Tag: women who write

My Day

This is what my weekdays at the camp looked liked, they varied very little. When I first got there we were not allowed out on Friday’s, eventually they did give us rec time for two hours. It was referred to as Rest Based Fitness. We were only allowed in the recreation area and on the track if they weren’t practicing at the gun range behind the camp.

Sometimes we would walk the track if it wasn’t too hot out. Sometimes we shower early and nap. Another quiet time in the unit. Our unit at maximum occupancy housed 74 women. The lines for the showers were sometimes long, there were often arguments at the phones because of lack of respect and people using the phone on both am and pm rec. Outside workers were scheduled for afternoon rec and others were in the morning while we were gone. Some women were just rude and it seemed like they thought they were the only ones in a room with 5 others trying to talk on the phone.

So here is what my weekdays looked like. I was fortunate enough to get a job 3 days after I hit the compound as the clerk for the garage which maintained the facilities equipment and vehicles. Working camps took care of the outside detail for the Men’s Federal Prison as well. I have to say I worked with some BADASS hard working, smart women.

5:10 am: My alarm goes off, I make my bed and climb down from my bunk. I check to see if the 5 am count has already been done, we are supposed to be in our cubicle at all counts. I head towards the bathroom and start getting ready. We take a breakfast of oatmeal or protein bars we buy on commissary for breakfast.

6:45 am: I meet my co-workers out front to walk the half mile to the garage where we work. We did have a little truck for a while but it was surveyed due to age and miles. I was the clerk in the garage for the time I was in Phoenix.

9:50 am: My co-workers and I went back to the camp for lunch. We get one hour to eat, typically we went back early. Being at work helped time pass quickly, we had a purpose and things to do.

10:45 am: We would make sure all of our duties were completed and sometimes we would find things to do, clean, help with other projects.

1:00 pm: Back to camp to wait until 1:30 pm for our rec time.

1:30 pm: We had rec time, this included phones, emails, video visits, laundry and working out. While I was in we were still on a semi lockdown where we only had two hours to get these things done. We had a phone and laundry list that we went by.

3:30 to 3:45 pm: Our unit was called for Chow (dinner). It would always depend on what we were having if we were going to the Chow Hall or not.

4:00 pm: We had standing count. We had to be in our cubicle with our ID’s in hand until the count was completed in our unit. If you weren’t ready you could cost the unit rec time, receive a shot or do extra duty. Extra duty depended on the what the office chose for you.

4:00 pm on… We made dinner if we didn’t eat in the Chow Hall, and hung out with our friends in our unit. Some would go to the TV room. I would throw up my towel over the stall, who ever gets there first goes first. When new people started coming in they would throw their towels over other peoples towels so I started using post-it notes with my name and who I was after.

The rest of the evening I would hang with my Bunkie if she wasnt watching TV, we would read or I would crochet. Sometimes I would go visit my friends down the hall or they would come hang out with us.

9:00 pm: This was our second and last standing count of the day, unless there was an emergency count. A majority of us would go to bed. This was the quietest time of the day. There were two more counts in the night, we had to have a body part exposed or could not cover our heads. This was so that the counting officers could see that we were physically in our own bunk.

I will write more about things that I experienced and I am always open to questions, especially if they help someone.

Peace

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Flaw..less

I have been thinking about flaws a lot recently. About people who point them out and how we feel when that happens. I think at some point in life we have all felt like we weren’t enough, we didn’t belong or that we weren’t wanted simply because of someone pointing out our flaws.

I always think before I speak, because of the way I have been spoken to you, The same with my actions, I stop and consider how that would feel if it was happening to me. This is the place in life I practice the pause the most.

Who are we to judge someone….anyone? What are flaws? Inadequacies? Who is someone to judge us by what they think is good enough or not?

Yes, I think this has been heavy recently.

So what if…

You don’t dress the way they think you should

You listen to music they don’t like

You laugh too loud

Or cry too much

or feel too deeply

Or work too hard with deep passion, even if its not ideal for some

We are all enough, flaws and all. We must learn this first. We must learn to accept and love ourselves wholly, which is not easy and not always a conscious thought. Your flaws are what make you perfect and at some point you will come across people who accept you…flaws and all. They will love the way you laugh and care.The way you accept people as they are, the way you love and what you stand for, Once you accept that being who you are is who you are meant to be…..you will realize that you are beautifully flawed.

And so its Saturday ❤

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Writing out loud

I had some time today to think about now and what’s next. We have an iron in the fire which is really exciting. It means work, time and attention, but it will be ours. But I thought about something that I am forever doing , writing. I worked on pages, and pages, and pages over the last few years. Or maybe I have been working on pages since I was twelve.

I know that I always come back to this. It’s my constant. It soothes and heals, listens and advises when I look back on what’s been written. I am forever collecting words in some way, shape or form. Writing is like breathing for me, I can’t live without it.

I used to write on paper napkins several years ago and leave them in random places. I noticed yesterday at lunch I did this It was about being present, in the moment. Chances are in the particular restaurant we were in, they didn’t even look twice at the words. I don’t think they needed them, I think we did. It was a long day, one in which we never wavered, lost patience and we were never short with each other. It says a lot about who we are, as a couple and individually. He said to me that we are receptive to each others energy. Meaning one can remain calm as long as the other does, we feed off of each other. Anyways, my words were a reminder to be present in the moments we were in. We made it through yesterday without one bump or one short word.

Word…words…writing…and back to the task at hand.

I feel like I need to work on my pages again and do something with them. I have received some good feedback and some who disagree with what I write, but I welcome that. I feel it makes me grow as a writer.

So here’s to Writing out loud and what comes next

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Paper boxes

Paper boxes and brown paper

Pieces to a life

Marked with contents

and stacked neatly in the garage

What if life were so simple

Categorized, organized, compartmentalized

A little lip plush on a Saturday evening for some self care

Present

Paper boxes and brown paper

A tiny silver jewelry box from my Mother with red velvet interior

I can remember it from forever ago

We heal in between, those are words I found

I am in between for now…

and maybe touching memories and filling paper boxes is where I heal

for now

I let go of so much in recent months

Things I thought I needed

or maybe even wanted at some point

Nineteen year old stuff and two year old stuff

Shedding layers of life gone by

Life that was once carried in

Paper boxes and wrapped in brown paper

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She’s Just Not a Keeper

Shes just not a keeper

of old cards

and notes

Or of trinkets

from the past

She lets go

and tucks away

the memories from a long time ago place

With only little recognition of a face

Shes just not a keeper of

tears and lies

Of sad excuses and black eyes

Of what if’s and goodbyes

Old pictures and songs

Mean very little

When they no longer belong

She’s just not a keeper

Of anger and hatred

Or cruel intentions 

In fact she’s just not a keeper 

of honorable mentions 

Shes just not a keeper of inconsistency

Nor of others who hurt people willfully

Of those who don’t know how to be friends 

Or shallow people who cant make amends

And in the end

She’s just not a keeper of bad things at all

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Maker

I used to be a maker…when I was healing and when I was happy.

I made a lot of things.

I have been craving that part of myself again.

I am happy

….finally.

and coming home

I touch parts of my life. I feel, deeply feel, love and life. I enjoy the simple things. I even allow dark parts to surface periodically. You cannot experience great gratitude and beauty in life if you cannot embrace the darkest parts of yourself and life as well.

I don’t run from things, other than my own feelings and ever present, deep running emotions and that is only periodic. I have to allow myself time to process and then decompress and come back to the situation head on, clear in thought. The past is the past and the only thing that is important is this moment.

Healing, forever healing, learning and growing. Accepting myself and others as we are. Even the ugly parts.

So a week ago I made intention candles for a few friends and for my life partner and I. They felt good. And that was the beginning. When I touched the candles and herbs they felt good in my hands and woke the part of me that have been hidden for some time.

Soon I will be home and there will be space for me to create. He supports that part of me because we are the same. He understands the call, the constant need to create.

When you give in and feel

from your soul

In the quiet moments

You allow it all to surface

and subside

And you stand in awe

of the canvas of your life.


Peace for your Sunday evening….

#waituntilyouseewhatwedo

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Mornings like this

My first conscious thought is of you laying next to me. My senses come alive and my eyes adjust to the morning light. I cant recall my soul feeling such deep peace.

I make my way down the hall, check the time and find the most recent book you have given me. Man’s Search For Meaning. You just seem to know what I like and what will speak to me. Yesterday when I read through the prologue I found words that spoke to me.

“Frankl saw three possible sources for meaning: in work (doing something significant), in love (caring for another person), and in courage during difficult times. ~ Harold S. Kushner

I sink into my space and into my book, sometimes reading the words twice because it is so hard to imagine one human being treating another the way they did in the concentration camps.

I hear you move and I know that our morning has arrived. I try to contain my excitement that you are up and I have probably thought of a million things to tell you in the last hour. I make coffee and make my way to you. You and I both have things to do today but you find the moments I ask for and sink into our space with me. I put my head on your shoulder and listen to you speak. I can only see the bottom portion of your face. I watch your mouth move, notice your profile and think about how much I love you and how grateful I am for mornings like this.

We move through the morning. I shower and you move about the house completing the tasks you have set before you.

At the kitchen window I think about unconditional love and how I feel it now. I always thought it never existed. My thoughts….It’s you. It’s small moments and mornings like this that I am grateful for. They make me aware of how blessed I am to share this part of my life with you. I know that we are not perfect, but yet we are in our own way.

Its mornings like this when I know that I have everything I need.

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Something like that…

Like liquid smoke flowing through the air

Like a dim lit room and a gentleman with a drink

Like a clear, dark night full of stars

A perfect peach on a hot summer day

Laying under a large oak, on a blanket of plush green grass

Like the last sigh before the deepest sleep

Or five pillows on a bed dressed in white

A variation of music filling the air

Or the smell of rain

Or the look in your eyes when you look at me

Or the look in mine when I look back

Like the hours that pass until I see you again

Or perhaps its the way I fall in love with you daily

Yes, something Like that

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For you Alyse….

Sorting through my emails just now, I came across the last two and the the prompt sisterhood caught me right away. This is the second time today this word has found its way to me… Its been too long since I have been able to spend time with you writing….so this prompts for you.

Sisterhood

The ease of the chair, the music filtering through the air. Sisterhood, my friends, my sisters by marriage, but oh..my…sister. Her name is Cindy and I have had her in my life for the last 7 years. I flip through the images in my mind. The time she came to visit and we had our pictures taken. I look at her and look for me. In the beginning we shared all of our “me too’s”, likes and loves, gains and loses. We are so similar and very different. She is one of my biggest cheerleaders and my confidant. She is 21 years older than me, but the years fall away between us. We missed so much and gained so much when we connected. She is beautiful and kind, she loves people and people love her. My sister ❤

Sisterhood

Alyse, she is my sister too. She pulled me through the self conscious door when it came to my writing. She watched and allowed me to feel my way through the process of shutting down my inner critic who was concerned with what others thought about my wiring. I admire her, her gifts and her friendship. She is one of many. The Sisterhood, the intuits, the executives, the homegirls, the chicks I love. The Green is for you One. The Rain washes away the unnecessary one, the strawberry shortcake one, the lick your face one. The Pittsburgh one. The artist. The writer. The supportive. The blonde one. The three of them. The German and the French ones. I honor all of my sisters. They all bring something very unique to the table and always a lot of love.

So this prompt is for you Alyse….I miss prompts with you.


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