Lifting the Fog

Anniversaries, birthdays and special days generally mean a lot to me. For example, today would have been my dad's birthday and marks two years of my freedom. My release from Carswell 2 years ago yesterday but it is the 29th that is the first day I did not wake up in a prison. Today I woke up and reflected on the past two years of how my life has changed, how I have grown, and how things in some ways are not so different. Mostly, though, I am thinking about the post-prison release fog that I was initially under and wondered where I may be in terms of my recovery from the experiences of living within the prison environment.

In recovery, we often talk of the fog that newcomers to our rooms experience at first. It is only with time away from our addictive behaviors and working our recovery program that the "fog begins to lift" and we see/hear the voice of true recovery start. The newcomer will often share things they didn't realize they were doing while in the throws of their addiction due to their irrational thinking/ behavior. They will start to put pieces of their behavior from that time together into patterns and start to understand how the addiction controlled so much of their life beyond just the acts of the addiction - chasing highs, financial woes, withdrawal, planning the next action, lies and hiding behaviors,... addiction consumes one's life and is progressive in its nature. It can take weeks, months, and for some, years for the fog to fully lift on all the ways our addiction hurt ourselves and the lives of those around us. Staying in recovery, talking about it in our rooms, counseling, and being honest, is the way our heads can clear fully from the fog to see our behavior and actions for what they were and recover fully.

What I've realized in these past two years is that time in prison, no matter who one is and the reason for the imprisonment, results in a similar fog. The day to day reality of prison life, with fears of the unknown, survival instincts at their highest limit, emotional abuse from prisoners and staff with little recourse, sights/sounds that no one should have to witness, policies that make little sense and can change without warning, overcrowded quarters, and the loss of the comfort of friends/family/home, results in prisoners undoubtedly needing a little support upon release. The fog prisoners, such as myself carry, includes emotions such as shock, fear, and anger. Even more so, though, we do not have easy outlets (like 12 step recovery programs) to work through how we may be feeling.

When living in prison day-to-day, a prisoner is not necessarily able to see the full picture of what prison life looks like from the outside or how all the little things add up. The concept of becoming "institutionalized," is often talked about, but it is not hard to understand that in order to survive in prison, it is practically impossible to stay 100% away from all the ways prison changes a person for the worst. I walked into prison and within the first week stated, "I am here for myself only...," yet found myself doing for others in ways I never imagined I would (even if it meant I was pushing up against prison rules). I swore I would not be part of the underground prison market, yet quickly learned it was truly the only way to survive. I knew no prisoner who did not at least 'purchase' through exchange of commissary goods some other goods or services through the underground market. I witnessed drug transactions, drug use and abuse within 2' of where I laid my head, saw innocent people blamed for the acts of others and did not speak up, saw domestic abuse and did nothing, became friendly with a woman who chopped her husband into several pieces because he cheated on her, sat at tables and talked with admitted child molesters for hours, snuck food out of the chow hall, and quit a job I loved because I was unable to stand up for myself against a woman bullying me. These are just a few of the experiences I had, and some I never wrote about for fear of what could happen to me from staff or other prisoners. Each day, these things were not as impactful on me as what they all together did even as I only served a short sentence. In many ways, I became institutionalized because I no longer was myself while I was in prison and the longer I was there, the more it felt familiar and the more I came to accept the unacceptable as normal.

Once out of prison, I could not just "jump" into life. Most ex-prisoners do not have to. We face the reality of halfway houses, come confinement, extended probation/supervision. Even as I write of freedom, I have my federal supervision which limits me still. Perhaps I could have been free of that by now too, but my health over the past 6+ months resulted in me not completing the large packet that must be filled out. I plan to complete it very soon and regardless my 3-year supervision will be over within the next year. Will freedom feel any different than now? The only real changes will be not having to ask for permission to travel and I will not have to complete a monthly report online. Perhaps I will set a goal to be off by the end of this calendar year. I like goals with dates.

The real reason I could not jump into life was not due to the Feds' restrictions on me, though, it was the fog. While I could get through my days, I was trying to get back to the life I had prior to prison (I was already in recovery so I am not talking about the life I had that led to my being incarcerated). The fog did not allow me to see that I was no longer the same person, even though I was still a good person and wanted some of the same things in life, I needed to work through how prison had affected me. I needed the fog to start lifting so I could start to put pieces of my time in prison together into patterns and start to understand how that time changed so much of my life beyond just how I thought about it day-to-day. I needed to be able to let go of the fears and learn to accept and live honestly about the trauma I had just experienced. We may be prisoners due to our own past mistakes, but that does not make us any less human from experiencing trauma and being victims ourselves.

Unfortunately, there is not a recovery program for recently released prisoners. In fact, after having built so much comradery with people who understood deeply our pain and fears with other prisoners while inside, we are suddenly cut off from them all and told we are never to have contact with them or anyone else with similar experiences again. It is exactly the fellowship of people who understand because they have gone through a similar experience or are having a similar experience that makes recovery programs so strong. Not being able to have that to recover from the trauma of life in prison, can result in depression, unhealthy behaviors (addictions), and back to the behavior that led them into prison in the first place or to violate their parole (revolving door due to the comfort of prison life).

Often people after prison will choose the decision to leave it all behind. South was one of those people. She was pretty clear that she would go home, pick up her life, and not talk about the experiences. She never kept in touch with anyone from what I know and I pray she is well. What worries me about people who choose to stuff the experiences is how secrets of traumatic experiences can eat away at us. If we are not open and honest about what happened to us, around us, etc., the trauma can come out in different ways (think military soldiers who do not find healthy ways to cope with combat experiences). Of course all people are difference and all prisoners have differing experiences, but based on what I experienced, the lives of those I met while at Carswell, and my criminal justice studies in the last two years, I really think it is openness and honesty with friends, family, and especially other people who went through similar experiences that helps lift our fog and leads us toward healthy decisions and a new life.

One thing that has helped me substantially is my own writing. Not new writing, because I obviously have failed to write as often as I used to, but my old writing from the time of my incarceration. I was able to add to this blog some of my letters that I wrote home as well as some important notes that I wrote while in prison and brought home with me. I added them to the blog on the days they were written. The blog posts and those additional letters/notes are the data for my thesis. It is very non-traditional to use a blog for a thesis, even more so to use one's own. I do not believe there is any thesis of a former prisoner who provides a hypothesis based research study off of data from a public blog maintained while they were in prison. My hypotheses are looking at the existence of self-efficacy and collective efficacy in women's prisons. I additionally look at whether prison staff influence self or collective effacy in a positive or negative way. Finally, I consider whether specific prisoner identity factors affect self or collective efficacy.

If you are curious, for my thesis, those words of self and collective efficacy mean:

Collective efficacy: shared social expectations that lead to control of social space to reduce tension, crime, etc.

Self-efficacy: people are able to produce what they hope to accomplish through their own actions and make appropriate behavioral decisions. This is based on the person’s ability to cope, put in effort, and sustain adverse obstacles without defensive behavior

Through my work on my thesis, I have been able to look back on my prison experience through the eyes of a researcher, as well as relive some experiences. Sometimes, I am shocked reading about what I wrote or sad that I did not include what I wish I could have (such as the full experience and effects of the Christmas night raid). Simply keeping my blog put me on alert and that reality, even today, is something I will never forget. I am grateful for this opportunity to look at the experiences published through this blog from an outsiders point of view, even if I lived them, as they are helping me continue to life my fog, even two years after my release.

I strongly suggest for anyone who is newly released from prison, that they find a healthy outlet to release their full experiences. Holding them in will not help them in the long run. Honestly will free us of the pain and help set us toward true freedom.

Back to the halfway house?

In class tonight, we discussed a newly published book entitled, "A Halfway House for Women." It was an ethnographic study of a state run halfway house in the northeast and I must say, barely anything about it was like the halfway house experience I had. Then again, from what I've heard, most people's halfway house experiences are nothing like the halfway house experience I had. As I wrote about at the time, I was in a state-run program that was an alternative to jail for most of the people there - they had to do daily programming and most were there for drug/alcohol related offenses. Only four or five of us were there for federal crimes during the short stay I had.

Unlike where I was, there are halfway houses that are entirely federal. Most of those are either all male, or mixed gender. There are very few that are for women only. The mixed gender ones often keep the men and women entirely separate, but some only have a handful of women and mostly serve men. Gender responsive programming is nonexistent in those places. There are also halfway houses that are all female. Some are really small and are like real "houses" and are less transient and women live there for longer periods of time. One women I know lived in a halfway house for 1 1/2 years. Some are very institutional and have 120 beds that look just like they never left prison, except they are wearing their own clothes and once in a while they get to leave.

An interesting conversation tonight was around "smoking." Smoke breaks - specifically in some state run facilities - are quite interesting. Like the place I went to, the book we read, had women going on smoke breaks getting to go outside, where the few women who did not smoke did not get to venture outside at all. The ability to get fresh air, even if it was filled with second hand smoke, is a privilege afforded to only those who have a very unhealthy habit (no offense to my readers who smoke). There should be opportunities for non-smokers to enjoy fresh air without smoke. In fact, there should be more opportunities to be outside without smoking than with smoking. Shouldn't healthy actions be rewarded? Ah, but if the action is not funded by some government or other agency, the halfway house has no reason to consider the rule.

I sometimes hate that I've become so cynical in the last year and a half. I was trying to think of the themes that may run through this blog and so many of them are about how broken the system is. I mean we all know, I guess, that bureaucracy is always going to be troubled, but from the day I entered Carswell to the day I left, my experiences were riddled with cumbersome hurdles that simply made no sense, sights and sounds that no one should ever witness, norms and mores that are quite the opposite of normal, and a true breakdown of my own character. It wasn't until tonight that I was thinking about my second day at Carswell when I proclaimed to my overbearing bunkie, "I am here for my own time, not anybody elses." I was so proud of myself for speaking up for myself. I was so amazed at the voice I found inside myself - that I wasn't passive and that I had not backed down when I was in fact scared.

What I discovered today, looking back, though, is that the system totally broke me, though. Through my many months at FMC Carswell, I did so many things I never thought I would ever do! Things I couldn't even write about on here - because I knew and I was told straight out - that many CO's and some of the Education Staff were reading this blog. I had to be careful what I wrote, yet write the truth at the same time. I couldn't write that I was in fact making bracelets and anklets and selling them on the black market. I couldn't write about the day we saw Lola at the camp and Freckles and I waved like crazy to her hundreds of feet away as she waved like crazy back ---- praying that no one would catch us. I never wrote about who was buying commissary for who or who I ever bought commissary for or why. I didn't write about who was doing my ironing and how I could never do my ironing because there were four irons for 300 women and if you didn't pay someone to do your ironing you didn't get your stuff ironed - even though such things were technically against the rules. I didn't write about the few times I helped out someone with something legal, even though I really did it on the down low --- as down low as I could and how guilty I felt when I couldn't help others. The reality of the SHU and the threats of officers always hanging over me. This blog kept me a known inmate. I had to be careful - especially after the threats in January. I couldn't write the details of those threats and how I called home in tears and scared everyone back at home and told them to take down this blog because I was afraid of what was going to happen to me because I was hearing it from staff and inmates - even people I had never met. It was my birthday weekend. I couldn't write about things that were happening in my rooms - things my roommates were doing. I couldn't write about all the illegal activities I was witnessing. I saw more drug activity than I have ever seen in my lifetime - dealing, snorting, swallowing, begging, hiding, etc. I witnessed many bottles of hooch being made and I have to admit - I took a tiny sip of one once (horrible curiosity) and it was THE most disgusting thing I've ever sipped in my life!!! It tasted like alcohol pads! The makers of such hooch drank the entire cooler of it down in under an hour. I never tried any drugs that were not prescribed to me. I witnessed people stealing from people, from guards, from officers, from education, from medical, from everywhere. I saw more sex in more outrageous places than you could imagine. People get really creative! I never had sex in prison. I saw more officers turn a blind eye to illegal activity, non-illegal but against the rules activity, and the like than when they'd actually stop such activity. It depended on who, what, and where - it also depended on whether there was a security camera, and if another officer was a witness. I watched people intentionally put themselves in the SHU to be locked up with their with girlfriends. I watched people intentionally get other people in trouble and send them off to the SHU.

There was so much WRONG that I could not write about - because if I did, I could get people in trouble and then I'd be a snitch and a snitch gets in the MOST trouble - not just from other inmates - but CO's HATE snitches. CO's do not want someone making them busy - they are busy enough as it is. If you put a note under the door of a CO's office telling them about some illegal activity, chances are, it will go into the garbage. It may be read, or not, but you will never know. They keep a log - a detailed log - of all the goings ons in the unit - I'm sure their gossip of all of us is quite good. I wonder if this blog was logged at times or bookmarked on their computer, who knows. What I do know, is that I wrote the truth in my blog, but I was not able to write the whole truth. I'm sorry for that. Protection of self and others won out. At the same time, everything you do read is the truth and my feelings were certainly the truth. Sometimes I would write entire paragraphs and then have to delete them because I'd realize that I may be "revealing" too much about something or someone. It sucks to have to monitor one's own blog - one's own experiences.

I hope this blog has been helpful anyway, because what has always made it to the posts of this blog are the realities of the friendships, the communities, the resources, and the lives that made being at Carswell bearable from day to day. So many people are still there and I think about them every day. If I did not have the fear of a violation of my supervision, I would be writing a person every day, yet that fear still exists over my head. I do not want to go back. I do no good for anyone if I am back in prison. I am not allowed to have contact with anyone there. I tried at first, I must admit, but it got messy and it just wasn't something that could be sustained and I don't live in secrets and lies. So, I must follow these rules. They suck and I love my friends, but I do more good for them trying to make a difference and staying out of prison - at least I hope I do. I just pray they know that I have not forgotten them. I promised them I'd write - I did initially - but not for a long time now. It sucks. They probably think I don't care or I've forgotten them. I haven't I think about them everyday --- Lola, Chi, Taz, Nurse, Cali, Glitter, Longwinded, and so many others.... and then there were the ones that are out that I am not allowed to communicate with - Red, My Bunky, South, Danbury, etc. How are they doing? Are they making it okay? I just hate these rules!!

I was not the best follower of rules in prison, although I think I followed the rules more than almost anyone else I knew there. There's just no way to really survive prison without finding ways to show some resistance. I was kidding myself that second day there - I needed to be there for others because I needed them to be there for me! However, being on Supervision is a whole new game. I cannot show resistance. I am not living under the same rules. It's just me and my P.O. now and I don't have a community of norms that build ways to resist all the rules. The rules protect me from going back to prison and I don't want to be back there again.

The cycle of prison to halfway house to home confinement will end here. It's better now to just be reading about the experiences of others and able to compare such experiences to my own and others I know. As for the book I read for class tonight, I honestly do not recommend it. It will scare you more than needed for the halfway house experience. It is even scarier than the one I went to. For most women, their halfway house experience is boring, filled with unnecessary programming, and just more bureaucracy until they can go home. Best thing to do is to find a job, find a place to live if you don't have one yet, and move through the levels of programming at the halfway house quickly. Do what they tell you to do so that soon, you can start doing what you want to do --- hopefully in a healthier/smarter way than before you first got locked up.

Analytics

Today I received a text from Cache with a screen picture from this blog. She texted, "I guess I'm 59,000..." Wow, 59,000 hits. It's amazing that somehow she happened to be the person that saw the number roll to that even 0-0-0. I remember before I left for Carswell, Cache and I couldn't believe that this site neared 5,000 hits; not it's close to 60,000 a year later.

I want to thank all of you who are daily or frequent readers who for whatever reason, choose to follow this blog and my daily life. It started, honestly, with friends, but through emails and comments I've made new friends and community with people from all over the U.S. and the World. I know that some of you discover this blog through prisontalk, others through loved ones at Carswell, I'm not sure how others have come across it, but I'm glad you've gotten something out of it and have stuck around.

Through google, I am able to see my analytics/statistics on who is reading this blog. Most of you are in the United States, but certainly not all. There are readers from throughout Europe, Russia, Ukraine, Canada, South America, and many other places. Lately, readership in New Zealand has gone up significantly.

Certain blogs also receive much higher readership than others. Some of my posts receive about 25-40 hits, while the average post receives about 60-80 hits. A rare post will receive over 100 hits, with some over 200 and a really rare one (like the first) with over 1,000 hits. I'm a statistics person, so I find all of this fascinating.

On the average day, this blog receives between 150-200 hits. I think that's pretty good for a blog about a random woman going to prison. I'm glad that so many people find something of interest within these posts. 

I write because I love writing, but I write this blog because of all of you and all the people I hope it can help with information, a laugh, empathy, compassion, and community. I am so grateful for every single person who chooses to read even one post on this blog and who tries to do something positive with what they read. 

Thank you all for getting me to 59,000. I do not see that number lightly. You all are part of the community that has supported me through the unknowns of my past year and I will never forget.

💜💜💜

DF Hazel

The Truth in Social Media

I was looking at my Facebook profile earlier today and it still said that I am an education student at my University. Which, of course, I no longer am. Last night, I discovered a similar issue on my old Instagram account. Throughout the social media world, I am listed as I saw myself prior to my incarceration and have not even thought about updating these things since I've been out... until today...

I imagine I have numerous accounts I don't even think about that are connected to life as it was, not as it is. I do feel, though, that I need to extend my honesty to my social networks and update my information when I discover outdated information. At the same time, I don't need to explain the 9 month gap of my life between August 2013 and May 2014 - if someone asks I'll tell them, but no one's bio says, "and this is the time I was at FMC Carswell." Before I went to prison, I had hoped that I would obtain my PhD by 2016. Now, I am looking at 2018/2019. Quite a difference. These are the changes I am making to my bios.

Experts in the world of social media, employment, and privacy laws warn folks to be careful with what we put out in cyber space. Do you really want your future boss knowing that you were up all night downing shots or that you swear in all your tweets? You may think your privacy settings are such that only those you want will be able to see your updates, but there are a myriad of ways for people to learn about others through social media. When I am about to hire someone, I often google them. I know that people google me as well. I don't need to put anything about my crime or incarceration on my social media, because when they google me, they will learn all about it.

I figure I should just be myself in my social networking world. I am not suave, so I don't need to appear suave. I am not perfect, so I do not need to appear perfect. I'm nerdy, in recovery, bookish, into the arts, a technology geek, quirky, funny, independent, and creative... I think that's what comes out when someone looks at my persona in the social media world.

For ex-felons, it is even more important that we be aware of what our social media presence appears like. Our PO's may be keeping an eye on us through these networks, even if we are unaware of it. Travel outside your region and check-in to a restaurant on Facebook and your PO will know it. Tweet that you are with your bestie from the prison and you may be going back to the prison. Upload a pic to Instagram of you getting high and see how fast your are brought in for a urine sample. Whether you use your real name or not, do not try to play stupid using social media while on parole/ supervision. I truly believe our PO's are much smarter than many of us give them credit for.

All that being said, I don't think for one second that I am really anonymous with this blog. A lot of my friends and family read it and know who I am, obviously. A lot of people I was locked up with know about it. Many of the CO's inside read it - including several that made some backwards comments to me at times about it. It's not hard to figure out who I am - hmmm... one of 4 Jewish women. 5' tall. Entered on August 19th. Left on May 28th. Lived in One North. Gambling addiction. Yaddah, yaddah, yaddah (thanks Seinfeld). I may not use my name, but I did choose to identify myself in numerous ways. I did that because I want to be a real person to everyone who reads this. I did not want this blog to feel like it's being written from a third person point of view.

I have no idea how my PO would or will react if/when he learns about this blog. It is such an important part of my life now. It has almost been over a year of writing nearly every day. I am ten days away from the anniversary of my self-surrender. This blog started as the story of someone preparing for self-surrender, became the story of someone incarcerated, and now talks of like beyond bars. I think it is important that I keep writing. I hope you all feel that although you don't know my direct name or my exact town, that you feel that you know me as a person... I am updating all my social networks, however, I think for now, being Dragonfly Hazel is a persona divide that I am going to maintain for a while.

Blogging

This morning I decided to go through my email to see what messages I received while I was incarcerated. I had no idea that I'd received so many emails and comments! Thank you for all your support and for reading this whirlwind of thoughts and observations.

I don't know why it took me so long to read through all the comments. Well, I guess I do. I was not looking forward to reading more comments like from the blog entry about heroes falling I read when I first got out a couple weeks ago. Truth is, that's the only entry that had such hateful and judgmental comments. I feel so much joy, now, knowing that others have found my blog insightful, helpful, and interesting. Writing it has made this whole last year have direction and purpose.

I'm not going to say that I particularly like all the blog entries or that I'm a great writer. However, the ability to reflect openly about experiences is incredibly healing. I had a childhood that was about secrets and hiding. It took recovery for me to realize that all the secrets caused me to become emotionally stunted. Having a blog like this is quite the opposite, I can share the good, the bad, and the ugly. We say in the program, "we are only as sick as our secrets," and I thank god every day that I no longer harbor secrets and the fear of truth.

As time goes forward with this blog, I will share more about the life struggles that led to my addiction and crime. Perhaps a reader will identify with some of the experiences and they will be able to get the help they need before finding themselves at the brink of suicide and self-hatred. The focus of this blog though, will remain on the present and my life now that I have a large "F" for felon symbolically written across my forehead.

Please know that now that I'm home, I welcome comments and questions on this blog or through the link to email me (contact link on right panel). I will do my best to respond to any questions as soon as possible. Also, please feel free to suggest topics you'd like to see appear here. I'm never really at a loss of things to write about, but I want to ensure this blog stays interesting to the readers.

I am so blessed that so many people have found this blog and choose to keep coming back. There are readers from literally around the world - Europe, Asia, South America, etc. When I was leaving to self-surrender, Cache and I were so excited that I had nearly 5,000 hits on this site. Now, we are nearing 50,000. 

So, thank you to all of you! You've helped me through a difficult life experience and given me the strength to keep my hopes alive. I can not imagine life without writing, so you are all stuck with me for the long haul!