By Socalbd

I must have drifted off to sleep as the lights turning on woke me up.  I was on my side facing into the cell and the sudden bright light coming on brought me out of my sleep.

There were sounds within the facility.  A door that opened and closed.  A toilet flushing.  Someone walking heavy in the hallway.  Then silence.  More silence.

The pod door opened and the guard entered with breakfast.  It was a repeat of yesterday.  Another meal of protein bar, banana and dry cereal.  The cereal was in a box likely from a mixed set of kid’s cereal choices sold at Costco or Sam’s Club.  Other than the banana and peanut butter sandwiches, almost all the food was pre-packaged items.  Again, very little expense was put out for this inmate’s survival.  It was the bare minimum.  Thoughts again came to me of my being warehoused.  Nothing was to be provided to me that would be considered beyond sufficient.

Again I spent the day attempting to fill hours with the routine I had developed.  Stretching.  Body weight exercises.  Walking back and forth.  Some quiet time on the bunk breathing deeply.  Occasionally, I would stand at the bars and look towards the pod door.  I don’t know why.  The view never changed.  I couldn’t even see that far from the cell door.  All I had was the view of the cinder block wall across from me and the three solid block walls of the cell.

I started to notice little things like discrepancies that were meant to ponder questions.  Why did the lower bunk I slept on have square openings in the steel while the upper bunk had circular holes in the steel?  Why was it the bars to the side of the cell door were fabricated in two sections that were welded together when the cell door itself was wider or just as wide as a side and it was one solid piece?  Why the off yellow wall color instead of the grey of other institutions?

And this cell was so small.  The toilet was on the opposite wall of the bunk leaving maybe a foot between the edge of the toilet bowl and the bunk.  It just made the space seem smaller and tight.  The small space worked the head.  As an inmate I wasn’t to have any more space than was absolutely necessary to keep me contained.  It made me wonder how guys that have to endure this for years get through it.  Part of my experience was to not have anything in the cell with me to make sure it was just me and my thoughts.  Having reading material would make it easier.  Not easy.  But at least, easier.  What I asked for was punishment.  Strip away everything possible and lock me up.  There was both a sense of regret setting in about that and a realization that I could get through this.  I knew when my release was scheduled.  I could run out the clock.

Lunch arrived.  It was a peanut butter sandwich.  The pattern was picking up again.  This sucked.  Another nap helped to kill some time in the afternoon.  That, and a few hours of staring at the wall and just thinking.  I had a lot to think about.  The trip I was on.  This week of isolation.  Getting what I asked for at the same time of hearing things happening in the facility and not being a part of it.  I wanted to know what was going on.  I wanted to know what the conversations were about and the laughter I could hear from time to time.  The pod door never opened after breakfast until lunch arrived.  And it rarely opened between lunch and dinner.  And when it did, I missed it with my naps.  The guards let me sleep I found out.  I missed the opportunity for interaction.  Interaction was what I was starting to crave and I missed it by my own fault of napping.  Time dragged.

I became aware of myself this day.  Aware of my odor, that is.  I hadn’t had a shower since intake three days ago.  I was in the same uniform, underwear and socks as three days ago.  I wondered when, or if, I would get a shower.  This, too, the odor, became part of my very small world.

When the pod door opened for the dinner delivery, the guard was carrying a tray with three different small take-out boxes on it.  They were passed to me with the comment I had been good and this was a reward.  If I continued to be good, good things could happen.  What did I do?  Of course I smarted off to the guard.  He shook his head and walked out.  I’m sure I was going to pay for that.  That’s kind of what I wanted.  A reason for an interaction.  Punishment so far has been painful and not fun at all.  But, at least, it was a chance for an interaction.  I was told to eat up and enjoy and be quick about it.  There was a plan after dinner.

Dinner was…. Amazing!    One box had pasta with an Italian sausage in it.  Another had salad with dressing.  The third…. A warm, gooey, brownie mixture.  I was in heaven.  This meal was amazing.  It was like being human again.  I savored every bite of every part of it.  After meal after meal of peanut butter sandwiches and protein bars this was hitting the lottery.  Something so simple as a warm meal of pasta which I would normally take for granted was a special experience on this night.

It wasn’t long before the two guards were back.  I was ordered to stand up, back up to the cell door and place my hands through the slot.  I was cuffed and then the door opened and I was led out to the common area.  Sets of chains and cuffs were stretched out.  I was placed in transport restraints and told to sit down and keep quiet.  One by one the other two inmates still present were brought out and similarly cuffed up.

We were led to the sally port area and put into a transport van.  It was time for some diesel therapy.  It was also the first time since intake that I had a chance to see and talk with the other inmates.  The ride took a while, and the driver wasn’t the best.  He must have hit every large pothole there was in the county.  At least it was time out of the cell and time to interact with my fellow convicts.  Human interaction.  I finally got it for an hour or so in total.

When we got back, we were taken out of the transport restraints and each of us was locked back up in our pods, alone.  Back to solitary.  But back to solitary with some memories and the ability to think about the brief conversations just had.

Soon the lights went out and off to sleep.  One full day left to get through I thought as my head went to the pillow.

When I woke up there was the sliver of light from bottom of the pod hallway door and the wall vent that cast those eerie shadows from the bars into the cell.  I knew where I was immediately.  I was still locked up. I was still alone.  I thought it must be around 7 AM or so based on the shadows.

When the lights came on the door opened and the guard entered with a bag in his hand.  He wished me a good morning with an interesting grin on his face.  In the bag was a peanut butter sandwich.  He continued to smile and eventually walked out.  It was an interesting breakfast choice I thought.  They were screwing with me.  Or were they?  What time was it in actuality?   I sat on the bunk for a few moments and contemplated my situation.  The tears started again.  This was getting to me.  I was able to compose myself, eat the sandwich and then move on with the morning.

I didn’t get a chance to go through my full AM routine of stretching, exercise and walking as the guard returned a short time later.  I was ordered up and was cuffed up through the port.

I was walked out to the intake area and offered a shower which I gladly accepted.  The water was warm and I was grateful.  When I was done I was given a clean pair of boxers and then cuffed up and hooded.

The guard led me back to the punishment room.  I started to think what did I do to deserve another round of therapy.  I was placed in a standing spread eagle and the guard then approached with an electric hair trimmer in his hand.  For the next few minutes all the hair from my neck down to the waist was removed with precision.

When he was done, I was put onto a table and strapped down.  A blindfold was placed on me followed by headphones.  Soon, static was playing into the headphones.  I was left there.  I have no idea if I was being watched, or not.  Having white noise or static filling your ears is an interesting experience.  It’s a different form of solitary.  And it went on for a while.  I was strapped down unable to move and was forced to endure it.

When the guard returned he removed the headphones and blindfold.  He then set to work quickly removing the straps.  I couldn’t get up immediately.  The body didn’t want to respond after being strapped down for so long.  When I was able to sit up and eventually stand, the guard congratulated me.  I was being released.  I was the last inmate to finish up.

I was permitted to take another shower and then it was time to debrief.

When I was released the time was around 6 PM.  I couldn’t believe how late in the day it was already.  I was told that starting with the first full day the guards kept pushing back the time they turned the lights on by an hour each day.  Today, Saturday, the lights came on at noon.  Lights out was also pushed back each day.  Last night it was between 1 and 2 AM when the lights went out.  They were deliberately playing with time to keep us guessing along with the food deliveries.  Turns out one of the other inmates was getting breakfast for dinner and dinner for breakfast along with long stretches of no light in his cell.  We each got something of an individualized experience to see what would happen.

By the time I was released I had 100 hours incarcerated and most of it was zero contact isolation.  It’s what I had asked for and they delivered.

There were times when it was tough.  There were lots of time I kept telling myself this is what you asked for so just deal with it.

It’s an interesting head space to know you are being warehoused and ignored.  Not having anything in the cell to work the mind was hard at times.  I had to improvise and figure out what was the routine to keep me sane each day and fill the hours.  I craved the limited guard interactions, even when they were for behavioral correction.  At least I was being interacted with even if the result was the imposition of pain and humiliation.

Would I do this again?  Yes, and longer.  Each time I learn something about myself and my ability to fill the void of isolation.  Could I go 7 to 10 days now that I’ve done almost 5 days?  Time will tell.  It’s a lot to ask of your friends to lock you away and be responsible for you.  Trust goes both ways in these experiences.  I have to trust them that they are watching out for me and keeping me safe.  They have to trust I can endure what I’m asking to experience.  It’s an interesting dynamic… the isolated inmate and the corrections officer.

Thanks to my friends for locking me away!  They say your true friends know where you’ve buried the bodies.  My true friends bury this body and then dig it up when the clock has run out.

The End