My 13 year addiction......led me to Valley State Prison for Women in Chowchilla, California, at the age of 40. I had spent 7 days in county jail, waiting for the California Department of Corrections van to pick me up and transport me to prison. I had never been in jail in my life. I had never been in trouble with the law at all. Ever. I was indicted on 11 felony counts after turning myself in, in order to make amends for a crime I committed while spun. I don't blame the drug, because I knew that what I was doing was wrong, even as I was doing it. I do, however, blame myself for my addiction. I got myself into that mess. And now, it was time to pay the price. To clean the slate, if you will.

Anyway, like I said, they couldn't even find a parking ticket on me. I had, for 15 years prior, been a wife, and a mom, and a paralegal in federal court, a professional, so to speak, and a member of my community in a well respected family known throughout the expansive area. I had never been in trouble before. But they decided to throw the book at me, basically because I wouldn't name names, never mind that I turned myself in and was trying to do the right thing, so they gave me three 16 month sentences in the state penitentiary, four years total, to be served concurrently (whew!).
I arrived at VSP on February 19, 1997, with two black eyes. I had broken all of the blood vessels surrounding both eyes from crying for 7 days while in the county jail. I couldn't believe what was happening to me. I had already been strip searched 5 or 6 times, stripped naked of any possessions, save for my eyeglasses, and that was just the tip of the iceberg. For the 6 o 7 hour drive, during which we had to stop at other prisons to drop off or pick up prisoners, we were shackled like animals. Irons on the ankles, handcuffed in the front, then the handcuffs attached to the chains around the waist. I was so thin then that they had to go two times around my waist with the chains, which made it too tight, and sometime during the long drive, my feet began to go numb. They didn't care. They didn't feed us at 4 am when the van arrived at the jail, and they didn't feed us on the long journey, nor would they stop for us to go potty.

We finally get to VSP, they offload us, take the leg irons and chains off, uncuff us, then CDC officers recuff us, we are lead into a large room, with a long counter on the left and desks and staff behind it, and cells to the right, large cells with only bars across the front, a metal toilet in the back sticking out of the wall, and long benches on either side. We are led into a cell, uncuffed, and told to strip naked and sit down. There we wait, naked and exposed to all who walk by or are working behind the counter.

Next, 5 officers, male and female, come into the cell and the two with hand mirrors each take a side where we are sitting on the benches, starting with the first woman, make her stand, be poked and prodded and pawed and basically, molested, squat and cough, stay squatted and stick this mirror to your crotch, then cough again, then move everything around with your fingers, opening everything wide enough for the guard to see. I can't tell you what it felt like, being about the 8th person down the line. I can tell you that that feeling aged me greatly. And this was only the beginning. I hadn't even spent one hour in the state penitentiary for the very first offense of my life. The only offense so far, and trust me, that's not going to change.

Next, they gave us mumu's and shower shoes and a plastic bag with "hygiene's" (small shampoo, soap, toothpaste and toothbrush). Gave us our new name....our CDC#.....took mug shots, made us prove we memorized our new name (to this day that number is seared onto my brain), had a shrink ask us how we were, hah!, then off to Unit A in the Reception Yard: 23/7 lockdown unit. Signs that say "we fire no warning shots". Guys up in the "bubble" in the middle of the unit with guns, watching us shower, watching us sleep, watching us, watching us, watching us.

Once I got in my 8x5 or so cell, and the automatic cell doors slammed shut, the crying began again, and wouldn't let up.

I think I'll make this Chapter One....I've got to get off of this topic for now. It's hard to relive. I hope it will be important for someone to read this, because if it helps one, it will be worth it.

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you're one tough cookie,

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Why did you go to prison?

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Do you think it made a difference for you in terms of you not wanting to do drugs to get back there again?

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. Your story is very timely for my situation

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I hope it has helped you. I'll try to answer any specific questions you might have about it. I wrote that prison post a while back, and there are those who have told me they want to hear more, but it's hard to write about, and remember, and re-live.  But if you have questions, I'll do my very best to help you.

Love,
Meth Survivor     

Britt:

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i want to hear more, please.

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Okay, but not now. I started to write the next chapter a couple of weeks ago. I'll try to finish it.

But tell me, are you inspired, or interested, or more than that?? Are you intrigued??

It's a living nightmare, in case you are intrigued. No person who hasn't committed a violent crime should have to endure what I had to endure.

Prisons are not where drug addicts belong....prison is not where I should have gone for the first offense of my life, and not just a first offense, but a money crime. I am an ant compared to those Enron guys! And I paid every penney back before they even charged me. I should never have been sent to a place where violent criminals slept in the same room with me. I'm sorry, and I know God was with me, and got me through it, but I'm still, after over 8 years, traumatized by it.

Anyway, watch a movie, take your intrigue and read a book, don't even think for a moment that you want to experience what I have.

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I should never have been sent to a place where violent criminals slept in the same room with me.

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No you should not have been, you sure shouldn't.
{{{HUGS}}} Makes me boil to think of anyone ever treating you that way.

Abbey, I know you didn't ask me but I'll tell you anyway.
For those whose crimes- non violent were committed while in addiction, I feel treatment first-  At least give them a chance- Treatment plain and simple- accountability.
The drug court here is working - and I applaud our county's efforts.
There is jail time- usually a minimum of 30 days, 60 days in some cases - more to prevent access to drugs, to get a clean mind so treatment may have a better chance at working.
Then there is lengthy counseling, meetings, drug testing- they go the whole nine yards- medical, everything.
Probation and community service.
I call that a chance- everyone deserves a chance.

I don't feel just because you don't rat out everyone you should do prison time.
I do it, I admit to it, I take my time. Period.
I am accountable for me- their conscience is their problem.