Unfortunately, I’ve been incarcerated the majority of my adulthood, in and out of correctional facilities since the tender age of seventeen; more so in, rather than out. Although considered a late bloomer when compared to some of my felonious fellow men, none-the-less, here I am, an equally welcomed recidivist.
As a young man, the revolving ‘ins and outs’ never affected me, or apparently I was too naive to realize the effects that were in fact taking place. So what if I lost my right to vote, own a gun or leave the country, I was a ‘street n-bomb’ and jail and prison were almost a certainty, sort of an occupational hazard that came with the lifestyle.
Never once did I realize the emotional and psychological toll the continual stints of confinement were taking. I’ve spent from two weeks in jail to thirteen years and nine months straight in prison, a total of five individual trips to prison, and I’m currently serving a 7-9 year sentence. Now I’m just learning the lesson I should’ve grasped decades ago.
The cumulative amount of time that I’ve spent chained, shackled, and caged surrounded by concrete and steel has completely desensitized me in regards to common human emotion. No, I’m not professing to be some deranged psychotic killer, but things that once meant something have lost tremendous, if not all, value to me.
Birthdays have become just another day, and holidays are the worst, most boring and slowest times of the year. I dread to see them, knowing the feelings they are bound to stir. “Bah-humbug’. These are only a fraction of the losses I’ve experienced.
I’ve lost friends and family who weren’t mentally ready or mature enough to ‘ride-a-bid’ with me, but I understand now, that is an earnest request. The commitment and dedication required to stand by someone incarcerated can be emotionally taxing, not to mention someone who is repeatedly returning.
I’ve also lost family and friends to old age, ill health, accidents and the same ‘street life’ that has stolen so much of my very own life. None of this having any exceeding affect, all just casualties along the way.
During one of my short stints home, ‘on the streets’, ‘free’, I managed to create a child. But, just like every other time, Daddy was hell bent on returning to the pen.
While in the county jail, with the mother of my child alone, needy and months into her pregnancy, I pledged to my mother all the things I planned to do right if only God gave me a chance. I swore to do right by my little girl.
Now, let me preface this next part by saying, I’m a bonafide ‘mama’s boy’ and proud of it. There’s nothing I love more than my mother and nothing I wouldn’t do for her, but I just couldn’t seem to ‘keep my behind’ out of prison.
While proclaiming my new found inspiration and reason for doing things the right way – my daughter – my mom said, “Well, son, why can’t you just do it for yourself? I understand you doing it for your daughter, but you need to do it for yourself… Stay free for yourself… Love yourself.”
The words struck a chord, not simply resonating, but finding root in my mind, heart, and spirit. It was only months later when I faced my greatest fear – I lost my mother while incarcerated. I received the news while in the ‘hole’ and on my father’s birthday. Adding insult to injury, I wasn’t allowed to attend the funeral nor any closed viewing. Never given the chance to say, “goodbye”, or “I love you”, or “I’m sorry.”
No matter how callous I’ve become through the years of confinement, this pain managed to penetrate my core, my soul, my very being.
Where do I now draw my inspiration to endure my hardship of incarceration? From my daughter, my mother and her words, “Do it for yourself, son.”
“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is going to be revealed to us.”
Romans 8:18
ABOUT THE WRITER. I’m happy to say Carter came in third place in our most recent writing contest. I don’t judge the contests, but when I saw his entry, I was pulling for him in my heart. He hasn’t written much for us, but what he has shared has touched me. If you would like to contact Carter, please reach out to me directly.
