Prison can be a very lonely place filled with yelling, screaming, slamming doors, whistles.  There’s a lot of waiting, standing in line, waiting, sitting, waiting, watching and then more waiting.  We are constantly being told to stand up, sit down, go faster, go slower, walk in a straight line, be quieter, talk louder, hurry up, finish up, “tighten up” and to get up.  Even prisoners with the best of intentions can sometimes get caught up when the only thing consistent seems to be inconsistency.  Rules can change from shift to shift, from officer to officer, from minute to minute.  At times it is truly maddening.

Prison is definitely not a place I would choose to be, but it is survivable.  Not at all as bad as I had imagined or seen on television.  Many of the women here complain about the conditions and lack of privileges, but not me.  I realize I am being punished and we are not supposed to be comfortable.  I am facing what I did and accepting where I am right now.  As it is, the physical imprisonment is not the true punishment for me.  I can tolerate the conditions, the food (or lack of), the deprivation.  The punishment for me is being locked away from my family and not being able to see them or talk to them whenever I want to.

The hardest part of being a woman in prison in my opinion is the lack of physical touch and affection.  A pat on the shoulder, holding the hand of a lady who is hurting, or a warm hug when one is homesick…any physical contact is forbidden here.  Humans, especially women I believe, crave and need touch.  This environment is not at all conducive to that for security reasons.  Imagine living anywhere for the next 2, 5, 10, 15, 20 years, or even the rest of your life without touching another person.  Now that is punishment, almost cruel to some.

If I could leave prison for just one day, I of course would go home.  I would first visit my daughter’s grave to tell her how deeply sorry I am and then thank her for the forgiveness I know she has already given me.  Next I would get my other child and take her to my sister’s farmhouse.  The song “One More Day” by Diamond Rio says it all.  I would gather all my loved ones in her huge kitchen.  “I would unplug the telephone and leave the TV off…”. We would spend all day talking, eating, crying and reminiscing…the entire time holding and hugging my oldest child while telling her “a million ‘I Love You’s’”. “That’s what I’d do with one more day…”