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When you come to prison, it’s not just your freedom that’s affected. Often, it’s your ability to imagine a future that feels like your own. So much of daily life becomes about what’s decided for you – what you eat, when you sleep, what you wear. But it goes deeper than that. The space to dream, to choose a path based on who you are and who you want to be, can feel like it disappears.
Many of us had plans once. We had ambitions – maybe to work with young people, run our own business, become a nurse or a tradie. But, after prison, those goals can start to feel far away. There are roadblocks that make it harder: job checks, application knock-backs, limited work options. Sometimes it feels like the world wants to decide what kind of life is “appropriate” for us now. The jobs we are steered toward can feel like they were never really chosen, just what’s left.
This can wear you down. You start to wonder: Is this it? Is this all I’m allowed to aim for now?
It’s easy to feel like you’re stuck treading water – getting by but not really going anywhere. It takes a toll on your spirit. When your future is shaped more by barriers than by choices, it’s hard to feel like you’re truly living.
The weight of judgement, the assumptions people make about you – it can box you in long after the sentence is over.
But here’s the thing: even in the hardest places, dreaming is still possible. Imagination doesn’t have to be a luxury. It can be a tool for survival. A quiet resistance. Even when the world tells us to settle, we can still hold onto the idea that our lives are worth more than just “making do”. We can still imagine and work toward a life with purpose, creativity and connection.
Everyone has the right to dream. To expect. To imagine a version of life where we get to decide who we are – not just live with who we’ve been told we are. That kind of dreaming is powerful. It keeps something alive in us. Something worth fighting for.
We are more than our past. We are not just statistics or sentences. We are people with stories, talents, goals and heart. And, while the road may be harder, we are still allowed to dream big.
Because dreaming isn’t just for the privileged – it’s for all of us.
When you come to prison, it’s not just your freedom that’s affected. Often, it’s your ability to imagine a future that feels like your own. So much of daily life becomes about what’s decided for you – what you eat, when you sleep, what you wear. But it goes deeper than that. The space to dream, to choose a path based on who you are and who you want to be, can feel like it disappears.
Many of us had plans once. We had ambitions – maybe to work with young people, run our own business, become a nurse or a tradie. But, after prison, those goals can start to feel far away. There are roadblocks that make it harder: job checks, application knock-backs, limited work options. Sometimes it feels like the world wants to decide what kind of life is “appropriate” for us now. The jobs we are steered toward can feel like they were never really chosen, just what’s left.
This can wear you down. You start to wonder: Is this it? Is this all I’m allowed to aim for now?
It’s easy to feel like you’re stuck treading water – getting by but not really going anywhere. It takes a toll on your spirit. When your future is shaped more by barriers than by choices, it’s hard to feel like you’re truly living.
The weight of judgement, the assumptions people make about you – it can box you in long after the sentence is over.
But here’s the thing: even in the hardest places, dreaming is still possible. Imagination doesn’t have to be a luxury. It can be a tool for survival. A quiet resistance. Even when the world tells us to settle, we can still hold onto the idea that our lives are worth more than just “making do”. We can still imagine and work toward a life with purpose, creativity and connection.
Everyone has the right to dream. To expect. To imagine a version of life where we get to decide who we are – not just live with who we’ve been told we are. That kind of dreaming is powerful. It keeps something alive in us. Something worth fighting for.
We are more than our past. We are not just statistics or sentences. We are people with stories, talents, goals and heart. And, while the road may be harder, we are still allowed to dream big.
Because dreaming isn’t just for the privileged – it’s for all of us.
If you would like to join the National Network of Incarcerated & Formerly Incarcerated Women and Girls (it’s free), you can contact them:
(if you have access to email)
Studying after you leave prison may be a good option to help you learn new skills and give you more options and opportunities for employment. Studying can also help keep you motivated after leaving prison.
My release date was the 18th of March 2025, and in one month I have accomplished so many things.
Ask Izzy is a website and an app that connects people in need with housing, a meal, money help, family violence support, counselling and much more.
Release can feel like a distant flicker – filled with both hope and uncertainty. But, when the gates open, freedom isn’t just liberating; it can be overwhelming.
Prison is endured, not processed. The trauma often goes unrecognised and unacknowledged. Many of us hide the damage, even from ourselves. Without validation, we carry it alone – mistaking struggle for weakness, layering self-blame on top of trauma and finding no clear path to relief.
Simon Fenech is the General Manager/Director at social enterprise Fruit2Work in Victoria. His transformation from a drug addict, buried deep in Australia’s criminal underworld, to an inspirational figure, intent on changing the lives of others, is remarkable.
Release can feel like a distant flicker – filled with both hope and uncertainty. But, when the gates open, freedom isn’t just liberating; it can be overwhelming.
All states and territories offer bond loans or other forms of assistance to help cover the cost of a rental bond when you move into a new rental home.
Help keep the momentum going. All donations will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
All donations of $2 or more are tax deductible. If you would like to pay directly into our bank account to avoid the processing fee, please contact donate@abouttime.org.au. ABN 67 667 331 106.
Help us get About Time off the ground. All donations are tax deductible and will be vital in providing an essential resource for people in prison and their loved ones.
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