How Serving Jail Time Helped Save My Life

The unexpected benefits of incarceration

I served 31 days in Santa Barbara County Jail.

I’m sure people who know me now wouldn’t believe I could’ve done anything to get incarcerated. Alcoholism is a sneaky disease.

In October 1998 and January 1999, I got arrested for a DUI. The judge sentenced me to the Sherrif’s Work Alternative Program (SWAP) doing community service yard work at the local fairgrounds. I continued to drive on a suspended license and got caught. I lost the privilege to work off my sentence. I had to serve the rest of my time in jail.

I recently started watching the hit series “Orange Is The New Black” (OITNB).

I guess I’m a little late to the party. I had no idea what I had been missing. They illustrate the tragedies and injustices of prison life, injecting a dose of activism into the plot. They’re presented with inevitable life lessons. They grow and change while behind bars.

Their relationships with each other and their interspersed backstories appeal to me. I want to know who they were before they got there. I want to know how they resolve their issues because I did that myself.

The main character, Piper Chapman, often revisits her privilege and makes amends for her mistakes. The next related series needs to feature Laverne Cox as the star, my new favorite actress who plays the role of Sophia Burset. There’s more to talk about. For now, I’ll stick to my experience in jail.

The show catapulted me into my past. I started to remember what it was like to get sent to jail, how I survived, and what I learned.

Here’s what happened, and how going to jail helped me grow.

My apartment was a couple of miles away. I had to walk there to turn myself in.

I remember the mini-backpack I brought, knowing I couldn’t keep it with me. I wore makeup to cover my scars at the time and felt insecure about not having any. I don’t recall if I had anything to drink the night before. I know I felt nervous.

My time in the “drunk tank” didn’t show me what it was like to stay in jail. I was intoxicated and unaware of the details. This time I felt the excruciating wait time and being flat-out ignored when I asked questions. I sat in the same triangle room, never knowing when they’d call my name.

Five hours later (I’m not kidding), they made me strip down in front of a female guard. I recall her looking up my ass for contraband. Maybe she used a flashlight? I don’t recall any details, but I remember I felt demoralized.

Then she handed me my jail clothes. The shoes were like Vans. For anyone who watched the first episode, Piper Chapman made me laugh when she chattered on about the Vans they gave her upon arrival to prison. She was clueless about the impending adjustment. She desperately tried to hold onto her old reality. Focusing on shoes helped. I relate.

I had no idea what was in store for me.

Though it’s not as harsh as a prison, jail gave me a hell of a wakeup call. I’d only been to jail for one night before. This time it would be 28 days (or more, as it turned out). Watching OITNB brought me back to the realities of my lived experience.

After I got dressed, I waited alone in that room for another couple of hours. I know they make us wait on purpose because they can. It’s another way to punish us, while we’re already being punished.

Another female guard finally came to show me to the dorms. It was a big room with bunks to accommodate 40+ inmates. It would be my home for the next month. I looked around wide-eyed like a doe in the headlights. The other inmates stared at me, some friendly, some not.

One woman, in particular, was as in a “crank coma,” a term used for people coming down off of meth. Most of them were arrested on drug charges, specifically under the influence or selling. One woman was in for credit card fraud. Only a few had committed violent crimes.

These women were going to be my dorm mates. Other than a few scowling at me, I felt sort of ok with them. Our meals were served in the dorm. They allowed us to watch a limited amount of TV. We got newspapers. I like them for the crossword puzzles.

Santa Barbara County is a wealthy community.

I’m sure we were better off than inmates in other areas. I not only carried white privilege, but I also had other advantages. My parents came to visit, and they let me stay with them after I got out. They put money on my books, so I could get shower shoes and ramen.

There were disadvantages despite my privilege. Our meals were disgusting. They intentionally woke us up at 4:30 am. We had to shower and pee in front of everyone. I remember one of my first nights I couldn’t pee right away, because I was anxious.

And of course, we couldn’t leave.

Outdoor time was only twenty minutes. One woman kept staring me down in the yard. She ended up fighting another mentally unstable inmate and got into trouble. I was relieved they both got sent to “iso” (isolation). They don’t have solitary confinement in county jail.

I don’t think isolation for a length of time was a solution, either. The county didn’t adequately address mental health issues. They isolated them and ignored their needs. It’s incredibly cruel and inhumane. I had prescribed meds for ADHD and OCD back then. They waited for 2–3 weeks, most of my sentence, to provide them. I’m fortunate not to have any repercussions from the delay.

Eventually, I got into a strangely comfortable rhythm.

Humans adapt, and I was no different. I made friends and developed a crush on a female guard named Maxine Woodard. Everyone called her by her last name. I want to thank her for diverting my attention while I did time. I wrote letters and journaled. Writers can’t go without writing, as you know.

People need to adjust to new conditions, or we’ll suffer. Making friends and doing crossword puzzles helped pass the time and kept me sane and relatively healthy. We thrive on predictability. After the initial shock, we know what to expect, and it brings comfort.

One friend staying in county ended up later being my temporary sponsor in AA. Another woman wanted to stay in touch when we left. She vowed to stay clean.

I contemplated my sobriety while detained.

I made promises I hoped to keep. I didn’t want to end up there again. But it was more than that. I knew my life on the outside was falling apart due to alcoholism.

Because I couldn’t stop drinking and was numb most of the time, jail offered me a way to stay present. I had to face my fears. Incarceration helped me push pause on my troubled life. Though I wasn’t ready to get sober until years later, I learned valuable lessons while incarcerated.

I got to see firsthand the sufferings of others. I saw injustice, as the crimes didn’t fit the time. I got to feel powerless, which can be a hidden gift. I couldn’t get out because of my behavior. I had no other recourse than to look within.

I made unsafe, irrational choices as a result of my alcoholism. I’m fortunate I didn’t kill anyone during the times I drove drunk. I knew I had a problem and didn’t know how to solve it. I had resolve and ambition to commit, but would never follow through.

I got arrested for public intoxication around 2001. I went to meetings, and they didn’t stick. My former inmate friend sponsored me briefly back then.

I wasn’t ready to get and stay clean and sober until March 2003.

By then, I had a backlog of experience, showing me the benefits of sobriety. I was beaten down and defeated. I was emotionally exhausted. I hit a deep enough bottom.

I didn’t realize until much later how jail my time helped me finally get sober, which ultimately saved my life. Without dire consequences like being incarcerated, I wouldn’t have noticed how much my alcoholism was destroying my life.

Sometimes, the most awful of circumstances bring us closer to enlightenment.

For me, detainment in the county jail allowed me to reflect on other kinds of imprisonment, like my consequences of abusing alcohol and drugs. It opened me up to the possibility I didn’t have to live that way. It showed me what I did wasn’t working. I might need to ask for help.

It opened my heart to compassion for others who struggle. I was able to see every one of those inmates in all of their humanity. Like me, they had taken a wrong turn. They never wanted to end up like this. Like me, they had families and other people who cared about them. We had pushed others away with our misguided choices. We eventually lost our power to choose.

A nearly accurate depiction of women in prison appeals to me because I’ve been there. I understand what they’re going through. Although a TV show us anything but what’s real, I found real freedom in knowing I’m not alone. I’m grateful the producers of OITNB decided to address self-awareness and intense personal growth while incarcerated. I know I’m not the only one who identified.

I’m grateful I’m alive and well, able to share my story. I hope I can help another woman who’s struggled with addiction and been to jail or prison. I wouldn’t wish incarceration on anyone. Sometimes, though, it can be a life-saving catalyst toward a better life. I heard in a meeting long ago that pain is the touchstone of spiritual growth. I know it’s true since I’ve grown so much.

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