Doctor’s Note

Welcome to Doctor’s Note. This is a weekly blog to inform, enlighten, inspire, and entertain you the reader. We will cover experiences and people I’ve encountered as a mental health professional and inmate inside of Texas prisons.

Before we get into that, you may be asking yourself “why should I care?” I’m glad you asked.

We often see headlines on the news about crime. We hear a little about criminals being sentenced to prison. We rarely hear about anything they encounter on the inside. Those things should be our biggest concern actually, because that person will be released someday. That person will return to your community and neighborhood. Their experience in prison will determine what type of neighbor you’ll have. Is that a fearful or peaceful thought?

Each week I will bring you stories from the inside. Some will show the amazing progress being made in a broken system. Some will show miracles happening within the lives of inmates. Other weeks you will see disaster stories that prove change must occur here and it must involve everyone.

Today I’ll share my personal story.

After being arrested in 2010, I was sentenced to 15 years in prison. I was suicidal. I had no identity anymore. I had no hope or purpose. I was lost with no direction and I could not hide it.

I remember looking at family photos one day as an attempt to remember happier times. A guard walked up to me and demanded I put the photos away. When I asked why, she replied “They don’t exist anymore!”

“I am proud of my family,” I said boldly.

“Too bad they can’t be proud of you,” she said as she walked away chuckling.

Those words stuck with me for years. I believed them. I embraced them. I hated them, yet accepted them as truth. I woke up every morning with the identity of a person who could never again be productive.

Now the question remained, who could I be? I quickly became a fighter. Then I became a drug pusher. I knew nothing about this life, but wolves in prison shadows were eager to teach me. I hated this life, but at least I now had some acceptance and an identity.

Please understand I went from a church musician, community activist, and full-time single dad of two little girls, to a prison drug dealer and brawler within a few months time. That’s the power of this prison environment. I lived like that for years.

One days I received word that my dealings were being investigated by staff due to a “snitch”. I boldly yelled out to everyone on the yard about it. I wanted the snitch to reveal himself and fight me. That didn’t happen of course, but it did catch the attention of another older wiser man.

The man pulled me aside and offered me profound advice on how to stop this snitch. I was smiling and all ears waiting to receive his wisdom. Yet, his words shocked me.

“Stop giving them something to tell,” he said.

I was confused. That is not what I expected. This was new and different. Yet, it made sense.

I began spending everyday with this man. He slowly poured positive affirmation into me. He dared me to dream and explore possibilities inside the prison to better myself. He challenged me to change my perspective within my current environment.

Texas forces inmates to work without pay. Yes, that’s slavery which was abolished everywhere, except in prisons. I often refused this work and was punished. I began challenging myself to find the positive in it.

I worked in the kitchen. I envisioned it as class and asked cooks to teach me. I learned from bakers. I spent personal money to buy spices to make the meals better. I greeted every inmate who came in as if it were my own personal business, although my official title was dishwasher.

People laughed at me. I was teased by coworkers and staff. I kept going not knowing some else was watching. This one person would not only take notice, but took action… our warden.

I was instantly made staff waiter. I now knew greater was possible.

Once placed in the officer’s dinning room, I continued my vow to excellence. I continued to run the place is if it were mine.

I thought to myself, maybe I can become a chef. I requested to attend culinary college. I was denied and devastated. Here I am trying to do better and become something, but got restricted. I refused to accept it though.

I researched until I found inmates who had already graduated the culinary program. I paid them to teach me what they learned. I got recipes from family, friends, and magazines. I got cookbooks from our outdated library. I got the education another way!

I’d soon become head cook for the staff. I’d cook for their special functions and parties too. I’d gained respect from the same people who used to ridicule me. I’d found my identity and purpose… or so I thought.

That warden had respect for me. He knew of my integrity, so I was allowed to feed leftovers to inmates who were poor. Although inmates with money attempted to bribe me to do otherwise, I always gave the food away to the less fortunate. Some of the officers were also upset, because they didn’t believe inmates deserved to eat the food they ate. Yet, the warden had my back.

Soon the warden got hospitalized. I was one day feeding needy inmates. An officer took that opportunity to charge me with stealing from the officer’s dinning room. I was removed from my job, good housing, and given a disciplinary case that prevented me from making parole instantly.

I was angry and confused. How could this happen? I even blamed God! I was right back where I started.

One day I was walking the yard and saw the old man. I told him about how everything came crashing down. He was actually smiling. I was confused.

He told me the story of how Abraham Lincoln lost several elections at state levels and even a bid for vice President before become the U.S. President. I didn’t get it. He explained that he lost all those, because he was purposed to be President and nothing less. He said I had to be removed from that job so I could find my real purpose.

My attitude and perspective immediately changed. I thanked God for my life being turned upside down and started looking for my true purpose.

I again signed up for college through the prison system. I was denied. I wrote to every college I could find an address for to see if they had correspondence courses. They said no.

One day at church in the chapel, a guy stood up and talked about Shalom Bible College. I wasn’t interested. He came up to me after his speech promoting the school. I wasn’t interested and made it clear.

As I walked away, he said,”You wouldn’t be smart enough to complete it anyway! “

Oh, that got my attention. I turned around and snatched the application from his hand. I stared him down before walking away with the application. Then it hit me. When I was about 15 feet away, I turned around only to see him smiling and nodding his head in approval. Well played my friend. He got me.

The disciplinary restrictions were now a blessing. I had nothing to do with my time, but college work. I’d study about 10-18 hours a day… everyday! I found an identity as a student. My family could now tell people I’m in college rather than in prison, truthfully. This gave us pride.

From day one I decided to get everything they had to offer. I received my Bachelor’s in Divinity, Master’s in Education, Doctorate in Nouthetic Counseling, and recently finished with a Ph.D. in Theology.

I began to counsel inmates in prison. I was given the opportunity to hold group therapy sessions and teach rehab classes using my own custom curriculum.

Later staff began requesting sessions after seeing change within the inmates. Word then spread to people worldwide who requested sessions through mail, visitation or phone.

Look at what is verses what could have been with my life. Just a few people changed my life’s path. I’m that for others now and invite everyone else to join.