Nothing humbled me more than release from prison.  Given that I was a psychology major, had more support than most people in prison, came home to my own apartment and had a job, had friends who could help me, and what I thought to be a very strong, stable frame of mind, I really, really thought coming back to my life would be easy.

But it wasn't.  Not at all.

I had no idea who I was anymore.  My life had stopped, kind of frozen while I was gone, while everyone else's life went on.  I didn't fit in with them when I came home.  I was delicate emotionally and I didn't know it.  A year and a half of operating under literal commands from someone else conditions the human psyche.  I had no control over anything during that time - didn't really make any decisions, didn't have to think about much, didn't have to be responsible for much.  And then suddenly I had to take care of myself, function "normally", and make ends meet.  And figure out who I was.

I didn't know anything about PTSD back then.  I really thought I was strong enough in mind to beat whatever difficulties I faced.  And I did eventually, just not as gracefully as expected.

Post-prison was very, very hard for me.  I ended up tangled in a web of disaster that I couldn't escape on my own.  It's humiliating, disappointing, and very hard for me to think about that era.  I ended up going back home to St. Louis to stay with my mom within 4 months of my release.  I considered it hitting the reset button on my life.  It gave me a chance to get back to my roots, and face the loss of my father.  It was a hard, hard year, but all of it happened the way it should, and paved the way to what I have today.

THIS JOURNAL COMING SOON