While I have never heard of an incident of someone overdosing on methamphetamine, I do know people who have gotten shot because of someone using it. Sleep deprivation and chemical cocktails make for unhappy endings. I also know one woman who wound up having a stroke and losing a lot of her mental capacity and with it her personality. She was one of the “old school” crowd. Heroin, pills and cocaine are more likely to be the fast paced killer. That is another thing that makes methamphetamine so scary, because you don’t see that kind of ending coming.

I have a certain compassion for addicts, which I don’t think that is odd considering where I have been. When it is a situation that is close to home, however, I notice my compassion going out the window and being replaced with frustration and a little bit of judgment. My brother in law, who is still using, has a tendency to bring out the worst in me, possibly because he is my husband’s twin and I associate what he does with things that I have been through with my husband in the past. I was contemplating this recently. Wondering where my compassionate side had gone to when it came to him. Why did I take this so personally? I mean its not my life, it’s not my husband so why should I get so emotionally charged about his poor decision to continue on the path of destruction that he has chosen?

Part of it is that I know the foggy cloud that he lives in. I know he believes the lies he tells. I also know that if you acknowledge the problems, call things what they are, then there is a better chance at fixing them. With every excuse I hear him make, my frustration grows. It isn’t from a place of condescending arrogance that I pull out bits of judgment but from the place inside of me that sees myself in him. A place that would do the work for him if I could. A place that needs to learn to let go of that idea.

The other part is something that a news anchor said when reporting the death of Whitney Houston. He said we had always carried the hope that we would see her recover. We took for granted that is what would happen and how it would end. The notion that she was just going through a phase and it would pass being something we held on to. Her death was a reminder to me. One of my sayings is that there is hope for everyone. Everyone has the capacity to change. I am painfully reminded that not everyone does. The language used in the meeting rooms of AA and NA reminds its participants that using only leads three places: jails, institutions and death. The people who wind up in the first two are the lucky ones that are being provided another opportunity to start over.

As much as I have hated being incarcerated, and wouldn’t want to do it again, and don’t wish for anyone to have to go through it, I do believe sometimes it is necessary. It can be an opportunity for the fog to lift and change perspective. If provided with the right tools then it could really be used for good.

So I find a part of myself wishing my brother in law into jail in the back of my mind and my prayer life. Because I am reminded of what the alternatives are and I want to see him choose life. Sadly he doesn’t see things in this life or death scenario. As for me, my lesson in this is that again, I have to give up the illusion of control. I don’t really have any control in what anyone else chooses. I can only set a good example, offer help and advice when the time is right and stop allowing things outside of my control to have a negative impact on me. More on how that works out to come…….

-Lauren Johnson

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My roommate was raised by parents who are Jehovah’s Witnesses, whose religion requires that they not celebrate Birthdays, Christmas, etc. So my friend never had the Christmas experience that so many of us grew up with and does not observe those practices as an adult. She admittedly tries to make up for what she feels she missed out on. She buys an outrageous amount of presents for her children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews etc. Her sister does the same thing. She has gone as far as to take out loans to pay for presents in past years. This year I watched her and her husband bring a procession of bags up into their room, only to make a trip to her sister’s to pick up another carload that she had stored there. She recognizes that it is too much but it has turned into a compulsive habit. It’s a virtual runaway train. I know my friend and her family dynamic well enough to know that the blame can not be exclusively laid at the doors of the Kingdom Hall. My friend grew up with and still deals with a mother that is abusive to her in a multitude of ways. A mother who is an alcoholic who judges her daughter’s drug problems very harshly without seeing her own problem. Her mother who would abuse her physically and verbally, would then come and bring her gifts to make it all better. So now although she is somewhat aware of its origins she has a difficult time with the concept that love is not bought. She is a smart woman and understands this on an intellectual level. However, there is some innate part of her being that can’t seem to unlearn those lessons that were so deeply ingrained.

I recently also had the chance to watch a similar story unfold with a family member; let’s call him Grant. Grant has a 7 year old son and has spent the majority of that time high, or coming down from methamphetamines. Grant will disappear for days or weeks on end only to come home to sleep for equally long periods of time. They do have brief time periods of sober normal living. It scares me to think that Grant’s son is learning some really bad behavioral patterns from this. Add to that, Grant recently got a job. He hasn’t had a legitimate job for several years. Grant stayed sober for close to two months in the process of getting this job and I, along with the rest of his family, once again had big hopes that THIS would be THE time. Unfortunately that was not the case and he has only been trying to juggle his use with his job. It saddens me because I know what the most likely outcome will be. However noble his intentions may be, the drugs take over. He had made plans a few weeks ago to spend the weekend with his son, but on the way to pick him up, got high. He didn’t wind up spending any time with his son that weekend. He did buy his son some clothes and a movie and a baseball and glove. He doesn’t see what I can see from the outside. That those things do no good, if he has no one to take him and play. Those presents are no substitute for being present.

All of this transported me back to one of the times when I was the person who tied my emotions to money. It is easy enough to see it and call it out in someone else’s situation. Recognizing it in your own life, that is enlightening.

In jail, and prison everyone starts out on equal footing. When you arrive there you are stripped of all personal belongings and given state issued clothes, shoes, and a small hygiene bag which includes toothpaste, toothbrush, small bar of soap, some pads, and toilet paper. Doesn’t matter how much money you have, this is how everyone enters. Once you have been there and your living quarters’ turn comes up for commissary then, if you are blessed enough to have someone put money in your account, you may purchase things from the commissary. Things sold on commissary range from Ramen Noodles and junk food, to coffee, to writing and nicer hygiene supplies. Since a lot of the food served leaves something to be desired it is nice to have something squirreled away for the days when the menu is not something you can agree to eat. In Travis County you fill out a form each week, and a few days later they wake you up to give you your order. In prison, you get to go about twice a month and you wait in a line at the door to be called out to stand in another line and then carry it back to your dorm. Once a month you get a statement telling you if you have had deposits or withdrawals from your account. Other than that the only way of knowing if your money is there, is by taking your chances and making a list and getting in line. The thing about that is, you only get two trips for each spend cycle which usually encompasses a 2-4 week span of time. If you go, and there is no money in your account then you have essentially wasted a spend.

Not everyone is lucky enough to have people who will send them money. Having been that unlucky girl most of the time, I can see how this disparity raises or lower your social standing . If you happen to have any marketable skills, then prison does have its own economic system and you can barter services for items. Some people wash clothes, do hair, draw cards, etc. But for others like me who really aren’t talented in any of those areas, there is a bad feeling associated with commissary day. There is only one feeling worse than having nothing and knowing it. That is thinking you might have something only to return empty handed.

It goes beyond the gossip that happens occasionally when the haves whisper about someone pretending they got money coming. It is this empty feeling and sudden drop of heart and spirit when you are standing in line and hear the lady call you to the window to tell you you have no money. Because that isn’t what she is really saying. Or more to the point is isn’t what it sounds like. It sounds more like she said, “Ma’am no one cares enough about you to send you any money this month. You have been forgotten, NEXT.”

The truth may be a million other things: the money order got sent back for an incorrect zip code, it may be still sitting on the desk waiting for a stamp to be mailed, or maybe the loved one had an unexpected expense and wanted to, but couldn’t. None of those things matter in that moment. In that moment there is an isolated forgotten feeling and you just wish you had a hole to crawl into.

On the flip side of that, when you go and they begin to fill your bag with the items on your list, it is almost like a rush or high. I have thought about this on occasion and have come to realize that it isn’t as much about getting those items, as it is feeling like some one out there is thinking about you. Commissary happens to be the catalyst for many problems in prison. People manipulate each other, hustle each other, fight about the line and who gets to go next. From the beginning of commissary day and up to the point where everyone who wants a chance to go, gets to, tensions run high. Those days tend to turn otherwise nice ladies into selfish, mean monsters. Money is the root of all evil. That is the often misquoted saying, but the verse actually says the LOVE OF money is the root of all evil. That is when we focus our feelings on the money and what it buys whether it is for ourselves or someone else.

In all of these situations we give money more value than it deserves. Money is only paper after all and possessions fade. Things are consumed. However, I think that a lot of the reason for all the drama, isn’t because a HO-HO is worth fighting for, it’s what the items represent in the back of our minds.

Love.

-Lauren Johnson

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My Facebook has been inundated with friends mourning the death of Esme Barrera these last couple of days and it has been horrible and heartbreaking to read about. I did not know Esme but wish I had – she seems like the kind of smart, caring woman who I would admire. I did not know Stephanie either – maybe she didn’t come to my class or only came once or twice – but I think I would have admired her as well. The women I meet in my class have endured such hardships and face such demons but they usually remain optimistic that their lives will get better, that this is the turning point, that they now have what it takes to get back out into the world and win.

And it’s so heartbreaking that the world sometimes does not let them. Sometimes what’s wrong with the world is stronger than one woman. In this battle to keep women safe, to keep them whole, sometimes we lose. My husband wrote about Stephanie as well, and one of her family members left a comment on his site thanking him for writing about her and telling him that she wasn’t homeless by choice but by circumstance; she wanted to fight her demons on her own. She had been to rehab several times but it hadn’t worked out. Her family tried to help her. While we live in different communities, Stephanie’s family mourns her just as much as my community is mourning Esme right now. While Esme’s friends are posting online, passengers of the #7 bus discussed Stephanie today. I don’t want to draw comparisons between the two or say that one is worse than the other. They are both horrible. Neither should have happened.

I want to remember women like Stephanie and families like Stephanie’s who live with and fight addiction. I meet women every week at the jail and now at Austin Recovery who are battling for their very lives and who really want to change. This is not easy work for them. I don’t know if it ever ends.

-Kat Craft

Edit: I want to add that after hearing from Stephanie’s families and friends, I realize just how small a city Austin is and how close we all are to one another. I wrote about “my” community and “her” community but the two overlap so much that they are really the same. I also spoke with a friend of Stephanie’s at Austin Recovery today, and she said that she could always tell that Stephanie had family who loved her and cared about her. The women at Austin Recovery are keeping y’all in their thoughts and prayers.

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Conspire alum Lauren Johnson continues her series on incarceration, addiction, criminal justice and life in general.

Recently I had the opportunity to tag along with Kat to an “Inner View” with KOOP personality Abigail Mahnke. Kat did a fabulous job talking about her craft, (pun intended) and I thought going in that I was prepared for the usual questions that I am asked about Conspire. For the most part that was true although there was a small section that I stumbled around in and couldn’t think clearly enough to articulate what I would have wanted to say. All of that said, Abigail asked me an unexpected question that I didn’t stumble with. I do, however, think that it is a question that I would like to explore a little more here. We were discussing how many of the women that come into prison have experienced some type of trauma. Abigail asked me if that was true for me and I was a little vague with my answer.

The truth of the matter is that I can remember two instances of sexual abuse. The first one happened when I was four or five years old. A friend of mine and I were playing in the apartments that we lived in, counting mailboxes. Some guy came over and I really don’t remember how he got us to go with him. I remember that he took us to an apartment, had us masturbate him and then gave us items and sent us on our way. I remember thinking it was yucky. I remember that my friend was given a nice watch, and I was given some sort of magazine. I don’t know if I was told or if it was just my own thought that she got a better prize because I didn’t do a good job. This is my thought as a child. I know we didn’t go straight back and tell our parents and I am not sure why.

Eventually my friend and I told some lady that was moving into the complex as we were talking to her. Of course she went and told our parents. I remember going to the police station and looking through mug shot books. I really didn’t recognize the guy (or at least that is my memory now) But my friend did, or maybe she just said she did so we could leave. I also seem to remember her and I leading a small SWAT team to the apartment that we were taken to. I don’t know anything beyond that of what happened with the whole thing.

The next time something happened to me, I was thirteen. It was the morning of November 22, 1990. You may think that it is significant that I remember the date, but I didn’t. I just know that it happened the morning of Thanksgiving. I had snuck out of the house and gone over to the house of a friend of mine where I hung out sometimes. It was about a 30 minute walk from my house to there, but this was something that I did on a fairly regular basis. I had hung out with my friend and then around 1 or 2 am, I began my trek back home. About half way through the walk I heard a man coming up behind me. I looked back and saw him a few steps back but it wasn’t until he wrapped his hand around my mouth that I knew I was in trouble. He walked me around to the side of a house just off the main road. He put a dog leash around my neck and threatened to choke me if I made any noise. I wasn’t sure that I was going to live through the experience. Once he was finished, he left and I went back to the pay phone and called my friend collect. My friend met me at that store and brought me back and sat there with me while I cried, and showered and cried.

It was an awful and traumatic experience. The thought that kept crossing my mind afterward was that as awful as that was, I can’t imagine how much worse it would be if it had been someone I knew and trusted. I knew more than one girl who had gone through something like that with a father, or uncle. I went back home at 5 or so in the morning and snuck back in through the window. I laid there thinking about all the possible consequences that could still be pending. What if I was pregnant, or had an STD or HIV? Then I heard a loud thump on the door. A racing thought that the man had followed me ran through my mind. Just like the girl in the horror movie, I go to the door to find out…. it was the morning paper. My mom must have discovered that I had left that night because she came into my room and asked where I had been. I lied and said I had been sleeping in an alcove of my closet. I doubt she bought it, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue with me that morning. She left the room, but not before saying something to the effect of:“one of these days something bad is going to happen. You are going to get raped or murdered and then what?”

I remember that whole day being off kilter to me. I was smart enough to make an appointment with Planned Parenthood where I could be seen without payment. I got tested for everything, and I got on birth control. I am thankful that they were there! I was thankful that everything turned out negative. My rape experience was the worst thing I have endured at the hands of someone else. In the scheme of my life it comes second only to the experience of going back to jail after having my son and being separated from him.

There were other times growing up when I had the feeling that if a person had the chance to do something to me, they would. So those were the people that I never allowed to have that opportunity. My stories are not that bad considering the stories that I have heard from other women. I don’t say that to minimize it. I don’t think that these instances had anything to do with the direction that my life went. I dealt with them in a healthy way and chose not to spend a lot of time dwelling on them once I did. It is a part of my story, but it doesn’t define me. Everyone experiences things differently, and just because I bounced back from these experiences doesn’t mean that everyone should handle it the same way. Each individual has to go through their own process. The recommendation I would make to someone going through that is: feel the feeling, the sadness, the anger, the grief, the fear. All of those “bad emotions” that aren’t bad at all. Set a time limit. Don’t allow it to take over your life. Talk about it with someone you trust. Talking about it helps to release the power that it holds over you.

Ed. note: If you have experienced rape or sexual abuse, there are several low cost and/or free counseling services available. Contact Capitol Area Counseling, the YWCA or call 211 to find info about victim services.

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When Lauren first approached me about volunteering for Conspire, it took me a little while to think about what she could do. Then I remembered how much she enjoyed writing in class and that at some point, she had been working on a novel. With everything else that I do, it can be hard to stay on top of the blog, so I decided to offer the position of guest blogger to Lauren. She accepted and I thought, “Great – I’ll get a few posts and get to keep in touch with her.”

Several months and many many posts later, I have to say that I’ve been so impressed with Lauren’s commitment to both the blog and to researching and furthering social change. We don’t agree on everything, but I really respect her opinion and experience. I’ve learned from her and enjoy editing and reading her posts every week.

Thanks again Lauren!

-Kat Craft

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We would love to see you! Email conspiretheatre@gmail.com or call 512-222-6798 if you have any questions.

-Kat Craft

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At one point during my addiction I became aware that I don’t like to feel emotions that are unpleasant. Nothing surprising about that I guess. I mean who really does? I was aware that doing meth, in combination with my crossword and scratch off bingo lottery tickets, was a way for me to avoid feeling those things. I vividly remember a summer after a very difficult break up. For months shortly after I woke up in the morning (I did usually sleep, just not more than a few hours), I would start a book of crossword puzzles that I would finish later that day. Some people were amazed at this. I simply told them what I had figured out – that if I am solving a crossword puzzle, it is almost impossible to think about anything else.

In treatment, we were exploring the subject of feelings and I mentioned this. I had an AHA moment that one of my “thinking errors” as we called them, was not wanting to feel or deal with anything unpleasant. There was a neater term that we used for that, but I don’t recall what it was. Point being that feeling sad, or mad, or angry, are things that a lot of people often try to avoid.

We spoke about fear. In the beginning of the discussion the participants talked about how fear was bad. The general consensus in the room was that it is not good to be scared.  We were in a prison setting so admitting fear may just be unnatural for that environment. The facilitators began to bring up instances when fear is the instinct that keeps you alive. It warns us to help us stay unharmed. Fear of touching a fire keeps us from getting burned. Therefore fear is not inherently bad. WOW! What a profound thought. That “negative” emotions weren’t bad. Just something that everyone experiences.

The facilitator said something else that day that struck me as profound. Many of us fall victim to one thing or another. Have a difficult time at some point in our journey. Often people will ask the question “Why Me?!” To which she replied, WHY NOT YOU?! What makes you so special that you shouldn’t have to endure some hard times in your life? Why not you, when there are people around this world who have an enormously difficult life compared to you? Every day people suffer. Lose loved ones, lose possesions, don’t eat, etc.

I got to really absorb that. I thought about how even in prison, we had a lot of luxuries that millions of people around the world, do not have. Millions of people that did not committ crimes don’t get three meals a day and a fresh pair of clothes to wear.

I had the realization that actually feeling things that feel uncomfortable, or even “bad” is a part of life. It is something that is natural, and meant to be. Realizing it helped me change my perspective about the way I deal with situations. It also has an impact on how I advise people who come to me for help. I often tell people to feel it. Give a certain amount of time to feel the yucky feelings and experience it as much as you can bear and then some. The only way out is to go through it. Not sure where I heard that sentence but it is truly significant.

I remember a story that I believe illustrates that point. An anecdote of a caterpillar struggling in its cacoon. Someone happens upon it and notices its struggle. Not wanting to see the poor caterpillar go through such a tough time the person surgically frees the caterpillar from the cacoon. The problem of course being, that it is necessary for the caterpillar to struggle through its metamorphosis in order for it to grow into the butterfly it was meant to be. The same way our struggles in life strengthen us and transform us. Similary, if we avoid going through it, we are unable to move past it.

Unfortunately this isn’t a problem that is only found among drug addicts. This is such a common problem that I thought it even more important to write about it. Stuffed feelings have a way of manifesting in a plethora of unhealthy ways. One of the things that I have noticed in the majority of classes that I have taken in conjunction with rehabiliation is that in the beginning everyone is handed a piece of paper with a list of “feeling” words and a bunch of emoticons next to them to aid in understanding. When a class starts everyone is asked to go around the room and say their name and how they feel. Amazing that such a simple thing could be so important. I think everyone should have to do this throughout their day. It should be standard starting in elementary school. Being able to identify feelings and communicate them is a very important skill. All too often we avoid feeling them so much that we have a hard time identifying them for ourselves much less communicating it to someone else. Being able to communicate those feelings appropriately to another person has a lot of healing power in it. Hearing things said out loud helps to process the thought in a more complete way. It is often surprising that something so simple that can aid in the complex problems that we have. Journaling is another thing that sounds so easy that it seems ridiculous that it could help us through a hard spot in life. It seems that way unless you have tried it and seen for yourself. I think Myspace was onto something having people sign in and do a feelings check along with their status. I wonder if we could get Facebook on board with an idea like that? Let’s start thinking about what it really is we are feeling. Pay special attention to emotions like anger since that is a tricky one and usually has an underlying emotion fueling it. Don’t be scared to feel it. Then don’t get so stuck in it that you don’t move beyond it!

-Lauren Johnson

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Oprah Winfrey spoke of a vision board. The idea behind that vision board is that if you can imagine something specific then you are open to receive the possibility and opportunity as it comes your way. You can recognize it when it comes. She gave the example of buying a car. Once you buy a car, then every where you go, you begin to see that kind of car. It isn’t because that model became really popular after you purchased it, it is because now you recognize it when you see it. It is a concept that I can see play out in my life constantly.

Visualization and planning can bring us closer to where and who we want to be. In only a few short weeks we will be ringing in a new year. This is a great time to contemplate, to visualize and to plan. Reading the article that Kat posted about the woman who was sentenced to 3 years in federal prison for lying on a food stamp application to put food on her table really sent it home for me, that the things I want to change really do have a far reaching impact. Honestly, I think the law is silly but in the back of my mind I think that if it came down to it I could go to a food bank. Well, I could if I had a car and gas in it, since we don’t live close to a bus route. I am resourceful though, but why would we make one of our most basic needs be so difficult to access? Doesn’t make any sense. So it is time to really sit down over the next few weeks. After Christmas passes the week that brings the new year in is often a week of nostalgia, contemplation and wonderment at where the journey will lead next. I don’t want to leave too much of it to chance though. So I better get busy on a vision and a plan!

I have been seeing many inspiring things around me lately. It may be because I am looking for them more than usual but whatever it is, I like it. On the evening news tonight there was a story about how a 22 year old woman strong armed Bank Of America into reversing their decision to charge more outrageous bank fees to its customers in just 30 days. That is awesome! I like the idea that anyone can make a difference!

Molly Katchpole started an online petition to get Bank Of America to repeal its decision to charge a $5 purchase fee to its customers.(http://abcnews.go.com/Business/bank-america-drops-plan-debit-card-fee/story?id=14857970) Signatures began pouring in and now the change has been made. Please note that Bank of America is one of the Big Banks that received a government bail out.

I think that this is significant, especially at a time when the Occupy movements are popping up all over the U.S and abroad. As with many of you, I have been hearing a lot on the news and in other media outlets about these protests. As best as I can figure it out, the Occupy movement stands for the little guy. They want to end corporate greed and the motto, “ We are the 99%” means to me that if we stand up for changes to be made then we can do it do what?. Especially when we are the majority. I have heard other examples of the Occupy philosophy explained that they want a redistribution of wealth – Robin Hood kind of thing if you will. That sounds good in theory, but the reality of it doesn’t mesh with me! I think that we all have to work for what we get.

Dave Ramsey had his own rant about the whole thing. I think Dave makes a lot of sense. (

In his opening line of his letter to the Occupy Wall Street, he asks some really good questions,

after he echoes the protestors cry:

“I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!” Yeah, that’s great. But what do you want? What are your goals? What are your demands? What result are you looking for?”

I think that is a good starting set of questions. I think those are questions that Molly answered straight away before she put her plan into action. That is how things get done! That is how change is made.

I have mentioned on here that one of my first orders of business with my new voter registration card is to work towards having Texas opt out of the law that began in 1996 restricting anyone with a drug related felony from receiving government assistance such as food stamps. With that goal in mind, I have made some phone calls and gotten some preliminary results! I have found out this last week that Representative Elliott Naishtat from central Austin has championed this issue and filed a number of bills and plans on filing another one this legislative session. In the spring of 2012, the representatives will begin to prepare for the 2013 legislative session, which is when I will really begin to work on this issue rather than talk about it.

When I spoke with the lady who walked me through how things happen, she sounded very excited to hear from me. The idea was tossed around that I may be asked to tell my story to aid in getting the bill passed. (Un)fortunately I don’t have the kind of story that many more unfortunate people do have.I do have a voice that I plan to use to explore the what if’s for my life and the reality of lives of others. It may be a year away but I am developing the plan to create the effect that I want to see. What happens when I accomplish this task? I start developing a plan for the next thing on my vision board!

-Lauren Johnson

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