I beg for help from the people who are supposed to provide it, but every time I’m left empty-handed. After trying and failing so many times, I gave up hope and stopped asking altogether.
Why Do I Keep Coming Back to Prison?
This question is posed to me constantly. Usually, I laugh it off, but the honest answer fills me with shame every time I admit it. I’ve come to realize I’m not alone in facing these challenges, so I’ll do my best to explain my experience as I live it—or sometimes regress to process it.
When I’m released from prison, I have no place to live. The state provides $200 and a debit card with a set of clothes, but no plan. I can stretch that money for about 30 days if I’m in the right area, but it doesn’t cover much. I still need to buy a bus or train ticket to my county of legal residence—two dollars if I’m lucky—and find a roof to sleep under. But what happens when there’s no roof, no food, and no safety?
The first night, I do what I can to survive. I’ve learned the hard truth: if I get caught trespassing or breaking a rule, at least I’ll have a shelter for a while. When I meet with my parole officer the next day, I hear the same refrain: “Sorry, we don’t do that,” or “We don’t have the funds.” The “Transitions” class in prison promised that parole would help with housing, food, clothing, and transportation, but those promises never materialized.
Without a stable place to sleep or eat, I start spiraling. The stress and hopelessness push me toward getting high, just to block out the reality for a moment. I know that showing up at a “friend’s” house with drugs means I’ll have a place to stay for the night, even if it’s not safe or healthy. I don’t have the willpower to say no or to break free from this cycle.
I’ve asked to be placed in a program through parole, but I waited for eight or nine months without any resolution. By the time my name came up, I was already back in jail. I’ve been stuck in this vortex, this revolving door, since 2009.
These are the reasons I keep going back to prison. I beg for help from the people who are supposed to provide it, but every time I’m left empty-handed. After trying and failing so many times, I gave up hope and stopped asking altogether.
Respectfully, William
