Look Inward, Part II

Accepting responsibility for one's misdeeds means that one accepts the adverse consequences of those misdeeds.  For convicted persons, that means that we must view the difficulties of the reentry experience as the direct consequence of our misdeeds that they truly are.  That does not morally justify the systemic exclusion from employment and career opportunities that most of us never fully overcome.  Morality, however, and reality, are two different things.  We would do best not to confuse the two.

I spent a good amount of time in the law libraries of the various prisons in which I served my time.  I also read a lot of case law, and a lot of legal briefs.  I've experienced the roller coaster of emotions that many convicted persons do when appeals are meticulously researched, skillfully written, and confidently filed, only to be summarily dismissed or peremptorily denied. I've seen the devastating emotional toll overwhelm many convicted persons, inside prison, as the irrevocability of their sentence forces its way into their consciousness.  I've watched grown men break under the strain, and become but mere shells of their erstwhile selves.

Outside of prison, a similar process often occurs.  The euphoria of gaining release from prison ultimately gives way, in most cases, to a sense of dismay.  I wrote about that transformation in a previous post, which you can see here.  That sense of dismay becomes magnified, as the difficulties of the reentry experience, too, intrude upon our consciousness like a recurring nightmare--a daymare.  We reach out for help in a near-frantic and desperate effort to demonstrate our commitment to responsible living.  Yet, the mostly unspoken, but absolutely clear, message we get in return is that the freedom we doggedly survived the prison experience to achieve seems naught but an illusion, a mental mirage.

When we get to that point, though, we cannot surrender to the sense of powerlessness such a conclusion entails.  We have to be mentally and emotionally stronger than that.

I'll end with a chess metaphor.  Many of us learned the game in prison, and I continue to play on my smartphone.  That phone's cpu is having its way with me, too, I'll tell you.  Yet, I keep challenging it. Sometimes I'm so frustrated by my inability to win consistently that I really want to smash that thing to pieces.  But I don't.  I keep going back for more. Conceptually, I know that there's a process at work. That if I thoughtfully and diligently engage that process, my capacity to learn will ultimately prevail, my skill level will rise, and I will overcome the obstacles to my success well enough.

Enough said.