A Particular Shade of Blue

Sometimes the End is the Only Place to Begin
Realistic expectations are a necessary evil in this world. Of course, that’s probably what every pessimist says. I don’t consider myself a pessimist, but I do believe that if you expect the worst, you’re less likely to be disappointed.
When confronted with a foreseeable, yet unavoidable, path to ruin there lies a comfortable middle-ground of calm resignation to be found between the denial and acceptance of your fated devastation. For me, that purposeful surrender is marked by the feeling of silent self-superiority that comes with knowing what the future holds and meticulously plotting my approach.
I envision the best possible outcome and figure out how to screw it up. Then I just try to not do that. It is concurrently liberating and humbling to accept punishment without complaint in order to take the path of least resistance.
Unfortunately, the prison system doesn’t stop at punishing the convict. From predatory phone service providers to $1.68 packages of ramen noodles, the sacrifices expected of a prisoner’s family can be overwhelming.
Sometimes a little too much information is better than being a slave to the imagination, so, in honor of the families who wonder and worry over what the future holds, we’re going to start at the end, which is not really the end at all, but a crossroad. If you know what to expect from this nightmare, you may be better prepared to start a new chapter when it is over.
The following letter should make you stop and think about how you might respond to these quirks that develop after even a short time in prison.
This letter home has been circulated forever, or so I am told, and a copy of it always finds itself in the hands of someone about to be released. It rings true and brings comic relief at the same time.
Most people personalize it and pass it on, but few ever send it. I think people should send their letters. Few things are sadder than a letter never sent.
That said, I did send my notice of impending weirdness to my family and it went like this:
To Whom It May Concern,
The following letter is a solemn warning and is to be read by the 1st day of August 2013, by all friends, relatives and loved ones of Misty R. Brockett.
Very soon the above-named woman will once again grace your presence. She will be dehumanized, demoralized, and somewhat bitter but she is ready to take her place among the living and enjoy freedom, liberty and the (somewhat delayed) pursuit of happiness.
In making your joyous preparations to welcome her back into your respectable society, you must make the following allowances, considering the environment she has endured for the past thirty months. Attempting to comply with ever-changing rules, accepting the ridiculous as reality, and the worst punishment of all, sleep deprivation, can alter a person’s fundamental makeup significantly.
Therefore, show no alarm if she checks the mail and insists that “The Man” is stealing perfume samples from the magazines, or when meeting new people, she introduces herself with her last name and six-digit number. She may even try to buy a “spot” in the line at the grocery store or perhaps even offer the neighbor a honey bun to wash her sheets.
Do not correct her if she chooses to cut her food with a spoon, finishes her meal in less than the allotted 15 minutes, and seems genuinely confused about where to dump her tray. Please do not stand over her while she is eating. If you do make this tragic mistake, do not be surprised when she yells, “Quit studying my food, Ho!”
Do not be concerned if she turns off all the lights at 10:30 pm and/or returns to her “bunk” six times a day to be counted because she heard an imaginary voice yell “Recall!”, simply reassure her and count her, that would be the kindest thing to do. She may also yell “Yard open!” when letting the dogs out or walk in circles on the backyard “track”, and will frequently insist that you are in her personal space and yell, “Stay out of my bunk area!”
Until she is housebroken, she may instinctually “bend over and spread ‘em!” when she feels the urge to cough or refer to her lady-parts as her “pursey”. She may even yell at complete strangers who maintain too much eye contact. This disturbing behavior should soon pass.
Be prepared, if expected, to carry on a conversation while she is on the toilet, or bring her a bucket to wash her laundry in the shower. Just bring her a bucket. If you are kind enough to offer her some bleach for her clothes, don’t be surprised if she insists on repaying you with dehydrated beans and corn chips.
Do not be alarmed if she hides salt packets and toilet paper under her pillow, and try not to be repulsed when she sees an outed cigarette on the ground and proclaims, “That’s a nice butt!”, then discretely picks it up and stashes it in her bra. Try to remember that these items are rare and costly in prison and this behavior seems perfectly normal to her. This too shall pass…
In addition, the following actions should be avoided, as she may become defensive and agitated:
• Asking too many questions
• Walking too close behind her
• Walking too quickly toward her
• Standing over her
• Staring at her
• Telling her not to speak
Try to keep in mind that behind the guarded exterior of this jaded ex-con is the same person you have always known and loved. She is changed by her experience, but will likely recover some semblance of normalcy with plenty of kindness, patience, and a lot of space. Seriously, stay out of her bunk area.
Sincerely, Misty R. Brockett