Encourage Your Incarcerated Loved One to Write About Their Story

Coming to prison I decided I would do everything I possibly could to better myself. I promised myself that this would not be wasted time. I encourage that for anyone that is incarcerated. There are a lot of classes available for mental health, drug treatment, relationships, etc. I have learned a lot from what I have taken so far. There is one thing that stands out more than anything to me and that is the power that comes with sharing stories.

I’m not talking about swapping war stories and glorifying bad behavior. I’m talking about really thinking about your life, writing about it, and sharing it with others.

One of my classes started with 14 women all from different places, different ages, and very different walks of life. It was an extremely diverse and interesting group. I can’t say I knew any of them well before class began. They were just people I knew by face and a few by name, but that was it.

We were given an assignment to write about our life story. Not a book, but a short recap of our life so far and what brought us here. Then we were to read our story to the class. Just mentioning this assignment stirred my emotions. I looked around the room at this group of strangers and immediately began to lose my mind. I did not want to do this.

I put off writing for a while and as the class drew near. I finally talked myself into doing this thing. I did what I always do before I write. I sit, quiet my mind and pray to God to guide my heart, my head, and my hand, and then I wrote.

I wrote things I had completely forgotten, things that still terrified me, and things that embarrassed me. I did what I had never quite done before, I ripped open my insides and let my broken hang out. I cried my eyes out, sweated profusely, and I kept going. I wrote furiously and shamelessly. I never thought about holding back or editing the craziness that was flowing out of me, I just wrote. I poured my heart and soul out.

Then the anxiety set in. Writing was just step one, I braced myself for step two, sharing with complete strangers that I see almost every day on this tiny compound where I live. I was going to show these people the most vulnerable side of me that I had never shown anyone. I was about to share stories I had never spoke of let alone write on paper or share with strangers. I was terrified. What I wrote shocked me, so I didn’t know what others would think. I remember thinking I may have gone too far. Then I remembered I asked for God’s guidance and this is where I was led. So, I went with it.

I didn’t know if other people had gone that far. I kept going because it felt good. Things that had been hidden so long weren’t so scary on paper and out of my head.

The first day of sharing was stressful. I didn’t bother with makeup and just pulled my hair up because the thought of doing this instantly made me sweat. The group leader called people in no order known to us. I think that helped us to really listen instead of focusing on ourselves and what we were about to do. We had a roll of toilet paper and we all used it.

Some people had someone else read their stories because it was too much for them to get through. We all sat and cried together. Strangers connecting through the pain of the past, and it was so beautiful.

As the hour and a half class came to a close, I realized there were a lot more people to go including me. So, for another week I had to think about my story and decided to write more. After hearing all the stories so far, I found myself even braver than before. Everyone was pouring their heart out so why not go a little further? So, I did.

The next week was equally as stressful as the first week not knowing when I was going to have to share. Again, we heard more stories of broken but beautiful lives that went down many paths but all ended up in the same place.

I was second to the last to share my story. It was terrifying, embarrassing and hurt like hell. My testimony shocked the entire room and freed me in ways I can’t quite describe. That day I took my armor off and decided not to hide ever again, it gave me a newfound strength and helped me connect with people in a way that was unforgettable. When we shared those painful stories of our lives with each other we all got a little stronger.

We all have preconceived notions about each other no matter where you are. Here things are a little simpler because no one has anything fancy. We all pretty much have the same clothes, live in the same housing units and eat the same food. Everyone can afford a haircut and a gym membership because its free. However, the drug offenders judge the white-collar folks and the white collar folks judge the drug offenders. That is the only kind of criminals we have at this camp and guess what? We are all criminals and that’s that.

I know that hearing some of the stories really surprised me. I realized how lucky I am to have such a loving and gently family. I didn’t experience abuse until later in life. It’s easier to hear about abuse of adults. The stories of people suffering abuse as children were the hard ones for me. No matter when it happened, everyone in the group shared abuse as a trauma in our lives.

I watched as that pain seemed to bond us together. These people I used to just pass by were becoming people I was happy to share my feelings and my time with. There was something so comforting about pouring my heart out and tearing down those walls I spent so long building and hiding behind.

So, I decided to continue this practice in my day to day life. I teach eight workout classes at recreation a week. That came with a lot of work. In 2014 I was shot in the head. I am extremely blessed to be alive and even more blessed to be able to do what I do physically. That same year, I stopped using drugs after many years of hard use. You would never know either of these things about me unless I told you. Most people assume I am here for white collar crimes.

I struggled for many years with my body and with my mind. When I would have problems with my hand eye coordination or any problems physically, it was hard to tell if it was the gunshot wound or coming off drugs that was the cause of my disobeying body. I knew I had to fight threw it and I did. I will never forget the struggles I went through and most I kept to myself. I can see other people struggling from across the room. Many people don’t even consider their previous drug abuse as a source of their problems. The same thing with head injuries. Head trauma is easily dismissed by people around you. You don’t necessarily see the damage like you would a broken leg or a big scar. The person with the damage knows and many suffer in silence. Many people don’t realize how far head trauma can reach and a lot of people don’t realize that is part of the problems they are having.

Being a class instructor and a wellness clerk in a federal prison camp I encounter a lot of people that remind me of my previous self. I have begun using my story of what I have overcome to inspire others to push through their physical hurdles. I am quick to tell them that if I did it they can too. I’m grateful to encourage people with my story. The looks people get are priceless when I open and tell them about myself and it is so worth it to me.

In conclusion, working through your story is work, really hard work. Only you know the details of your life. All those details that came together to make the unique you. Don’t be afraid of the mess. There is so much beauty in your brokenness. Hiding behind the walls you have built is the masterpiece of your life and breaking the walls down to let it all out will be the most freeing thing you will ever do.

Sharing your story is a gift only you can give. Thinking it through and writing it out is a gift to yourself.

Here are 4 tips for making this happen:

1. Sit down and quiet your mind. I pray every time I write, and I strongly suggest it. No matter what you do, write furiously. Word vomit it all out without even thinking of editing. You can do that later.

2. Share your story shamelessly.

3. Listen to other stories even when it is uncomfortable.

4. Find the common bonds and embrace them.