Freckles and Men at the HWH

Here's another edition of life at a federal halfway house by Freckles. I find it fascinating that her experience is so interlaced with the males, as at mine we were not ever allowed to even talk to the men and were separated in every way...

"As we are release from prison to the half way house - we have a pretty decent routine down and one part of that is always being around other females inmates, our only male contact are the guards and our visitors. Well, you can imagine my shock and surprise when I arrived at my half way house with only 4 women in two rooms tucked in the corner of the second story. There is a 10-1 ratio of men to women. Their "idea" of keeping us separate is having our two rooms and one bathroom down at the end of the second floor hallway. There are males roomed in the next room and their bathroom is at the other end of the hall. The third floor is all males and that is where the TV room is. The women have no separate work out area, dining area or even TV room. The TV room is more of a hang out and break rules room than anything - so bring your own TV and/or DVD player and stick to being in your own room. Yes, people may call this isolation, I call it surviving the half way house.

The males are told to "stay away" from our doors and do not use the women's only bathroom (that is clearly marked). But do you think this works? If you guessed "No" you are right. There were instances of men showering in our bathroom and one bigger gentlemen even broke our toilet seat - I won't get into the specifics on that one. They come and knock on my door at 2am, not looking for me but for a roommate. This really freaked me out considering they can basically "peep" in the window. The doors have a small let's say 12"x12" window that is covered with a towel hung up with push pins - very classy and secure stuff and easily accessible for peeping Tom's! There are areas of the house where the camera's can not see - and from what I was told from another inmate I was in RDAP with, these rooms are typically called the "boom boom room" - again, some things I don't need to explain. 

The half way house is required to provide hygiene - well, the men decided that they liked the Suave deodorant for the ladies better than the Speed Stick for men which left us out of deodorant and the half way house refusing to order any until the men's was gone. So yes, now you have women trying to find a job smelling like a man. Seems petty, but it's just one of the many instances when being a woman is definitely a disadvantage. And chow, well let's just say if you're not the first few in line, good luck getting certain items. They have gotten better at this and staff does most of the serving - but there is never a time where someone doesn't have 20 juices in their room and we have none for breakfast or the hard boiled eggs are gone by 5am because some weightlifting male is on an all protein kick (mind you breakfast starts at 6am) - maybe not just a "man" thing - but more like an untrained animal thing. Some do not show respect - and that's just how it is. I was told a women's place is to clean - the men shouldn't have chores in the half way house - we are lucky Freckles has not had to get her tongue surgically re-attached after biting it off!

I guess if you're heading there looking for a "date" (and you're not gay) you're odds are pretty good. Some of the men are genuine stalkers, 30+ phone calls and/or texts in maybe 10 minutes, professing their love for you and wondering why you won't give them any attention but you did kiss them in the courtyard - again, you can't tell "security" because then you are a "rat" but you may indeed feel threatened. If you are looking for other female support or time away from the gawking males who haven't seen women in years - well good luck. Like always, there are the respectful ones - and as a person my advice is to find them and don't date at the half way house. Like my boss in prison once said - "don't sh*t where you eat"...." -Freckles

There are different rules in every HWH. Freckles happens to have been placedin one where the number of men far outnumber the number of women and therefore, there is a lot of interaction. A roommate of mine in Carswell was from another city and she received brochures from four HWHs while we were there, each with different rules around how much interaction you could have with the opposite gender. In some, just being friendly can get you a violation, in others you can date. None will allow sexual interactions that I know of (not that it doesn't happen. While I was at my HWH, one girl, who was already pregnant, was always trying to talk with this guy on the other side of the dining wall who she kinda knew from before and make "plans" for meeting up. That's the only time we ever saw or heard the guys, during meals when we shared the same space separated by a folding half wall.

Anyway, more from Freckles to come next week!

Letters Home

Last night I stayed up late reading a pile of letters I wrote to Survivor. I asked Survivor, Cashe, Traveler, and Sporty to provide me with the letters I wrote them while I was incarcerated. I want to add what I wrote here on here (where appropriate) because often my detail of life at Carswell was in a lot more description.

Putting pen to paper, and not having to pay 5cents per minute with a line of women waiting for the computers behind me, especially as things unfolded through the day, can provide much more detail of life at Carswell. Survivor's very first letter from me was not even a letter. It was a bunch of short comments spread along the words, "I'm ok" written giant on the paper. I think too much shock led me to not being able to put together real sentences and paragraphs. By the next day or so I wrote her a real letter.

My plan is to type the relevant parts of the letters into this blog based on the timing of the letters. On blogger, I can backdate entries. So you all know that there is a new entry. I will provide links in the present day to the new posts that are put to the day they were actually written in real time. I think that makes the most sense. 

One fascinating letter I read last night was during a long lockdown we had that appeared to be a haz-mat medical situation. I wrote the entire time and shared the information of what was unfolding as we were learning it. I'd forgotten about that day until reading that letter!

Another set of letters I have are more academic. I wrote them to Cashe and Traveler. I wrote more in depth about gender and sexual orientation issues and observations. I look forward to sharing these thoughts with all of you!!

So, over the next several weeks, I'll be starting that process of blog updating. l hope you all enjoy the new editions!! I know I went through some periods of adjustments here with my blog, but as you can see, I think I've found my rhythm again lately. I guess it was blog writers block. I'm back!!!!

A Halfway House for Freckles

Before parting, I asked Freckles to be part of the future of this blog. I wanted her experience in her HWH to be able to be here since my HWH experience was so uncommon. Freckles was part of the RDAP (drug and alcohol program) at Carswell and was then released to a federal halfway house for an extended HWH stay where she needed to do continued drug/alcohol check-ins and programming. It has been about six months and her first installment has arrived for the blog:

Upon arrival I was terrified. I'm not sure why all the housing is located in the ghetto's of each city but that is the trend, so be prepared. In my area, the house is located in a neighborhood that I have never frequented and for sure would never head into as a white female after dark unescorted. But unfortunately, each night after work I headed back to a crime ridden area around 9pm - very dark at that time in my Midwestern state and had to go to the door and ring a bell and wait to be let in.  Most of the times the staff is very prompt at buzzing you in - but there are instances where you will wait. While waiting, you see the blood stains on the wheelchair ramp where a former resident got beat and had his money stolen from him, you watch the drug deals go on right in front of your face either from car windows or half opened crack house doors. It's terrifying - thank goodness most of the other residents recognized what a "square" I was, and were there to protect me and help me adjust. Which to this day is the one thing I find amazing about this place - regardless of color, background, felony charge, or "class status"; most of the people are just "people" and willing to help you out when needed (even while nicknaming you Martha Stewart or the square).

I cried the first night there - wishing I was back in Texas. Yes, I was longing for CarsHell compared to this dump. I was informed by another female resident that this was a "trap" house. Well, apparently that is "ghetto slang" for a drug house. And that's truly what goes on - there are tons of people smoking K-2 (which is "fake pot"), alcohol is sneaked in or thrown over the fence on a daily basis so you have the residents getting their "drink on" and then you have the occasional resident who sneaks off to another major city or State to hit the strip clubs during their so called "working" hours because they have someone to cover for them.

I obviously got over the wanting to go back to Texas and realized the positives outweighed the negatives of the halfway house. I was now only about 30 minutes from home and much closer to family. I was allowed a cell phone, so could talk to everyone as much as I wanted or whatever hours I wanted. For the first week you are trapped there - no movement whatsoever except to go to their doctor for a physical. You are allowed visitors on weekends, my sister and mom only came once, due to the neighborhood, they were not coming back but I don't blame them. Before prison, I wouldn't have come back either - another humility lesson that only prison can teach a person.

But like prison, your "cellie" makes a huge difference, not too long after getting there, my "funky bunky" as I called her, got hauled off by the marshalls (what a surprise, haha) and I had the room to myself for a bit which was nice, but also a bit odd since I had just spent the past year with no alone time period. So adjusting to "quiet" and alone time were also big obstacles. But you get over it quick and sleeping in a dark, quiet room are very much appreciated!

My strongest words of advice are do not forget where you came from, because you can easily be put back there and also remember that you are still in BOP custody and while at the "half wit" house and BOP still stands for "backwards on purpose". I am still in custody and will be until 3/30. So I will keep sending blurbs regarding the transition that hopefully can shed some light on what to expect. I'm not trying to scare anyone, but be prepared for the worst, but make the best out of it. You're almost done with your prison ordeal and now is time to move forward and keep your energy positive and yourself focused....until later, Freckles.

As you can tell, Freckles can be a bit blunt. Gotta love her! She was my rock at Carswell and by far one of the smartest people I know. She certainly comes from a class privilege above mine, so she's experiencing things for the first time from a point of view that I think is valuable to hear from. At times it may sound like she's being judgmental, but the funniest thing is that Freckles is the person who makes friends with everyone and has the biggest smile and laugh and makes everyone else smile. She's right, though, they will make up names for her just because of her being naive. It's more in fun than in judgment.

I hope it's okay that I include some of her experiences here as she chooses to add to the blog. Communication restrictions make it hard for me to know much of anything, but perhaps this blog is a nice way of allowing us to stay connected through supervision. Feel free to ask her questions through comments as I know she reads the blog as well.

No Cake?

Being on this Whole30 diet this month means that we had some limitations on how to celebrate my birthday. For the first time in over two weeks, we decided to go out to eat, and struggle to figure out how to stay compliant with the confines of no sugar, legumes, dairy, or grains. We went to a steakhouse.

Turns out the need for "clarified butter" was no problem. They cook with it all the time. Ghee (or clarified butter) is dairy-free butter. So, I ordered a nice steak, veggies that were sautéed in olive oil and garlic, and a baked potato. 100% whole30 compliant. Sporty ordered Sea Bass and pretty much the same as my sides. It wasn't easy. Thier sweet potato was sautéed in brown sugar - nope can't have that. Their lamb chops had a non-compliant marinade. Even most of the salads failed the Whole30 diet. At day 15, we were not about to cheat on our 30 day elimination for one evening's dinner!

Sporty even had some Ghee in her purse, just in case the restaurant didn't have it. We sneakily pulled it out and put it on our potato.

At the end of the night, Sporty was upset that she couldn't provide me with a dessert. Desserts in general, except fruit, are not Whole30 compliant, but especially sweet tooth desserts. We looked up some possibilities of almost compliant desserts that Sporty could make us using compliant foods, but nothing seemed all that appetizing nor did I want them that much.

Truth is, I don't need a cake to feel loved. I don't need any gifts to celebrate my birthday. In fact, I like to give gifts to those celebrating with me. I'm just happy to be alive another year. I'm happy to be living a life of honesty and willingness and openness and recovery. 

I do not need to make any birthday wishes, I'm living my wishes. This year, I am going to unexpectedly have another Master's Degree, move into a new home (albeit rental), possibly officially start the doctoral program (fingers crossed), write my heart on paper, love children, hopefully get off federal supervision, spend time with those I love, and more! What more could I wish for?!?!?

So, no regrets of no cake! In fact, I was in bed by 10pm. I was exhausted. They are switching me from Enbrel to Cimzia, and time has lapsed between my last injection while I'm waiting for my insurance to come through on the new one. Typical! So, I got a good night's sleep.

Another good thing happened yesterday. I usually get a phone call on my bday from my mom that kinda goes, "Happy Birthday... Your card is in the mail..." Well, this year, she actually mailed my card a couple days ago and it arrived on my birthday. I was so happy that she thought about it in advance and mailed me a card to arrive on my bday. That was something special - and different! 

Lastly, I just want to mention how warm and fuzzy all my friends and family made me feel yesterday. I received texts, phone calls, and so many Facebook messages. Cake may feel warm and sweet momentarily, but the warmth and sweetness of the people who love and support me will last me all the way to my next birthday!!!

The Scariest Weekend and the Week the Blog went Down

As my birthday approaches tomorrow, it is taking me back to last year, being at Carswell, and remembering the scariest weekend I had while incarcerated. I did not fully write of the experience then. I did write a little about it after, but I could not write about it. My fears were caused by this blog. Well, sort of. Here's the full story...

The weekend was looking to be a good one. It was a three day weekend from my job in education, due to MLK day on the Monday. My mother and step-father were going to visit me on Saturday and Sunday. I planned to spend much of my actual birthday (Monday) with my friends at the Rec after having to move from 1South to 1North. Sure, I was incarcerated, but I had a lot to look forward to. There was a party being planned, a cake being made, and knowing my friends, I was going to even get a gift or two! Plus, cards and letters from home were coming in and I felt well loved and cared for. Prison is the last place anyone wants to be for their birthday, but as I wrote a couple days after the date here on the blog, it was by far, not my worst bday. I actually have some pretty warm memories of the day.

What I don't have are very good memories of other things from that weekend. It started just as I was about to leave work actually earlier that week. I happened to be alone in my classroom - which were the moments I loved the most. The quiet. They were the times when the students were gone and we were doing lesson planning and assignment grading. Some classrooms had several tutors in them. Sometimes, we were lucky and sat alone in a classroom. Quiet. Ahhhhhhh.

The classroom I was in at the time happened to have one of the teacher's offices located within it. Since it was a male teacher, if he was ever in his office, there had to be two of us inmate/tutors in the classroom so that it was not 1-1 with a staff/inmate. This was the teacher who I respected and he always followed the rules, so when he walked in the classroom to head to his office, I immediately stood at my desk to walk to another classroom to seek out another tutor to come into my classroom or to sit in their classroom (those are the rules). However, the teacher who I respected started to talk to me and said that he was just grabbing his coat and heading out (which was something he did quite often). So, I just stayed at my desk grading. As he started to head out of the back door, though, he turned to me and said, "so, Dragonfly Hazel, eh?" and I just froze and slowly looked him in the face across the room. I said, "is that a problem?" He just laughed and continued to get his things together. I walked over toward his office and asked again, "ummm, is it a problem?" I did not know if keeping the blog was going to cause me any trouble. I knew that I was not exactly anonymous with how honest about myself I was, but I did not know how it would go down since he was letting me know he knew about it.

The rest of the conversation went something like this: he indicated that I needed to make sure I continued to not use any real names. He indicated that I should be careful. He had this weird laugh that I couldn't quite get as to whether he respected what I was doing or he thought it insane or what not. After he left the office, I just stood there, not sure how to react. It was the first time anyone approached me in a kinda negative way about this blog and it was someone who had a great deal of power over me.

It perhaps was foreshadowing for what was yet to come as later the same week. Back to the Friday of my birthday weekend. Things were fine between the teacher who I respected and myself and I took the whole conversation to be a bit of a warning and a bit of an acknowledgment. At the time, I thought, somewhere in my ego brain, that perhaps that teacher had some respect for me too. It's not that I ever learned that he didn't, but as someone who was an inmate, we are all just inmates to the staff - even as tutors in classrooms, we were all just replaceable. In reality, they were just doing their jobs. I digress.

So, that Friday, I am heading into my unit after work and I get approached by someone I do not even know who starts yelling at me about this blog and that I am telling everyone's secrets to the whole world by keeping a blog while I was at Carswell. At 5' tall and round, I am an easy target and I have never been in a fist fight, so when people start screaming at me, I tend to cower. However, this person just starts going off on me about things she knew nothing about. I said to her that I do keep a blog, but I am not writing about other people's happenings in it, that that is not the purpose. It is about me and my journey and experiences. I do write about things I see, but I do not use anyone's names or anything.

Well, then in turns out that someone on my unit's girlfriend found this blog and the person was nervous that her secrets from within Carswell would be revealed to the girlfriend through my blog. So, rumors started to go around all of Carswell, but especially my unit - 1 South at the time, then 1 North (we moved on January 20th - the same weekend). One woman on my unit went room to room to tell them that I keep a blog about Carswell and the Unit, that I write about the women there, that I use their real names, and that I expose all their secrets. Literally.

Next thing you know, by Saturday morning, perfect strangers were walking up to me and saying things like, "hey, do you know 'dragonfly hazel'?" and I'd say, "yes," and they'd threaten me and tell me to watch my back and it started to get really ugly. This was really soon after someone I really liked had gone to the SHU and her best friend thought my blog had something to do with it. I mean, it started to get really out of control. I kept trying to explain that this blog was not at all about those things, but I was not necessarily talking to folks who wanted real explanations. My friends on the inside were scared for me. Braids and bandana were telling people to get away from our room. It was like I had to be "watched." I really started to believe I may be jumped.

That's when I made the phone call. I tried calling Traveler. She maintained this site while I was away. I couldn't reach her. I reached Sporty. I was hysterically crying. I told her that I was being threatened. I told her that we had to take down Dragonfly Hazel. I told her about all the threats, the rumors, the lies. Here, my parents were in town to see me, it was my birthday weekend, and I was constantly watching my back. People who had been my acquaintances on the inside suddenly stopped talking to me. It was really scary.

The people I was closest to stuck by me. They knew what Dragonfly Hazel was really about. They knew it was not just an avenue for gossip. They helped me still make the best of the weekend and my visits with my folks. After a couple days, the rumors went to another direction, but some of those friendships never recovered. People did not know if they could trust me. I took down this site on January 19th for about a week and did not write at all. It was a very sad week for me.

That is when I wrote the piece called "why I write." I had never realized how important this blog was to me until I was forced to stop writing it. After I was home and saw the messages from people in January asking where the blog went both in email and on Prison Talk, I realize that week had an impact on many people, not just me. I wonder if that week caused people to believe the blog stopped entirely or if people wondered why it abruptly went down. Well, now you know.

It was a hard decision to put the the blog back up, knowing that people within Carswell were reading the blog and not happy about it. In a short period of time, I learned that several CO's and even the Warden were aware of it. I learned that SIS was made aware of it - that's the FBI of the prison system. I heard through the grapevine that perhaps I was protected by my 1st Amendment rights, but I wonder if I wrote anything too controversial if anything would have occurred... At one point I heard that the education department as a whole was not happy to know about my blog, but then there was little they could do to me about it. The CO that was often in my unit made comments to my friends like, "I know she keeps that blog, she don't know that I know, but I know..." That was a common statement by staff and inmates.... "you don't know that I know, but I know..." when it came to this blog.

Funny thing is, by the second half of my time at Carswell, I just pretty much assumed everyone knew. When I was moved to the second floor room where I would remain until I left, all three of my roommates had already heard the rumors about me and my blog. One was quite upset when I informed her that the rumors were not true and that I was not going to be using her real name and would only use a nickname if she approved of it. She thought I would somehow make her famous - hahaha. Perhaps my talking about her here, now will do that trick - no, oh well!!!! Sorry Longwinded!!!

I distinctly remember those feelings of helplessness and powerlessness a year ago, though. I was proud that I stood my ground when approached by others, but was in a situation where there was no way for me to just show my fellow inmates this site and say "see, this is the site, these are the entries, I'm not talking about you in those ways!!!" I'm also proud of myself for making a very difficult decision to keep writing, because I'm not sure how I would have survived my time in prison without the ability to keep my blog. It gave me purpose. It was a purpose I did not even know I had and now I get to use it for research purposes that has potential to be useful by people who study criminal justice and prison issues.

I guess this post reveals something very important to all of you - my blog could not tell you all everything. Too many eyes were watching. I was not being paranoid, I was being told. This was especially true after my birthday weekend and the week the blog went down. Maybe I was not as strong as I wanted to be in order to write everything I experienced and witnessed. My number one goal was to get home. Every prisoner's goal should be the same. I can do much more from out here than I could from in there. I still have the memories, though. They will have a very hard time leaving my soul.

Losing a Couch

Back in my gambling days, my poor steering wheel used to get a real beating. Nearly every time I left a casino, having gone after I'd told myself I would never go again, and once again losing far more money than I could afford to lose, I'd start banging that darn wheel. How could I do that again? Why couldn't I just stop? What about my bills? How was I going to pay rent? How would I live til my next paycheck? Etc. etc.

I'd then start calculating how many times I visited the ATM. I'd come up with that magic number of the number of times that I withdrew money and the total I lost. I'd say to myself, "well, I lost a couch today..." In terms of the amount of money. I never owned a nice couch back then. I lost every one I could ever own in my dreams to the reality of gambling. I never had real money to do real money with. Sure, I made a decent living at time, but access to money was just a short jump to my next gambling binge. I lost a lot of make believe sofas!

So today, when Sporty and I went shopping for a new sofa, I was overjoyed to know that it was not a figment of my imagination. Our current couch is alright, but is not comfortable for our backs, which is especially not good for me and my need to have decent support. We set our budget, have the funds to support the purchase, and found several places to compare. 

All those times I lost a couch in my head, and thus was my first ever time shopping for a decent one. We found several decent options under our budget, so now we just have to decide which one. 

The new sofa is my birthday gift for later this week. I told Sporty that I don't want or need much of anything, but would like this for us all. I doubt it will be delivered in time for Tuesday, but it will be nice knowing that it's coming soon. Plus, we are officially starting our move into our new rental home in April and it'll be great there! 

I may have never purchased a real sofa in the past (my current one was given to me) but I've lost many through my mind by gambling. Now, I have the opportunity to purchase one for real for the first time. It may not seem like a big deal to some, but for me, I will cherish it's comfort!!

A New Sponsee

One of the greatest gifts of being in a recovery program is the opportunity to give back. So many people are there for you when you first walk in the rooms. It then becomes our jobs to be there for those who are new to the rooms later, or who may not be new, but who continue to struggle with this baffling disease. There are many ways to give back in our recovery programs, one of the most important ways is to be a sponsor.

I have been asked to be a sponsor a handful of times over the years. It is a big responsibility and one that no one should take lightly. With so much stuff I've dealt with over the years, it has not always made sense for me to sponsor others, or I've had to tag-team sponsoring someone (for example sharing the duties since I went into FMC Carswell and could not be available to the woman I'd been sponsoring for the year prior).

I'm also a "tough" sponsor. There are all kinds of sponsors in the programs, and I'd put myself on the tough side of things. I believe in the 12 steps and sponsor people who are willing to do the hard work and follow the guidelines of the program. I also believe that change does not happen overnight, so people need to be patient and kind to themselves in the process. However, blaming the rest of the world for all ones problems will likely not get you anywhere.

I guess you could say I haven't had much 'luck' with my sponsees. In fact, other than some good success at working with a couple people through steps 1-5, I have yet to see one of my sponsees make it past two years clean. I don't take that personally, though. Overall, GA has a 3-5% success rate. Yes, that is all. It's really quite sad. Now, people who relapse, often come back, which makes me very happy, but many people struggle in this program. Many people do not fully accept step 1 - they are powerless over gambling. At some point, they go back, experiment with some form of gambling, and it destroys them all over again. It's so horrible to hear their stories. I personally think of my relapses as every time BEFORE I ever walked into a GA room when I would swear to myself that I would never gamble again and then find myself there a day or two later. Nothing could stop me from my addiction - only my recovery (consisting of GA and intensive counseling) helped me stop. I am proud that once I stepped foot in a GA room, and actually since just before the world came crashing down on me in May, 2008, I have not placed a single bet.

Recently, a sponsee of mine had a major gambling relapse and decided that she would not come back to GA. I guess she did not have the guts to let me know, as I learned it through a third party who she knew would let me know. She was working on her 4th step, which we were supposed to go over very soon and we were trying to schedule a financial pressure relief. I am not mad at her. I could never be angry at anyone in GA who relapses. Addiction is so overwhelming and hard for people who are not getting the care they need to overcome it. I knew when I walked in my first GA room that I either needed to quit or my only other option was death. I was that desperate. I think it is harder for people who are not at that level of desperation. Losing a house, their spouse, their job, their savings, whatever, may not be enough. Some people in the GA meetings haven't even gotten that far. They are the lucky ones who admitted they had a problem well before the progression went as far as it could. Staying away from gambling for them, though, I think is harder. I don't know, though, it's just my hypothesis. For those I know that were as desperate as me, we seemed to have less relapses after coming into the program. I hate to think that for most people you have to be that desperate to be successful! At least I do know of some people who never relapsed that never had it as bad as me...

Anyway, I have a new sponsee, and I am excited to start working with her. I am honored that she approached me to be one of her Sponsors. I say "one of" because sometimes people have more than one sponsor in the program and that's okay! She's had a sponsor in the program, but feels like she needs something different. So, we are starting back at step 1 and I gave her the book put out by the International Office of GA. She looked at it with a blank face - not knowing that the International GA office put out books on the steps. I follow the GA way of doing things. This is going to be a different experience for her. I really like who she is too. That's always good when a Sponsor and a Sponsee get along in terms of energy and personalities. I know I have a lot of my plate these days, but none of it would exist without my being in recovery and the GA program. So, when a nice woman asked me to be her Sponsor, I took a brief moment and thought about the time commitment and asked her some questions around expectations, and I said, "yes." This is what being in recovery is all about.

Crime Does Not Exist

I made it as far as the top paragraph of the first page of my criminal theory book before I picked up my phone and started typing this.  It is the quote at the top that I read. Read again. And again. I just need to share it here with all of you:

"Crime does not exist. Only acts exist, acts often given different meanings within various social frameworks. Acts and the meanings given to them are our data. Our challenge is to follow the destiny of acts through the universe of meanings. Particularly, what are the social conditions that encourage or prevent giving the acts the meaning of being crime" (Christie, 2004, p.3)

Welcome to my second semester of my criminal justice program! Classes started today. I have just a one hour seminar on Mondays and work before and after it. Tomorrow starts my first big new class- theory. I get to learn all the reasons why experts "believe" crime is committed. I'm actually really looking forward to the class and Professor!

Wednesdays, I have quantitative methods - better known as statistics. I could've likely fought to be excused from the course, since I've already taken and passed a doctoral level stats course. I don't feel as confident in stats as I want to be, though, so I'll plow forward through more beginner graduate stats happily. Plus, we get to play with statistical software!!! Fun graphs!!! I'm such a geek!

My final semester course is entirely online. It's been a while since I've taken an all online course and I usually don't prefer them. The professor seems pretty great, though, and they are doing me a favor letting me take the course online rather than forcing me to wait til it's offered on campus next fall. The online courses are usually just for the online students. It was fascinating today with everyone's intros. People are in the class from everywhere in the U.S.

I'm pretty excited for the semester. I feel much more ready to start it than I was last semester- when I wasn't even sure if I was allowed to attend til the day before classes. It's taken some time reflecting to realize that I need to be okay that it wasn't the best semester of my life - I was really carrying a lot of stress and only a couple months post-incarceration.

No excuses for this semester, though. I signed up for this and I want this. So, I better put my all into it! Back to reading chapter one... And considering all the contexts in which we decide what acts are given the meaning of being crimes.

70,000 Page Hits

Sometimes I wonder how many people stumble across this blog and are like "that's not what I was looking for..." and quickly leave never to return. 70,000 page hits over 18 months for a blog is not something that makes a blog a stand-out, but it is certainly special to me! The very fact that anyone would want to return to here and be updated on my life is quite amazing to me. I really am just a normal, everyday person doing normal, everyday things. I just happen to write about them.

I say "normal" because I think far too many people think it extraordinary when someone who has been incarcerated and wears that big F on their forehead (FELON) can make it in society. It shouldn't be extraordinary. That should be the norm. Once someone has done their time they "should" be able to still function - right???

I actually don't like the word "normal," I mean by who's definition? I prefer "healthy" or something like that. My GA program's second step has "return us to a normal way of thinking and living" as part of it. I really like to think of that as a healthy way of thinking and living.

It is so difficult to think healthy while incarcerated. We are surrounded by everything that is unhealthy and not in our best interest. How can we best help those who are incarcerated to be able to develop healthy lives on the outside? Think of defining the term "healthy" broadly - not just about body - but about where we live, how we live, who we live with, etc.

I have not mastered the healthy way of thinking and living. I do my best. Progress, not perfection. Last night I think I had an "oh my god, I'm taking on too much over the next six months" breakdown. It was short-lived. I let it out. I slept good. Whew.

I guess that's actually part of a healthy lifestyle - having stress, letting it go. So is this, keeping up with my blog. At least on my end. Maybe for some of you, it's part of yours to read it. I won't pretend to know why. I will just thank you from the bottom of my heart for choosing to spend part of your day with me. It means so much to me! Yay to my readers whether you stumble here and say, "whoa, not for me," or stick around for awhile. It means the world to me!!

The Whole30

I've decided to finally do the elimination diet I was planning on doing prior to the passing of my grandma. Then, I got through one day and my grandma passed away and then I was at a funeral and sitting shiva. My thoughts of eliminating foods to see the culprits of some of my aches and pains just didn't make sense at that time.

I'm now on my fifth day of the whole30 elimination plan. No sugar, no legumes, no dairy, no grains for 30 days. Eggs, however are okay and encouraged. Technically, there is a more severe elimination protocol for people with autoimmune conditions like myself, but I decided to do the general one first. Once I get through 30 days like this, I can choose to do this again or continue it if I decide to with the more restrictive diet.

I'm not struggling as much as I thought I would. I'm a happy little carnivore. I have always loved cheese, but haven't really missed my dairy products yet. Actually, even just a few days in, I notice that I'm enjoying the taste of my foods far more than usual. A sweet potato tastes sweeter, drinking a basic herbal tea with no additives (sugar or honey) is suddenly okay, and even the homemade mayo tastes pretty darn good! 

Joy and Sporty are also doing the Whole30 alongside me. They are going well so far too. It's always so good to embark on something like this having the support of others doing something similar. Today I'm going to search out recipes and make a shopping list and we will plan our meals for the week. Sporty and I got rid of all our forbidden foods to shelves that T.S. can eat from and enjoy her Oreos or Cheerios, while our shelves are packed with nuts, fruits, olive oils, spices, and foods we are allowed. Being a whole food diet, our fridge has fresh fruit, veggies and plenty of meats for the protein portions - and of course eggs! 

Last night's meal consisted of ribeye steak, stir fried onions, and homemade sweet potato chips. With meals like that (and half the ribeye ready to be eaten today), I think this is an elimination diet I can get through!!

I Must Be Doing Alright

I reported a couple months ago that after my mandatory counseling intake, the counselor felt I was not in need of the organization's services. In the end, my PO felt I should have three sessions to ensure that was the case. My third session was today and I was asked to sign my release today from their services. Counseling complete.

It was interesting to hear what the counselor felt were the reasons I was not in need of the services. Bluntly put, "I have my sh*t together..." Most people she sees upon release struggle in employment, relationships, financials, active addictions, housing, and more. I guess this is once again the advantage of my having had 4 1/2 years to get myself into recovery and counseling before I was indicted. I had my sh*t together before I went away - at least for the most part.

Let's not be too proud, though. I have very low moments still. I just handle them very differently than I did when I thought and acted like an addict thinks and acts. Recovery allowed me to live "through" the prison experience and continue to live "through" the ups and downs of life.

I also have incredible support- an essential in anyone's life. Counseling was there for me early on when I did not know if I had any other support and when I needed far more than those who support me could give. Counseling in any form, especially my addiction counseling, gave me an opportunity to really feel heard and explore issues I had to explore with people trained to help me through the pain and fear of dealing with those issues. Sometimes, counseling is the absolute best answer!

For now, I'm glad to be released from the court ordered mandatory counseling. The selected counselor was nice enough but it felt at times as if I were teaching her about compulsive gambling, more than gaining from the session. That is certainly not wasted time. Maybe a client of hers will walk in one of my GA rooms in the future.

So, I guess I'm doing a good job of keeping it positive after just 6 months of my official release. It's starting to feel like so much longer!! I am going to where I feel heard every week tonight - at my GA meeting - where I always know I'm not alone. If ever my GA meetings or friends are not enough for me, though, I know I can always seek counseling because life is about doing the right next thing as we need to.

Inner City Schools

I'm conducting student interviews at schools this week for new students to join our college preparation program that I work with. The buildings have history and I wonder if anyone appreciates the little architectural details - crown molding, window designs, etc. they are grand high schools that house hundreds of tomorrow's thinkers and workers.

These are inner-city high schools, though. Taxes do not pay enough per student to offer modern advancements or technology. They exist with the possibility of crime all the time. Police officers walk the halls and students refuse to use the lockers (too often they are broken into and everything is stolen).

While sitting this morning at one school, there was a pause in our interviews while a student was arrested. This is ordinary around here. Later in the day, I heard a familiar thing over the loud speaker, "we are going on lockdown." It was just a drill, but it took me right back to the many lockdowns at Carswell. The endless hours in our rooms waiting to be allowed to roam our units once again.

Here, the lockdown means locking your door, moving everyone away from doors and windows, and turning off lights. It's likely a drill due to all the school shootings that happen at every kind of school these days - Sandy Hook to Columbine. All schools have those issues today, not just inner-city schools.

It's scary to think that today's high schools could feel like prisons, ever! They are institutions of higher education. Students should feel safe, secure, and not need the police walking their halls to get themselves into college.

I pass little judgment on students of inner-city schools. I attended one myself for a period of time. Somehow, it just felt safer at that time. Now, 10 year olds have to walk through metal detectors. It all just makes me sad.

As I wait for my next student to interview, I will stare out of the large window before me, take in the beautiful crown molding, and appreciate the beauty of this old building.

The Grand Canyon

Sporty and I took an unexpected sidetrip today to the Grand Canyon. It was not out of the way and was not in violation of my approved travel through federal supervision. It was my first time there.

We really lucked out. Snow is moving in on New Year's Eve, and while it was a cold crisp day, clear skies gave us an incredible view.

It's really amazing what beauty is around us that we just need to take a little sidetrip to see. It really provides such great perspective on life and the grandness of everything and the smallness of everything as well. If time was on my side, I would have figured out a way to stay warm, pull out a pad of paper, and write my mission statement for grad school right there. If the Grand Canyon can't provide inspiration, I'm not sure what can. Ah, but that wasn't to be today, so with the images on my head, and the serenity in my heart, I will simply use the energy of the day to provide me with my words and thoughts.

It's actually been a fairly perfect day so far (knock on wood). I sadly said "goodbye" to my ailing father, promising to see him again soon, rented a planned vehicle without incident (the temp printed license I was emailed from my state was accepted), and a nice drive to and now from the Grand Canyon. Our next stop is going to Sporty's cousin's home in another state, where we will also meet up with Joy who is also nearby visiting family. This is really a good winter trip. Most of all, though, it's been seeing my dad who I have been worried about and praying for so much that is the reason this trip was so important! I wish he could have gone to the Grand Canyon with me and even though he's been there, just had the opportunity to take in its vastness and wonder one more time.

A Day with Dad

My dad is not the person he once was, then again, neither am I. The person he is today is relaxed, confused, simple, exhausted, frustrated, passive, kind, and quiet. I can't begin to tell you how many of those words would not be on this list ever in the past.

Health-wise, it's truly impossible for me to know what's going on. The cancer is still there - in his brain and in his bones, and he just finished another round of chemo and radiation. We will know in a couple weeks if it has spread more. When I try to bring up anything health related with him or my step-mother, I just don't get any straight answers.

The biggest effects on my dad has been from the stroke he suffered the same week as my sentencing. I wasn't told about it until the day before my sentencing. My dad was not lucky, he never regained his full communication functions and from what I can tell, his memory is also affected.

Where does this leave things? My step-monster pretty much talks and talks and complains and talks and whines and bosses my dad around and talks for him and talks some more... It's so hard to watch. I'm grateful she's taking care of him, very grateful, but I am upset by how she talks to him, at him, about him, etc. He is sick and desperately trying to do things right, and she screams that he didn't start the dish washer, pulled the hood rather than the gas cover, or can't remember going somewhere.

I can only imagine what it must be like for one's spouse to suddenly be ill and need you in unexpected ways. That's what you sign up for in marriage. Growing older means that we all change and sometimes we face very scary struggles. No one should be made to feel worse about the struggles they are facing.

I have one more full day with my dad. I'll enjoy every minute of it and lean on my program of recovery to deal with the stresses of the unknowns of his health and the behaviors of my step monster. She tries hard, perhaps she tries too hard. She's just very judgmental. My dad used to be that way. He's not anymore. Now, he's just my quiet, simple, loving dad. I'll take him this way and hope he can still live a while yet!

I am Really Me!

It was a good Christmas Day. Not that I have that many to compare from. Most were full of Chinese food and movies. Spending time with Sporty's family is always full of energy, imagination, and food! She has a large family and there are a lot of cousins, kids, and drama. There's always a ton of laughter. Last time there was a small food fight. Today, three separate adults got scared as they opened the food pantry and a person jumped out at them. This is family. 

I had one responsibility upon leaving the house - grab the two tins of Christmas cookies to take with us to my dads and to Sporty's cousin in New Mexico. About halfway to the airport, we realized I failed in that one task. I got distracted by Super Dog and looking for T.S. who had my phone. So, no cookies for the relatives.

Once at the airport, Sporty and I approach the counter for baggage check. We only brought small carry on suitcases, but this is one of those airlines that allows no carry-ons. They charge for everything!

Pull out my wallet and everything is there... Except my driver's license. The start of a 8 day trip and no license?!? Really?!? I pulled everything out of my wallet and my backpack. No license. T.S. pulled off the highway and searched my car, nope. I have all my other pieces of id and cards in my wallet, just missed that one critical document.

I nervously stood in the TSA security line. Would my university ID get my through airport security? Not a good line to be nervous in!! I smiled as "next," was called and I walked up to the next agent. I showed my ID as if it was normal. It was not. She took one look at me, and asked me for a state issued ID. I explained the situation and was asked to show several other cards in my wallet. This got me through to the next level of security where I once again explained my situation and had to prove my address. My many medication bottles came in handy for that purpose!!

Finally, I was passed on to the next level - the hand security check. Another frisk. Oh, I'm used to this. Stand up spread legs, hands out to sides, glove covered hands patting through every crevice of my clothed body. Doesn't seem to matter the situation, I'm always selected for hand screening. It's been nearly six months without a pat-down, guess it was time!!!

Then they emptied everything from my backpack again! They had to make sure there were no bad chemicals or anything. Once I re packed it, I have no idea where anything is anymore in that bag! Can't say it was an especially special beginning to our trip.

I'm now stuck trying to problem solve. I'm supposed to rent a car Monday to drive between two states - impossible without my license. I need to figure out how to get something temporarily. I have NO idea where my license could be. I had no reason to doubt it would be where it always was in its place in my wallet. Did I really just take off for another state without a license??

Merry Christmas

I imagine that the vast majority of the people that read this blog celebrate Christmas and I want to wish each and every one of you a great holiday. After a very long drive to my moms home today, I enjoyed a nice dinner with my folks. It was nice to be back home with my parents as the last time I was with them was for my grandma's funeral. Tonight was much more positive!

For me, my holiday is over so I think it would be a good time to write a gratitude list. Since it's now the wee hours of the morning, I'll write 5 things I'm grateful for - although there are so many more!!!

1. I love my family and that includes my chosen family. 

2. G.A. and my special friends in the program fill my life with recovery, a connection to a higher power, and a constant reminder of the progress I've made in my life.

3. The open mindedness and acceptance of so many people I've met in the past six months. They make it easier for me to face telling my truth the next time.

4. Life has so many possibilities. Instead of making my life having limits, my experiences have only broadened what opportunities are available to me.

5. I am finally being given the opportunity to see my father tomorrow. It will be the first time since 2010 and since he's been ill.

Holidays are always a time to remember what we are grateful for and trying to keep everything else in perspective!

Officially on Vacation Supported by my PO

Vacation? Yes. Vacation! With my PO's permission!! Today was my last day of work for 1 1/2 weeks. I thought I'd have to work tomorrow, but at 5:50pm tonight, my boss and I uploaded our cover sheet to the federal government and officially filed our annual performance review a week early and we high fived one another. There's no reason to come in tomorrow, she informed me. I'm off til the 5th.

I have plenty to be doing, but it's all on my time now for a bit. I like that flexibility. Right now I'm focusing on finishing wrapping gifts and packing for our trip. We leave tomorrow late afternoon and spend tomorrow night with my mom. My mom, being the good Jew she is, is making a ham, green bean casserole, jello mold and more for dinner. We usually do Chinese food and a movie, but I guess she wanted to do something a little different this year.

Christmas Day will be with Sporty's family with likely more ham, more green bean casserole, and a lot of Christmas cookies! We fly out that night to Arizona to see my father.

My dad's brain tumor is still there, but has not grown. I guess that's good news?!? His cancer is also in his hip bone now. That puts his cancer starting in his bladder to his brain and then his hip. They will do another PET scan next week and I'm a bit scared for where they'll find the next location. It was a miracle he made it to now and I fear if these three days with him may ... Well, I shouldn't go there, should I?

Anyway, I'm not expecting much from the trip. My dad's stroke in 2013 left him unable to fully communicate his thoughts. 

In other news, I stopped in on my PO today. Took an hour to get through talking to him. Nothing is quick. He approved me to go to a GA conference out of state at the end of January and to a couple meetings I have out of state as well. So far so good with him. As I was finishing up, he realized it has been nearly six months of my supervision and he hasn't done a urine analysis since the beginning... So even though I just happened to stop in, suddenly I was told to pee in a cup with a female PO watching. No problem... Except, I always have the worst aim!!! I made a total mess! Their cups are like really narrow and especially splashy and ... Well... Let's just say nothing was dry by the time I finished my sample - eeewwww. Glad I don't have to do that often. I have nothing to worry about in terms of results!

I think I should start bringing a funnel with me just in case...

Anyway, right now, I have no worries. I'm on vacation. It's a vacation I can afford because I'm staying with family and I no longer gamble. It's a vacation where I can spend time with people I care about. I love vacations!!!

A Happy Holiday

It's been a very good holiday. Sporty, T.S., and TS' little sister (share a dad) are all celebrating with me, even though they are not Jewish. We are doing Chanukamas or Christmakah in our home I guess you could say. We have my menorah up and their tree up. There are stockings for us all, but while theirs are red and white, mine is blue and white. If we weren't a family, I would not celebrate Christmas, I certainly do not celebrate any religious connotations of it, but we are family and it's nice sharing my traditions with them and theirs with me.

Tonight was even more special, Joy and Traveler came over for matzo ball soup and latkes (potato pancakes). We all lit the menorah together. My gift tonight was a small autoethnography book and immediately Joy said, "nerd," with perfect timing. It could have been a set of Big Bang Theory. It was a very enjoyable evening and such a difference from how the holidays were inside Carswell last year.

I'm trying to send out cards to everyone who helped support me emotionally over the past several years. I made some simple cards. I've been much busier at work than I thought I'd be, so I may need to travel with it as a project. I'm okay with that. I actually have many goals for while I'm on my trip. I am going to read, work on my application, work on my thesis proposal, and write these cards. 

I'm even sending cards to people that I'm not sure want to hear from me. I guess it doesn't matter, though. I just have to try to do the right thing on my side. One person I wrote was someone who is also home but things did not end great when she left Fort Worth a few months prior to me because of this blog. People had learned about the blog and rumors spread that I was gossiping about people, using their real names, and doing really awful stuff on here. 

I have no idea if she ever looked at this blog to see what it's really about and she was certainly not the only one who turned their back on me after learning about this blog. However, I liked this woman, so I wrote her. Clean up my side of the street. Wish her well. All I can do. 

Tomorrow night will start the last day of Chanukah (Jewish holidays start the night prior). I think I'll remember this years as one of my favorites. It's not about the gifts. It's not about the food. It's that every night we are home. We light the menorah. I sing the prayer and we sing the Oh Chanukah song together and it really feels like we are together. It feels special, important, and fun. I already know that Christmas is going to be special as well. I'm so grateful to be home and relatively free for the holidays!!!

A New Direction

Sometimes writing something really sticks with me and that happened this past week. I wrote that I needed to stop trying to catch up with who I was before I went away and start being who I am today. I was reminded just yesterday, that's what living one day at a time is all about. Perhaps since my prison release, I've actually been failing in my own recovery beliefs and so caught up in it, I didn't even realize it.

This is why recovery is a journey and a lifelong act. No matter how long we are clean and/or sober, there is always work we can be doing on ourselves. No one can force this on us, we need to see it for ourselves and want to do the work.

So, what does being who I am today mean? Well, I still want to be a professor and I'm proud to be going into criminal justice. However, I'm going to stop being sad that I am spending time in Master's courses, because that is obviously where I need to be right now in order to learn what I need to know. I start the new application into the official doctoral program this week and two of my professors from this semester are writing me letters of support. My other letters of recommendation are coming from my former fellowship supervisor and my undergraduate professor/mentor. I know it will be a strong application. I will start writing my personal statement this week.

My next thing is to manage my time better. I've spent way too much time running around chasing my past. I need time with family and friends and much more time by myself. I need time to workout and to try to get back into shape. I learned in prison to wake up earlier, so I should take advantage of mornings and make sure I get a good night's sleep.

I need to plan out my studying like a job. No more cramming and late nights. I'm not 20-something. I've been too hard on my body since getting out of prison. Pushing it to far. I need to be kinder to myself. I need a study schedule that I stick to that is a priority that not only I respect, but that Sporty and T.S. know and therefore can respect as well- like another job. I'm working toward a PhD- very important.

I need to schedule in some time for friends, card writing, and just keeping in touch. I know the importance of letters and cards and phone calls and it's my turn to pay it forward. I need to schedule that in as well. 

I'm not calling this a New Years resolution, it's what I am doing because I need to do it for me! This is who I am today. It's a little different than who I was before I went away. Prison changes us. We don't know all the ways and I'll write about some of that later. For now, I just needed to reflect on how I need to let me be me now, and stop trying to be me then.

Going for a Drive

Tonight, Sporty and I decided to take a short road trip to a Gambler's Anonymous meeting about an hour and a half away from where we live. We'd heard that the meeting struggled with having regulars, and knew that the secretary of the meeting was trying very hard, so we wanted to show support. Plus, it's always a good thing to go to another meeting.

We arrived just on time, and wouldn't you know it - it was the largest meeting since their start just over a year ago. About 14 people in attendance, with clean times from less than a week to one and half years (other than Sporty and I with 6 1/2 yrs each). It was a great, well-run meeting. They were still trying to get through everything within an hour, which was not possible with so many people having just relapsed and a newbie in the room, so it got extended. I'm glad that most the meetings I attend back home have no general time limit - it's about giving everyone a chance to talk - usually for about 5 minutes each. In this region, some meetings limit people to 30 seconds or a minute. Sometimes, that is just not enough time for someone struggling with something.

I really did like tonight's meeting. The people were so warm and inviting to Sporty and I as well. I remember when I was new in the program and someone with a lot of time would be in the room (I'm talking 15, 20, or even 30+ years). I would look at them and just wonder how on earth they did it. I couldn't imagine a day without gambling and how my life could ever come together again, and here they were with a real life that no longer included gambling, yet they were still at the meetings - sharing their experience, strength and hope. At 6 1/2 years, my experience does not come close to what was offered by so many in the rooms I experienced, however tonight, Sporty and I were seen as those people in a room where only 1 person had more than 6 months clean. One person said to Sporty that she wished she could be as strong as she is - we both told her that she can be - one day at a time. Not so long ago, we, too, felt so weak.

I'm trying hard to reflect on this and also respect the tenants of the program - "who you see here, what you hear here, when you leave here, let it stay here..." such important words that I believe in SOOO very much. We also believe in anonymity for the program's sake - Step 11 of the Unity program states, "our public relations policy is based on attraction rather than promotion; we need always maintain personal anonymity at the level of press, radio, films, television, and Internet." I suppose I have a aura of personal anonymity - but not really. I choose to be open and out about being in GA and sharing my story of how it has helped me become a much better person. I get that I shouldn't be pulling people out of casinos and forcing them into meetings (it wouldn't work - you have to want help), but if people don't know about success stories, why would they want to join? AA has millions of success stories that people know about. People don't know about gambling addiction that much.

I just saw a movie preview for "The Gambler" movie that is being released this week. It looks like another movie that will make the life of a compulsive gambler look like it's always connected to the mob, fighting, the underground, highest of stakes, etc. It's like a glorification and hitting bottom at it's worst. For all of us in the GA rooms, we are just regular joe shmoes. I've known a few with connections to bookies and the mob, but not many. Most were losing their paychecks. Most were never beat up - other than beating themselves up after a big loss. They lost their houses, their families, and their jobs, but the majority never looked at the end of the barrel of a gun, unless it was their own and they were thinking of suicide. Hollywood knows nothing of the real life of a compulsive gambler. A compulsive gambler struggled to pay the toll on the way home from the casino, because they literally spent their last penny in the casino. A compulsive gambler wrecks their brain trying to come up with a story to explain to their spouse on why they are walking in the house at 3am again, when they said they were running out for some groceries, but ended up at a casino for six hours and didn't dare answer their phone. A compulsive gambler stares at a pile of bills on their table that they know they can't pay because they just lost 3x that amount in one day at the casino the day before and are now pacing trying to figure out how they are going to pay their mortgage/rent. A compulsive gambler pays childcare apologetically because they are late picking up their child again, as they raced out of the casino and hit traffic on their ride back to their hometown where they were supposed to be to pick up their child on time.

I didn't personally do everything a compulsive gambler can do, and I did many things compulsive gamblers do. The list is unending what a real compulsive gambler is capable of and what makes rational sense when you are a compulsive gambler. The craziest thing of all, is that when we are in the rooms - in the GA rooms - we find out - none of us did these things without someone else doing something just like it. No two compulsive gamblers do the same crazy things - but we all do irrational things. That's the chaos of this addiction. That's why we need our meetings. We need to hear other people's stories and be like, "oh my god, I did that too!!!" We realize that we are not alone. The best thing GA ever gave me was the realization that I was not a "broken" human being. I was sick. GA provided me some of the healing I needed and I will continue to need it for the rest of my life.

Sporty and I have set a goal to try to attend a new meeting every month. Some will take a short trip, some much longer. It will be nice to hear new stories and, perhaps, some very familiar ones along the way. We are going to try to fit in some regional GA conferences as well. It's all about our recovery, giving back to the program that has given us to much, and growing as individuals. The worst thing we can do is become complacent. Recovery is a journey, not a resting place. Tonight, was our first adventure and I am very glad we took it.

Too Much Distance

I'm in need of my besties. Today proved that. Out of the blue, I received a text from Traveler inviting me to lunch. We sat and caught up - other than a few times over the last several months, we really haven't had much time together. The same is true with all my local friends - Cache and I have hung out only 2-3 times, Joy and I about the same... it's true for all my friends close by. Then considering my friends back home, and it's even worse. I once talked to Survivor every couple days at least, now we catch up at most every week, sometimes even less. Same with all my close friends back home.

Being out with Traveler was good, though. It was nice to catch up on her life. So much can happen and she's such a genuinely good person. She also treated me to lunch and I didn't understand why. She said it was to celebrate my getting through the semester. Then she pointed out all these things I've overcome in the last five or so months - release from the BOP, finding out that I was officially back in school just hours before classes started, flairs of my health condition, my grandmothers death,  going back to work, a new major, more credits than I had to take on, moving in and taking on "family," where I lived along before going away, etc. I started to tear up. I hadn't even thought of this past semester in those ways. I just kept running, running, running, and trying to stay on top of everything and not letting anything - especially my new "Felon" written across my forehead (figuratively) keep me from achieving anything. I suppose Sporty tries to tell me these things, but we live together and I know she is always kind to me, hearing it from someone else helped me really hear it. I think what I hate about taking on all that is that I inevitably put distance between me and all those I really care about. I keep saying I'm going to do better. I must do better. My life and all these goals are nothing if I am not a good person to the people who are angels in my life.

Maybe the right plan for me isn't to try and catch up with the person I was before all the legal stuff came down in 2013, but to slow down and catch up with who I am today. I don't necessarily know what that means exactly. I mean, I intend to still chase my goals, but I need to breathe. I need to spend time with the people I care about. I need to let people know that they matter, too. I have some time right now to put all these thoughts together and be kind to myself and really meditate on what it all means. I intend to do just that. In the mean time, I need to thank Traveler for my unexpected lunch and her incredible friendship over the years. Her energy from the minute I met her was the kind that one just wants to be around. She has an incredible way of helping me find broader perspective as well. It's time I stop putting distance between myself and everything important and stop running so much and just slow down and enjoy more moments like lunch with a good friend.

A Police Escort

I'm not supposed to have any interaction with the police. Well, that's not exact true. Any police interaction I have, means I need to call my PO and inform him of the interaction. Yesterday, I received a police escort for two miles but luckily, I don't think the cop knew my name, so I think I'm safe from having to report in. Although, I suppose I could've received a ticket for going below the speed limit...

I can officially cross a 5k off my bucket list. I did not run. I did not do well. I was last from the very beginning. I limped my way around the entire race having fallen behind even the other slowest walkers during the first block of the walk. 

My body did not hold up well. My enthesitis (Achilles issues) started going crazy by the 3/4 mile. My limp was very pronounced by the halfway point. At mile 2.2 or so, I was offered a short cut. I said, "no short cuts." If I was going to finish a 5k, I was going to really finish.

The cop car, with lights on, just slowly creeped behind me making sure no one hit me! I wasn't alone. An older lady from the organization was responsible for walking with the last walker, so she walked with me, talked to me, and generally kept me companionship. Joy and Sporty were with me at times, but the pace was a bit too slow for their long legs. I could see them not walking too fast in front of me throughout most of the course. They waited for me at the end so we could cross the finish line together.

The announcer said my name loudly so all could hear that I was crossing the finish line. For me, I was proud to have finished, but I did not want that public recognition of my being absolutely last. No one needs to know the struggles I have to just be able to move my body at times. I felt embarrassment more than pride.

I hope that when "flair season" is officially over for me, I will find I am walking easier once again. Plus, my doctor is changing my medication away from Enbrel to Cimzia this month. Not sure if it'll make a difference. What I do know is that a day later, I am barely able to move and walking 3+ miles is nothing.

I looked around after the 5k for the officer to thank him for the escort, but didn't see any officers around. I suppose it's a good thing. I am supposed to report ANY interactions with police. It would just be a waste of my POs time to have to read a report saying: "an officer had to escort me from behind within his vehicle while I slowly walked a 5k on Saturday and I thanked him after." So, I just put it out to the universe, I'm glad I was not alone and very grateful - I had Joy and Sporty walking a slow pace in front of me, a nice volunteer walking my incredibly slow pace beside me, and an officer driving and staring at my rear end behind me. I was well buffered as I finished my first ever 5k.

Oops Wrong Number

Okay, I admit, it's been a really long week. I also did myself and my health a disservice. I 'should' have requested the health accommodation I am allowed and had my last go around in school. My extremely long hours and having everything due at the same time was not good for me. I've been struggling through a mini flair now and a migraine. I know better. Worse yet, my grades suffered. Is it pride that kept me from requesting my accommodations? Probably. I just fought so hard to get back in. It never even occurred to me that my health would be such a struggle this semester. Oh well. Whatever my final grades turn out to be, the semester is now behind me and I'm still happy about my decision.

I do need to admit perhaps a funny story or its a story of the level of my stress - you decide. On my exam on Wednesday, I had to write my student number (no names), on the top of my exam. Well, today, through a kinda Backward way, I learned that instead of writing my student number, I wrote my INMATE NUMBER! I kid you not!! Now, I've had to give my student number many times over the past four months without fail, so I'm not sure why at that moment I was back under federal custody and giving my federal id number. Ugh.

I wrote my professor to let her know the mistake and I didn't say what the other number is, but if she looks closely at the numbers, she can probably figure it out - ha! She doesn't know- yet- my story. At least not from me. 

Okay, so who does that? I guess I do. I guess my stress level or something this week put me back into that head space. I don't know. But I much prefer to be known by my student number than my federal number. Oy, certainly a funny, embarrassing, over the top story that I just had to share with all of you!

Wow - I Needed That

Every once in a while I get the urge to look at my blog's stats and see how things are going here. I guess they are okay - given that I've been slow in writing. I'm sorry about that. My school work has my total focus right now and when I'm not studying or working, I am trying to not be attached to technology. I just stare at this computer or my phone too often. Plus, I'm not quite sure where this blog is going anymore. That's the honest assessment. Sometimes, I have something to share - something that I think is beneficial - like an interaction with my PO or something like that - but otherwise, my life is actually pretty boring. I'm no longer the woman heading off to prison. I'm once again me - doing school, attending GA meetings, hanging with my friends, working - and I happen to be on Federal Supervision - but so far, that hasn't been a huge burden to write about.

I remember being in prison and hearing so many people talk about how HARD it was to be on supervision - all the rules, all the restrictions. Am I just lucky thus far? Will this get harder? If it does, I certainly WILL share that with you. I've heard of people have several switched of PO's and every one of them being different. Knock on wood, I pray that does not happen to me. Is my supervision especially easy because I do not have a background of drugs/alcohol, so I do not have to go in for frequent urine tests, etc? Is it because I fall into a white-collar crime, rather than a street-type crime? Well, I know of others with similar offenses who are experiencing all levels of supervision anxiety. I do think that people who need to stay "clean" from drugs/alcohol would have a tough time if they are not in true recovery - or if they have to stay away from felons, but end up in a relationship with one (happens more often than you could imagine). These things brought people back to Carswell. I certainly have no plan to ever step foot in Texas again...

I'm just taking it all a day at a time and so life really is just full of those mundane daily observations of life. I have a pile of books I can't wait to read. I'm looking forward to finally seeing my father before he has yet another pet scan (his radiation treatment is just about ending - cancer still there, but is it growing?). I'm looking forward to the holidays and spending time with my family. I'm finally starting to make plans for the next steps in my life, and I think things are looking good.

However, right now, as you all know, I've been stressed. School has me full of angst. So much worry and trouble to get back in and I'm overwhelmed with the work I have to complete before this Wednesday - but it WILL be complete by Wednesday. The best thing my little look at my stats did for me was show me that someone was reading the blog and looking at my January, 2014 posts - so I was curious and went to the posts. I read about 4-5 of them, and I am fully grounded and back in the groove for the long haul now to just do the best I can do over the next 48 or so hours. Life is good. School is good. I am so grateful for everything and all the good that has come into my life this year. It's certainly been quite the year!!!! I needed that look back so that I can focus on what is before me right now.

I'm not sure who chose to be reading those posts and I know they had no idea that I would follow their link to them and start reading a couple from that time. I want to thank them, though, because they provided me the perspective I need to succeed and persevere through this very short stressful time. This blog has saved me so many times already, so I suppose it still has a purpose and as long as I have something to write, I will keep writing.

Maybe this is Harder than I Thought it Would Be

I'm one week from the end of my first semester and I have to admit that it's been a struggle lately. I've pulled two late nights in a row to ensure projects/papers are complete on time and I will barely get a chance to breath before I have to cram two more papers and preparation for a huge final exam over the next several days. I don't remember it being this physically demanding and stressful before I went to Carswell. It got me to thinking, maybe there really is something to the need to take things slowly once out of prison.

I came out and jumped right in, didn't I? I worked so hard to get myself back in school and put myself on the fast lane so that I can get officially into the doctoral program within a year. I'm tired though. I didn't think about my need for more balance. I hate that I don't feel as if I am communicating with my friends and family as much as I wish I were. All these incredible people did so much for me which I was away and I barely have the energy available to send a note or even a text sometimes. If I had this last five or so months to do over again, I would have chosen to take only the required 6 credits and eased myself in a little bit. That would be my recommendation to others who are just looking to get their lives back to ordinary as fast as possible.

I also notice that I think about everyone I met back at Carswell a lot, especially now during the holidays. They were certainly unique relationships, but so important to my sanity as I did my best to get through the realities of day after day there. As I've been reading, learning, and hearing more first hand accounts of life at prison camps, where most people with crimes such as mine are imprisoned, there is no real comparison to the world in which I and my fellow inmates had to endure. It was a short part of my life, but the affect may take a long time to wear off.

In just a week, this semester will be behind me and I will have a month to be working, starting the analysis for my thesis, and preparing my application for the doctoral program. I will also have opportunity to really catch up on the news - just watching for a moment about the most recent death in NYC of another black man caused by police use of force makes me glad I am entering a field where I may be able to be part of the solution of a major criminal justice issue. In fact, one of my own professors is on tonight as an expert on many news stations. One day I will be a professor and perhaps I will have something to say one day that will not be about my own experiences, but rather about helping and changing the lives and experiences of others.

In the meantime, I need to just take it all a day at a time, accept that this won't be the best semester of work I've done, but I will have successfully completed another semester of school and be closer to my goals. Sometimes it is hard to remember that we need to be kind to ourselves and not expect too much from ourselves, especially when we are already at a stressful state of being. Truth is, I am still happy, I am still so very grateful, and life is a journey and I'm enjoying the ride.

An interesting study from Australia

One thing I love about what I'm studying is that I am constantly coming across interesting things that I can share here... Recently there was a study in Australia about the prevalence of fraud cases connected to compulsive gambling. I found it interesting and so I am sharing it here...
http://www.warfield.com.au/Warfield_Gambling_Fraud_08_10.pdf

Holiday Gifting

It's the time of year where people want to know what I want for the holidays. I've had an Amazon list for years and I've done my darnedest to update it. Truth is, I don't need that much. I'd also rather people think about me and find gifts they think I'd like than me have to guide them toward the right gift. It's selfish, maybe, but I don't need any gifts, really, but if someone wants to buy me something, I would prefer them put some thought behind the gesture.

I do my best to do that for each person I purchase gifts for. I may look at their "wish lists," but ultimately, it's about things that remind me of them or things I think they could use, or funny things, or fun things they'd never buy themselves, that catch my eye and I want to give them. I also don't need the holidays to buy someone their gift. I bought a gift for Cashe like four months prior to her birthday because I saw it and had to get it. People put too much pressure on themselves to find all their gifts in November/December for loved ones. There aren't just sales now and gift giving is not just about "things," it's about memories and the people we are giving the gifts to. I always try to give gifts that result in memories if I can.

I'm not going to say that I do not enjoy receiving gifts. I do. I enjoy giving gifts just as much. On my birthday, I give gifts to everyone I celebrate with - not just receive gifts. I mean, they chose to celebrate with me - just like the goody bags we gave our guests when we were young. There were many, many years that my holiday gift consisted of a check, usually arriving late, from my mom and step-dad. I would tell them every year that I would rather they took the time to find a gift that had thought behind it, but the check showed up each year. I would thank them, and then I would lose every penny of it at a casino. Their gifts gave me a couple hours of addictive action. Crazy that I actually verbally asked for something different. Something with meaning.

Now, when the check shows up each holiday season, it is deposited into my bank account. It is used for my winter trip or something else needed. I don't pay bills with it, I know that was not it's purpose and I budget my general income for that purpose. It's not a ton of money, but a meal or two can be paid by my folks' holiday gift and we can toast them at the time for thinking of me at the holidays. I appreciate that. I know that they do not send me a general gift because they simply do not know what to send - no matter how many things I add to my Amazon wish list - I will still receive an annual check. At least I am not gambling it away. One year my step-dad was pissed at me for being unemployed and he sent me black licorice in a package that said "coal" as a joke and I received no check that year. Every year I hear the story, "as least I'm not sending you black coal this year..." The one year I really needed those extra funds, I didn't receive them - I was young then, mid-20's, and very, very broke and broken.

Anyway, I am nearly done shopping for the gifts I plan to give out. I cannot afford to give gifts to everyone I want to or as big of gifts as I wish I could. I'm still on a tight budget and still just a grad student and newly out of prison. I'm okay with that, though. It's the holidays and I will participate in the way I can and will show those I love that I am thinking of each of them with the gifts I am able to give them. Unless begged to do so, I will never give someone just money or a simple gift card, I fear it lacks imagination and thought to do so. Some people really want those things and I will provide what they want. When people receive a gift from me, though, I give it a lot of thought an energy - and then seek out the best deal for what I want. The best part is giving the gift away. I love seeing everyone's reactions - and pray they love the presents. If not, I can always give them cash or a gift card next year, I suppose.

The Solo Thanksgiving

At first, we were going to have a nice small Thanksgiving holiday. Then, a friend was going to come in and visit and it was going to be a bit more cheerful. Then, things once again changed and I am here by myself for the holiday. It's not the first time I've been alone for Thanksgiving and it is certainly not the loneliest. In fact, I am perfectly happy spending this holiday solo. I have a couple papers to be working on and can really use the down time for myself. I certainly do not require a turkey dinner to make myself feel special. I know I am loved and I did receive invitations for holiday feasts - only they were back home - out of state - and being under supervision, I am unable to just go. A couple days for me and Superdog to just spend together. Perfectly fine for me!

When I was in my gambling days, I spent plenty of Thanksgivings alone. Some, I would go to the movies. Perhaps I'd see 1, 2, even 3 movies. I'd feel sorry for myself that I had no family nearby and no one to spend the holiday with. I was either in school far away from home, all my close friends had left to spend the holiday with their families, or I was in a period of isolation from others. I'd inevitably be trying to get to a casino - depending on where I lived - a short 10 minute drive or an hour drive or a three hour drive from where I lived. Once at the casino, I no longer thought about Thanksgiving, I was lost in my dream world of diamonds, spades, hearts, and clubs, ringing bells, nameless faces, twirling die, and where money had no real value... my life had no value... the holiday had no value... my friends had no value... nothing had any value. Year after year after year of turkey days finding myself lost with nothing really to be grateful for because I didn't even understand what gratitude really meant.

As I embark on this year's Thanksgiving, I have a list much longer than I could ever write of things I am grateful for. Depending on whether I count from when I was released from Carswell or released from Home Confinement, I have officially been out for 5 months from coming home on home confinement and 6 months from Carswell. My life is good and full of wonderful people and possibilities. I have great friends, loving family, a Superdog, a job that means something to me, a new career outlook, this blog, GA and continued recovery, a livable budget, health insurance, opportunities, a reasonable PO, mentorship, spirituality, my Carswell connections, the ability to pay my restitution and pay as much forward as I can, personal growth, a home, a car, memories, and so, so, so much more... I don't need a day of Thanksgiving to remind to be grateful or Thankful. Everytime I make a choice/decision differently than I would have during my addiction years, I thank my Sponsor, counselor, and every friend who helped me through my early years - because I am able to make healthier decisions today - I am a better person today. I am not a perfect person - far from it - but a better person.

Anyway, so I spend tomorrow alone and I work on a paper and there's no better way for someone who was in prison a year ago to spend Thanksgiving this year! It's doing what I want to do and what I need to do. I have four papers to write - one is due Friday (small paper), two next week, and one the following. So, I have a lot of work to do. I'm perfectly happy and will enjoy the holiday - much moreso than last year and way more than all my years at movie theaters and casinos. I'm totally at peace.

Finding New Allies

The beauty of living life in honesty, is the ability to build connections with people who I'd fear doing so if I was trying to hide my past. Yesterday in my doctoral seminar, a new professor to my department was presenting on his journey through his education and how he successfully found a position in a top CJ program at a tier 1 university. It was an interesting conversation, but my ears especially perked up when he talked about his doctoral research and dissertation topic --- why employers choose to not prosecute employees who steal from their businesses. He is interested in white collar crime - from the business/employer point of view.

After the seminar, I approached him and said, very matter of factly, "I am one of those employees who worked for one of those employers you researched and I would love your input into my thesis..." I went on to tell him about how I am transitioning my blog entries from my time incarcerated into an autoethnography and he immediately drew a smile. He thought it would make a great thesis and also agreed that it has a high potential to be used in classrooms and elsewhere - because gaining this research is so difficult generally.

I asked if he would be open to talking with me about helping me present my past in such a way that I am able to be respectful to those who are the victims of my crime. I never want anyone to think that I do not think about the community (my community) and all my former friends and colleagues that were affected by my actions, even as I have done so much work on myself and try everything I can to help others. If I am going to be writing something public, then I want to make sure I am being contentious of how I am coming across to those who are likely to continue to harbor a lot of anger toward my crime.

After hearing this professor speak, I knew that he was the person who would be able to challenge me in just the right ways to make sure I have that point of view - the point of view of the victims - taken into account. It is the least I can do. While this research is about the experience of being incarcerated, I am going to have to introduce what brought me there and I there are just a ton of ways one can do that.

The professor already recommended a book of a man who struggled with a similar issue while incarcerated --- how does he balance the man he's become with the man he was... I look forward to reading the book. I actually picked up two books at the library today. One is called, "Out on the Run," and is a  book that is making a big splash for an ethnography written by a woman who lived among the people she was researching for six years while doing her dissertation research. I want to read it to see how her voice and thoughts are written throughout the book. The other book is called, "Doing Life," and is a woman's kinda autoethnography (it is edited by someone else) of doing time in prison. It did not receive good reviews, generally, and one thing I read in the reviews is that people should not care at all about the author, because she killed her husband. I want to read it, though, because it is the closest book to what I am going to be writing and I want to see what is written well and not so well in it.

However, I really want to learn from the latter book about how the woman presents herself. Going back to why I want to talk to my new ally in my CJ department, I do not want people looking at anything I write and saying that what I have written lacks value because of my past. I want to offer valuable research and I do not want personal differences to become what my writing becomes known for - that is not why I am spending years in school. So, it looks like I will be spending my winter break reading quite a few books.

In the meantime, I am just glad that my department continues to offer me incredible colleagues to work with who are able to offer me so many diverse perspectives. If I had to start all over again, I am glad it's a very different experience than the first time. The first experience was great and this is great too - just different and I will learn so much. The best thing about living a day at a time is that every day can bring us new opportunities as long as we are open to them!