Is It Possible to Thrive in Prison?

What does a person do when a simple house plant, thriving due to mindful attention paid to it, evolves in its growth beyond the parameters of its pot? When the same structure that once sheltered the delicate roots and allowed them to take hold becomes a cage, in danger of derailing the progress of growth? The answer is the one you’re thinking of right now, it’s not a twisted riddle, you transfer the plant to a bigger pot. A new environment with more space for this simple house plant to stretch itself out in and, fingers crossed, continue on in its trajectory of growth.

Metaphors can be cliché at times but they paint a picture, in this case I’m the plant. I’ll admit 15 years ago, at the beginning of this journey, I was down. Lower than I could ever remember being in my life up to that point. The prison that was encompassing my spirit was much more confining than the physical one I found myself in. Exhaustion had set in, the inevitable result of my constant vigil. The endless task of keeping my guard up against any and every person’s potential judgement. The minute by minute stifling of my grief–repeatedly shoving it further down and swallowing my tears. Pile those on top of the monumental effort it took just to get up, put one foot in front of the other, live.

Who could even think about thriving?

I wasn’t raised to just lay down and suffer quietly though. Thankfully some small defiant part of me kept reaching, reaching for a version of life that was more than this bland existence. This minute shift in my perspective loosened the shackles that had been holding me steadfastly in shambles. I could smell the perfume of the flowers in bloom, enjoy the feel of the breeze on my face, taste the flavors of the ice cream exploding on my tastebuds.

My first 12 years in prison, in summary, were a study in the process of the realization of my potential. It was not a linear graph. Three years ago I was almost derailed completely by the infusion of pain and grief that changed my daily life without warning. I was forced into this new hell by the sudden death of my father. But, I thought about how very far I had come and all the internal work I had done. Then I focused, took a deep breath, then another, and made the decision to continue forward. I’d just been accepted into the college program here and decided to throw myself into it fully.

In June of this year I walked in my graduation ceremony, my dad there in spirit along with my stepmom and Aunt Nina there physically, watching with pride. I graduated with honors, earning two associate degrees and an additional certificate program completion. At the same time, Eastern Michigan University announced the arrival of a bachelor’s degree program here, beginning with a select 15 students, hand-picked through the admissions process. I applied.

I’m halfway through my first semester. Every day, I’m getting closer to reaching my goals in life through my education, and I’m still realizing my potential.

I’m also actively building my support systems and networking strong relationships with helpful people. This all serves to strengthen my chances at successful re-entry, a process I am very happy to soon take part in. It feels like all this potential I’ve been realizing inside of me is finally showing itself. Exciting, right?

The answer is yes and no. My current state is such a contradiction. I’ll go from a lively debate about the decline of the Union’s relevance with today’s shifting job market back to my small cement cell. Writing this very essay on my 3-inch-thick mat. Outside, my entire geographical landscape encompassed by barbed wire fences. They chafe against my current thriving self. I’ve grown and the result feels catastrophic, my allotment of space in my state of incarceration will only get smaller. It will soon serve only to suffocate this too-big version of me, it will systematically amputate the parts of me deemed as excess.

If we know then that you must repot the simple house plant to ensure its trajectory stays on track, how do we not give our human versions the same consideration? After all, we know if we fail to repot what will happen; the plant will stop growing. It will then wilt before finally ceasing to exist. Considered cruel to assign this fate to a mere plant, how then do we so blindly do it to our incarcerated masses?

Acknowledge the growth. Reward the desire and drive in those who, despite their circumstance, evolve so much they become unrecognizable.