If you had told me when I walked through the doors of LCJ, that one day I would understand “canteen hustle” or “panty bras”, I would have laughed and said “whatever”.
If you had told me that one day I would look out from my bunk and see friends; people who made me laugh and yes, even cry, I wouldn’t have believed you.
After all, I wasn’t like them. They were crack addicts, coke heads, prostitutes–they used works like “20 rock” and “K holes”; words I’ve only read in books or the daily paper. They were the people mama warned me about–from that side of town. “Quick, lock your doors.” I used to cross the street to avoid them. “Don’t make eye contact. You mustn’t make eye contact”.
They are also the people who taught me about humanity, kindness, forgiveness, and amazingly enough, myself. They may have even saved me from myself–and for that I will be eternally grateful.
I am, in reality, no different from them. I have my own problems, my own pain. I have hurt many with my decisions. I just never realized it before now.
This is the story of my life and what let me here. Funny, raw, mundane, you’ll find it here. This is my story of hope, my story of redemption….my story of recovery.