Pri-zen: How I got free in prison

So there I was on A-yard at Chowchilla (the receiving yard at the roughest women’s prison in California) living in a small room with 7 other people. Not living, existing. Locked in a room, unable to control the elements.

Claire Nana

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Behind The Walls: Voices From The Inside

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4 min read

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Apr 24, 2020

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A year ago today, I sat on my top bunk with makeshift earplugs and a towel tied tight around my head. Through the maxi-pad, Vaseline and trash bag mixture lodged in my ears and through the towel, I could still hear Connie’s tirade as she paced. I could still hear Crystal’s cackling laugh, the sound of dragging flip flops, Granny’s creaky voice cussing under her breath. And more… I heard sirens and alarms, loudspeaker announcements, keys clanging together. The inconsistent buzzing of the light. The moldy old swamp cooler above my head dropping black particles of God knows what. I heard the slam of lockers. The sounds of violence and desperation. It was my first week of prison and I was a raw nerve. Every sound a visceral experience.

I wasn’t just a sensitive person. A doctor once told me I was an “HSP” a *highly* sensitive person. My therapist called me an “empath” and my first supervisor when I was interning as a Marriage and Family Therapist said I was “too porous” like a sponge. I never watched the news or scary movies. I always had to have the lighting just so, even as a small child. The TV had to be turned down to the perfect volume. I couldn’t tolerate harsh smells. I was a picky eater.

So there I was on A-yard at Chowchilla (the receiving yard at the roughest women’s prison in California) living in a small room with 7 other people. Not living, existing. Locked in a room, unable to control the elements.

Everyday, I worked on perfecting the perfect earplug. I tried tying different things around my head (state issued blue nightgown. orange pants leg…) to drown out the sounds. And even when it was time to sleep, there was the sound of their breathing. The bright light from the hallway. It was a brutal assault on my senses. Outside of the room, there was a whole host of other obstacles for my totally unprepared self. the first few “yard downs” brought me to tears. (A yard down is when everyone has to get down on the ground suddenly because of a fight or a medical emergency.) Heart pounding, I silently prayed for whoever I assumed was hurt or when I saw fighting. I couldn’t bear to see or even imagine anyone in pain and nearly gave myself whiplash looking away from violence. The alarms melted my brain and revved up my heart and triggered seizures in an unfortunate few. The heat waved around my body like molasses. Pepper spray, no matter how far away it was sprayed, somehow always found my throat.

I often felt I couldn’t take a whole breath. Having suffered from anxiety and panic attacks all my life, i put in a medical request and ended up practically begging the doctor for meds. She said I was “drug seeking.” So, I remained sober and unmedicated and took matters into my own hands. That feeling of constant commotion was a year ago and it’s a miracle how different I am. A few days ago, I even slept through the doors popping. (our doors are automatically unlocked each morning around 6am and the series of metal on metal sounds is referred to as “doors popping” even though it actually sounds like an assault rifle being shot down the hallway… I slept through that!) My mind stays focused now through any chaos. When a yard down happens, not only am I not moved to tears, but I tell myself someone is probably faking a medical emergency. I don’t feel bad when people fight. My heart beats at a steady pace now, no matter what. I can sleep. I can eat. the light can be bright and I don’t even notice it.

In that first week of prison, I realized I could not exist in this environment, so I asked God for help. It occurred to me that I was brought here to get stronger so I wrote down and said out loud (whenever I got minute alone) “I am stronger than I think” … because I felt scared of everyone in those first days (having never been in a fight, having no tattoos, and no friends or relatives who had ever been arrested AND never having watched even one episode of Orange is the New Black) I started telling myself “God is guiding the people around me to protect and help me.” Immediately, I started seeing evidence that this is true. When I felt short of breath I said “I breathe easily fully and deeply. My breath is effortless, my soul is at peace.” and it worked better than a pill. I told myself “something amazing and beautiful is coming out of this experience.” and “this is a fun adventure!”

Now I barely remember that feeling of fear and overwhelm. I imagine it’s gets forgotten like (from what I’ve heard) the pain of childbirth… replaced with an unprecedented feeling of love for this new beautiful creature that I will forever love and protect my (free) self.