sucks when you no longer can make the healthiest decisions concerning your body. I want to be active. I want to run. I can never really run again. At least, that's what the doctor's and websites about my condition, say. I watch softball, kickball, and basketball. I can not play any of the three. I used to play all three. Well, I "could" play anything I want, but paying the price right away during/after, is just not good decision making.
Anyway, it is not going to stop me from trying to be more active. Even if I don't do a video today, I will go with Cali to Inside Rec this morning. I can just do some stretching, or basic mat exercises I learned in physical therapy back home. There's are exercise balls that I know some exercises for. There are steps, where I can continue to strengthen my walking up/down stairs. There are 1 pound weights, that I can use for toning - although I prefer my exercise band for that purpose (it's working, too!). It's been a long, long time since I've been active. I'm going to keep trying to find the right exercises and even stick with the yoga if I can, because being active feels good, even if my joints hate me for doing it!
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
From Dragonfly: The Game Never Ends
Sometimes, once you've jumped through so many "hoops," you think, okay, that's it, I'm done... The game never ends, though. There's always another road block or hoop... just get used to it. Accept that fact. Stay on course. Advocate for yourself - no one else here will!
I write this because we know how hard it was for me to finally get my exit paperwork completed. Then, we know how many mazes I needed to find my way out of to get approval for home confinement. Then, we know I've been doing the waiting game on when will region send back my paperwork --- with my choosing to check in with my case manager on a very regular basis. We are told to wait 45 days from when our paperwork is sent, but some regions only average 26 days, and I'm so close to the date that I needed to see if we could get the process moving. My case manager never complained, she'd look on the computer and say, "not back yet..."
Yesterday was 36 days from when the paperwork was sent. I once again waited in line to find out if my home confinement date of May 28th has been processed by region. While I waited in line, another inmate, who is with me almost every time I am seeing my case manager, came to tell me the update on her wait... She is to be going to halfway house on May 6th. Her paperwork was sent a week prior to mine. She hadn't heard anything. Turns out, her paperwork was never actually mailed. I'm not sure who failed to send it, but now they need to send it off and expedite it. Her sister already checked the halfway house, beds are available... they just need the paperwork processed. A story like hers is not irregular here. We all have so much difficulty getting out.
So, then it was my turn. Once again, my case worker was incredibly kind. She looked up my computer record. "Nothing yet..." It's been over a month, though, so she said, "let's email them..." She looks up my state. Turns out my state has two regional offices - one for the eastern side of the state and one for the western side of the state. She doesn't know whether the right office received my paperwork... so she emailed them... "I hope I sent the paperwork to the right address..." I wish we had known this issue a month ago - because if the wrong region received my paperwork, it could be a couple more weeks to get it processed by the right region. I pray not. I need to go home.
Going home, though, is going to be more of a process than I had realized. Even though I was told that I medically could not go to halfway house, I have to still go "through" the halfway house to home. So, instead of going home, I will spent 2-14 days (approx.) at a halfway house first. I will have to go through orientation. I am not sure why, if I was not allowed to go to halfway house, I am still required to spend time in one. I should have been at the halfway house, going through orientation already and heading home on or before the 28th of May. Now, I will have to go to the halfway house during my home confinement period. Seems really backward. Hasn't that been my entire experience here?
It's hard to not get frustrating at all the bureaucracy. Thank god I can spend some time relaxing and clearing my brain of the chaos. I always feel better after that. I am also starting a video program today, called "Yoga for Arthritis." I'm going to see if it helps me relax even better. It's the only work out video they offer here for people with medical issues (except wheel chair aerobics). Cali wants me to go to the rec center and work the video every morning - while she does a crazy video called Extremes or something like that. Ah, to be fully able-bodied. We'll see how today goes... I'm down over 30 pounds now without doing much for trying, so maybe this will help take off another few before I head back north.
This afternoon, I will be back at my case manager's office. We will see if she received an email back. Steps will be taken depending on what we hear. I will not give up hope that I am leaving here on May 28th. I still have 27 days and wake up to make it happen!
I write this because we know how hard it was for me to finally get my exit paperwork completed. Then, we know how many mazes I needed to find my way out of to get approval for home confinement. Then, we know I've been doing the waiting game on when will region send back my paperwork --- with my choosing to check in with my case manager on a very regular basis. We are told to wait 45 days from when our paperwork is sent, but some regions only average 26 days, and I'm so close to the date that I needed to see if we could get the process moving. My case manager never complained, she'd look on the computer and say, "not back yet..."
Yesterday was 36 days from when the paperwork was sent. I once again waited in line to find out if my home confinement date of May 28th has been processed by region. While I waited in line, another inmate, who is with me almost every time I am seeing my case manager, came to tell me the update on her wait... She is to be going to halfway house on May 6th. Her paperwork was sent a week prior to mine. She hadn't heard anything. Turns out, her paperwork was never actually mailed. I'm not sure who failed to send it, but now they need to send it off and expedite it. Her sister already checked the halfway house, beds are available... they just need the paperwork processed. A story like hers is not irregular here. We all have so much difficulty getting out.
So, then it was my turn. Once again, my case worker was incredibly kind. She looked up my computer record. "Nothing yet..." It's been over a month, though, so she said, "let's email them..." She looks up my state. Turns out my state has two regional offices - one for the eastern side of the state and one for the western side of the state. She doesn't know whether the right office received my paperwork... so she emailed them... "I hope I sent the paperwork to the right address..." I wish we had known this issue a month ago - because if the wrong region received my paperwork, it could be a couple more weeks to get it processed by the right region. I pray not. I need to go home.
Going home, though, is going to be more of a process than I had realized. Even though I was told that I medically could not go to halfway house, I have to still go "through" the halfway house to home. So, instead of going home, I will spent 2-14 days (approx.) at a halfway house first. I will have to go through orientation. I am not sure why, if I was not allowed to go to halfway house, I am still required to spend time in one. I should have been at the halfway house, going through orientation already and heading home on or before the 28th of May. Now, I will have to go to the halfway house during my home confinement period. Seems really backward. Hasn't that been my entire experience here?
It's hard to not get frustrating at all the bureaucracy. Thank god I can spend some time relaxing and clearing my brain of the chaos. I always feel better after that. I am also starting a video program today, called "Yoga for Arthritis." I'm going to see if it helps me relax even better. It's the only work out video they offer here for people with medical issues (except wheel chair aerobics). Cali wants me to go to the rec center and work the video every morning - while she does a crazy video called Extremes or something like that. Ah, to be fully able-bodied. We'll see how today goes... I'm down over 30 pounds now without doing much for trying, so maybe this will help take off another few before I head back north.
This afternoon, I will be back at my case manager's office. We will see if she received an email back. Steps will be taken depending on what we hear. I will not give up hope that I am leaving here on May 28th. I still have 27 days and wake up to make it happen!
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
From Dragonfly: Friends
Friendships are very temporary in prison. People come and go - some are forgotten, some never are. Today, my friend whose bus ticket didn't work 10 days ago is once again leaving. She's one that will never be forgotten, at least by me and many other people.
As much as friend's go, new people arrive daily. Some you immediately 'click' with, others you don't. In just these past couple weeks, I have gotten close to a new handful of people - Cali, Smiles, and a few others. They are just beginning their journeys, while mine is near it's end. I will see if I am allowed to keep in touch, but I know the rules while on home confinement/supervision are very strict about who we can and who we cannot communicate with. Even if I can't send them letters/email, they will be on my mind. I'll be praying that they can go closer to home and that they are out sooner than initially expected. Cali has big dreams - law school, helping others... she needs to be out there and not in here! She's an idealist - reminds me of myself a bit, when I also chased similar dreams.
I spend my nights, now, still with Lola at the Rec, playing RummyKube. Then I am in my unit, and I spend time with my unit friends. I made a game yesterday - a question game. It sits in a box that once housed Gefilte Fish from Passover. So, we call the game "Gefilte Fish" which makes us all laugh. The questions are "getting to know you" type about all kinds of issues. Everyone is enjoying playing it - at one point we had 9 of us sitting on chairs under the staircase playing yesterday. Some women only wanted to answer questions about sex, but there were questions like, "who would you like to meet from history," or "if you could plan the perfect dinner party, who would you invite," or "describe your best friend," or "if you could work any profession, what would it be and why?" Of course, there are questions about body and sexuality, but it is balanced with so many other types of questions. It is kind of like a board game called "Cowgirls," that I play with my best friends back home. I have a feeling we will have many evenings of playing Gefilte Fish and laughing as we get to know one another even better.
If you are headed in to prison, don't worry about friends. It will happen. There are so many different kinds of women here. We all mesh with someone. Even the ones that seem to have severe mental health issues, have friends. If you are not wanting to be friends with people who are unlike you, well, there are people here just like you. It's very diverse in prison, and you will find yourself someone you can spend time with. It's something you really do not need to worry about.
it's 27 days and a wake up now for me (and for Red). Red has her travel plans already, I'm still waiting for my papers back from region. A young woman who is supposed to leave in under two weeks, hasn't received her papers back yet. Stories like those scare me. We both stand often at our case manager's door, waiting for a moment to check --- "Are they here yet?" Then our brains inevitably go to those bad places, "What if they never received our papers?" "What if I won't be released on that day?" What if, what if, what if... The waiting game is hard.
However, even as I wait, I am not alone in my waiting. People are here to support us and understand what we are going through. Friendship happens in prison. Laughter happens in prison. Support happens in prison. A little game called "Gefilte Fish" may even bring new people into your circle. It helps make the wait to leave a little less stressful.
As much as friend's go, new people arrive daily. Some you immediately 'click' with, others you don't. In just these past couple weeks, I have gotten close to a new handful of people - Cali, Smiles, and a few others. They are just beginning their journeys, while mine is near it's end. I will see if I am allowed to keep in touch, but I know the rules while on home confinement/supervision are very strict about who we can and who we cannot communicate with. Even if I can't send them letters/email, they will be on my mind. I'll be praying that they can go closer to home and that they are out sooner than initially expected. Cali has big dreams - law school, helping others... she needs to be out there and not in here! She's an idealist - reminds me of myself a bit, when I also chased similar dreams.
I spend my nights, now, still with Lola at the Rec, playing RummyKube. Then I am in my unit, and I spend time with my unit friends. I made a game yesterday - a question game. It sits in a box that once housed Gefilte Fish from Passover. So, we call the game "Gefilte Fish" which makes us all laugh. The questions are "getting to know you" type about all kinds of issues. Everyone is enjoying playing it - at one point we had 9 of us sitting on chairs under the staircase playing yesterday. Some women only wanted to answer questions about sex, but there were questions like, "who would you like to meet from history," or "if you could plan the perfect dinner party, who would you invite," or "describe your best friend," or "if you could work any profession, what would it be and why?" Of course, there are questions about body and sexuality, but it is balanced with so many other types of questions. It is kind of like a board game called "Cowgirls," that I play with my best friends back home. I have a feeling we will have many evenings of playing Gefilte Fish and laughing as we get to know one another even better.
If you are headed in to prison, don't worry about friends. It will happen. There are so many different kinds of women here. We all mesh with someone. Even the ones that seem to have severe mental health issues, have friends. If you are not wanting to be friends with people who are unlike you, well, there are people here just like you. It's very diverse in prison, and you will find yourself someone you can spend time with. It's something you really do not need to worry about.
it's 27 days and a wake up now for me (and for Red). Red has her travel plans already, I'm still waiting for my papers back from region. A young woman who is supposed to leave in under two weeks, hasn't received her papers back yet. Stories like those scare me. We both stand often at our case manager's door, waiting for a moment to check --- "Are they here yet?" Then our brains inevitably go to those bad places, "What if they never received our papers?" "What if I won't be released on that day?" What if, what if, what if... The waiting game is hard.
However, even as I wait, I am not alone in my waiting. People are here to support us and understand what we are going through. Friendship happens in prison. Laughter happens in prison. Support happens in prison. A little game called "Gefilte Fish" may even bring new people into your circle. It helps make the wait to leave a little less stressful.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
From Dragonfly: Seeing Blue
Most of the time in prison, you don't see outside life coming across the fences. Other than seeing some women from the camp doing their thing, we rarely see anything else. This weekend, though, life is happening everywhere and we get to watch in awe.
The base is hosting an air show and the Blue Angels are here as part of it. In upper 80 degree weather, we are all turning red like lobsters as our faces face up and over the trees to see parachutes (one yesterday had an American flag as he/she fell to the earth), planes flying upside down, water vapor making hearts and circles, and other designs, and formations that are so close it's impossible to imagine how the planes are not touching wings. I imagined "bumper planes" that somehow could bounce off one another and still stay flying.
For the most part, honestly, the air show is boring from our view point. A lot seems to happen below the tree line. It doesn't stop us from watching for a glimpse of something amazing; something that can remind us that there's life out there that we get to return to (some soon, some not so soon).
I'd never seen so many inmates outside at one time before (other than our many fire drills). People were everywhere on the compound sitting in groups and enjoying the sun or shade. I even did some things I hadn't done here before. I played a couple games of horseshoes. Then, I tried Bocce Ball for the first time.
Everyone was out near me - Lola, Freckles, Red (who is living up to her name with the day's craziest sunburn), Taz, Nurse, Curls, and so many others. If we didn't see the fences, it could have been a large family picnic. The mood was generally positive. People played kickball and softball. Small picnic feasts included chips, candy, and a lot of ice cold water.
After my bad news this weekend, it was a perfect day for the most part. I did sneak in, while most were still out, and was able to talk with my father. His voice is very hoarse. He received the pictures of myself I sent him. He has double vision now due to the tumor, so he has double of me with him right now. One of my pictures sits with him at the hospital. They are releasing him for at least a short time tomorrow. We will know if anything can prolong his life in less than a week. I hope that he and his wife get a chance to take that Mediterranean Cruise that they've been planning for several years. Those are the things one should do when they know that time is suddenly shorter than expected. I have seen two of the seven new "natural wonders of the world." If I knew my time was short, I would want to see the remaining five... and perhaps the 7 'man-made' wonders of the world, as well.
It's not my time yet, thank god, so for now, I'll just keep looking up... the Blue Angels fly again this afternoon. Perhaps that is another check off my bucket list.
The base is hosting an air show and the Blue Angels are here as part of it. In upper 80 degree weather, we are all turning red like lobsters as our faces face up and over the trees to see parachutes (one yesterday had an American flag as he/she fell to the earth), planes flying upside down, water vapor making hearts and circles, and other designs, and formations that are so close it's impossible to imagine how the planes are not touching wings. I imagined "bumper planes" that somehow could bounce off one another and still stay flying.
For the most part, honestly, the air show is boring from our view point. A lot seems to happen below the tree line. It doesn't stop us from watching for a glimpse of something amazing; something that can remind us that there's life out there that we get to return to (some soon, some not so soon).
I'd never seen so many inmates outside at one time before (other than our many fire drills). People were everywhere on the compound sitting in groups and enjoying the sun or shade. I even did some things I hadn't done here before. I played a couple games of horseshoes. Then, I tried Bocce Ball for the first time.
Everyone was out near me - Lola, Freckles, Red (who is living up to her name with the day's craziest sunburn), Taz, Nurse, Curls, and so many others. If we didn't see the fences, it could have been a large family picnic. The mood was generally positive. People played kickball and softball. Small picnic feasts included chips, candy, and a lot of ice cold water.
After my bad news this weekend, it was a perfect day for the most part. I did sneak in, while most were still out, and was able to talk with my father. His voice is very hoarse. He received the pictures of myself I sent him. He has double vision now due to the tumor, so he has double of me with him right now. One of my pictures sits with him at the hospital. They are releasing him for at least a short time tomorrow. We will know if anything can prolong his life in less than a week. I hope that he and his wife get a chance to take that Mediterranean Cruise that they've been planning for several years. Those are the things one should do when they know that time is suddenly shorter than expected. I have seen two of the seven new "natural wonders of the world." If I knew my time was short, I would want to see the remaining five... and perhaps the 7 'man-made' wonders of the world, as well.
It's not my time yet, thank god, so for now, I'll just keep looking up... the Blue Angels fly again this afternoon. Perhaps that is another check off my bucket list.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
From Dragonfly: All the Tools of My Program
It's when the worst things happen that I am so grateful for the recovery I've obtained and the new tools I've learned to help me "walk through" life's downs. It's so easy to walk through the ups, but it's the downs that balance those out that are so difficult for so many of us. For me, I found some healthy ways to walk through the bad news of yesterday...
My father has fast-growing, terminal, brain cancer... That word "terminal" just sat with me like having eaten the most foul brick of food in my life. In less than a year, my father will no longer walk this earth. With such a complicated past, this reality made me know for sure that I've forgiven my father. All I want to be is by his side. I hate thinking that he may be alone when he passes.
Of course my step-monster is there. However, when I called last night - at dinner time where they live, my dad's wife was no longer at the hospital. She was in her car, headed to her "bunko" night with her girlfriends. They received such horrible news just hours before, but she couldn't cancel her plans and be by his side. Perhaps he was sleeping, but he'll likely wake in a panic. Only nurses will be there. My dad can't express all his needs since his stroke. Only my step-monster knows his needs.
I can't get too mad at her, though. Everyone deals with loss in different ways. Everyone, especially care-givers, need to take time for themselves. You can't take care of another person if you fail to take care of yourself. But, I am selfish and I don't want my dad to die alone. I don't want him to lie in bed thinking of life's mistakes. I want him to feel loved, cared for, and prayed about. I want him to know that people are and will shed tears for him. If I were there, I would stay. I would help. I would happily be his voice and advocate.
Instead, I am in cinder block walls behind a barbed wire double fence. Never did I wish circumstances were different more than this moment. The powerlessness of loss, while incarcerated, is intolerable. I've learned of women losing children, spouses, siblings, parents, and best-friends. We mourn together and apart. No one here knows the loved one who is dying or died, but we all somehow feel it. We all understand that inability to be by the bedside or at the funeral. The real idea of "furlough" does not exist. It is rarely granted for even 24 hours, and it costs thousands when it is.
I'm lucky though. I have my program to lean on. I have all the tools I've been provided over the years to help me walk through this experience. I am unable to control this situation and I'm not going to waste my breaths trying to. My thoughts and prayers are with my father constantly. I will reach out to others and hold nothing inside. I will get a lot of fresh air. I will feel (something I failed to do for 20+ years). I will accept.
My father has fast-growing, terminal, brain cancer... That word "terminal" just sat with me like having eaten the most foul brick of food in my life. In less than a year, my father will no longer walk this earth. With such a complicated past, this reality made me know for sure that I've forgiven my father. All I want to be is by his side. I hate thinking that he may be alone when he passes.
Of course my step-monster is there. However, when I called last night - at dinner time where they live, my dad's wife was no longer at the hospital. She was in her car, headed to her "bunko" night with her girlfriends. They received such horrible news just hours before, but she couldn't cancel her plans and be by his side. Perhaps he was sleeping, but he'll likely wake in a panic. Only nurses will be there. My dad can't express all his needs since his stroke. Only my step-monster knows his needs.
I can't get too mad at her, though. Everyone deals with loss in different ways. Everyone, especially care-givers, need to take time for themselves. You can't take care of another person if you fail to take care of yourself. But, I am selfish and I don't want my dad to die alone. I don't want him to lie in bed thinking of life's mistakes. I want him to feel loved, cared for, and prayed about. I want him to know that people are and will shed tears for him. If I were there, I would stay. I would help. I would happily be his voice and advocate.
Instead, I am in cinder block walls behind a barbed wire double fence. Never did I wish circumstances were different more than this moment. The powerlessness of loss, while incarcerated, is intolerable. I've learned of women losing children, spouses, siblings, parents, and best-friends. We mourn together and apart. No one here knows the loved one who is dying or died, but we all somehow feel it. We all understand that inability to be by the bedside or at the funeral. The real idea of "furlough" does not exist. It is rarely granted for even 24 hours, and it costs thousands when it is.
I'm lucky though. I have my program to lean on. I have all the tools I've been provided over the years to help me walk through this experience. I am unable to control this situation and I'm not going to waste my breaths trying to. My thoughts and prayers are with my father constantly. I will reach out to others and hold nothing inside. I will get a lot of fresh air. I will feel (something I failed to do for 20+ years). I will accept.
Friday, April 25, 2014
From Dragonfly: A Human Zoo
Yesterday, I was reading "Vanishing Acts" by Jodi Picoult. I was caught by a metaphor she used, that I've often used since being in here --- "a human zoo..." On page 187, Piccoult's character states:
"We walk down the hallway that opens into a large, two-tiered room... What it resembles - what jail always resembles - is a human zoo. The animals are busy doing their own thing - sleeping, eating, socializing. Some of them notice me, some of them choose not to. It's really the only power they have left."
How true that statement is. A couple weeks ago, a group of students from a local university, took a tour of the prison, including our unit. There they were, standing in a group, staring in one of our rooms. They didn't talk to the woman who was laying on her bed - they just stared. I happened to walk by them. Some watched me walk - what were they thinking? Were they wondering what I'd done to get in here? Were they afraid I might be violent? I remember visiting a couple prisons/jails during my undergrad and law school experiences. I was them - I just stared as well. I'd always visited male institutions, and I was scared of the men in cages.
How horrible it is that we are equal to animals at a zoo. There is no respect for us as individuals. Our animal name must be deviant, criminally, opportunistic felon. While we are in there, we are no longer human.
Interestingly, another book that a friend is reading had quite a different paragraph about prisons:
"The American prison system illustrates the philosophical and practical difference between the choice to perceive sin or to perceive error. We see criminals as guilty and seek to punish them. But whatever we do to others, we are doing to ourselves. Statistics painfully prove that our prisons are schools for crime; a vast number of crimes are committed by people who have already spent time in prison. In punishing others, we end up punishing ourselves. Does that mean we're to forgive a rapist, tell him we know he just had a bad day and send him home? Of course not. We're to ask for a miracle. A miracle here would be a shift from perceiving prisons as houses of punishment to perceiving them as houses of rehabilitation. When we consciously change their purpose from FEAR to LOVE, we release infinite possibilities of healing." (A Return to Love by Marianna Williamson, pg. 99).
How different would our prisons look if any of what she says reform should do occurred. Would we no longer be zoo animals, but instead people trying to heal? Would everyone be appropriate for some services, instead of just those with drug/alcohol backgrounds? It was decades ago that our prison system changed from the ideal of rehabilitation to specifically punishment. Yet, how are we to rejoin society, if nothing in us has changed.
I can tell you that just one week in this place would have been enough punishment for many of the people I know. What they really need is help - help with their self-esteem, help with getting over abusive pasts, help with addiction, help with getting a foot up in life. Reform needs to happen. We should not allow our jails and prisons to just be human zoos.
"We walk down the hallway that opens into a large, two-tiered room... What it resembles - what jail always resembles - is a human zoo. The animals are busy doing their own thing - sleeping, eating, socializing. Some of them notice me, some of them choose not to. It's really the only power they have left."
How true that statement is. A couple weeks ago, a group of students from a local university, took a tour of the prison, including our unit. There they were, standing in a group, staring in one of our rooms. They didn't talk to the woman who was laying on her bed - they just stared. I happened to walk by them. Some watched me walk - what were they thinking? Were they wondering what I'd done to get in here? Were they afraid I might be violent? I remember visiting a couple prisons/jails during my undergrad and law school experiences. I was them - I just stared as well. I'd always visited male institutions, and I was scared of the men in cages.
How horrible it is that we are equal to animals at a zoo. There is no respect for us as individuals. Our animal name must be deviant, criminally, opportunistic felon. While we are in there, we are no longer human.
Interestingly, another book that a friend is reading had quite a different paragraph about prisons:
"The American prison system illustrates the philosophical and practical difference between the choice to perceive sin or to perceive error. We see criminals as guilty and seek to punish them. But whatever we do to others, we are doing to ourselves. Statistics painfully prove that our prisons are schools for crime; a vast number of crimes are committed by people who have already spent time in prison. In punishing others, we end up punishing ourselves. Does that mean we're to forgive a rapist, tell him we know he just had a bad day and send him home? Of course not. We're to ask for a miracle. A miracle here would be a shift from perceiving prisons as houses of punishment to perceiving them as houses of rehabilitation. When we consciously change their purpose from FEAR to LOVE, we release infinite possibilities of healing." (A Return to Love by Marianna Williamson, pg. 99).
How different would our prisons look if any of what she says reform should do occurred. Would we no longer be zoo animals, but instead people trying to heal? Would everyone be appropriate for some services, instead of just those with drug/alcohol backgrounds? It was decades ago that our prison system changed from the ideal of rehabilitation to specifically punishment. Yet, how are we to rejoin society, if nothing in us has changed.
I can tell you that just one week in this place would have been enough punishment for many of the people I know. What they really need is help - help with their self-esteem, help with getting over abusive pasts, help with addiction, help with getting a foot up in life. Reform needs to happen. We should not allow our jails and prisons to just be human zoos.
From Dragonfly: The Catwalk
Every morning, our current daytime C.O. yells, "get ready for inspection!" We are supposed to be inspection ready from 7:30am-4:00pm every day, but not every officer does rounds. Our current officer is serious about doing his rounds, taking anything anyone has out that does not belong - even a mug someone is drinking from but not at that second. In order to get your things back, you have to work extra duty (2+ hours of cleaning something in the unit). My room is always inspection ready in time. We all have our cleaning days and we are serious about making sure everything gets done - window, bars, lockers, floor, lining things at the back wall, desk, stool, dusting, etc. So far, so good.
When he yells, "get ready for inspection," everyone upstairs moves out to the catwalk. We sit on the hard, cement floor and read, crochet, talk, etc. Some days we sit there, against the wall for up to three hours, sometimes he will start upstairs and we'll just be there an hour or less. Most days, it's more than an hour. I sometimes take my blanket to sit on, because the cold cement can be horrible to sit on for a long period of time. Some people use their trash can, upside down as a chair. I find that uncomfortable due to the lip - but it's fine if I put a blanket folded on it and then sit. Mostly, I just sit on the ground. Up and down the corridor (which is what I would call the hallway, not a catwalk), everyone around is doing the same as me. We watch as our officer goes room to room - "what is he checking today?" "what did he just take from them?" Our conversations are usually the same questions everyday.
There will be those defiers, who choose to lay in their beds until he shows up. Then he bangs really hard on their locker to wake them up and asks them to step out of the room. His favorite phrase, "get your mind right," is constantly heard as he talks to folks that are in the way of his job. Most of us avoid that, so we tell our neighbor, "get me up when he comes upstairs..." We always do - inmates protecting each other.
It's an odd irony that we spend almost all morning on the catwalk, as our evening guard's favorite phrase is "get off the catwalk." With her, we are not allowed to sit anywhere on the corridor or stand by anyone's rooms. It is a constant to hear her yelling upstairs for people to "move out of doorways," and stop talking on the catwalk. As she walks into work each evening, we all yell, "get off the catwalk," and laugh. I wonder if she is annoyed with it. I think we do it out of respect - at least she is consistent!
On nights that she is not on duty, inmates will sit against their walls, or on their trashcans, and watch television from right outside their rooms. They keep the majority of the corridor free for people to walk, but they are able to avoid having to go up and down the 24 steps over and over again. The downstairs has a hallway/corridor, not a "catwalk," and people tend to go to the tables and atrium, rather than hang by their rooms. That's one of the "culture differences" between being on the second floor, to being on the first, there is more room visiting (against the rules but still happens) and people spending time just outside their rooms. Honestly, it is a more comfortable culture for me. I like being able to relax in/near my room, rather than always having to be surrounded by everyone.
The one thing we cannot ever do is hang out at the edge of the catwalk on the rails/poles that act as a fence to the great fall that would occur down to the first floor. Except during mail time, though, as many C.O.'s have us wait by the poles to see if our names are called. There is always an exception for every rule, and every C.O. does things differently. Otherwise, it is "get away from the rails!"
There are things that will have a hard time getting out of my head once I am back home. I have a feeling that, "get your mind right," and "get off the catwalk," will be statements in my dreams for years to come. It may be that inside joke that is shared by those of us who have survived this experience. In the meantime, I will sit in the catwalk during the day, avoid it at night, and never lean on the rails.
When he yells, "get ready for inspection," everyone upstairs moves out to the catwalk. We sit on the hard, cement floor and read, crochet, talk, etc. Some days we sit there, against the wall for up to three hours, sometimes he will start upstairs and we'll just be there an hour or less. Most days, it's more than an hour. I sometimes take my blanket to sit on, because the cold cement can be horrible to sit on for a long period of time. Some people use their trash can, upside down as a chair. I find that uncomfortable due to the lip - but it's fine if I put a blanket folded on it and then sit. Mostly, I just sit on the ground. Up and down the corridor (which is what I would call the hallway, not a catwalk), everyone around is doing the same as me. We watch as our officer goes room to room - "what is he checking today?" "what did he just take from them?" Our conversations are usually the same questions everyday.
There will be those defiers, who choose to lay in their beds until he shows up. Then he bangs really hard on their locker to wake them up and asks them to step out of the room. His favorite phrase, "get your mind right," is constantly heard as he talks to folks that are in the way of his job. Most of us avoid that, so we tell our neighbor, "get me up when he comes upstairs..." We always do - inmates protecting each other.
It's an odd irony that we spend almost all morning on the catwalk, as our evening guard's favorite phrase is "get off the catwalk." With her, we are not allowed to sit anywhere on the corridor or stand by anyone's rooms. It is a constant to hear her yelling upstairs for people to "move out of doorways," and stop talking on the catwalk. As she walks into work each evening, we all yell, "get off the catwalk," and laugh. I wonder if she is annoyed with it. I think we do it out of respect - at least she is consistent!
On nights that she is not on duty, inmates will sit against their walls, or on their trashcans, and watch television from right outside their rooms. They keep the majority of the corridor free for people to walk, but they are able to avoid having to go up and down the 24 steps over and over again. The downstairs has a hallway/corridor, not a "catwalk," and people tend to go to the tables and atrium, rather than hang by their rooms. That's one of the "culture differences" between being on the second floor, to being on the first, there is more room visiting (against the rules but still happens) and people spending time just outside their rooms. Honestly, it is a more comfortable culture for me. I like being able to relax in/near my room, rather than always having to be surrounded by everyone.
The one thing we cannot ever do is hang out at the edge of the catwalk on the rails/poles that act as a fence to the great fall that would occur down to the first floor. Except during mail time, though, as many C.O.'s have us wait by the poles to see if our names are called. There is always an exception for every rule, and every C.O. does things differently. Otherwise, it is "get away from the rails!"
There are things that will have a hard time getting out of my head once I am back home. I have a feeling that, "get your mind right," and "get off the catwalk," will be statements in my dreams for years to come. It may be that inside joke that is shared by those of us who have survived this experience. In the meantime, I will sit in the catwalk during the day, avoid it at night, and never lean on the rails.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
From Dragonfly: Is it violent?
I was laying in bed last night, reading the beginning of a new Jodi Piccoult (well, a 2005 book well read, but new to me) when my roommate Longwinded asked me a question. I had to take my orange ear plugs out of my ears and sit up to hear her. My bunkie was already asleep. She said, "Do you fear for violence here?" "Do you think the inmates are violent?"
I wasn't sure where the questions came from in her, is she being threatened? Has something happened? So, I started to answer by asking those questions, not direct answers to her questions. Then she explained further. She was talking with a staff member and the staff member had asked her these questions. Since the question, "do you think the inmates are violent?" was inclusive of all inmates (it wasn't just "some" inmates), Longwinded answered, "no, because I am not violent and I am an inmate..." I told her that I do believe some of the inmates are violent, but not the majority of us. There's enough to keep us on our toes, though. There are enough to take threats seriously.
The staff member, I guess, thought she was in "lala land," as he put it. He informed her, and a couple other inmates, that last week an inmate bit the pinky off of another inmate. I hadn't heard about this. Longwinded hadn't either. However, one of the other people in their conversation had. I don't know if it is true, but it does not surprise me. Perhaps it happened on one of the mental health units. They would be deemed "criminally insane." Most of them are not given the freedom to roam outside their unit too often, so perhaps it happened within their unit. However, it could have happened anywhere. There are many people here with substantial mental health issues, who are mainstreamed into the prison population.
This conversation led my roommate to say that she has no idea the truth behind most anyone's crimes. Her bunky could be a murderer (I don't believe she is, but she is right, she "could" be). Her best friend on the compound could have violently attacked a child. She doesn't know and neither do I. That's the thing about this place. We are all together and we look just like each other. We are your tutors, your plumbers, your nurses, your neighbors. No one knows anything, except for gossip or what is shared. People lie. There's no way to know the full truth.
I told Longwinded that many people here scare me, but it is not based on what they look like or even how they hold themselves. I've been around lots of different kinds of people in my life and do my best to never judge a book by it's cover. What does scare me is the eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul. The person who I believe would have hit me had that meanness in their eyes. I'd never feared her before that moment. Sometimes you can see it all the time in someone, sometimes it just comes out at the moments of their anger.
There is a young woman, from one of the mental health floors, who walks in circles, talking to herself, and punching air. I do not fear her. I am not going to say that she has not done violence, I have no idea of her name, much less her past or crimes. But, she has scared eyes. She acts "out" and doesn't hold back. It's makes it easy to know how to be around someone when they make it obvious as to their need for space. The people that scare me the most are those who hold it all inside, only to one day "break" and the violence erupts from them.
So, it is violent? Yes. However, it is also possible to keep oneself insulated from it. We need to avoid confrontation. We need to spend our time with people who are not threatening. We shouldn't be locked up with violent offenders, but we are. We just need to always keep aware of who is around. I still get scared sometimes. I fear Longwinded is now scared as well. I don't know why the staff member asked her about it, but her defenses are now up. Maybe, just maybe, it will save her from a bad situation down the road. One never knows why we receive the messages we do, only that we get the messages we need at the times we need them.
I wasn't sure where the questions came from in her, is she being threatened? Has something happened? So, I started to answer by asking those questions, not direct answers to her questions. Then she explained further. She was talking with a staff member and the staff member had asked her these questions. Since the question, "do you think the inmates are violent?" was inclusive of all inmates (it wasn't just "some" inmates), Longwinded answered, "no, because I am not violent and I am an inmate..." I told her that I do believe some of the inmates are violent, but not the majority of us. There's enough to keep us on our toes, though. There are enough to take threats seriously.
The staff member, I guess, thought she was in "lala land," as he put it. He informed her, and a couple other inmates, that last week an inmate bit the pinky off of another inmate. I hadn't heard about this. Longwinded hadn't either. However, one of the other people in their conversation had. I don't know if it is true, but it does not surprise me. Perhaps it happened on one of the mental health units. They would be deemed "criminally insane." Most of them are not given the freedom to roam outside their unit too often, so perhaps it happened within their unit. However, it could have happened anywhere. There are many people here with substantial mental health issues, who are mainstreamed into the prison population.
This conversation led my roommate to say that she has no idea the truth behind most anyone's crimes. Her bunky could be a murderer (I don't believe she is, but she is right, she "could" be). Her best friend on the compound could have violently attacked a child. She doesn't know and neither do I. That's the thing about this place. We are all together and we look just like each other. We are your tutors, your plumbers, your nurses, your neighbors. No one knows anything, except for gossip or what is shared. People lie. There's no way to know the full truth.
I told Longwinded that many people here scare me, but it is not based on what they look like or even how they hold themselves. I've been around lots of different kinds of people in my life and do my best to never judge a book by it's cover. What does scare me is the eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul. The person who I believe would have hit me had that meanness in their eyes. I'd never feared her before that moment. Sometimes you can see it all the time in someone, sometimes it just comes out at the moments of their anger.
There is a young woman, from one of the mental health floors, who walks in circles, talking to herself, and punching air. I do not fear her. I am not going to say that she has not done violence, I have no idea of her name, much less her past or crimes. But, she has scared eyes. She acts "out" and doesn't hold back. It's makes it easy to know how to be around someone when they make it obvious as to their need for space. The people that scare me the most are those who hold it all inside, only to one day "break" and the violence erupts from them.
So, it is violent? Yes. However, it is also possible to keep oneself insulated from it. We need to avoid confrontation. We need to spend our time with people who are not threatening. We shouldn't be locked up with violent offenders, but we are. We just need to always keep aware of who is around. I still get scared sometimes. I fear Longwinded is now scared as well. I don't know why the staff member asked her about it, but her defenses are now up. Maybe, just maybe, it will save her from a bad situation down the road. One never knows why we receive the messages we do, only that we get the messages we need at the times we need them.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
From Dragonfly: Yelling
I'm not sure why, but some staff (not all) find it so much easier to scream at us, than just talk to us. It is certainly a belittling technique - especially when the person is in the position of power. It is difficult for me to accept yelling as a way of communication. One staff member, here, does a great job of yelling things like "4pm count," but being softer at other times. In fact, when we lost another inmate a week ago, totally unexpected, she held a town hall. Although her voice was raised so we could all hear her (we were surrounding her in the atrium and she stood on a table), she gave words of grief and caring to us all. We lost a sister - someone who'd been here for years and was about to go home. She was close to many, but even those who didn't know her well, found tears in her eyes as this staff member spoke to us.
I heard many inmates say, "I respect that woman," referring to the staff member. I have only heard that about a couple people working here - the teacher that I respect and a couple other folks. It's too bad that most the staff doesn't try to earn our respect. It would only enhance our ability to listen to them and know that, even if we don't like what they are saying, they respect us enough to be kind when appropriate. We are not just inmates. We are women. We are human beings. Some treat us like we are animals, and I am not just exaggerating when I say that.
I have to say that the Warden is one of the people most inmates respect. I've never seen him yelling at anyone. He stands mainline nearly everyday, and will listen to inmate complaints/issues. He reads and responds to his emails. Sometimes he can't do what we want him to, but he's honest about that as well. He has beautified the campus. I, for one, respect him.
I'm not sure why staff don't get that if they are yelling at us, some inmates will see it as an opportunity to also communicate by yelling. There are verbal fights constantly in the unit and on the yard. There is backtalk to the officers. Not everyone hates confrontation, like I do; they fight back, they yell back. Yelling seems to be acceptable, as long as it is not during quiet hours. The only times I see people get in trouble for screaming is when it leads to a more serious fight or if it is right at an officer and includes something derogatory. They will get a "time-out" - perhaps 2-3 days in the SHU to calm down.
So, screaming is everywhere, between girlfriends, between enemies, between staff and inmates... When I say there's no quiet, there's also no time where someone is not yelling something at someone else. Being curious minded, it leads to my roommates and I constantly going to our door or in the hall to see what is going on. I've never been on a school-yard like you see in the movies, where two kids get into a fight and everyone gathers screaming, "fight, fight, fight," until a school teacher breaks it up. But that's kind of like what it's like here, only the crowd watches and says nothing. It is just all in a day's life in prison.
I wonder if there could be a calmer culture in prison. Perhaps the camps have it. Perhaps other institutions have it. I wouldn't know. I do know, though, that I can't wait to be away from all the yelling and screaming. No one listens when you are yelling at them. No one.
I heard many inmates say, "I respect that woman," referring to the staff member. I have only heard that about a couple people working here - the teacher that I respect and a couple other folks. It's too bad that most the staff doesn't try to earn our respect. It would only enhance our ability to listen to them and know that, even if we don't like what they are saying, they respect us enough to be kind when appropriate. We are not just inmates. We are women. We are human beings. Some treat us like we are animals, and I am not just exaggerating when I say that.
I have to say that the Warden is one of the people most inmates respect. I've never seen him yelling at anyone. He stands mainline nearly everyday, and will listen to inmate complaints/issues. He reads and responds to his emails. Sometimes he can't do what we want him to, but he's honest about that as well. He has beautified the campus. I, for one, respect him.
I'm not sure why staff don't get that if they are yelling at us, some inmates will see it as an opportunity to also communicate by yelling. There are verbal fights constantly in the unit and on the yard. There is backtalk to the officers. Not everyone hates confrontation, like I do; they fight back, they yell back. Yelling seems to be acceptable, as long as it is not during quiet hours. The only times I see people get in trouble for screaming is when it leads to a more serious fight or if it is right at an officer and includes something derogatory. They will get a "time-out" - perhaps 2-3 days in the SHU to calm down.
So, screaming is everywhere, between girlfriends, between enemies, between staff and inmates... When I say there's no quiet, there's also no time where someone is not yelling something at someone else. Being curious minded, it leads to my roommates and I constantly going to our door or in the hall to see what is going on. I've never been on a school-yard like you see in the movies, where two kids get into a fight and everyone gathers screaming, "fight, fight, fight," until a school teacher breaks it up. But that's kind of like what it's like here, only the crowd watches and says nothing. It is just all in a day's life in prison.
I wonder if there could be a calmer culture in prison. Perhaps the camps have it. Perhaps other institutions have it. I wouldn't know. I do know, though, that I can't wait to be away from all the yelling and screaming. No one listens when you are yelling at them. No one.
From Dragonfly: Game Play
Somehow, recently, my life has once again changed here. I don't have a new job or a new room, I suddenly have competition. The healthy kind of competition. For the last few nights, I have sat at a small table with a couple women I didn't even know the names of until this week, as well as Red and sometimes Taz, and played Spades (the card game). There are those who play cards, here, all the time. I've mostly stayed away from cards, as too much could lead into some sort of gamble. But these women are not like that, we play for fun, and it is fun!
Two nights ago, as we played, I'd mentioned that I am a compulsive gambler. It came out as I was joking around about something. The woman next to me asked if I ever played Pai Gow Poker. I told her, "that was my game of choice..." She started to say that we should play some, but she didn't even get the words out when I said that I would never play the game again, or any game that I played in the casinos, or anything that would constitute gambling. I explained how sick I became - that I have not gambled in nearly 6 years - and that one day at a time, I pray to never gamble again. I'm glad I still have my guard up. Some people innocuously fall back into old habits. I am reminded every day, here, how low my addiction took me; it brought me to prison and nearly to death.
So, a little competition of Spades is right on cue for me. I enjoy the time with new friends, doing something that makes the time go by quickly. I'm sad that Lola is not in my unit, as she would enjoy it as well. Word is that we are all moving back to our old unit. Really?!?!? It hasn't happened yet, but Lola and I will be together again, until she is officially moved across the street to the camp. It sucks when your closest friends are no longer in your unit.
I've also been feeling a little ill lately. I sweat when everyone is cold (no, it's not my hormones - they've been tested). I'm tired to the point of napping a lot, and still sleeping through most nights. Perhaps my stress is affecting my body. I wouldn't be surprised. With my dad ill, no word yet on my papers from region, and the reality of watching people in here get sicker and/or die, it just gets to you sometimes.
I try to work my program of recovery to help me through it all. It's something that gambling brought to my life, rather than what it took away from me. I've actually learned to meditate. I've learned to breathe away my stress. I've learned to fill my time with things that bring me a smile or laughter. With just a short time left, I've found one of those things - the game of Spades.
Two nights ago, as we played, I'd mentioned that I am a compulsive gambler. It came out as I was joking around about something. The woman next to me asked if I ever played Pai Gow Poker. I told her, "that was my game of choice..." She started to say that we should play some, but she didn't even get the words out when I said that I would never play the game again, or any game that I played in the casinos, or anything that would constitute gambling. I explained how sick I became - that I have not gambled in nearly 6 years - and that one day at a time, I pray to never gamble again. I'm glad I still have my guard up. Some people innocuously fall back into old habits. I am reminded every day, here, how low my addiction took me; it brought me to prison and nearly to death.
So, a little competition of Spades is right on cue for me. I enjoy the time with new friends, doing something that makes the time go by quickly. I'm sad that Lola is not in my unit, as she would enjoy it as well. Word is that we are all moving back to our old unit. Really?!?!? It hasn't happened yet, but Lola and I will be together again, until she is officially moved across the street to the camp. It sucks when your closest friends are no longer in your unit.
I've also been feeling a little ill lately. I sweat when everyone is cold (no, it's not my hormones - they've been tested). I'm tired to the point of napping a lot, and still sleeping through most nights. Perhaps my stress is affecting my body. I wouldn't be surprised. With my dad ill, no word yet on my papers from region, and the reality of watching people in here get sicker and/or die, it just gets to you sometimes.
I try to work my program of recovery to help me through it all. It's something that gambling brought to my life, rather than what it took away from me. I've actually learned to meditate. I've learned to breathe away my stress. I've learned to fill my time with things that bring me a smile or laughter. With just a short time left, I've found one of those things - the game of Spades.
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