THAT'S WHAT I'M ON NOW.

My family has been going through some things lately. We stick together but keep our worries under our own roof.

Behind these fences many turn to God.  A last resort.  All else has failed.  Often times you hear it said they hid behind the cross.  Ironically if you place trust in God, the Bible states you will be safe in the Shadow of the Almighty.  His hand of protection will cover you.  You can seek safety under his wing of protection. These are promises that someone who believes in God claims for themselves.

An unbelieving world, especially in here mocks that.  They say your weak and you hide behind Christianity.  Yet those same individuals will join a gang for protection.  Gang activity is at an all-time high.  Not just in the prison system.   These young men are coming to prison already affiliated.  They don't realize they do the same thing they accuse a Christian of.  You have picked an organization that fits you.    Offering protection and something you wish to gain.  You follow their rules all so you can be under that umbrella.

In an attempt to avoid the comments and distaste, I keep my personal beliefs for the most part to myself.  My family knows I go to church every week here.  They know I read my Bible every morning and begin my day with prayer.  I seek to be a better man, a better dad, and I ask God for his help.

What I don't do is talk about it all the time.  I'm certain I have mentioned it from time-to-time.

Those beliefs make people nervous.  Some are intimidated.  But if you break it down it's not crazy at all.  We want to excel in life.  We want to be blessed.

Some people meditate.  Others use a form of Buddhism .   Many speak of karma and doing to others as you want given to you.  I choose to believe in God.

I've broke the law my entire life.  I dealt drugs to parents who left their kids at home to buy them, then used them around their kids.  I knew this.  I sold drugs to wives that hid it from their husbands.  Or vice versa.  I used drugs sand became and addict myself.  I never cared.

In order for me to care, I needed a reason.  My reason to "care" came in the form of my daughter.  My accountability comes from my family, my God and my child.  I'm paying back a debt here so I don't need to feel guilty from my past.  I can love myself and be proud of the man I've become.

So I go to church every week.  I read my Bible and I pray.  It's for me.  It works for me.  I was a bad man who needed much help.  I'm getting it.  I've chose not to push my belief's because they are mine.  I don't wish to offend or push away people.  If you just read my thoughts but don't know me, then you have some opinion formed of me.

People ask what I did to come too prison.  I broke the law.  I broke laws my entire life and now I pay them all back.  Even the ones I didn't get caught for. Does it matter what I'm here now for?  I'm letting this pay back all the rules I broke!

I place God in my life because I'm now accountable to him.  I follow the laws set by him.  I don't like cops.  I don't like the laws of the land.  But my Bible states to follow the laws of the land.  Respect them in authority over me.  I have a hard time with that.  I'm a work in progress.  But for me I take it better from God than from a cop or county judge.

Because I put my faith in God, there are blessings in my life.  Lately my morning prayer time has been for my daughter and my sister.  My kid's fine.  She's just making that transition from kid to adult.  If you remember, that's some difficult shit.

My sister has been growing baby number two.  This little dude has had one problem after the next.  My sister already tends to have pregnancy difficulties. What can a big brother, while in prison, do for his little sister?  Not much.  And if it wasn't enough for prayer and bringing her troubles to God, I would feel completely worthless.

This little boy has beat the odds.  He has fought for life since conceived.  He has had a loving family pray him through life before he even entered the world.

Whatever it is you hold near your heart; your family, your children, sobriety, wear it with pride.  Let it make you better.  Allow it to cause you to stand tall. There are others who watch you.  You might be the light to their darkness.

Side note:  This letter was written 3 weeks ago, it is just now getting posted because of mail forwarding difficulties.  Little Thomas is growing and continues to have support from his loving family and God as answered many prayers for the family and little Thomas.

Daily Doses

I woke up, grabbed my toothbrush and headed to the bathroom sink.  Brushed my teeth, my tongue, then rinsed off my face.  Still half asleep I slapped both cheeks like the little asshole kid in Home Alone. 

When I shower I use the hot to steam open my pores.  At the end I shut off the hot and stand under the cold until my nuts shrink to acorns.  I like to feel.  I like the sensation that I'm alive, speeding down the road at a hundred and fifty-five.

I'm an artist and get as much art as I give.  There is intense feeling while under the needle receiving your art.  You feel alive.  The inner rebel steps up and stands tall.  I believe that's one of the draws to tattoos.

There were times in my life when drugs over shadowed natural highs.  The excitement you feel when you accomplish something amazing.  These days I smack myself in the nuts and take deep breaths to walk through the pain.  During exceptionally long and painful tattoos I think through the pain by imagining hurt and heartache leaving the body.

When my grandfather died I put an eagle on my arm in memory of his legacy.  The eagle is powerful and respected.  It represents our country, freedom and the men who fought for that.  My Grandfather was all of that.  I couldn't attend his service, nor did he see me get free.  I let that hurt and disappointment in myself go with the pain of that tattoo.

We can let life hand us our daily dose.  Take it as its rationed out and wear it.  Problem is, all too often life can seem to hand you a shit sandwich on the regular.  So many are prone to depression that a couple hard doses of bad luck can trigger you into a funk that overtakes you.

Now I'm not saying to go smack yourself in the nuts, but you need to find some release that centers you once again.  Perhaps a tattoo is up your alley.  Maybe you're not into that.  Climb up on the roof and lay there and look at the stars.  Look at how big it is out there and then realize your problem is so small.  You can change your job, the people you associate with and the things you come into contact with.

I've had to realize I can't do any of that right now.  The asshole who cut me off in line lives 2 bunks over.  The cop who yells at me every day works here full time.  I can't leave for another 19 months.  So I pinch myself, slap myself and take cold showers.  Because that's what I DO have control over.

I understand why people cut.  I understand why some women sleep with multiple partners.  I understand why some men go home and beat on their wives.

You done lost control somewhere else and you're overcompensating in some area where you can feel you took it back.  I can't wait till I get back and have the chance to make choices once again.

Had I never come to prison and went to a drug rehab instead, I too would be on 10 different medications.  Perhaps an antidepressant, some methadone to help past my addiction and something for anxiety.  Instead I came to prison where I was forced to get clean and confront my demons.  Anxiety?  When you're an asshole to me I steer as clear of you as I can, but I also know you're the one in pain.  You're the one who has the issue, not me.  That's why you're an asshole.

I'm going home to ride a Harley, be a Dad and have casual sex.  You're still going to work here and your life will still suck.  Depression?  I'm about to go home.  Prison is my antidepressant.  Once I'm home, what can life ever throw me that overshadows 10 years in a dog house?

What night terrors?  I live with crazies who roam the halls and aisles all night looking for trouble.  They're still raping blond haired blue-eyed white dudes.  What's my terror?  I'm late on the power bill?  Go on....cut that shit off!

I realize you all sweat these things.  Just think about how much of your life your wasting.  And if your living a good life?  Consider yourself blessed.

19 months and counting.......

Nut House

I'm not crazy.  No, really I'm not.

I just live in a nut-house.  Dudes here have demons for real.  Tormentors that wake them in the night.  Yelling, screams, seizures....happen every night.  It's nothing to have an extraction team come in to remove an inmate that has lost his head.  Men prescribed meds that have such side affects they don't swallow the pill.  Spitting it out as they leave the nurse at the pill window.  Only to have some out of body  experience hours later.  Some violent outbreaks, others just lock up in seizure.  This goes on all hours of the day.  I have never seen a more active medical crew than here at Lake.  The action is non-stop. 

You can see the darkness and emptiness in these men's eyes.  One day you can carry a conversation with them, the next they become hostile.

In the course of a day you walk somewhere and cut someone off.  Sometimes you bump into someone.  You must immediately respond with, "excuse me".  These minor infractions that a normal person overlooks may be the violation that causes one of these men to fly off and attack you.  The level of violence here is incredible.  Not limited to the young it carries into the elderly.  The hostility blows my mind.  These are the road-rage monsters who follow you home and run you down in your driveway.

I've been accustomed to a small percentage of inmates at any given time who are prone to violence.  This is a game of egg shells.  I can't count how many times I smile and say excuse me just to defuse some situation.  This has become stressful.

I'm blessed I don't have much longer.

A sane man calculates risk and consequences for his actions.  The insane don't give a fuck.  Criminally insane may not be charged with the full severity of a crime.  They are incompetent to stand trial.  Yet here they stand beside me.

I spend plenty of time asking God to keep his hand over my life.  A bumper sticker tells you not to drive faster than your guardian angel can fly....I take my time walking these days just to make certain mine can keep up.

I knew it was good at my last prison.  That's how I must look at it now.  I was blessed to spend 4 1/2 years off my sentence at a good camp.  Now to only finish 19 more months here.

I tell my daughter to keep her chin up.  Now I'm working to keep mind up.  It's fine.  The thing that doesn't kill us will make us stronger.  At this point in the game I'm working towards baddest dude in the valley.  Walk light and carry a big stick.

I've been a lone-wolf all my life.  At 16 I tattooed a wolf on my leg because it was already my motto.  One of my favorite tunes is Godsmack....I Stand Alone.  That's become an anthem of mine.  I'm heavily tattooed and constantly asked what gang I'm in.  I ride Harleys and before prison always stayed independent.  Here in prison I do the same.  Many join these organizations for some form of protection or a sense of family.  I would rather stand alone.  I only stand alone in the sense I don't need a gang to back me.  Every day I ask God to walk with me and keep His angels in charge over my day.  You may not be on that.  Perhaps you handle your affairs on your own.  I've decided to take the help from a Power greater than myself.  And that's what I'm on now.