I have been awarded a second chance... God has chosen me as one of his messengers to teach women in prisons all over the world... to open their hearts... the hardened hearts, the lost souls. This is my way of sharing what I felt and learned while in prison in Connecticut.

Through my creativity & talent with words, I hope to help women around the world to celebrate life no matter where they live, what institutions they are in, hospitals... even ones that feel they are only shells of their former selves.

Celebrating life is not hard. It takes patience and ability to open yourselves to accept new ways, new roads, accepting the help you need to learn to open up your heart to friends, family & other inmates.

I too used to be a shell of my former self, but with words I read, wrote & with God - I have opened my heart to learn new ways to life and understand life. I don't do CHURCH. That's not my thing. I pray but I pray privately. I have a special place inside myself, that is just for learning new things, learning to believe in myself and have faith in the Lord. For me this place is my ROSE GARDEN... When I was small my grandfather who was an atheist (believe it or not), told me he couldn't promise I would never live life with rainy days, foggy nights. He told me not all days would be coming up roses, but if I created a ROSE GARDEN in my head... I would always have a place to come to learn, read, meditate, talk to him or to God. I followed his example, and have a year-round rose garden without thorns in my mind.

Remember a time when you felt totally safe from harm, place just you knew about. A secret hiding place, up a tree, in the woods, in the closet, in the shower... or just in your mind. This ROSE GARDEN is where I go... when I am afraid, lonely, hurt... where there is no pain - only solitude, graceness, and love.

I could be anywhere, enduring anything, any kind of torture, or abuse, but when I brought my feelings inside the ROSE GARDEN I was safe. I went there on happy days, sad days, days without hope, days of celebration... it was and is my special place.

I feel closer to my grandpa who passed away many years ago when I visit my ROSE GARDEN... he had a beautiful Rose Garden in our backyard... roses glorious in color, health, wealth and beauty, that was the backdrop for my personal ROSE GARDEN.

As we go along in life, sometimes we meet people who you just know on the onset of that friendship... that you will either know or at least care about that person for your whole life... others are acquaintances - not perfect but adequate in most cases.

Everyone wants deep within their hearts someone who will always love them... no matter what they do, say, act, no matter how many mistakes they make... Luckily for me... that person is my mother... but if no living relatives care... you can always have God to carry you when you cannot walk... to grace you with his blessings when you ask, to talk to when you need a friend.

I am grateful for my mothers love, but do I deserve it? Probably not... I have made many mistakes, and hurt my mother more then anyone else... As God is my witness: this incarceration have been a wonderful experience for me. Sure some days it sucked... but it showed me a way to make amends, to learn to be a better person, and to allow my writings to help others who like me, made mistakes and maybe you or a loved one is in jail now, or has been in jail before.

I will never get back the things I have lost... but I know that God has forgiven me an helps me everyday to live a righteous, sober lifestyle and to help others around me receive that same praise and forgiveness from our Lord. With that said, I hope you enjoy reading my work... it is truly from my heart and from God.

Email: CTGalFrozen_in_time@eminem.com

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My name is Linda King. I am 39 years old and just recently got out of jail. Believe it or not, the experience was like nothing I had ever even imagined in my lifetime, but it was the best way for me to learn to live without drugs... the drugs I thought I was destined to die from.

On this page, you will read about my experiences while in prison in Connecticut, what happened to me, how it happened, what I did about it, and the outcome of all these stories and how they affected my life, both then and now. This page is a journal of sorts...

A New Beginning...

I had been an inmate of the DOC for the State Of Connecticut for 5 months. This was my first bid, my first time in prison and hopefully will be my last. I am home. Prison, it's laws and disiplanary actions, along with the regimented dailiy routines gives you the Freedom From Making Your Own Choices (you know like the one's you made before you came here), stops you from making bad decisions, because everything is already decided for you. When I was in prison, I got to know the routine, and I felt safe there because I didn't have to choose to do anything. I see how people get stuck in the system, living in prison is easier then living free outside those walls & gates.

I know that sounds silly to some, but if you know ABSOLUTELY that you can't do it, that you WON'T get away with it... most likely you won't even try. Outside these prison walls you can con and scheme, trick, lie and steal with no more than a passing glance at your conscience. It is very easy to fall back to old habits once you leave, so hopefully you will learn new ways to deal with anger, indecision, addiction, abuse - making you a better person... a person less likely to end up back in jail.

Our Daiily Regimine

Breakfast 5am
Medication Time 8am
Lunch 10:30am
From 11:30am - 1pm we are confiined to our rooms, cells or bunks - this is lock-time, quiet time, nap time.

Them from 1:00pm to 2:30pm we are allowed to be away from our cells, to go to the day room, or read, or watch tv, shower, write letters home... this is your time, on sunny days you can even go outside if you want to.

Then between 2:30pm-4pm we are on lock... takling within your cell to your bunkie, or your other cellies when the rooms have 6 or 8 women in them... must stay in your room, but are allowed to play games, watch tv, read, write, sleep... The Choice is Yours...

Dinner 4pm
After dinner you have freetime til 5:15pm
Outside Rec or Gym Rec 6:30pm
Medication Time 8pm
At 9:30pm the day room tv goes off... you have to be in your room or cubicle at this time. The lights stay on til 10:30pm, and you are allowed to listen to your radio, or watch tv in your cell til midnight, sometimes 1am.

All those hours, that at home where unending boredom... now someone decides for you what you can do, and how you can do it. God knows my judgement wasn't good before... hope this confinement taught me something good. Only Time Will Tell...

As children we are told what to do, how to do it, when we are allowed to do it, when you have freetime, or time to read, watch tv or play... what time you go to sleep, when you wake up... These decisions our parents or guardians make for us - hopefully when you reach high school, you can make decent decisions because as you grew up... more and more time in the day was a choice you had to make... Good or Bad... Hopefully you learned from the mistakes you made. After high school our jobs generally keep you on a schedule where you can't get into too much trouble. It's when and if you become unemployed or disabled... that the lack of sometimes to do causes havoc...

Trouble springs from idleness, and grievous toil from needless ease.

I became unemployed do to a car accident, all of a sudden I have 16 hours to kill, with no money or job to help while away the hours... First I read, then I slept... fitfully of course, between the pain from my injuries & my nightmares - sleep wasn't much fun.

Since being home is boring... leading many times to greater mistakes... I know I must have a plan, an outline of what to do during the day to take up time so my idle mind doesn't travel back in time to the days of drugs and addictions...

How I Hope To Fill My Time...

Going to Church twice a week
Attend Meetings
Volunteer at the hospital
Take a class or two
Exercise
hike & camp
Watch TV at night
Read before bed
Take long walks in the beautiful sun shining weather
Go out to eat
What & Who I Plan No Associations With...

No Drug Dealers
No Drug Users
No Sex without Love
My sister an addict in denial
My husband (we are separated & he is an active addict)

I will stay away from the towns that I found myself getting high in most often
It's Time To Reflect, Learn & Do The Right Things... spend time with my parents, garden, make friends online who are in recovery...

Enjoy life... before when I used daily, I couldn't remember even the day before's adventures... now my mind is filled with thoughts of a lifetime... no haze in my head, no paranoia, nervousness or panic.

Look if I can do it, anybody can do it... Trust! I wouldn't lie to you... I almost died more times then I can count... well I plan on living now til I am 80 or more... how bout you?

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Whether we realize it or not, just the act of getting high is illegal - in our sick/twisted minds we believe that because our drug habits have turned into active addictions - that has put us "Addicts" exceptions to the rules... That somehow our rituals from the getting ready to cop (getting money, stealing and conniving, conning, etc.), to our copping (buying on the street, over the internet, picking up at friends houses, or having it delivered or getting it sent through the mail) to actually using the drugs (snorting, shooting, smoking, drinking or one of the other endless ways to use illegal substances)... we feel we are allowed to do drugs, we are not drug addicts or criminals just people who have strong reasons to use drugs... Therefore, we believe in our drug-induced minds that what we are doing is legal.

All the road to drug abuse, either the getting, the using, the process of making your drug acceptable for your use can cause you fines, jail time, rehabs and eventually death by overdose, possible drive-by shooting, accidential homocide, neglagent homocide... Drug Addiction is a time bomb lying in wait, waiting to catch you off guard and bring the wrath of God and turmoil to your life, and to your family.

We chase away the ones we love most... they grow tired of your never-ending supply of excuses as to why you missed work, didn't pick up the kids, never came home, how you can't pay the rent or buy food, because you spent your paycheck the week before on drugs... and now you owe it all away. They grow tired of you asking for money, stealing it from them, the lies you tell... they eventually run away from you in order to save themselves.

In the beginning, they want to help you... but the best way for them to help you is to stop enabling your behavior. Don't give them money, Don't call in sick for them, Don't Get Their Cars Back from Impound, Don't Get them out of jail. The best way to help an addict in your family, is to learn about the disease of addiction. Go To Al-Anon, or NAR-Anon and learn the signs of active addiction. If you want to help them: tell them to call if they need a ride home, to a meeting, or a rehab. Tell them you won't give them money, no matter what the excuse. Make them understand you love them, but you won't do anythng that could possibly enable them to use drugs.

As for us addicts, ask God to help you change your ways, to help learn new ways of dealing with anger, abuse, loneliness, ask God to guide you down the right path, to carry you when you cannot walk, to talk to you when you are alone and confused, to forgive you and help you learn how to be a better christian.

We believe as ADDICTS that is it our right to have the drugs we need to survive our lives, therefore for us the drugs we use are not illegal. We are exceptions to the rules, we feel that no matter what avenue we must take to get the drugs we need, for us that avenue is LEGAL.

We create new lies to cover old lies, and soon you don't know whether your life is real or a fantasy. For years I lived in a drug-induced haze of fantasy, believing that my using, stealing, getting and smoking was indeed "OK", cause well I am/was an addict. So if it was OK to use because I was an addict, then it was okay not to change my ways, not to stop, not to accept help, not to get better... It was OK to feel sorry for myself, and never learn new treatments, or ways to help myself because I was an Addict.

Because I am me, I imagined that everything in Addict Lifestyle was OK, I needed my drugs & I deserved them... I believed as an addict, not a user I was above the law

.

Going to prison was a shock... I never thought I would get caught. I didn't sell drugs. Turn others on to them, force anyone to use with me... but still I got locked up and you what...

It was in prison that I started to think about things... started to remember what live was before drugs and wondered if it was possible for me "THE ADDICT FROM HELL" could get clean.

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This was written on 2/21/05 but fits me today even at home....

I am lonely, alone - it doesn't matter if the world I live in is filled with people. I am still all alone. I wonder alot whether their other women in jail, in prison with me that hold their tonques, not wanting to be noticed, seen or heard. In jail, someone always finds fault with how you feel, how you act, or what you say, but why must their share their cruel words... Some people like myself, I know I did bad things... but damnit I am in prison, I am paying for mistakes, if I was perfect, if they were perfect, untouched, god-like in every way, we wouldn't of ended up here, (any of us)...

Some people in prison have a cell in which they share with one other person, but for the majority of my time in jail I spend in dorms... rooms with 80 people in them, some of them surrounded by 3 foot walls, but no privacy. All I had was my bunk, and 2 drawers underneath it. How I choose to live in my bunk, should be my concern only, not my bunkie or her bunkie or the person down the hall, it is my business... this space is mine, it is the only space that is totally mine. I admit over and over I am not neat, tidy or a perfectionist (not in a million years)... but I am not dirty - you won't find uneaten food, dirty clothes or filth where I live.... I am messy, you may never see a bed made in my life, I love to read books are behind my pillow, at the end of the bed, under the mattress, in between the sheets are the ones I am reading at the moment. Oh and I have to have paper and pen, papers some written on such as this one, thoughts - when I have a thought I need to print it, so it doesn't get muddled during the night as other thoughts run through my mind. My mess is exactly that MY MESS.

Its me in my head, reading several books at once, writing thoughts of dream and wishes as they come floating across my once hazy drug riddled mind, now clean clear and things make sense.

So as I sit in a room full of people, you can tell who are friends or acquintances many times just by the tone of the voice they use, and if they are laughing is it a kind laugh at a joke or joy, or evil laughter the laughter they use when they are making fun of someone.

I think I appear unreachable, untouchable, isolated. I don't know what others see when they look at me? first they see my messy hair, rumpled clothes (but how do you keep them not rumpled) you have no iron, no closet to hang them up. I don't care how I look in jail, I have no one to impress... I came in this place alone, and that is how I will go home.

It's strange when people look at me when I say something, they look at me like I am speaking a foreign language... like what I am saying has no meaning, no bearing on their lives or mine even, like what I say is not worthy of an answer, false and not worth only a shake of their heads.

My bunkmate has too much anger for her own good. She believes she owns the whole bunk, and that she was only allowing me to sleep there because they made her. I listen alot, when people think I am asleep or listening to the radio - I can't believe how they talk to each other, some of the women you know do other womens biddings... I can see that, and understand it too to a degree... if you have a long bid in jail, you may as well have someone you trust one hundred percent and maybe you won't feel so alone... but the girls in my unit have 2 yrs and under... certainly they could abstain from sex for that time... they don't have to have someone. I managed with a few friends I finally got... I didn't need to have sex.

If this girl, and that was what she was, just 21 already in jail for 2 yrs, had 4 months to go... if me or another inmate spoke to her the way she talks to us, would she cringe inside, or is she so hardened, heavy with anger and deceit, and even if that was her problem... Everyone has choices... obviously we didn't make very good ones out of prison, but here we are given a chance to right the wrongs - we have a choice everyday to get along with others, or to cause trouble, or to be a rude or a snob.

I did time in prison because the paths I chose were the wrong ones, what makes that worse was that I knew they were wrong and still I continued on my journey as if i didn't have a care in the world. I deserved the punishment, maybe more of it... I lost my freedom to go about the my day the way I wanted, was forced to share space with people I did not necessarily like.

In men's prisons, the men rally together to fight for their rights... that is why they have more rights then we do... because women don't rally together, they worry what others will think... so they act big, tough... but if we could just make them understand that our basic beings are the same... we live and breathe the same air, we love and hurt, learn and make decisions... but until the other women in this place realize this is the real world for us... I will be alone whether I am alone or in a crowded room... I am still all alone.

I thought coming home would be great... it's not. not for me anyway. I have no friends, except the ones I left in jail. All the people I knew before jail, won't even speak to me - it's as if I am contaigious and they are afraid of knowing me, that by knowing me... they realize the paths they are on aren't the right ones and they don't want to go there... don't want to believe or change... or maybe they have changed... and now they think I will ruin them.

I need new friends anyway, but it is so lonely. I am more lonely here at home, then I was towards the end of bid.. I finally made friends, people I liked to talking to, playing scrabble with, just being with... in fact, I write to 4 people I was in prison with, and I look forward to their letters as much as they look forward to mine.

I almost wish I could go back... my sobriety has not been as easy as I thought it would be... and I have used once a week since I have been home. I lie to my father and tell him no I have not used... but I am not a good liar, and I hate being deceitful... but he will have me thrown out of the house... and though I do feel alone here, and I use once a week, if I lived on the street, I would use everyday... begging, borrowing, stealing, sleeping with the dealers just to get high... GOD PLEASE DON'T LET HAPPEN TO ME AGAIN...

Right now, I chose to use on occasion, yes it is a bad choice I know this... but I am oh so lonely... not that it makes me any less lonely, it just makes me feel numb for a while that I don't care that I am alone... course the coming down if worse then ever... I had fun in jail, laughed without drugs... but now I never smile, I have no one to hang around, I have online - but even that gets cold after awhile.

See the girls in jail that became my friends, we talked each other out of wanting to use, we fought the hard road together... we helped each other when we down, now those girls still in jail still have that closeness... I am alone... the room is not crowded.

The life I lead is non-existant... I don't watch tv, I have no one to be with... I can;t believe that no one wants to spend time with me. Sure they are guys who couldn't wait til I got out of jail, I spend time with them (having sex), they don't take the me out to eat, or to a movie... we just get a room, I get them off... then they leave me in this motel room by myself... that's a sure way to drug use if you ask me...

Oh one makes love to me, but he doens't love me. Doesn't want to go out with me... one ot them has a gf and is afraid to be seen with me... I want more then that... Seeing them just makes me feel more alone when they leave, see they go back to their lives, their familes and I am still alone.

I am thinking about going back to rehab... I know I will always be an addict, that I will have to choose each day, whether I am to stay sober or not... it would be easier if I had someone who wanted me to stay clean, someone to help me fill up the lonely hours in the day.

I need a friend... not an online friend. A real friend. I used to have one along time ago, I loved her, she was my friend/my sister a part of my life... she has her own life now, and doesn't talk to me anymore... I know she had to grow up, had to find her own way... but I miss her... and she just went on living like she never knew me.

Maybe jail is my only answer... if I find myself drowning in lonliness and using more and more - heading back to the way I was before... I will turn myself in... I have a sentence hanging over my head... and it was easier living in jail... it was structured... I think that is what I need.

I haven't cried, but I want to... I want to right now... I want to have someone hold me, and tell me it's gonna be okay... but who is gonna do that... my father didn't even hug me when I got out of jail... he thought it was too soon... and as usual he was right. He is always right... I wish he loved me, or I wish someone loved me... I don't like walking up every monring having to face another whole day alone.

I am a toucher, a feeler, a hugger, I take care of my friends... but no one acknowledges I exist anymore. and I don't want to live like this...

my husband, he won't even talk to me. we are separated, but we still talked. now he threatened to call the police if I bothered him... that hurt alot. I know we aren't together, but he understood me... I just want to hear his voice.

I am really bad off right now... I know tomorrow will be brighter... god I hope so... I can't imagine it being much more lonely then this...

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Crack was my life...

Hi, my name is Linda. I am 39 yrs old. I am a crack/cocaine addict in recovery, and have a dual diagnosis with several mental illness titles to add: Depression, anxiety, PTSD, ADD, OCD, and I have an antisocial/borderline personality disorder which means I sometimes do not show compassion or empathy for others. 15% more people with this personality disorder are addicts like me.

But we as addicts cannot blame others for addictions. Another person may have played a part in your beginning but did not ultimately force you to try drugs. You did this yourself. You most likely new the consequences of trying a particular drug, but either felt you were above addiction or didn't care or like in most causes just didn't think. Because if you had thought about it - you would never have tried anything. You would of ran as far and as fast as your legs could carry you if you had any idea how you would end up in just a few short years.

I know... I thought I was above those people with addictions. Those people I thought just didn't have any willpower, or they just didn't care about anyone but themselves. I mean they got high every chance they got, didn't that mean they liked it.

Little did I know then, that most of those folks wanted to quit, tried to quit, but lacked either the knowledge of how, or the desire to stop the insanity. Most of those folks, I thought were having a great time getting ****ed up... were dying inside. Wishing they knew how to stop this insane thinking, stinkin thinkin it's called. The stinkin thinkin that brings them back to the drug even if they have days clean or weeks clean. They run back to the drug if they have a bad day, or it rains or somebody cuts in front of them on the road. Well before they ever picked up a drug, they handled these situations differently - but now (they only know one way) and that is to pick up the drug again and numb the pain... to hide inside their sick minds and bodies til they don't feel anymore.

Well you know what, when the drug is gone. The feeling comes back - just like that. Then not only are you mad, sad, depressed, lonely, angry and tired - you are also most likely broke, homeless, hungry and definately not numb. So here goes that insane thinking all over again... lets get some money (steal, rob, kill, prostitute), ok we got the money, now find a dealer - call one, cop on the street, whatever... okay now you got the crack - find a place to smoke it. Now lite up that pipe, and inhale deep - now doesn't that feel good. For about 20 minutes it feels glorious. Then what?

What do you do now? Do you chase the dragon all nite... the insanity of creating ways to get money, finding a dealer who won't rip you off, smoking, then coming down and runing all nite in a circle. You may as well be a monkey in the circus for the circles you will be running that nite.

Eventually you will come down. Some will use benzos, some will use alcohol, some will just go mad. Some people like me can just take a hit and go to sleep. But when I wake up, man do i want a hit. So does everybody else who uses. There is one thing for sure and addict wants every day and that is another hit.

And that is how I became the CRACK ADDICT.

I am trying now for sobriety. I have been through many rehabs and detox places... but I have never got more than 59 miracles (days) in a row before screwing up again. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be free of the disease of addiction or if CRACK will have me by the balls forever. Figuratively speaking, of course - I am a girl.

Anyway, the fact of the matter is... I want to continue my behavior as an addict, but without the consequences; which we all know is impossible. Or we want to be clean but don't want to feel the pain, we are used to feeling numb - feeling nothing. Because after using as often as I do, you no longer get high... you just get numb. And even that only lasts a little while.

I just wanted to update everyone on my situation, my life as a crack addict was worse than ever. Even if I didn't use everyday - the feelings and remorse that go with addiction are there every single day.

My home life was a shambles. No one trusted me anymore. I had done things I never dreamt I would do. I had stolen from family and friends. Forged checks that did not belong to me. Written checks on a checking account I closed. Given head to strangers (yes i used a condom - but does that really make it okay?). I had sex with dealers for drugs. Had sex with strangers using a condom for money. I had rented out my car for drugs and for money. I had panhandled, and pretended to be out of gas and begged for money. I have bought things with a credit cards and returned them for cash. I have pawned all my possessions for money or drugs.

When I wanted a hit, I wanted a hit. If I was lucky or rather unlucky to have a little money - that begins my insanity to smoking crack. After that first hit, I would do anything and I mean anything to get another one. That is the shame. I wasn't always this way. It used to be that if I had money I got high, if I was broke - Well - I just didn't get high. That changed as I went from a social user of cocaine to crack addict.

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