After her parole revocation, a mother confronts profound loneliness in prison, turning to writing and virtual communication in an attempt to bridge the distance between her family and the outside world.
I stare at the pictures of my six kids, who I haven’t heard from in six months. I think back to being free—before my parole was revoked and how I worked three jobs, making sure I took care of my business. Even being a single mom, I was praised by all of my loved ones for how progressive, productive, and positive my life had become. I was proud to finally be a part of the family—not the one with whom others avoided making eye contact out of shame. I was loved.
But an unfortunate thing caused my slip-up and revoked my parole. It started with my brother’s death. Once the cuffs were on me, and I used my free phone call in the county jail to tell everyone what happened, from then on, I just quickly faded to the backs of everyone’s minds and the bottom of their list of people who were important.
I cried for my 2-month and 13-month-old babies and for my 4-, 13-, 18-, and 20-year-olds. I was curious whether, at least once or twice, the babies wondered, “Where is my mommy? Where is that familiar face, touch, and smell?” Did their hearts ache as much as mine did, even though they had the abounding, plentiful love of family to care for them? Has their memory of me faded? After all, I’ve now been gone longer than one of them has been alive.
When my feet hit TDC grounds, I had to busy myself with tasks to keep my mind occupied. I hoped that distraction would trump loneliness. Eventually, my name finally reached the top of the vocational list. Six hours per day in class, two hours per day exercising, a couple of hours of reading, and some days a movie on the Securus tablet. I filled my days with intentional tasks but couldn’t escape the nagging sense of abandonment and loneliness that enveloped me at night. I needed some free-world interaction—even if it wasn’t my family.
I put a profile up on writeaprisoner.com and got a couple of pen pals. I e-messaged every contact on my tablet. It didn’t help that TDC no longer allows paper mail. Ever since they redirected our mail to a Securus scan facility, the mail has been three months late.
The founder of PrisonWriters replied to my e-message, where I spilled my soul out about how lonely I was and invited me to write about it. It reminded me how writing was an outlet and how creating a well-communicated, articulate article brings with it a sense of accomplishment and distraction from how alone I’d felt. How could I have forgotten this? After all, I have seven books published and many newspaper and magazine articles.
The dictionary defines alone/loneliness as desolate, sad from lack of companionship or separation from others; without company, aid or support. I once heard a quote that goes, “No man is an island.” It got me thinking that the quote (meaning we’re never alone) contradicted the definition, pretty much obliterating the notion of loneliness altogether.
Then why does anyone feel lonely? I deduced that loneliness wasn’t just a feeling. It was, objectively speaking, an idea. And a matter of perspective (speaking like a true intellect).
I looked around my dorm again, and although my cubicle area and consciousness clearly resembled an island, my psyche picked up a pencil and found a companion in words. But I still find the emotional aspect of loneliness captivating and consuming. I continuously open the e-messaging tab on my tablet to see if there’s still life out there.
Diedre McDonald #1899246
Crain Unit
PO Box 660400
1401 State School Road
Dallas, TX 75266
