I remember the first time I received a visit. It was very dramatic going into areas of the prison I’d never been in. That was the fun part. Anxiety built up for so much time though and I had to spend 10 minutes crying before I could go into the visiting room with the other families and other inmates. After gaining composure, I went out and visited my family. It was a matter of not wanting to upset them, to show them I’m okay. I explained I was being taken care of with shelter, food and clothing and no one is bothering me. That I am taking programs and learning new trades. After the visit I realized my family is out there struggling and that the sad part was they aren’t taken care of. Who is the one really in “prison”?
— Jonathan E.