My name is Sabrina and as I mentioned in my bio, my current home is a very small cell in a very large women’s prison called Perryville in the middle of the Arizona desert. While I was still in the county jail awaiting court/sentencing my thoughts were probably no different from anyone else in that situation – “What can I say or do to get out of this mess? This can’t be happening to me- I’m a good person who just made a mistake!” For the first time in my life, I faced the prospect of losing my freedom, not just for a week or a month, but for years. And it scared the hell out of me. But the consequences were out of my control and no amount of denial could change them so I arrived a few weeks later at prison, certain it would be the very worst thing that could ever happen to me. Now, not quite halfway through my sentence I look back and realize that I’ve learned lessons, changed and grown more than I would have imagined.
When I first got to Perryville, I spent most of my time taking in everything around me, observing and trying to figure out how things worked. I still didn’t feel like I really belonged, but I did have something in common with these women after all. Each one of us had screwed up and were stuck here, in the same place at the same time. So after a while I made a conscious effort to put aside all judgement and look for other things we might have in common as well. It was humbling when I came to realize that my background was the polar opposite of so many of my fellow inmates. I still had moments of feeling sorry for myself, thinking about how much it sucked to be me. But most of the women I came in contact with had it so much worse that I couldn’t maintain those feelings for very long. While I was blessed to have a family and a sober best friend who visited, wrote letters and called, that was not true for most. Most were surviving and trying to cope essentially all alone. And I began to wonder how much of a difference it might make, how much loneliness it would ease just to know that someone was thinking about you, worrying about you, praying for you. What if that sense of isolation and loneliness could be changed, even a little? I had noticed that the handmade decorative cards I got from my mom were admired with envious eyes by my friend Tiffany who never ever received any mail. So I asked mom if she’d send a little note to Tiffany- and she promptly did. When Tiffany got that 1st letter in the mail she was so excited and couldn’t wait to write back! It gave her somebody she could tell her struggles and her triumphs to, a substitute ‘mom’ who’d write ‘Way to go, I’m proud of you’ when she passed her Math test. It was just a simple letter, or maybe a card with some stickers or a little lace. but the magic of it was the way it made both the person sending it and the person receiving it feel. It worked so well that I soon found a couple of other girls I thought could benefit from a ‘pen pal’- (no pun intended) and my mom wrote to them too. The result was the same! It was such a huge boost to these girls! One of them said that it was amazing to talk to someone who didn’t know about their past and the mistakes they’d made. Like starting fresh. And I soon realized that it was actually very rewarding for a third party as well- myself! I loved seeing how happy the letters both coming and going made them! It was a win-win. Doing something for somebody else no matter how small it might seem, took my mind off my own problems, gave me a lasting good feeling that getting high couldn’t match.
I still have discouraging days and obstacles that seem impossible to overcome. Prison life is a struggle, but even with that, I believe I can make it worth the struggle after all.