The
previous day 100’s updates have been rather benign, as life in prison had been
rather routine and quiet. The immediate
past 100 days however have contained within them days, seconds, that have been
the most physically, emotionally, and spiritually bruising of my life:
2/21 #2000 – We win by saving what we love, not destroying
what we hate.
2/27 #2006 – 5 years at JCCC Helena, OK
2/28 #2007 – Misconduct, loss of canteen job and preferred
Unit 6 Housing
3/4 #2011 – Visit from Mark and Kristi
3/23 #2030 – 5 years since I last saw my daughter
-
Okla.
Northern Dist. Appeal DENIED
4/1 #2039 – Easter virus
4/5 #2043 – Snitch rumor began
4/12 #2150 – Moved units again
4/13 #2151 – Assaulted, TV and fan stolen
4/20 #2058 – Son turns 26
4/22 #2060 – (2009)- 9 years since son “ran away”
4/28 #2066 – Extortion attempt
-
(2010) 8
years since warrant
4/29 #2067 – Visit turns things around
4/30 #2068 – Motion to vacate and for an EnBanc hearing
filed
5/5 #2073 – (2010) 8 years since arrest
5/8 #2076 – Mailed 10th Circuit Appeal
5/14 #2082 – Email from daughter
5/15 #2083 – 3,000,000th minute in prison
-
(1985) 33rd
Spiritual Birthday
-
5th Commutation denied
5/22 #2090 – 6th
Commutation filed
5/23 #2091 - Applied to Northwestern State University:
Substance Abuse Degree Program
Some of
these days, especially their forever seconds, left more bruises than the days
of confusion when I was first arrested, the months leading up to my trial, the
trial itself, or even my first weeks of prison.
My deepest struggle has been the recent mental challenges that I have
had to endure: coming face to face, once again, with dark depression; peace
stealing panic attacks; crippling anxiety; paralyzing paranoia; and mind-bending
spirits who prompted thoughts of self-harm as a way to escape the shrieking
emotional pain, as well as an unknown future.
10,000 or so forever seconds that left my soul battered, beaten, and
bruised.
On 2/26,
I completed my 5th full year of living at the James Crabtree
Correctional Center. On 2/27, day #2007, I was the recipient of some retaliatory
behavior from the staff due to a disagreement between staff members. To prove a point, the supervising member
orchestrated my receiving a “misconduct”, which resulted in me losing my
coveted canteen job and my preferred housing status. I was moved into a rowdy
and danger filled unit where Satan had a strongly held, established foothold.
However, I determined in my spirit to survive this move. (see also similar day
#1523) I was struggling to keep my peace, but was able to withstand, through
the power of the Holy Spirit, this newest attack.
Just as I
was overcoming, a month later, on 3/30 (day #2030) I learned that on 3/23,
after 3 years and 3 days that appeal to the Oklahoma Northern Federal District
Court was denied. While I always knew
that I was probably bound for the “higher” 10th Circuit Court in
Denver, I had retained some measure of hope that at this level, after a three-year
wait, that the Lord would expose the lies and liars (my son and the ADA’s),
reveal the truth, and see to my exoneration. To read of Judge Frizzell’s outright denial
was so devastatingly defeating. It took all of the wind out of my sails. It
felt like a mule kick to the chest. I
immediately felt all of the weight of the previous 2037 days of misplaced hope
come crashing down upon me; like 2037 days of broken dreams exploding all at
once, and each one of those shards impaling me to the core. Like McKenzie, I just wanted to cry myself
into a permanent sleep, as darkness had become my best friend (Psalms 88:18).
That news
sent me on a dark pathway of unbearable grief. Thoughts that I had been keeping
at bay suddenly, all at once, flooded my sole: my mind, my will, and my
emotions. Suddenly, I accepted that my parents may never see me freed and
exonerated on this side of eternity. Suddenly, I realized that my daughter may
marry and have her own family without any involvement with me. Suddenly, I knew
that I may be in prison until 2028. I may be hindered from having a
relationship with my own grandchildren, and that crippled me.
As I was
reinforcing my soul with God’s Word and His Holy Spirit to deal with these two
issues, and I was regaining a modicum of peace, on 4/5 a vitriolic rumor was
started that I had “dry snitched”. In prison, the label of a “snitch” can be a
literal death sentence: “snitches get stitches” is not just a cute tv crime
drama quip. These were some of the sharpest words used to cut me down. On 4/12
things got so bad that I was forced to move to yet another unit for my sanity,
and for my safety.
Of
course, the snitch label followed me. On the new unit I was verbally and physically
assaulted. On 4/13, when I was outside, my TV and fan were stolen. I was told
to move again, for my safety, but this time (after receiving no help from
staff) I stood upon the Word (Ps 91:9-11) and I stood my ground. Two moves in 6
weeks was enough. However, I became very paranoid about further acts of
retribution.
Dealing
with paranoia was a new experience for me. When the “snitch” rumor first took
hold I thought that everyone, everywhere was talking about me. For a while they
probably were. As Puddin’ Head Wilson posits, “one of the most striking
differences between a cat and a lie, is that a cat only has 9 lives.” This lie
once exposed to the yard spread quickly. However, it was easily deposed of once
the people who knew me began to vouch for me and come to my defense. Although,
for 24 hours or so, I was the topic of the day, for the next 2-4 days I had to
continually speak against feeling forever seconds of paranoia as the rumor
died, revived, died, revived and died again. I hadn’t even felt this way in
Tulsa while waiting for my trial (even though Fox 23 seemed to do the DA’s
fishing for weeks on end). Always looking over your shoulder, wondering if each
whispered conversation is about you, and trying to interpret every stare and
glance is an exhausting way to live.
These
three events: losing my job/preferred housing, the denial of my appeal, and
being labeled a snitch (dry or otherwise) all contributed to a brief but very
real battle with mental instability, heightened anxiety, and petrifying panic
attacks. While these periods of instability, anxiety, and panic only lasted for
a few seconds at a time, as the White Rabbit told Alice, “Sometimes forever is
only a second.” I now have an important insight into what so many people have
to deal with on a daily basis as thy have to live a lifetime with mental health
issues.
In the
middle of each of these three separate, but compounding issues, the Holy Spirit
kept reminding me just to trust: that trust was going to be the key to victory.
To combat the unholy voices in each of these battles I had to keep sending out
ever increasing “waves of trust to drown them out”. In the wake of these high
stress events, other Satan induced occurrences were happening, or it was their
anniversary date: (4/1) on Easter I had a bout with stomach virus that found me
defecating on myself as I lay passed out on the urine-soaked floor next to a
toilet; 5/6) a cherished great-uncle died; (5/14) my 5th commutation
was rejected; (5/15) I served my 3,000,000th minute in prison.
In
praying for strength and guidance the Lord directed me to review Joyce Meyer’s Battlefield
of the Mind, and several other books, to strengthen my armor. Joyce reminded me of James, who admonishes Do
Not Be Two-Faced (Psalms 119:113) Being in the Word strengthened my
resolve. The books reminded me that I
was not alone, nor was I the only one to experience such intense
suffering. I reviewed my Celebrate
Recovery principles over and over, helping provide direction to lasting relief
and not relapsing.
My
breakthrough to victory came on 4/29, day 2061, when my best friends came for
an unannounced emergency visit to minister to me (Matthew 25:43) During that visit
I was able to confess some of the dark thoughts that I was fighting, and to finally
release a deeply held, grievous cry. As I shared my struggles, I could feel a
renewed strength returning to me.
There was
something spiritual about being able to sit in front of my friends and cry. No
judgement. No apologies. With empathetic tears shed by them as well. In Meeting
God at the Shack, John Mark Hicks says that tears are wonderful healers:
they are divine gifts. Biochemically, tears of grief release chemicals that
have accumulated in stress. These tears
have a different chemical composition than other kinds of tears. Grief tears release physiological, psychological
and spiritual toxicity. They are God’s gift to process the hurt of a painful
world. Tears are part of healing and God collects them (Psalms 56:8). Those who
live through tears will reap the joy of healing (Psalms 126:6) (p.55-56)
Within a
week of their visit I filed my Federal Appeal in the 10th Circuit
(finally, after a 3 year and 3 day delay), I received an encouraging email from
my daughter, and I determined to follow the year old prompting to enroll in
college (trusting God for the financing I enrolled in Northwestern State
University’s Substance Abuse Recovery degree program).
Sending
out wave after wave of trust, standing on the Word, and the personal ministry
of friends surely were the keys to surviving these forever seconds over the
past 100 days. I am prayerfully expecting a return to a much more peace filled
100 days through September. I am claiming strength and bravery as I continue
this journey of forever seconds.
This song has helped a lot too……….
I am
brave
I am
bruised
This is
who I am meant to be
When the
sharpest words want to cut me down
I am
going to send a wave to drown them out
I am
brave
I am
strong
This is
me
~from
The Greatest Showman
