Wayne
04-02-2004, 10:51 PM
MD asked me to write on what can those on the outside do to help those on the inside. This stirs up a lot in me because there's a fine line between supporting those on the inside and enabling them. I don't know how to tell somebody not to cross that line, because everybody in my life who started out as a well-intentioned supporter ultimately bacame an enabler.
In prison there's only a few "musts" or basic responsibilities.
1. Basic hygiene - shave, take a bath, etc. You do this in order to keep visits and to draw on the canteen.
2. Keep your immediate living area in tip-top shape. It's done for the same reason as the hygiene - to keep the privileges.
3. Attend mandatory meetings, either GED classes or NA or AA or SAP. Whatever's required, that's what you do.
Doing those things above are the bare minimum. That's what you do just to function in prison and nothing more. That's just getting by.
Getting by just doesn't cut it, unless you want to keep going back to prison. Getting by or becoming used to the system gets easier and easier with each trip inside. Becoming a man and taking responsibility for my actions is the hard part.
Just because you don't get write-ups doesn't mean you've changed. It just means you've adjusted to the prison life.
For me, I had to look at myself and say, "Have I become responsible?"
"Have I grown?" "Have I chagned?" Sadly, the answer was no. I hadn't change. It's not a spontaneous thing, especially in prison, to change. It takes work and a will to do it. In my opinion, just doing time doesn't change anybody, except maybe for the worse.
I was stuck in prison, by my choices (to be painfully honest) and when in there I existed with responsibilities less than that of a two year old. How am I supposed to become a responsible human being, thrust back into society? I was less capable when I left prison than before I went in.
Who is to blame for my choices and my situation?
The COs? Were they really picking on me or was I pushing the envelope until I pushed it too far?
The classification officer? Was she out to get me or is it possible that my file really got lost in the shuffle?
The Kitchen Steward? Was he mean to me or did I really deserve to lose my job in the kitchen?
The Counselors? Did they dislike me or were they sincerely overburdened with too many clients and not enough time to meet the needs of each and every one of them?
I could go on and on. I've written hundreds of letters home, trying to gain sympathy because of this CO or that counselor always doing me wrong. The truth of the matter is, it was me who was doing wrong. It was my attitude and my lack of interest in taking responsibility for my actions and inactions. Ultimately me being in prison was because of me. It wasn't the parole board or the parole officer or the sheriff or the judge or the DA who put me there. It was me.
Until I learned that I was the problem then there was no way possible to change.
As long as my supporters on the outside enabled me to blame the rest of the world for my downfall then there was no reason to change.
So, what can those on the outside do to help those on the inside?
There's no magic answer or one thing to guarantee change.
Say no.
That's the really the most important thing.
When you've told me over and over how hard it is to pay the phone bill and I keep calling, don't accept the call.
When you've told me how hard it is to pay the bills and I want and need more money, tell me no. I don't have to smoke Marlboros. I don't have to smoke at all.
When I'm in prison, I have everything I need to exist. I have food, shelter, and clothes. I can survive without being prison rich.
When I write home and I give you my sob story on how this guard or that person mistreated me, question me. All you're hearing is a lop-sided, self-serving version of the truth. Reality is pushed back in a dusty corner. Knock the cobwebs off the truth and find out for yourself what the real story is.
Am I telling you the truth or what you want to hear?
Am I helping or hindering you? Am I expecting you to drive miles and miles for a visit when the car is on its last rim?
Am I giving or taking? Even in prison I can give of myself.
When you write and tell me of your problems, do I brush them off as, "There's nothing I can do." Or do I listen and take a sincere interest in you?
Ask me why I'm not taking SAP or GED classes. Call me on it. Expect it from me.
Ask questions.
Demand answers.
Hold me accountable for my actions inside and outside the pen.
What have I done to draw us closer?
Am I abusing your kindness? If you think so, then I probably am.
What are my goals when I get out? Are they realistic? What am I doing to make those goals attainable?
Going to prison doesn't make you an adult. It does just the opposite.
The ultimate goal is to become a functioning member of society in a society that now sees you as a criminal. You are now an abnormal member of society and it's a constant struggle to once again become normal. Am I ready to face that challenge?
If you want to help those of us on the inside when we're on the inside, then guide us in change. Encourage that change. And then step back and watch, because either we will change or we'll be stuck in the revolving door, doomed to spend a lifetime in and out of prison. I know because I've done it myself.
In prison there's only a few "musts" or basic responsibilities.
1. Basic hygiene - shave, take a bath, etc. You do this in order to keep visits and to draw on the canteen.
2. Keep your immediate living area in tip-top shape. It's done for the same reason as the hygiene - to keep the privileges.
3. Attend mandatory meetings, either GED classes or NA or AA or SAP. Whatever's required, that's what you do.
Doing those things above are the bare minimum. That's what you do just to function in prison and nothing more. That's just getting by.
Getting by just doesn't cut it, unless you want to keep going back to prison. Getting by or becoming used to the system gets easier and easier with each trip inside. Becoming a man and taking responsibility for my actions is the hard part.
Just because you don't get write-ups doesn't mean you've changed. It just means you've adjusted to the prison life.
For me, I had to look at myself and say, "Have I become responsible?"
"Have I grown?" "Have I chagned?" Sadly, the answer was no. I hadn't change. It's not a spontaneous thing, especially in prison, to change. It takes work and a will to do it. In my opinion, just doing time doesn't change anybody, except maybe for the worse.
I was stuck in prison, by my choices (to be painfully honest) and when in there I existed with responsibilities less than that of a two year old. How am I supposed to become a responsible human being, thrust back into society? I was less capable when I left prison than before I went in.
Who is to blame for my choices and my situation?
The COs? Were they really picking on me or was I pushing the envelope until I pushed it too far?
The classification officer? Was she out to get me or is it possible that my file really got lost in the shuffle?
The Kitchen Steward? Was he mean to me or did I really deserve to lose my job in the kitchen?
The Counselors? Did they dislike me or were they sincerely overburdened with too many clients and not enough time to meet the needs of each and every one of them?
I could go on and on. I've written hundreds of letters home, trying to gain sympathy because of this CO or that counselor always doing me wrong. The truth of the matter is, it was me who was doing wrong. It was my attitude and my lack of interest in taking responsibility for my actions and inactions. Ultimately me being in prison was because of me. It wasn't the parole board or the parole officer or the sheriff or the judge or the DA who put me there. It was me.
Until I learned that I was the problem then there was no way possible to change.
As long as my supporters on the outside enabled me to blame the rest of the world for my downfall then there was no reason to change.
So, what can those on the outside do to help those on the inside?
There's no magic answer or one thing to guarantee change.
Say no.
That's the really the most important thing.
When you've told me over and over how hard it is to pay the phone bill and I keep calling, don't accept the call.
When you've told me how hard it is to pay the bills and I want and need more money, tell me no. I don't have to smoke Marlboros. I don't have to smoke at all.
When I'm in prison, I have everything I need to exist. I have food, shelter, and clothes. I can survive without being prison rich.
When I write home and I give you my sob story on how this guard or that person mistreated me, question me. All you're hearing is a lop-sided, self-serving version of the truth. Reality is pushed back in a dusty corner. Knock the cobwebs off the truth and find out for yourself what the real story is.
Am I telling you the truth or what you want to hear?
Am I helping or hindering you? Am I expecting you to drive miles and miles for a visit when the car is on its last rim?
Am I giving or taking? Even in prison I can give of myself.
When you write and tell me of your problems, do I brush them off as, "There's nothing I can do." Or do I listen and take a sincere interest in you?
Ask me why I'm not taking SAP or GED classes. Call me on it. Expect it from me.
Ask questions.
Demand answers.
Hold me accountable for my actions inside and outside the pen.
What have I done to draw us closer?
Am I abusing your kindness? If you think so, then I probably am.
What are my goals when I get out? Are they realistic? What am I doing to make those goals attainable?
Going to prison doesn't make you an adult. It does just the opposite.
The ultimate goal is to become a functioning member of society in a society that now sees you as a criminal. You are now an abnormal member of society and it's a constant struggle to once again become normal. Am I ready to face that challenge?
If you want to help those of us on the inside when we're on the inside, then guide us in change. Encourage that change. And then step back and watch, because either we will change or we'll be stuck in the revolving door, doomed to spend a lifetime in and out of prison. I know because I've done it myself.