How to Rebuild Your Life After Hitting Rock Bottom.

The following is adapted from Blank Canvas by Craig Stanland.

“He declares himself guilty who justifies himself before accusation.”

— Proverb

“How does the defendant plead?”

Everyone in the courtroom is waiting on my answer. It’s why we’re all here: the judge, the prosecutor, the FBI, my attorney, and me.

I know it’s over. I know the three words that I must speak. It doesn’t mean I want to. I don’t have much choice in the matter. My attorney made it clear that there were no other options. I would be pleading guilty to the charge of mail fraud.

In our meetings leading to this moment, I tried several times to explain to my attorney how the government was wrong. “This sentence they wrote is not accurate,” I had insisted. “I did return the components to the manufacturer.”

“Doesn’t matter. You will lose.”

Even at the opposite end of the conference table, his six-foot frame looms over me. His dark eyes and stern expression tell me he is not messing around. Did he go grey from stress or from age?

He speaks deliberately and without emotion. “The government doesn’t like it when people fight. Especially when they know, they are right. The government doesn’t like trials. They cost them time and money. When you’re inevitably found guilty, they’ll sentence you to the maximum they can. They will punish you for bringing this to trial.”

That didn’t sound right to me, but the fear it instilled outweighed my sense of right and wrong. I was picking at the smallest of details, missing the big picture. The fact is, I did use my extensive knowledge of the victim’s warranty policy to secure brand-new pieces of networking equipment that I later sold at a profit. I was fighting over grains of sand on a beach.

My attorney reiterated, “You will lose. If you plea, you have a shot at probation. Which I cannot guarantee, but for the offense you committed, it sounds reasonable.”

That is why I am standing in this courtroom now, on this cold January day. I open my mouth to speak. My voice is shaky. I don’t want to say it. The moment I do, I’m immediately a federally convicted felon. But I have to; I have to take a shot.

“Guilty, Your Honor.”

I feel like I made a mistake. I feel like my life is over.

The judge nods her head in approval. “The court accepts your plea; you will be sentenced on June 10, 2014. Let the record show that the defendant made an unusual and exceptional immediate payment of $100,000 in restitution.”

I had closed my 401(k) to do this. I wanted to buy myself into a better sentence or no sentence at all. I made a $100,000 bet that will or will not come to fruition in five months.

In less than one second, I’m a convicted felon. I will carry this moniker for the remainder of my life. My life is cast in the shadow of an unknown future and there is not a thing I can do about it.

The Day Had Come

We knew the day would come: August 13, 2014, was tattooed on my brain. It doesn’t make it any easier. The waiting and planning are over. I’m going to prison.

The buzzer to our driveway gate rings. Looking at the camera, we see my dad and stepmother Paula have arrived. We only have another minute before we have to leave. I try to clean myself up, wiping the tears away. I take one last look at our home, thinking to myself, I will never see any of this again.

We meet them on the sidewalk. Our hugs are filled with the weight of why they are here. Walking to Paula’s car, I won’t see any of this again either. My wife, Kyla, and I sit in the back seat, Paula is driving, my father is navigating. I’m happy none of our neighbors is outside. I don’t want to explain what today is.

The scenery becomes a blur. The trees, homes, and strip malls become one as we drive. The strip malls are replaced with pastures the further upstate we go. The rhythmic sound of the road provides background noise to our awkward conversation. With every mile, my life slowly vanishes. Federal prison is on the horizon.

A sign appears in the distance: Otisville Federal Prison. We turn left onto One Mile Drive, carving our way up the mountain. My eardrums pop from the change in altitude. The road gives way to an open space, the prison coming into view.

Barbed wire fences marking the perimeter, the razor wire glistening in the sun. Guard towers looming high. Whatever air was in the car disappeared the moment we saw it.

Paula turns around and says, “You’re not going in there.”

I don’t have much choice in the matter.

I say goodbye to my father and Paula in the parking lot.

“I’m so sorry. Thank you for everything. Please take care of her, protect her, whatever she needs. Please. Can you give her some money?”

They hold me tight and I say my final goodbye.

Kyla and I make the long walk across the parking lot and into the waiting room. I approach the security desk and check in.

The guard tells me, “Take a seat and wait. We’ll call your name.”

The room is cold, sanitary, and quiet. We sit side by side, holding each other’s trembling hands. Looking into each other’s eyes, I’m fighting the tears. I don’t want to walk into prison a blubbering mess.

Our moment of silence is punctuated by the guard saying, “Stanland, Craig. It’s time, say your goodbyes.”

We kiss and hold each other. I’m afraid to let go. I fear what will happen when I do but I have to. I watch her walk out of prison as I walk in.

Both of us are walking into the unknown.

To learn more about Craig’s experience in prison and how he rebuilt his life afterward, Blank Canvas is available on Amazon.

After hitting rock bottom, Craig Stanland was forced to make a choice: give up or rebuild. He thought he had it all, until he lost sight of what is truly important and made the worst decision of his life, losing everything along the way, including his own self-worth. Through the painful, terrifying process of starting over, Craig ultimately discovered that when you have nothing, anything is possible.

Today, Craig is an author, speaker, and reinvention architect. He specializes in working with people whose lives have fallen apart, helping them reinvent themselves by showing them how to rebuild their self-worth and create the extraordinary lives they have always wanted.

Connect with Craig at www.craigstanland.com.