I want to continue from where I left off yesterday regarding the possibility of reconciliation with those whom I've been estranged from for thirty years...
However, I now wish to include the insights God had given me about why I tried to push my family away shortly after coming to prison. It was self-destructive and self-sabotaging behavior. It was done unconsciously. Yet there were reasons why I acted this way, although the understanding did not come until many years later.
At the time of my arrest, and in the months that followed, while I was confined in New York City's jail system as I awaited trial, my family remained very supportive of me. They were, of course, hurt, saddened, and bewildered to learn of my arrest. But they continued to love me and offer their help.
Then, about a year later, after I pled guilty to the crimes I'd been accused of, I was subsequently shipped to a New York State maximum security prison hundreds of miles away to begin serving my sentence. By now I had lost all hope. I was convinced I had come to prison to die, that this was the "last stop" of my life. I was only 25 years old at the time.
Actually the first year of jail, with occasional trips to court, and visits with lawyers and psychologists, kept my mind occupied even though I was in an isolation room with a 24-hours per day watch by a rotating crew of New York City correction officers. But eventually the guilt and shame I tried to suppress began to rise to the surface. I could not live in denial forever.
Then, while in prison far from home, and thinking I was now buried alive, forever, the walls of my cell seemed to close in on me. My mind also began to awaken to the reality of my situation. I was depressed and suicidal. There was nothing but monotonous work to do, too, which mostly consisted of sweeping and mopping the tier of the cell block I was confined to.
Most of all, I started to analyze my life. As a result, I became filled with disgust and self-loathing. I was also missing my family terribly. By now, however, they were hundreds of miles away. Yet my family would still write. They even visited me a few times, having to travel hundreds of miles back and forth to get to and from this remote place. Nevertheless, by now the guilt had become overwhelming. Not only when I thought about the victims, but also when I saw the hurt and pain in the faces of my loved ones. It was a nightmare.
Furthermore, I was in denial. I didn't want to believe I had hurt people and taken lives, and that I had given myself to Satan to be used as an instrument for evil, and in the process, I had somehow lost my mind.
And because I did not know how to handle my growing levels of guilt and shame, I unconsciously tried to find ways to punish myself. I unwittingly tried to create more pain and anguish for myself than the prison environment already provided by running off those who loved me the most. Obviously, I had a need to create a self-imposed, self-punishing loneliness by driving away my family. In this way, I would pay for my crimes by making my life as miserable as possible. How foolish!
Yet, I eventually succeeded in driving my family away by falsely accusing them of betraying me and using me. I was trying hard to convince myself that their intentions were bad; they weren't. It's just that at the time I couldn't understand this. I could not see that the problem was really with me. My actions were done out of guilt and from an unconscious need to punish myself. Nevertheless, the damage was done.
More importantly, all the pain I caused myself never did alleviate those feelings of guilt. In fact, it wasn't until I asked Jesus Christ to forgive all my sins did my self-destructiveness come to a stop. In Christ, I have obtained forgiveness, and I've made my peace with God. Now, however, I'd like to do the right thing and, hopefully, make peace with my loved ones, too.
D.B.
At the time of my arrest, and in the months that followed, while I was confined in New York City's jail system as I awaited trial, my family remained very supportive of me. They were, of course, hurt, saddened, and bewildered to learn of my arrest. But they continued to love me and offer their help.
Then, about a year later, after I pled guilty to the crimes I'd been accused of, I was subsequently shipped to a New York State maximum security prison hundreds of miles away to begin serving my sentence. By now I had lost all hope. I was convinced I had come to prison to die, that this was the "last stop" of my life. I was only 25 years old at the time.
Actually the first year of jail, with occasional trips to court, and visits with lawyers and psychologists, kept my mind occupied even though I was in an isolation room with a 24-hours per day watch by a rotating crew of New York City correction officers. But eventually the guilt and shame I tried to suppress began to rise to the surface. I could not live in denial forever.
Then, while in prison far from home, and thinking I was now buried alive, forever, the walls of my cell seemed to close in on me. My mind also began to awaken to the reality of my situation. I was depressed and suicidal. There was nothing but monotonous work to do, too, which mostly consisted of sweeping and mopping the tier of the cell block I was confined to.
Most of all, I started to analyze my life. As a result, I became filled with disgust and self-loathing. I was also missing my family terribly. By now, however, they were hundreds of miles away. Yet my family would still write. They even visited me a few times, having to travel hundreds of miles back and forth to get to and from this remote place. Nevertheless, by now the guilt had become overwhelming. Not only when I thought about the victims, but also when I saw the hurt and pain in the faces of my loved ones. It was a nightmare.
Furthermore, I was in denial. I didn't want to believe I had hurt people and taken lives, and that I had given myself to Satan to be used as an instrument for evil, and in the process, I had somehow lost my mind.
And because I did not know how to handle my growing levels of guilt and shame, I unconsciously tried to find ways to punish myself. I unwittingly tried to create more pain and anguish for myself than the prison environment already provided by running off those who loved me the most. Obviously, I had a need to create a self-imposed, self-punishing loneliness by driving away my family. In this way, I would pay for my crimes by making my life as miserable as possible. How foolish!
Yet, I eventually succeeded in driving my family away by falsely accusing them of betraying me and using me. I was trying hard to convince myself that their intentions were bad; they weren't. It's just that at the time I couldn't understand this. I could not see that the problem was really with me. My actions were done out of guilt and from an unconscious need to punish myself. Nevertheless, the damage was done.
More importantly, all the pain I caused myself never did alleviate those feelings of guilt. In fact, it wasn't until I asked Jesus Christ to forgive all my sins did my self-destructiveness come to a stop. In Christ, I have obtained forgiveness, and I've made my peace with God. Now, however, I'd like to do the right thing and, hopefully, make peace with my loved ones, too.
D.B.
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