Getting Situated in Federal Prison
It has now been a full day and a half since I surrendered to federal prison. It's all so real now. I think I have come to terms that this is my new reality and there is nothing I can do to change it now. My mission is to keep my head down, make the most productive use of my time, and stay as connected as possible with my beautiful family.
Everything has been almost the exact opposite of what I expected. I was anticipating the worst, including potentially hostile inmates. In fact, the fellow inmates in my dorm have been nothing short of amazing in helping me get acclimated. I have received a lot of advice and tips on how to conquer my sentence as well as how to make life a lot easier while I am here.
My bunkie gave me an initial tour of the facility. What did I see? I saw a softball league game in the 6th inning, a running track with guys determined to get into shape, guitars players, tennis courts, basketball courts, and even bocce ball in full swing. Quite frankly, I instantly developed a lot of respect for Taft as an institution for truly offering resources to inmates to make them well rounded people.
I had the opportunity to sit down with some colleagues who were expecting my arrival. It was great to know that a handful of people knew Justin, and immediately lent a helping hand because of it.
When the first night approached, I was observant as to what the evening schedules were like. Everyone had a tremendous amount of respect for privacy, which again, surprised me.
It may have been lights out at 10pm, but my mind was still racing. There was an anxiety because I had not yet been able to communicate with my wife to let her know I was ok. It was the anticipation of what she was feeling at that same moment that kept me awake. This was the first night where she would go to sleep without her husband by her side. I cannot imagine how she is feeling. I wanted to know so badly what was running through her mind, but the inability to communicate with her was total torture.
I slept about 4 hours that night, which I was told was considered good for a first night in prison. To me, there was no part of it that was good. I can count on two hands how many times I turned over in my sleep to cuddle my wife, only to find a cement wall there instead.
Waking up the next morning, I had a new kind of rejuvenation I have never felt. It was a countdown again. Only this time, it was the good kind of countdown. It was the kind that replayed in my head, "one day down, one day closer to coming home."
