Hey all, Noah here.
In most of my writings, I try to stay positive. And sometimes maybe too positive.
But one thing I don’t want to do is build a fictional image or an untrue narrative, and the fact of the matter is no matter how positive I try to stay, you always have moments that you cannot avoid.
Sometimes those moments are an interior battle with yourself and sometimes it’s with others. Right now, I have currently been in a 10-day funk that I just can’t get out of.
I guess you could say it’s a little taste of depression. And I couldn’t imagine living my life like this every day, and I feel for the people that do. I am not sure what can get me out of this funk but from past experiences I know something eventually will, whether that’s a conversation from a friend in here or a family member out there, I know I will eventually snap out of it.
There is a good chance my environment is creating this mindset, along with the fact that I am getting out soon, and I worry about the uncertainty of the situation. Or maybe it’s the holiday season, and I keep lying to myself saying this shit doesn’t bother me when it really does.
I try to tell myself not to let any of this bother me. It’s almost over. Toughen up and get through it. What other choice do you have?
The reality of the situation is prison sucks.
It doesn’t matter if you are at a camp or a penitentiary. You are stuck in a place you don’t want to be whether there is a fence holding you in or not. And you are living with regrets for anywhere from 10 months to the rest of your life. You are not only physically a prisoner but mentally as well. Your thoughts are confined just as much as your body. Sometimes those thoughts are more powerful than any punishment handed by your captors.
Milan, just outside of Detroit MI, was much tougher time to do because there was greater risk. I remember the first time we were locked down all day. Some Hispanic gang member tried to skip on a gambling debt, and his bus ended up getting canceled and he had to come back onto the compound. Not sure if it was his own people or the debtor that dished out the punishment, but one of them caught him in the corridor between the inner and outer compound and took a belt with a lock attached to the end to his head at least ten times and the crime scene that was left looked something like you’d see on ID TV.
I don’t know how much he owed, but I knew I didn’t ever want to be him one day, so I made sure I was never in a similar situation.
In prison, it’s all about respect, and when you come fresh off the street, what you consider to be respectful behavior doesn’t always transfer to the inside.
You have to be cautious, walk on eggshells, and think about every move before you make it. That reality gets lost sometimes when you are hanging out with what have become buddies or acquaintances, and everyone is laughing, having a good time, and trying not to think of the negatives. That was the most violent thing that happened in Milan, but there were constant, smaller reminders now and then that remind me to be on my best behavior.
Some people aren’t strong enough to do time. That was the case for one inmate in Milan.
It was the second time we got locked down for an evening because someone was missing. I thought, how can someone be missing, with all the fences and barbwire?
Well, he wasn’t missing, he just wasn’t where he was supposed to be. When everyone was recalled, he stayed back in facilities and hid out. Once the coast was clear, he came out and carried out his plan and hung himself.
I didn’t know the guy personally, and therefore I have no idea why he did it, but I will always remember how it made me feel.
Suicide has always been one of those tough subjects because most mentally healthy and strong individuals can’t imagine doing this amount of time. They think about the damage it does to the people left behind, and you rarely think about what the individual was going through that carried it out.
For them to think there is no other way, they must be hurting so bad as if they are living in constant torture, and they just want it to end.
I always try to put myself in other people’s shoes before I pass judgment, and sometimes when I am in a moment of temporary depression or struggle, I try to think if some people are living this same way for years instead of hours or days.
When I got to Yankton (where I am now in SD), I was blown away by the scenery and still am, for that matter. Its grounds are so beautiful it almost looks more like a campus than a prison. Some even call it Camp Cupcake, and that is both by inmates and staff. Sometimes the name fits, but then every now and then, you are reminded that you’re still in prison.
I probably saw more violence in the first six months at Yankton, than I did in my 17 months behind the fence in Milan.
It was chaotic, but over the years, it has settled down as the inmate population has declined. I also moved down to the Drug Program, where inmates are better behaved, partially because they are going home soon, and they don’t want to screw that up as they have the one-year reduction earned from the program to lose.
Sometimes you slip up and have a moment of weakness or vulnerability when you are in a particular mood, and you say something to someone who is feeling much the same way.
That happened the other day when I was volunteering to handout pops and sack lunches for Thanksgiving.
I wanted to give everyone options as there were many pops (sodas) to choose from (depending on what you call it from where you live), and everyone told me this would backfire, and the inmates will be unable to pick and slow the whole line down. (Which inmates don’e like). But, I still wanted to give them a choice.
Low and behold the first guy comes and gets stuck on what to choose, dammit they were right I was thinking to myself. I tell him to hurry up, make a choice, and don’t screw it up for the 400+ behind him. I guess he was having a bad day because he told me, “to quit acting like I paid for them” or “stop being a cop,” I can’t remember which diss he went with, but then he posted up, and he waited by giving me that 300 mile stare while he memorizes my face for later.
The actual cop noticed the hostile tendencies and asked him what he was doing and told him to move on. I immediately thought of my year and started to process the different scenarios that could transpire from the altercation.
I thought about the time years ago when I didn’t give a guy an extra scoop of potatoes, when I was a line server, and he waited for me after work.
He told me very aggressively about how he is somebody. Luckily, I was able to defuse that situation.
Then I thought about Jeff who wasn’t so lucky and had another inmate wait for him, that situation escalated to a fight, and he was on his way to another facility, Sandstone I believe.
Maybe he calls me a bitch in front of 30-40 people, and I am faced with an option, swallow my pride and live the next nine months in shame, or unleash the old me… beat the living crap out of him, and spend an extra 13 months in prison, on top of the nine I have left.
Both are terrible choices, and thankfully he forgot about it and neither option presented themselves as I ran into him days later, and he walked by like we had never met…but that might not always be the case.
I am positive in most of my writings because that is me, but I don’t want anyone to be misled on the circumstance that I am in.
I am still in prison, regardless of the custody level. Not every day is a struggle, but most of them are.
If you are a kid who is just starting life, prison is no place you ever want to experience. I don’t care how bad you are, because all it takes is one wrong move or one vulnerable moment, and your life is gone.
Thanks for listening!
Noah
