How I got here - fifteen years in the rear-view mirror...

I've shared a little insight into what goes on in prison but I haven't given you a glimpse of who i am and how I came to be here. As you know I'm 42, almost 43, but gripping onto 42 like a fat kid grips an Eskimo Pie! Divorced father of two wonderful children. I am the oldest of four boys. My father is a pastor and has been since I can remember. My immediate family is deeply entrenched in the Christian Community. My Grandmother and one uncle were pastors and numerous other family members were Sunday School teachers and ministers. My extended family is quite large. My Grandfather had 21 siblings and the last tally I saw revealed around 178 cousins!
My cousins were the ones I gravitated towards. Their lives were the complete opposite of mine. When I was around them I found a freedom i wasn't accustomed to. They were more - colorful - to say the least. My Grandmother called them the "outlaws" because many of them were moonshiners and grew a little weed. They were all the rougher side that I could relate to. Their freedom wasn't available to me; being the son of a pastor. My life was very constrained to say the least. I loved to hang out with them and drink a beer; smoke a joint. To them it wasn't a bad thing. In the words of Hank Williams: "just family tradition", all good hearty fun. I felt more at home with them than I ever felt at my own home. I guess you could say we were cut from the same cloth.

I am proud of my family. Overall I feel I am a solid representation of who they are, even if i made some terrible decisions - hence the prison term. Even that, however, doesn't change the fact that I hold their values and morals. For the most part I am a good dude, a mixture of both sides of the family having taken the best each has to offer. I have the empathy, quick forgiveness and acceptance that my parents show others, but also the no nonsense, take no crap, stubborn, loyalty and fun loving laid back ease of my "outlaw" cousins. 

No matter what part of the family you were around, some things were indicative of our whole clan: respect, loyalty, honor, pride of self, family and country, a great work ethic, and a bond that can only be put into words as blood is thicker than water. To make a long story short as to how I got here...

I joined the military at the age of 17 serving in the 101st airborne and was very much enjoying life as a young man abroad. An injury during a training exercise introduced me to opiates. Up to that point I had only drank and smoked a little weed. I had no idea what I was being introduced to. I was young and naive, completely trusting the authority figures prescribing the medication. After some rehab I went back to active duty not really affected by the drugs at this point. Later in life, however, I was involved in a horrible car crash and spent some time in critical care. It took awhile for me to get back on my feet. I had fractured my back and was once again prescribed pain pills. This time I was placed on Oxy's and that proved to be the beginning of the end for me.

At that time I was married, had kids and deeply in love. All was good. I was an engineering inspector for the local municipality with an office in town hall overlooking main street. I was truly coming into my own. Suddenly another accident, boating, and of course affecting my back for the third time. Par for the course, another round of Oxy. I guess third time really is the charm because now I could not get enough. I had unknowingly became addicted and no matter how hard I looked I could never find the bottom of the pill bottle.

So how does addiction lead to a prison sentence? I have an easy one word answer - shame! I was so ashamed of my addiction, as you know the structure of my family, I didn't want them to know and in turn be disappointed in me. So, I would bring my paycheck home every Friday and then go out and commit robberies to fund my habit. The sad part is I rationalized my actions. I really thought I wouldn't get caught and that I could hide my addiction from my family. Like I said, I was young and naive and stupid!

Now some 15 years later, in my 40's, I have gained the wisdom from life and am very much ready to get back home. It's time now. I've never plead innocence. I've always admitted to what I've done. I was wrong and deserved to pay the price rendered. The loss of freedom compares little to the shame and hurt I've brought upon my family. The crushing blow of looking into my mother's eyes and seeing her pain in losing me to prison, knowing my kids cried for me at night realizing I'd never be a dad to them. To understand I turned my back on my family and forgot the loyalty I was supposed to have for them. An inner shame that I may hide but resurfaces with every look into the mirror.

I'm now at a point where I'm beginning a mental transition back into the world. After being gone so long I'm anxious to get back to life and out of this purgatory. I have only four years left at worst - two at best. Somehow with the anticipation there also comes an overwhelming feeling of incompleteness. I don't know exactly what I am desiring or longing for but for the past four or five months I've had an emptiness, a need to find a purpose and to find it quickly. In addition to the mental conflict, I've had even more emotional distress having been forced to deal with the loss of my Grandmother, my Mother, as well as the death of one of my oldest friends in Afghanistan. Truly a season of heartache and disappointment, but if I'm anything, I'm strong, stubborn and resilient.

in the words of Gloria Gaynor - "I will survive!" I have no choice in the matter. After all, I am my family and we are survivors.