Mike L.

It’s a little past 5:00 in the morning and here I sit thiccin bacc to a day(8-9-10)that was and remains one of the two most hurtful days that I have experienced in my lifetime,the other being the day I was WRONGLY sentenced to this ridiculous amount of time.I had been placed in the Special Management Unit for a situation equivalent to having your priors used against you which is just now being exposed as wrong in the forum of proposition 47.

You accumulate “write ups”on this end most times because of the cluttering and closeness of so many boundaries with misery,blindness,fear,and uneasiness dictating most movement in this small space.

But yeah,I had been taken outside to a cage that has a 6 person maximum to get a little air and exercise that we were allowed to do 1 and a half hours a day Monday through Friday. Around.Around the time for us to be taken bacc in for the day the Chaplin was walking over with the C.O which if he isn’t passing out bibles,Korans,or any other religious materials,it’s always to deliver bad news.After being notified that it was me being summoned I was handcuffed and escorted down a long hall to the chaple.the walk there although a short one,seemed to be a longer distance as I felt like I was walking in slow motion with my heart beating tremendously faster and my confinement feeling as though it was more locked because I had already accepted the fact that whatever it was I was about to hear I would held from being able to give more of myself to help it be/get better.

As I digested the incident of my little one’s being in the hospital it felt like the air was sucked out of me completely.Walking back to my cell,what I felt(to this day)is still a feeling I cant fully describe in words,but to entice an idea of it I had NEVER been hurt to that depth in my life.For (3)whole days I laid in thought,and unrest hurt to the point of being numb.My thoughts were explosive-like,and went from reaching the point of saying “F@#k everything in the literal sense to “My baby is right there ,and I cant even stand there in the physical helping to will her to being conscious.After the 3rd day I would verbally express my thoughts,talking to myself really but bringing forth responses from my cellie; someone I view as a friend.I had lashed out negatively,and he said”Loc;man you cant give up on it all now,especially since that baby is going to need your help”IMMEDIATELY” my thought process changed.So next I had to work on my emotions not being allowed to dictate my movement.Let me express that having to balance the feel of such great hurt but”having to “remain strong,and the symbol of strength in the family structure is truly a challenging feat.

In most eyes,and partly understandable prison is thought of as a bad,and dark place.Which in spots it is.Prison is falsely promoted with unrealistic effects to come from it’s”actual” intentions.For example;look how in this combined construction of thoughts my little one exposed her view of the visiting part of it,but their memos will read that that they are strong on helping to establish,and keep close family ties.So after a couple more days of getting myself to where I could start bacc thinking productively while never letting up on my strong sense of worry I started to tell myself that”my lil trooper is strong,and a fighter.At that time it was VERY helpful for those around me to expose the level of respect,and like I had around me because on the range of (18) cells I was on”EVERY” race extended sentimental gesters,and we all shot prayers out of that building,and a group of us even did it at the very same time on saturdays until my baby was stable.I dont thinkit will ever stop bothering me that I wasnt,and still am being held from physically helping my baby with her daily dealings with this obstacle.Butat this point in our growth process me,and my littleone know that no matter what appears in our paths or the angle /direction,TOGATHER we are going to go and get through it TOGATHER.

It was almost (3) years that it took for me to be able to look my littleone in her eyes that look like copies of mine observing the full realization of my loveones physical condition that I had already been experiencing with her in every other way that I could,it was VERY hard for me to keep the activation of my hurt inside.Now it’s like we do it more than just when we can/Our visits are always taking me on this emotional rollercoaster.Because first im overjoyed that we will be able to share some up close ,and personal space that is our own,then comes the strong concern(worry)of them getting to me safe,then there’s the experiencing the actual happiness of our huddle,next it’s the worst -like part of it of having to seperate physically,watching them leave.I never visibly show the level of my dispare as I have to teleport bacc into a damn near non existance,but my loveones can look into my tight eyes,and naturally feel my hurt as it’s their very same way of feeling as well.Then as if that isnt enough,the worrying of their safe returning home kiccs in,and im not bacc fully settled until I wake up to a notice of them being home safe,and sound in the form of an email.

NOTHING about anything me,and my little-one is sharing is being done in hopes of enticing or receiving sympathy,short cuts,or easy routes.What we are doing is sharing a snapshot of our story to 1.salute the high quality of our bond,connection,struggle,and unwavering fight stance,and to also expose a real live example of the ability to overcome the most difficult adversities,and design our future with physical limitations still right now embracing us.

thanks for taking the time read our thoughts.

much respect and best wishes to you and yours

Mike L.