Being in Jail: You're constantly told things get better, but they don't appear to
My grandfather always told me, “Boy, the grass is greener on the other side. Know why? Because it’s fertilized with bullshit.” It took until I was an adult before that really sunk in. Simply put, just because something appears to be better somewhere else, doesn’t mean it isn’t an illusion. Prison and jail are no different. No matter where you’re housed, there’s someone there telling you how much ‘better’ it is somewhere else within the system.
When I was locked up 16 days ago, I was informed I would be in quarantine for at least 14 days due to COVID precautions. One of the first things you’ll learn in jail is, nothing moves on anyone’s schedule except the person who’s moving you. I didn’t expect to be moved on day 14, because that would have made too much sense. It became blatantly obvious pretty quickly that it would be in the best interests of the COs for me to be moved in a timely manner, not because I wanted to be, but because their quarantine pod was quickly becoming overcrowded.
The pods here consist of two-man cells. There should never be more than two men in each cell, as there are only two bunks. However, the reality is, out of the 15 days I ended up spending in quarantine, there was only one day I was alone, and only one other day I spent with just one bunkmate. Thirteen days were spent with myself, a man in the other bunk, and a man on a two inch thick mattress on the floor. Unfortunately for me, one of the few smells I don’t tolerate well is unwashed person. To say the least, that is a prevailing scent in a jail.
In quarantine, you’re allowed out every other day to make phone calls, shower, and use the kiosk. The biggest thing other inmates, who have been through this numerous times before, complain about is the lack of access to phones. Even when it’s your time out, you’re vying with 30–40 other men to use two phones and one kiosk. But once you’re moved to a regular pod, you have access every day, so the prevailing thought is, you’ll have better access.
Wrong.
I was moved on Thursday in the early afternoon and immediately placed in my new cell. My new bunkmate was moved in around 8pm. I asked a couple of times, when were we going to be released to use phones, etc. and kept being told, “later”. The lower tier was released in what I had become used to as the usual times, but the upper tier never was. So, were we relegated to restricted times again due to overcrowding, or what?
I still don’t know. I woke up Friday morning, expecting to be on my old schedule based on Thursday’s actions, but found I still wasn’t allowed out of my cell in the morning. My bunkmate buzzed the COs, asking what gives? He was told we would be let out after lunch.
We weren’t.
It wasn’t until 4:30 pm that we were finally allowed out of our cells for ‘rec’, which is just a nice way of saying we can go to the common area for phones and kiosk. At no time during your stay at the local jail where I am do you get to see the outside. Never. Unless you count the slits in the ceiling that are tinted, which supposedly give us the sunshine we’re allowed.
There’s no outdoor rec time, period. It was cancelled 18 months ago when COVID started. There’s no in-person visitation. Even though the handbook you’re given states you’re allowed one, 20 minute, no-contact in person visit per week.
Things are decidedly worse on this side of the jail from what I have seen so far. The COs don’t care that you have family at home worried about you, concerned they’ve not heard from you. When your family calls, they’re told everything is fine, you’ve not been moved, and you have access to the phone. You’ll get no real information from them. I understand they have to maintain security, but I don’t see how telling the truth in this matter would cause any kind of breach.
My wife was worried something happened to me. Or that I had been moved to state without warning. And that’s something she’ll have to contend with over and over within this system, because that’s how it works. Information is scantily given, to inmates or their family.
I’ve been told many times, things get better once you’re moved to state. You get on more of a schedule that doesn’t change much, you’ll be allowed to work, you’ll have things to do with your time, you may even get to go outside. But at this point, until I see the green grass, I’m going to call bullshit.
*If you liked this, you may also like my other pieces about incarceration:*
**Keeping Hope Alive While You're in Jail Comes Down to Communication** https://read.cash/@damiandelune/keeping-hope-alive-while-youre-in-jail-comes-down-to-communication-f087e6d3
**What it's Really Like in Jail** https://read.cash/@damiandelune/what-its-really-like-being-in-jail-17edfaea
*Damian Delune is currently incarcerated. His wife,* *Demeter Delune* *takes notes during their calls and e-messages and transcribes his thoughts here. Our purpose in doing this is to share with the world what actually happens behind bars, to give information otherwise not readily available, and to extend hope to families who may be going through the same thing. If you’re interested in helping, you can donate* *****here***** ***or*** *****here******.*
https://read.cash/@demeterdelune https://cash.app/$Demeterdelune https://ko-fi.com/demeterdelune
Keeping Hope Alive While You're In Jail Comes Down to Communication
Imagine not being able to pick up your smart phone whenever you’d like and send a text message, photo, or link to a silly cat video. It’s hard to do in this day and age, isn’t it? When I think of all the times I groaned upon receiving a text from someone who annoyed me, all the times I chose to continue what I was doing (usually mindlessly scrolling TikTok) rather than respond to someone’s message, I kind of want to smack myself. Although there are a lot of freedoms to miss when you’re behind bars, the ability to communicate with your loved ones consistently (and albeit fairly cheaply) is one of the things I miss most.
When I was on the outside, my wife and I would text throughout the day whenever one of us had something to share. It wasn’t excessive by any means, but if she read something funny or intriguing, she would text me while I was working and tell me about it. Or, she would give me a little tease and we would continue the conversation when I got home. I mostly shared ridiculous TikTok videos, but they always made her laugh, which was my point.
Being unable to talk to my wife whenever something comes to mind I want to tell her sucks. Currently, I only have access to send her messages every other day, which is also when I can call if there are funds on my account. Communication is almost prohibitively expensive within the prison system. And it makes zero sense to me. Why wouldn’t you want the people you claim you’re trying to rehabilitate to be able to contact the outside world where they can find hope?
It speaks to the fact that our prison system in the United States is not truly rehabilitative. For example, I urge you to consider how 40 plus men, stuck together with nowhere to go, no outside time, and nothing to do will behave. Sure, you’ll have some who will do their best to mind their business and possibly make a friend who does the same. You’ll find those people on the outskirts of things, holding debates, philosophical conversations, and just trying to find the best way to spend their time without getting in trouble.
But those people are the outliers.
For most men in this situation, whether guilty or innocent, being surrounded by that much testosterone just amps them up. Men in cages tend to become angry. And anger leads to issues and fights.
Why wouldn’t you want to squash that at every turn? I’m not saying everyone is a voracious reader, but provide books or at least allow them to be provided. I have never been a big reader, I have dyslexia and it makes it difficult. But I can tell you right now, I am reading everything I can get my hands on. Even though I’m not remotely a Christian, I’m tempted to order a Bible just to have something else to read. By the way, that’s the only book available, besides a dictionary, through commissary where I’m located.
The local jail got rid of their library at some point during the COVID pandemic, according to the COs. Just threw out all the books. The books that are circulating throughout the quarantine pod where I’m housed, I have zero clue where they came from, unless they’ve been donated. There seem to be around four or five books in this pod and I’ve read them all in 11 days time.
This leaves communication with the outside world as a viable means of keeping hope alive. And don’t think that isn’t heavily monitored and even cut off if they just don’t like what is being said or seen.
Today I had a video call with my wife Demeter. This was our third such call since I’ve been here and I’m so thankful for them when they’re able to happen. We live in the south, so it’s not quite winter here yet. Demeter rarely wears anything other than a tank top when it’s still warm out, though she is fully covered. Today, the CO monitoring our call decided she wasn’t covered enough about five minutes into our 20 minute call. They yelled over the intercom for her to put on a ‘real shirt’ or the call would be terminated. https://medium.com/u/be8cf9f2568c
For reference, no one can see the screen when you’re video chatting other than you and the CO who is monitoring it. My wife isn’t super heavy chested, she rocks about a C-cup, so it’s not like she had tits flashing everywhere. Yes, you could see a tiny bit of cleavage, but it was much less than you would see if she had been wearing a V-neck tee. Of course, she quickly grabbed a hoodie she’d shed earlier in the day, since temperatures went from 41 degrees to 70 plus degrees throughout the day. Neither of us wanted to lose the ability to chat or be labeled as problematic.
But for sure it’s frustrating. She wasn’t doing anything wrong, she wasn’t exposing herself, she was just being a woman sitting on her couch in a tank top, fully covered, trying to talk to her incarcerated husband.
I get the reason for rules, especially within a jail or prison. But there’s also a thing called consistency. As I mentioned, this was our third such call and she wasn’t wearing anything different than what she’s been in with the other two calls. Being honest, the tank top she was wearing last week was actually a bit thinner and there was more cleavage exposed and no one said a word.
Suffice it to say, even when you’re allowed something, it’s on their terms that moment, period. Communication with your loved ones outside the prison walls is one of the most important things you can do in order to keep hope alive. Being in jail isn’t supposed to be easy, but whatever you can do to mitigate your circumstance and keep looking towards the future makes it go a lot more smoothly.
I Didn't Meet My Son Until He Was 2, And Now I Might Never See Him Again
I'm not particularly religious, but I believe in generational curses. I’m convinced they’re the cause of issues that course through the paternal lineage of my family tree — everything from addiction to poverty to absent or abusive parenting. I wasn’t cognizant of this growing up; I just knew I had a screwed-up childhood. But things came into focus when I had a child of my own.
My son (I’ll refer to him as “C”) came into my life unexpectedly as many children do. But this was more than just an unplanned pregnancy; I wasn’t even aware of C’s existence until he was just over two years old. I stupidly had a one-night stand with his mother, a woman I’ve known most of my life. I’ll spare the details and excuses I used in an attempt to convince myself (and my wife) as to why it happened. The cold, hard truth is I messed up, and there’s no excuse for it. And the universe came knocking on my door in the form of a miniature version of myself almost three years after my one night of idiocy.
C’s mother was dating a woman when we hooked up, and she had no desire to break up her relationship with her girlfriend. Looking back, I believe she tried to get pregnant so that they could have a child together. Her girlfriend raised our son as her own. She took care of him day in and day out while my wife and I lived 15 minutes away none the wiser.
When C’s mother and her girlfriend broke up, it became apparent she wasn’t equipped to handle raising a child by herself. That’s when she brought C to me. Since his birth, she hadn’t done much in the way of mothering him — she let her girlfriend play the role of both mom and dad. She worked the third shift at a local restaurant, slept days, and expected a two-year-old toddler to adopt her schedule. It required him to watch YouTube in bed with her while she passed out, high as a kite. They slept in hotel rooms because she couldn’t find suitable housing.
I give her credit for realizing she was in no position to take care of our son. She was in an untenable situation, and she needed help.
She showed up at our home on a Monday evening with C’s limited belongings packed in a backpack. Until this moment in March 2019, I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since April 2016. My wife was at a friend’s house when my son and his mother arrived on our porch unannounced. I was shocked and terrified. I’d never told my wife about my night astray, but I knew my secrets had come home to roost. I just didn’t realize they’d come home to live.
I didn’t question whether the child was my son — he looks like I spit him out. My concern at that point was whether my wife would kill me once she got home.
My son’s mother briefly explained her situation and said she didn’t feel she had a choice other than to leave C with me. She didn’t want him to continue to live out of hotel rooms with her, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she would need to get a place of her own. She asked if I’d be willing to keep him until she could get back on her feet.
Of course I said yes. I didn’t question whether the child was my son — he looks like I spit him out. My concern at that point was whether my wife would kill me once she got home.
Though I didn’t question whether C was my child, I did question his mother’s motives. I know the law pretty well, so I wasn’t concerned about her trying to have me arrested for kidnapping later. But I still didn’t trust her. We agreed to get together that weekend in town to hash out a visitation plan we could both live with and discuss the situation further.
My wife has to be one of the most understanding people on the planet. When she came home to the surprise of her life, she carried on as if it were nothing; making C comfortable was priority number one. And we did. He didn’t have much in the way of clothing and nothing in the form of toys, but we outfitted him within a couple of days. He started calling my wife Mommy and me Daddy from day one. We became a family.
I won’t lie and say it was easy. It almost broke my wife. Not because this child was any trouble — he’s the light of both of our lives. The pain came from my infidelity. I’m thankful each day that she forgave me and could be the amazing woman and mother she is.
C fit into our lives like a glove. His sunshine personality brightened every moment. I know most people will tell you their kid is the smartest, sweetest, most awesome child, and I’m no different. When he first came to us, he barely spoke. Within days, my wife had him saying complete sentences, sleeping in his own room, and helping with household chores.
It was clear C had never had much of a routine, and we knew that was necessary for him to thrive. My wife has two older children, so this wasn’t her first rodeo, and I also have a daughter who is now 10. She was thrilled to have a little brother to play with when she came to our house to visit, which was surprising to me. When I was a kid, my younger siblings just got on my nerves and were definitely not playmates. I guess I did something right raising my daughter.
Although C spent the most time with my wife since she works from home (he would tell you he’s Mommy’s boy), we had a special relationship. We both loved Matchbox cars — sitting on the floor, building homemade tracks, racing and crashing our vehicles, and just generally acting the fool together were some of the best times I’ve had in my life. We loved to go fishing and crabbing; he even baited his own hook. I’ll never forget the first time he caught a crab on his line. He was so excited that he almost lost it. He hadn’t been three for long, so his level of patience was virtually nonexistent, but he managed to maintain his cool long enough for me to get the net under the crab and secure it. Once the crab was safe in our bucket, he looked at me and asked, “Daddy, can I get ’cited now?” I said, “Sure, buddy, you’re good.” He jumped up and down and yelled for five minutes straight. “Mommy, did you see it? I caught that crab, and you’re gonna cook it when we get home, and I’m gonna eat him right up!”
But even with our newfound joy, we had a custody battle to fight. My son’s mother was a no-show at the first meeting. We eventually went through the court system and set up mediation to get some routine in place for visits. She finally attended mediation on the third try, and we settled on a schedule. She rarely followed the agreement and only when it suited her. Starting in June 2019, it was decided she would see C two Saturdays a month. Of the 38 scheduled visitations, she showed up for 10. She had the right to call him whenever she liked, within reason. She rarely took the opportunity.
Since my son’s mother never notarized her agreement nor returned it, our custody agreement was not signed by a judge, so it wasn’t legally a court order. In our state, this means that the parent with whom the child is with officially has custody. On December 19, 2020, she showed up for a scheduled visit with C for the first time in almost two months. Nothing was out of the ordinary other than the fact that she was actually there. We met where we always did, she put him in the car, and they left.
That’s the last time I saw my son.
It’s now been almost six months. I missed his fourth birthday. I missed Christmas with him. My wife missed Mother’s Day. Father’s Day is coming up, and I’m already dreading it. His mother refuses to answer my phone calls. The day they disappeared, she sent a text about an hour before she was supposed to drop him off, stating she wasn’t going to bring him back. She had gotten a place of her own, and she wanted her son with her. She refused to tell me where she was living; she refused to let me talk to him.
For me and my wife, the hardest times are at night. We had a routine. When C first came to live with us, it took a few days to get him into the habit of sleeping in his room, but we got him settled by creating a ritual. Dinner came first, then bath time, brushing teeth, getting pajamas on, brushing his hair, and choosing the story for the night. Once he picked it, my wife and I would tuck him into bed, and she would read to him. I would sit on the couch in his room and listen. Mommy is the best storyteller.
Once it was over, we’d both say good night and begin the long "I love yous". I love you. I love you more. I love you to the moon and back. I love you forever and ever. I love you to infinity and beyond. I love you the most. In the beginning, no one other than the two of us could understand what he was saying. After all, he was only two. It didn’t matter. Over time, his speech improved, and the words changed some. But the sentiment remained.
I still have no idea where my son lives. I have no idea if he’s okay. And the law says since we had no court-ordered custody agreement in place, even though he lived with us for two years happily and healthy, what she did wasn’t kidnapping. So I have no legal right to know where he is unless I take her to court and file for custody, which costs thousands of dollars I don’t have.
Until we do, we wait and hope that he’s safe with someone who wasn’t an active parent, by choice, for the first four years of his life.
The Things No One Tells You About Being in Jail
Being in jail isn’t something most people want or even prepare for. I would posit the majority of folks would rather never experience this for themselves, although I’ve met people in my life that have spent so much time behind bars, they can’t function in regular society. It’s not something you can always prepare for either, things happen and one day, you find yourself being arrested and unable to be released. But for those who are going through a trial or waiting for a plea deal to be accepted, you’re probably wondering what to expect and searching for answers.
One of the most important things I can tell you is to find out as much as you can before you go. Once you’re in jail or prison, finding answers is damn near impossible. There will be times you’ll find yourself being given inaccurate answers inside, just to mess with your head. I won’t say all corrections officers (CO’s) are like this, but there are enough who are to make it well known that getting answers from CO’s is not your best bet. That’s if they’ll answer you at all.
Common sense dictates that being in jail isn’t a joy ride and that your freedoms, such as they are, will be severely limited. You may be surprised to find things like drugs and contraband are widely available, for a significant price. It’s very telling to me that the very thing that gets most people in my area arrested and incarcerated is just as easily available inside the walls of the local jail as it is on the street.
6 things to know about jail/prison
Remove all versions of jail or prison you’ve seen on television and in movies. Every facility is different, but the two men to a cell you’ve seen in so many shows isn’t the norm. Most facilities house prisoners in dorms, which are open rooms with multiple beds that are bunks. There are cells, but they’re typically reserved for special sections of the jail/prison. If you go into protective custody (PC), whether on your own or due to misbehavior, those areas contain cells which house two prisoners per cell. Due to COVID, most facilities are requiring quarantine for 14 days, which occurs within a cell block such as this.
There aren’t phones everywhere like you see in television and movies. In the block where I’m currently being housed, there are two phones in the common area, which is where we are released to every other day, for a couple of hours at a time. Where I am now, there are no ‘house rules’ regarding telephone or tablet usage. Most facilities, prisons more so than jail, end up with rules created by the inmates as to when phones can be used and by whom. The facility clearly has times set up for phones and tablets to be available, but the inmates are who typically control what goes on during those times.
Everything has a cost. Anything you could need while in jail or prison is available via commissary. And it all costs around 4–5 times more than it would in the real world. A pack of ramen? Almost a $1. A cheap $1 puzzle book you can pick up any time from Dollar Tree? $2–3. That may not seem like much, but when you start talking about higher end items, it gets pricey. Cheap (but better than what you’re issued) dollar store slides run about $30. If you care about your back and feet at all, those will be one of the first items you’ll want to purchase. Every floor in a jail or prison is concrete. You’re not out of your cell, if you’re in one, or outside much at all, so you’ll find yourself walking around the common area a lot. You can only sit somewhere for so long.
Yes, there are drugs in jail/prison. I would like to say I’m surprised by this, but I’m really not. It’s not as prevalent on the jail side, but it still happens. People bring them in with them when they’re booked (3 guesses as to how and the first 2 don’t count) and depending on how much they have, more often than not keep it to themselves. From what I’ve heard from men who’ve done time before, it becomes a serious issue in prison. Yes, the CO’s know. They’re part of the distribution highway. There’s absolutely zero chance the amount of drugs running through our prison system would be at the level it is without help from employees of the prison.
People will use anything to get high. On the days my level is allowed into the common area, I have seen men carrying Lysol wipes all day long. No, they’re not trying to be clean, they’re getting high. They huff the fumes from the cleaning cloth until it no longer has a scent. I’ve also seen inmates huffing bleach.
Not everyone is guilty, but most are. That doesn’t make them bad people inherently. Some of the nicest people I’ve met are what society would consider career criminals. They make mistakes of a certain breed, which doesn’t indicate who they are as a person. Some are junkies, willing to do most anything for a fix, which lands them in jail. Others found themselves in dire straits, and robbed a person or place to try to care for their families. Some are mentally ill and have no business in jail to start with, they need mental care and are unable to get it. One of the worst cases of police brutality in my county happened because a detective refused to listen to the parents of a mentally ill young man, and shot first then asked questions later. This young man lost his life because a cop thought he knew better than the people who cared for the man daily.
Being in jail or prison isn’t supposed to be easy, but it doesn’t have to be as difficult as they make it. If you’re truly trying to rehabilitate the people you’re locking up, serious sweeping changes must be made. You can’t break a person down to their bare bones and expect them to change. You can’t give someone 23 hours per day of time alone with nothing to do and expect there to be no issues. People need people in order to thrive, not just survive.
If I Were Free- PromptlyJonica #18 prompt response
The PromptlyJonica #18 prompt is called, If I Were Free. The rules are simple, what would you be if you weren't you and how would you react, essentially. Some people have responded by writing about what they would be if they were instead an inanimate object or the opposite gender. I've decided to write about if I were free.
I'm currently incarcerated for the next five years for a crime I didn't commit. That only affects my being behind bars when it comes to my mind. Whether you're guilty or innocent, you're still trapped behind fences, bars, and strict rules and regulations. Where you have control is in your own mind.
I've been free before, I was as recently as the first week of October. But knowing I'm confined for the next five years causes my mind to wander into the future and wonder, what would I do if I were free? What will I do when I'm free?
One of the most important lessons I've learned so far is how important my relationship with my wife. Sure, I knew she was important before, but I'll admit, I didn't take her as seriously as I should. In my mind, we would always be together, I would always have her love and support, so I didn't consider how that meant I still needed to work on it. Work on myself work on us.
If I were free, I would ensure she never had to question our relationship or my commitment to it again. I would spend quality time with her, instead of feeling that she asks for too much. Because in reality, she doesn't, I was just selfish and wanted to be free to do as I chose. That's not freedom, that's control.
When I'm free, I want to experience life in a way I never have before. Travel, adventure, and fully committing myself to this life of joy and happiness. Not allowing others to influence my behavior. No longer being so concerned with what I can do on my own, but more about what my wife and I can do together.
But for now, I can only be free in my mind. I'm learning to use my imagination quite a bit. My wife and I have been concocting plans for adventure through our messages. Some of them may never happen and that's okay, it's fun to consider what may happen. Others I know we'll make happen no matter what. When I'm free. We'll travel to parts unknown (and known of course) together, searching for new things, new experiences.
Freedom can be subjective. I'm thankful I have the capability to be free in my mind even though my body is trapped. It's a healthy way to encourage thought, reflection, and keep my mental health a bit more elevated, rather than be depressed and anxious about my situation. For me, freedom from this situation is my ultimate goal, but until that can happen, I'll happily live in the depths of my mind and heart, planning all the things I plan to do when I'm physically free.
If you would like to join the discussion about If I Were, a prompt by @JonicaBradley then join the PromptlyJonica community, linked below. Jonica publishes prompts regularly and you're welcome to participate whenever, they never expire. Here are the rules:
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Write **100% original** content
**Join** and **submit** to the community **PromptlyJonica** https://read.cash/c/promptlyjonica-b4a0
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I'm Damian Delune, currently incarcerated in the east coast of the United States. My wife @demeterdelune transcribes my words via phone calls, handwritten letters, and e-messages. If you would like to help support our communication you can tip me here or donate via **Kofi** at any time. Unfortunately, communication within prisons is extremely expensive. Thank you so much for reading. https://ko-fi.com/demeterdelune
What it's Really Like Being in Jail
On October 6, 2021, I attended my last court hearing for what has been a nightmare of epic proportions. In December of 2020, I was arrested for a crime I didn’t commit (I know, everyone is innocent) after hours of interrogation which lead to a coerced confession. It’s a long and complicated story which I won’t go into here, but will at some point. One of the things I did in an attempt to ready myself as much as possible for the time I knew I would be serving, was research. I was sentenced to a minimum of 67 months, which boils down to about 5.5 years. Jail comes first, with an eventual move to a state prison. I’ve been in jail before, when I was younger, so I thought I had some idea of what to expect on that level of things. Some things are the same, but a lot has changed since COVID.
The most important thing to remember here is, no one who works for the justice system is your friend. I don’t care if you grew up together, spent weekends at one another’s home, and hung out right up until your arrest. That person is no longer your friend. And you don’t want them to be in some respects. Being shown favoritism by correctional officers (CO’s) is a sure fire way for other inmates to assume you’re a snitch. The term, “snitches get stitches” was coined for a reason. That doesn’t mean CO’s can’t be decent human beings, but that generally hasn’t been my experience.
It’s rare to find anyone you can truly call a friend in jail. The best you can hope for is an ally. Unfortunately, race plays a significant role behind prison and jail walls, among the inmates. Everything is separated by race.
When you first arrive and are being held in booking, there is a lot that had to happen before you’re sent to your assigned block. And no one gets in any kind of hurry to get things done, unless they want to. Nothing is on your time any longer. It’s a bit ironic that you literally have nothing but time, yet, it doesn’t belong to you. You’ll be fingerprinted, even if you’ve done this before. You’ll be thoroughly searched. Yes, everywhere. If you know ahead of time that you’ll be arrested/booked as I did, I highly recommend not bringing anything with you. In jail especially, you won’t be allowed to keep anything, including your undergarments and socks, unless you are prepared and are wearing white.
If you know you’re going to jail, the one thing you can do to plan ahead is to be wearing the correct undergarments. Everything has to be white and can not contain pockets. A white t-shirt (not a beater), white boxers, and white socks will at least get you started with something that’s yours and fits. Beyond that, nothing you have with you will follow you into jail. It will be placed in your personal property, which someone will need to come retrieve once you’ve been sent elsewhere (if that’s what’s going on) or you’ll get it back when you’re released if moving to another facility isn’t in your future.
You’ll be issued slides as your shoes. Sure, they’ll ask what size you wear, but there’s absolutely no guarantee you’ll actually be given what you ask for. I wear a size 11, and was at first handed a pair of 13/15 slides. There was no way I could easily walk in these, and politely asked for the correct size. Apparently that was more than the CO was capable of handling that day, as what I got in return was the correct size, but two left feet. So I asked again, and was handed 9/10 sized slides. I shut my mouth at this point and have just figured out how to deal with it.
Where I am, men are issued a typical orange jumpsuit for our over-clothing. And if you think that is gonna fit, I strongly urge you to reconsider. This is just another way for the CO’s to give you the finger, so to speak. A reminder that they don’t give a shit about your comfort or well-being because, you’re a criminal of course.
I was booked at 11 am and it was 12 hours later before I was fully processed into my block. Because of COVID, all incoming inmates are given the COVID vaccine, unless they’ve gotten it through the jail before. I am fully vaccinated, but that didn’t matter. I even brought the information from my doctor to prove it. Doesn’t matter. You’re given the vaccine whether you want it or not by the jail and then put into quarantine for 14 days. I can’t speak to any facility other than the one where I’m housed, but that’s how it works here. Quarantine here is one specific block, that has two levels, and you don’t leave the block for any reason whatsoever unless it’s deemed a medical emergency.
Each level gets their day, every other day, to be out of their cells and in a common area. The common area is where the phones (two), Securus portal (where you can check your account for money, messages, etc), and commissary kiosk are. There is one portal and one kiosk. The number of people on each level fluctuates, but right now, there are probably 40 men on my level, all jonesing to use the phone, send messages, etc.
As I’m sure you would imagine, being the low man on the pole doesn’t afford you many rights to the items everyone is trying to use. You wait your turn, period. Once you’re able, anything you say over the phone, anything you send in an e-message (or receive), is all subject to scrutiny by CO’s. Anyone on the outside who wants to communicate with you must set up an account through the company that provides those services for your area. Ours is Securus. Everything costs money. As of right now, it is around $15 per call for me to speak with my wife for 15 minutes. It is much cheaper to send e-messages, but you’re still talking about $3 per message she sends (which she includes a return ‘stamp’ for me to reply), and an extra $1 if you send a photo (per photo). Your friends and family on the outside can send photos to you (appropriate of course) but you can’t send photos in return.
They can also set up video visits ahead of time, the cheapest of which is $8 (20 minutes). Where I’m housed, even if I weren’t in quarantine, they’re not allowing in person visits, so this is the closest thing to it. Once I’m moved, I hope this won’t be the case. Video visits, usually, are a good way to keep in touch and see your loved ones when they’re unable to visit in person. When you’re locked away from everything in the world, being able to see the face of your spouse or family while also hearing their voice is priceless.
It’s a lot and your mental health will suffer. When you’re in quarantine especially, on the days you’re not allowed to leave your cell, there’s not much to do other than sleep. I learned today that ordering from commissary is only allowed once per week per inmate, so the little bit I was able to order for myself yesterday is all I’ll be able to get for now. My wife can’t order, no one can, until Friday. And no one tells you these things. It’s one of the reasons I want to share my experience with the world. So people know what to expect and to answer questions.
The biggest piece of advice I can offer to anyone going through this is, don’t give up hope. Whatever that means for you. Whether it’s the hope that you can appeal your case and be exonerated, the hope that one day you’ll be home, or the hope that comes from having supportive friends and family. Don’t lose that, ever. You’ll hear from other people that you have to wall those things off in order to survive, and to an extent, that’s true. You don’t want to give other inmates or CO’s anything to use against you. But what’s in your head and in your heart is something you can keep close, and pull it out when you’re alone. Allow yourself whatever light you can summon, because you’re going to need it.
I know I’m lucky. Not to be here, but that I have such a phenomenal support system outside these walls. My wife has been there for me through hell and back, and now to hell again, for over six years and I know I have her love and support daily. And most of all, I know she has a support system in place, even though most of those people are far away, who are there for her no matter what she needs. Those things keep me going and help me to know, we can get through this, I can get through this, and come out the other side.
***If you would like to donate funds to help keep me in contact with those I love, you can do so*** *****here***** ***or*** *****here********.*** https://cash.app/$Demeterdelune https://ko-fi.com/demeterdelune
Once a Cheater, Always a Cheater?
We've all heard the statement, once a cheater, always a cheater. But is it 100 percent true? I can't answer that for sure, there's no empirical data to back up either claim. I can only speak for myself. And up until a few years ago, the answer would have been a resounding, yes.
I've always had difficulty remaining monogamous. There are a multitude of reasons/excuses for my behavior, but the older I get and the more research I do into the topic (and myself), the more I realize, it boiled down to one main issue. Although it sounds completely counterintuitive, I was afraid of being left alone.
Right. I know it sounds crazy. In order to ensure I was never alone, I cheated on those who gave me the opportunity to be in a relationship with them. But hear me out. I'm not saying it's right, by any means, but it's how my mind worked. I figured, if I always had someone (or multiple someones) on the side, I would never have to worry about being alone. I never claimed to be smart. There were times I didn't even bother pretending I wanted a relationship, as it's damn near impossible to maintain one, much less four or five. I would just show up on my day, that I typically assigned to myself, do my thing, and be unavailable beyond texting for the rest of the week.
When I think back to the amount of effort I put into my schedule, juggling multiple people at once, I'm astounded. If only I had put in that much work with a real, lasting relationship. However, I can't regret any of it, because I wouldn't be where I am today, nor would I have the amazing wife and relationship I do right now.
I wish I could tell you I learned from my past, saw the error of my ways, and never cheated on my wife, but that would be a lie. I was already in a relationship with someone else when we first met, engaged to be married more specifically. But I still began dating my now wife, and pretended she was the only one for six months, until I was caught. My relationship with my first wife wasn't a romantic one at that point, but I had agreed to marry her for various reasons and went ahead with it. Even though less than an hour away from where we lived, I had a woman who I knew was the love of my life, waiting on me to come home every weekend and continue our relationship.
After I married my first wife, it wasn't long before my then girlfriend found out everything. She was devastated, but gave me the opportunity to come clean and explain myself. To this day, I'll never know why she did this for me, because I definitely didn't deserve it. She asked pointed questions, and expected honesty, even though I had been slack in providing that up until this point in time. I had to decide, once and for all, if I wanted to continue with my sham of a marriage to make one person happy, or begin to work on ending things and move forward with my life, potentially making myself and my girlfriend happy.
It wasn't a difficult decision. Just over a year after I married a woman I didn't love, an almost ruined the best thing that's ever happened to me, I was divorced. In the state where we reside, you're required to be separated for a year and a day before the court will grant a divorce. I filed less than a week after our marriage to ensure our divorce could happen as quickly as possible.
I had been given a second chance at happiness and I didn't want to screw it up. For the first time in my life, I actually felt like I was doing the right thing and moving in a positive direction. My soon to be new wife forgave me, but beyond that, she gave me a safe place to land. A place where I knew I wouldn't be judged immediately for my past bad acts, a place where I could share my misgivings and fears without judgment.
It hasn't been perfect by any means, which is on me more than anything. That wasn't the last time I cheated. I was weak and went back to old bad habits when I became afraid. But through it all, my wife has stood by my side. She's provided counseling, an ear, a shoulder, and her heart; None of which I fully deserve in my mind, but she thinks I do, which is what matters.
I've been faithful in this relationship longer than I ever had before in my life. In the past couple of years, we have discussed being polyamorous and have moved forward with that, and it's been a game changer for us both. My wife has experience in this lifestyle and has guided me since the beginning, ensuring we're both comfortable with every aspect of it before embarking on anything new.
For me, I hope the old adage isn't true. I can't say I'll never cheat again, because I don't know the future. What I do know, is for the first time in my life, I have zero desire to do so. Maybe, I've finally learned to accept the love I'm being given and in turn, can fully respond in kind.
@JonicaBradley - Thank you for the prompt, I hope I did it justice.
An Introduction to Bitcoin From a Beginner
Bitcoin is a digital currency created in 2009. What is a digital currency compared to paper currency? Unlike government issued paper currency, it is operated by a decentralized authority. Bitcoin, being a cryptocurrency, isn’t physical, therefore the balances are kept on a public ledger everyone has access to, transparently. Bitcoins are not issued by any banks or governments, nor are individual bitcoins valuable as a commodity. Although Bitcoin is not considered legal tender, it has soared in popularity, and has triggered hundreds of other cryptocurrencies, collectively known as altcoins. As of today, Bitcoin is the largest form of cryptocurrency on the market.
How Does Bitcoin Work?
When first working with Bitcoin, it can be confusing. Trust me, I know, I’m just beginning to learn myself. Most of us were taught how money works when we first started in school. We could physically hold money in our hands and count it, so it was easy to see how it worked. You can’t do that with Bitcoin. So is it money? Is it really an asset? Is it a payment network?
It’s easier to define what it is first than how it works. Bitcoin is software. Sure, stock images show a shiny coin, but at the heart of it all, it’s a program, a set of protocols and processes. When you keep that in mind, it’s easier to understand. It uses cryptography, the science of making and breaking codes.
Bitcoin is a network that runs on a protocol known as the blockchain. A 2008 paper written by a person or people called Satoshi Nakamoto first described both the blockchain and Bitcoin for the first time. Bitcoin is really just a list. Person A sent X amount of Bitcoin to Person B. By adding these transactions, everyone knows where each person stands. These transactions do not need to be done from human to human. Anything can access and use the Bitcoin network. This creates vast possibilities for the internet of things. Imagine, self driving Ubers or taxis having their own blockchain wallets. The vehicle would be sent cryptocurrency from the passenger and would not begin the trip until funds were received. It could refuel itself.
Why Does Bitcoin Have Value?
Let’s start by asking, why does any currency have value? Currency, of any sort, is only usable if it has what’s called a store of value. Meaning, it can be counted on to maintain its value over time. In most societies throughout history, precious metals and commodities were used as methods of payment. Think spices and gold.
But rather than expect their citizens to carry around heavy quantities of cocoa beans or gold, most governments switched to minted currency. They were usable because the government maintained a store of the commodity the minted currency represented. In the US, this usually meant stores of gold.
When most countries left the gold standard, we switched over to what’s called fiat money, which has no physical backing. Instead, it’s backed by faith that our government will stand behind the paper currency and that they and individuals will accept it in exchange for goods and services.
Besides value, a successful currency must also meet qualifications of scarcity, divisibility, utility, transportability, durability, and counterfeitability.
Scarcity- The key to the maintenance of a currency’s value is supply. Too much and the cost of goods will skyrocket, too little, and the economy will collapse.
Divisibility- Successful currencies are divisible into smaller amounts.
Utility- Burdensome precious metals and commodities don’t easily meet this stipulation.
Transportability- See above.
Durability- Coins or notes made out of materials that can easily be mutilated, damaged, or destroyed, or which degrade over time to the point of being unusable, are not sufficient.
Counterfeitability- Just as a currency must be durable, it must also be difficult to counterfeit in order to remain effective. If not, malicious parties could easily disrupt the currency system by flooding it with fake bills, thereby negatively impacting the currency's value.
How does Bitcoin hold up? Under scarcity, quite well, as it was created from the beginning to only hit 21 million coins before ending. Divisibility, excellent, it can be divided down to exceedingly small numbers and traded in the smallest increments. Utility, it’s a cryptocurrency, so no worries about it being burdensome. Same with transportability and durability, it doesn’t physically exist. There is a mild concern about counterfeiting, but it’s minimal. It’s a lot more difficult to counterfeit Bitcoin than it is paper money.
Like fiat currencies, Bitcoin is not backed by any physical commodity or precious metal. Throughout most of its history, the current value of Bitcoin has been driven by speculative interest. It has shown characteristics of a bubble, with drastic price run-ups and a craze of media attention. This is likely to decline as it sees more mainstream adoption. The future is uncertain.
@damiandelune
