A Brand New Day

Monday, December 9, 2013

How long has it been?

I have found myself sitting down to write so many times in the past months but when I did, I realized that I simply was not ready. Prison can take so much spirit from us that at times, we feel like small gerbils encased in plastic balls, working so hard but getting nowhere.  The ball continues to bang into one obstacle after another. We switch directions only to find another obstacle in the way. Finally, after so many tries, some greater power, or person picks you up and takes you out of the game. Essentially, that is what happened to me.

For me, I didn’t realize that it had happened until afterward. I was exhausted from not only my work, but also from my surroundings. I continued to overlook myself with things to do and responsibilities that needed to be taken care of. I did it knowingly so that I would have a sense of purpose, so that I would be needed for something; and relied upon. Problem is that it only works for so long because once a prison realizes that they rely upon and trust an inmate for too long, and for too many things… they cut us off at the knees. In my case, that meant moving me from everything I knew and grown accustomed to, to a different prison complex in Yuma, Arizona. In effect, it was taking me off the grid.

My transfer took place in mid October and since then, I have had nothing but time for some serious self reflection. I have been playing a dangerous game of staying on the cusp of falling into a depression and so far, I have been able to manage. Prison and depression probably have always gone hand in hand – if you ask me. I know I personally have succumbed to it a time or tow and have had to dig myself out of it.

This is the first time in many years that I have nothing to keep me going, nothing beside my mind. I have no job, no projects, or responsibilities. Here, there are no familiar faces or any real reason to ever get up out of bed in the morning.  I do get up of course, but it puts a great deal of things into perspective. 

For so long, I have looked around at the inmate population around me and judged them, criticized them for doing nothing. Now I realize that it’s prison, it’s prison that has taken their spirit away from them and they have succumbed to it. I’m not talking about the drug users or the hustlers. I’m referring to the huge population that sleeps 16 hours a day and – when they are up, they are still in bed. It’s sad and so disheartening. If I ask someone why they don’t get up, they respond with; “what for?”

I do not want to become one of those people so once again, I will use fear as a motivator.

Today is a new day.

My days are certainly not full anymore. In fact, I find myself desperate at times to find ways to keep busy. I am working out all the time and find myself cleaning and reorganizing my cubicle time, and time again. I have definitely adopted some obsessive traits. I call the people I love much more than normal because I have the time to do so now. On those calls, I try my best to put on an air of “all is well”. I figure; why bother them with my stuff?  Half of the time, I can’t even explain it myself. So for them, I am relaxed, comfortable and care free. It’s what I do.

It’s writing that has always allowed me to find my way out of misery. So it’s writing that I shall do.