3 weeks: Be my Valentine?

"Roses are red,
Jail cells are blue,
Happy Valentine's Day,
from an inmate that loves you!"

Yes, I sent a few ghetto V-day cards out this year for lack of anything else to do. This is one of the few years I actually feel happier not to have a significant other to spend this made up holiday with. It's hard enough to have friends and family that I miss nearly every day. If I currently had a husband/boyfriend or something, or children, it would be that much harder especially around the different holidays. I know everything in life happens for a reason and I see now why I wasn't ready yet to have started a family or succeed in past relationships. I wouldn't want to put any one else through more heartache or worries than I already do through all of this.

There's one thing that eats me up inside though: my mother. She worries too much and for the most part, unnecessarily. She worries that I will be influenced by criminals and walk out of here as some form of a drug addict or thief or something. It hurts my feelings that she has no faith in me, but it's not something that I'm not used to coming from her. As much as I reassure her that I am simply being as strong as I can, reading/writing/making the most of my time here, eager to get out and determined to get my life on track in a timely manner. She does not believe me. I've learned to understand its just how she is, but if she doesn't stop the nonsense, her health will be affected. I don't even know what other options I have but to keep doing what I have to do while trying to remain patient with her criticisms and doubts of me. Mothers, you could be 50 years olf and they'll still treat you like you are 12. Mine happens to be one of the most difficult ones due to her old-fashioned thinking and past experiences.

Anyhow, I'm not sure what the purpose of bringing that up was. Back to the juicy jail gossip that I quietly hear each day and stay out of. There's a lady here that embezzled millions of dollars and was sentenced to 7 years through plea. She lied to everyone and said she received 18 months, but the truth came out. Why do people lie for no reason - who really cares? I know I don't. There's a murdered that watches vampire shows of people killing each other all day. How does she live with herself and beat to watch anything that reminds her of what she did? Makes me think she has no remorse whatsoever. This one lesbian has a gf here and 3 ex's that she secretly makes out with in the bathroom. She says she can't help it if the ladies sweat her. Someone braided my hair into cornrows today for the first time. I'm gangster. No more for this entry, I'm babbling about nothing. Happy Valentine's Day my loves.

2 weeks going strong

Wow, it has only been two weeks in county jail so far. It feels as if it has been several months at least. I am ready to go home! I don't even remember the taste of real food in my mouth of the feeling of falling asleep in a comfy queensize bed as I watch television shows on my LCD. I'm starting not to wake up in search for my cell phone and have instead begun to grow accustomed to several snoring bunkmates and a line to use the bathrooms. Everything has started to become routine to me and I find myself simply bored at the repetitious activities. I'm sick of reading - I have read 6 books in 2 weeks so far. I'm sick of writing - I've written countless letters every day, responding to the received letters right after I get them. I'm sick of doing exercises in my room - I want to go play real sports outdoors instead. I'm sick of playing card games - poker isn't as fun when others can't play and you aren't even gambling anything. I'm sick of waiting on lines for food, phone, showers, even to sign up for church before spots run out. Most of all, I'm sick of the stupid drama and gossip which is the only thing people talk about here! People sneaking drugs in, people getting in arguments over the stupidest things, gossiping about people's crimes/charges, etc. Thank goodness I found one person that I really get along with here to talk to and joke around with. Thank goodness for great friends and family to write letters and talk on the phone with. Thank goodness for the patience and strength I have gained through my past experiences especially in the past year.

It's funny that I get excited and look forward to the littlest things now. When the mailman comes, I get anxious as I wait to see if there's any letters for me. Tuesday and Thursdays is when we get commissary - snacks, sweats, stamps, your basic supplies that you are allowed to purchase here for those with money in their account. My current obsession is chocolate tootsie pops. Unfortunately, I order 8 and only 1 turns out chocolate so I try to trade people. Mondays, Wednesdays, Friday mornings you can "sign out" razors or nail clippers. Tuesdays and Thursdays you can sign out curling irons, blow dryers, tweezers, hair scissors. Tuesday mornings you can go to the "library" for an hour - I put library in quotes because I think the book collection is like that of an elementary school's stacks in 1980. Small, outdated, and dusty. You can attend church service on Thursday and Sunday, if you make a spot on time because it fills up quick due to a capacity of 15 people. My fave "activity" is rec. If it's nice out, there is outdoor rec in the courtyard for an hour. I cherish the fresh air like I never have before. Otherwise, indoor rec is at a basketball court gym. I can shoot some hoops and do yoga on the mats. I had a yoga book sent to me and apparently, I've become somewhat of a yoga instructor here. It's slightly amusing seeing big black women attempt yoga poses. Good for them though! I figure, the more people I help relax here the better. If there's one thing about inmate's patience, it's that they don't have much - temper problems are common. More updates another day, my hand is beginning to ache. One more thing: in one of my books, I came across an interpretation of part of my name which means fate. It said, "Follow your destiny and alter it like a river moving through rocks." There couldn't be a better name to describe my life in its entirety.

DAY 7: There's always hope, I promise you.

Why do the vast majority of inmates consist of repeat offenders? I've officially been here for a week and have come to see an entire population comprised of drug addicts, thieves and perhaps some psychotic child molesters, a few white collar criminals and one time mistakes and accidents like myself, and one actual murderer here. Keep in mind, I'm still in county jail and haven't been transported to state prison yet. I would definitely say at least half of the people here are drug offenders though. I'm not talking marijuana or small time drugs - i'm talking full blown heroin addicts. They come in here and go back out and start using again. Why? From my perspective, being in jail for even one week makes me want to especially make sure I would never have to come back. Honestly, I try to make it as pleasant of an experience as possible, but its still far from enjoyable. In my opinion, the women here, most, are surrounded with individuals they can relate to here and become friends with. They have way too much fun joking around with each other, it's like one big sleepover! I don't think its a bad thing that everyone tries to make the most of what they have. I actually encourage it. However, there has to be more to a "correctional facility" than this - they should address people's individual problems far more. You meet with the psychologist for all over 2 minutes to determine that no, you aren't going to kill yourself. But the inmates here should receive more than that. I believe the one thing women have in common here is that they've all, we've all, been through some sort of hard times at one time or another. For the drug addicts, their struggle probably being the root of their habits. Someone needs to dig to the root and help individuals gain hope for a different kind of future, a better SELF.

Personally, I could have approached my situation in two different ways. I could have never gotten past mourning and asking, "Why me?" and have gone in a completely horrible direction of hopelessness and depression. Or, like I am and have been trying so hard to do, realize and appreciate what have and what I've learned from everything and knowing I'm still here for a reason and working towards a better me. I'm grateful to have the strength and capability to feel this way because of the love and support I've been shown by my family and friends. Not everyone is so lucky, but there's always hope. It's the easy thing to do to give up hope. If only there was a way for others to realize this. I have my own things to worry about these days though. It's just a passing thought for now. I'm sure there's more I have yet to learn.

DAY 4: Holding on

Today is day four and I'm still locked up in this cell. 23 hour lock, 1 hour out for shower and phone. WTF. I'm supposedly supposed to get out of this area today and be placed with everyone else. Thank goodness. Everything still feels surreal to me. So many things that have happened are so insane that I have to stop and laugh at what is going on. For example, this original 3rd cell mate heroin addict homeless lady who was so gross she never showered and wrapped a sandwich in her underwear. I was feeling itchy simply being in the same room as her. My other cellmate is pregnant. How can we all be placed in the same cell? My other cell mate for now is nice though to me at least, but she spit in the crazy lady's soup. Am I a bad person for finding this somewhat amusing? Maybe I'm simply delirious.

So, what have I learned in jail thus far? There are a lot of problems that exist that many of us don't encounter in our everyday lives. Basically, almost everyone except me here has been here before and doesn't think of it as such a big deal.  I'm not sure if jail is the proper punishment for most of the women here.  Many don't really care too much about sleeping comfortably, eating gross shit, etc. What our judicial system doesn't understand is that women have deeper things going on than the material items. I think the part that hurts most is being away from loved ones. That pain makes all else easier to handle. At least for me, how can I concentrate on minor back aches or gross food when my heart and mind are missing my friends and family? I just want to go home.

Maybe I should reach out to people if I can out here. I saw the psychologist the other day and we both agreed on something: other people in here need more help than me. And I do believe its true. Not because I'm better than anyone, because I'm not. I was simply more fortunate in my life-- something I never truly recognized before. I''m here tearing up about everything, but at least I do have loved ones and a future to look forward to. Most of the women and girls here don't feel the same way. They see their life as a one track place with nowhere else to go. Which is never true. I'm not trying to get in anyone else's business right now but maybe eventually, I hope to even bring hope and inspiration to even one individual. For now, I'm still adjusting myself. I think out of everyone here, I might have one of the hardest times adjusting and adapting to this completely different lifestyle. Seriously, friends, when you go to sleep tonight in your comfortable queen bed, when you eat your next delicious meal, or go outside in the sun, please stop for a second and appreciate all there is. I'm not even saying this just because of people in jail, but a lot of people in less fortunate homes doesn't have what we do. Think of the families in Haiti after the earthquake even. Just don't take shit for granted, please. Don't take your loved ones for granted either. You guys, I miss you all incredibly. Don't worry too much because I will keep strong no matter how hard it is here and how badly I want to go home. Please write me and keep putting a smile on my face as the thoughts of you all is what keeps me going.

It's still day 4. I found out they aren't letting me out of this 23 hour lock yet because they didn't come around and check my TB shot. Bullshit. I'm not diseased, I'm not psychotic, but locking me in a cell for 23 hours a day with no shampoo for 4 days is bound to make me go crazy. Sigh. this is seriously inhumane. I have nothing else to say.