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When I was arrested, I had a job, a family, friends.
When they sent me to jail, I lost it all. Because that’s the true punishment. You lose your life. You break the law, so you are destroyed.
I wanted to actually die. Finish the job. There was nothing left anyway. No reason to live. And prisons don't give you a reason to live. They just remind you it’s all your fault. You’ve lost everything and it’s all your fault. Now sit in jail for five, 10, 15 years and watch tv.
But I didn’t die. I didn’t give up. I struggled on. I tried to make the best of the situation. I took every defeat and rolled with it as best I could. Because there were lots of defeats. Some worse than others. Some made me want to die again.
I sat and reflected on my life for eight years. I thought about what I had done and how I got to where I was. I was determined not to live the same life, not to try to mirror or regain what I had lost. I needed to change my attitude and adapt.
And then I was released.
After eight years. I was not at all prepared for it. Immersed in prison culture for such a long time. Having no long-term contact with people in society. Things were different. Attitudes, values, they had all changed. My prison culture did not fit well with some people, my jokes were just not funny to them. Their problems seemed so superficial and stupid to me.
I realised that not only had society changed, but I had changed. That prison wasn’t a compete waste of time. And I could use some of these changes to my advantage. For example, I’m not still procrastinating over what I want to be when I grow up at 30 years old like some people I’ve met. I’m just happy I can actually choose what to be. Having no agency for eight years, I’m just happy I can choose for myself again. If I work as a cleaner at 2:00am am, then it’s because I chose to. Not because I was coerced into it with threats of disciplinary actions.
I also learned resilience. I have got a lot of bad news since I got out, and each time I am told I was handling it really well. Why? Because when you have gone from sleeping in a house with your family, to sleeping in ‘separation’, in a cell with no shower, tv or window. Only a pillow and an itchy horsehair blanket and a steel toilet with no seat on it, everything else is now an improvement. No one can understand this, they cannot conceptualise how sad I once was.
Now I work as a lived experience consultant for various Organisations. I live in a lovely apartment in a fancy suburb. I ride a brand new 2024 model motorcycle. I am surrounded by amazing friends who support me.
My life is so different now. But that’s the point. My life was toxic before, that’s why I went to jail. I wasn’t happy. I was angry and drowning in my own misery. I had to let go of the past. I have a second chance because I gave myself a second chance. Not because they hand them out as you leave prison. Or because I did my time, now everything is forgiven, and I can go back to business as usual. My life is different. Nothing is the same. It’s not a second chance, it’s a second life.
Now, I am happy, I am succeeding in life.
I’m not special, or better than anyone. There is no reason why no one else can one day have another shot at life. I still struggle with the past. It’s hard to move on. It was not easy. But it’s what I needed to do. I saw my ex one day when they got on the same train as me. They didn’t recognise me. I called parole and told them straight away, they assured me I’d done nothing wrong, I was just on the train going about my day. But as I thought about it, all I wanted to do was try to help them. Try to give them a second chance at life. They looked so sad. It really crushed me.
But when I thought about it more, I realised, it’s up to all of us all to move on in our own time. But moving on helped me so much.
Sometimes, just knowing other people feel the same way you do, is enough to help.
When I was arrested, I had a job, a family, friends.
When they sent me to jail, I lost it all. Because that’s the true punishment. You lose your life. You break the law, so you are destroyed.
I wanted to actually die. Finish the job. There was nothing left anyway. No reason to live. And prisons don't give you a reason to live. They just remind you it’s all your fault. You’ve lost everything and it’s all your fault. Now sit in jail for five, 10, 15 years and watch tv.
But I didn’t die. I didn’t give up. I struggled on. I tried to make the best of the situation. I took every defeat and rolled with it as best I could. Because there were lots of defeats. Some worse than others. Some made me want to die again.
I sat and reflected on my life for eight years. I thought about what I had done and how I got to where I was. I was determined not to live the same life, not to try to mirror or regain what I had lost. I needed to change my attitude and adapt.
And then I was released.
After eight years. I was not at all prepared for it. Immersed in prison culture for such a long time. Having no long-term contact with people in society. Things were different. Attitudes, values, they had all changed. My prison culture did not fit well with some people, my jokes were just not funny to them. Their problems seemed so superficial and stupid to me.
I realised that not only had society changed, but I had changed. That prison wasn’t a compete waste of time. And I could use some of these changes to my advantage. For example, I’m not still procrastinating over what I want to be when I grow up at 30 years old like some people I’ve met. I’m just happy I can actually choose what to be. Having no agency for eight years, I’m just happy I can choose for myself again. If I work as a cleaner at 2:00am am, then it’s because I chose to. Not because I was coerced into it with threats of disciplinary actions.
I also learned resilience. I have got a lot of bad news since I got out, and each time I am told I was handling it really well. Why? Because when you have gone from sleeping in a house with your family, to sleeping in ‘separation’, in a cell with no shower, tv or window. Only a pillow and an itchy horsehair blanket and a steel toilet with no seat on it, everything else is now an improvement. No one can understand this, they cannot conceptualise how sad I once was.
Now I work as a lived experience consultant for various Organisations. I live in a lovely apartment in a fancy suburb. I ride a brand new 2024 model motorcycle. I am surrounded by amazing friends who support me.
My life is so different now. But that’s the point. My life was toxic before, that’s why I went to jail. I wasn’t happy. I was angry and drowning in my own misery. I had to let go of the past. I have a second chance because I gave myself a second chance. Not because they hand them out as you leave prison. Or because I did my time, now everything is forgiven, and I can go back to business as usual. My life is different. Nothing is the same. It’s not a second chance, it’s a second life.
Now, I am happy, I am succeeding in life.
I’m not special, or better than anyone. There is no reason why no one else can one day have another shot at life. I still struggle with the past. It’s hard to move on. It was not easy. But it’s what I needed to do. I saw my ex one day when they got on the same train as me. They didn’t recognise me. I called parole and told them straight away, they assured me I’d done nothing wrong, I was just on the train going about my day. But as I thought about it, all I wanted to do was try to help them. Try to give them a second chance at life. They looked so sad. It really crushed me.
But when I thought about it more, I realised, it’s up to all of us all to move on in our own time. But moving on helped me so much.
Sometimes, just knowing other people feel the same way you do, is enough to help.
Remand. Difficult times. Difficult times!!! Being on remand, in my opinion, is one of the most trying and testing parts of being in jail. You’ve been denied bail, the life you were living on the outside has just slipped through your fingers and everything feels like it has gone. Well, at least for you, it has.
Recently, I left my job as a police officer. When people asked why I left the police force, I said it was because my values misaligned with the job. And yet my certificate of service hangs in a frame on my wall. The irony is not lost on me.
As a young person, I admired my grandfather so much that I feared him. He is the kind of man that commands respect; a military man who doesn’t put up with any funny business. With Grandad, you need to try your damned hardest, always. And after you do that, you should have another go. Squeeze the last drop out of that lemon. Wedge it into your mouth and suck it. Grate every last bit off the rind.
One of the things I noticed as I entered my grimy first cell in jail was that there were no glass mirrors on the walls. I quickly found out that glass mirrors are banned in jail; no doubt because glass can be easily smashed, shattered and used as a weapon. Assaults are commonplace, and the guy with the sharpest weapon usually wins the fight. It pays to be vigilant; perhaps this is also why cells also have no wall clocks.
About Time Media acknowledges the traditional owners of the lands across Australia and particularly acknowledges the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation, traditional owners of the land on which About Time Media is based.
We acknowledge the continuing impacts of the criminal legal system on First Nations people, including disproportionate rates of incarceration and deaths in custody, which remain a national shame.
We pay deep respect to Elders past and present, and all families of those who have lost loved ones in prison.
© About Time Media Ltd.
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