THE INVISIBLE POISON

It's pretty interesting that the day I decided to write about mental health, two men asked me if I would join them in doing the same for an upcoming event. They, like me, recognized that there was a big problem brewing in prison. This hit home all the more when I sat in the chow hall, looking at the men around me.

You would assume that criminals were everywhere, yes, but that's not the case. The men around me meow like cats when you talk to them. Others carry on a conversation with themselves all day. Some scavenge the trash cans for empty chips bags and bottles like a hoarder. You even had Steve.

This was a weirdo that couldn't keep a celly. He never bathed, wore tattered shorts that he never washed. He danced around the day room, talking to no one in particular. He once remained in his cell for an entire week, and when he came out, he reeked of a foul odor. He always made himself stand out in his weirdness, like when we had an annual lockdown and the shakedown crew found rotting food under his mattress.

This was one example of what was around me. But it shouldn't, right? Wrong. The mental health epidemic made its way into the prison system a long time ago. What's different now is men like me. I recognized that prison had taken a turn for the worse. Like a crack in the dam now fractured, spewing thousands upon thousands of gallons of water. No cork could dissuade the water from coming forth. Just like the men who roam the prisons in Virginia.

I don't know if it's the introduction of these synthetic drugs like suboxone, or spice? But these two have made men weird. I'm talking about diving off the top tier, or punching the wall as if it's some unseen foe. You witnessed acts that had you scratching your head as to what the hell was going on?

I get that mental health would be stretched thin by the sheer number of incarcerated men they see on a daily basis. Even as I recognized that, it didn't change the problem: men need help.

I'm a veteran of mass incarceration for nearly 30 years, and in my journey from one prison to the next, mental health hadn't done a job that I found adequate. It's like they wait until the last minute to deal with the problem. I can attest to this, because I've been housed in 8 different prisons, some multiple times. So I know what I've seen, and none of it worked.

My suggestion is, and always will be, us- the incarcerated. Why? We live in the cesspool, and for whatever reason, we made it work. I'm a man who battled with depression, suicidal thoughts, and drug abuse to mask the reality of my crimes that broke me in ways I never thought I would crawl back from...but I did, and so can the men around me.

I took the programs that the prisons provided, but I chose to seek change. Now I'm an anomaly, due to my striving for redemption by taking a hard look at myself in the mirror. Now what about my brothers around me? They need help.

Some of the biggest issues with mental health are men not seeing that they have a problem. You had a man who murdered his mother while high off of acid. He now said he's no longer a drug addict, because what he did to his mother changed him in ways that broke him. Now in that brokenness, he found his path by submitting to his spirituality. But when men speak with him, he has no social acumen; meaning, he comes off weird when he speaks on life. For instance, he believes his spirituality was all he needed in this world, but because of it, he's ostracized himself because he hasn't grown beyond the words in the good book. It's placed him in constant battles with cellies, coworkers, and even those he attends his weekly religious services with. Everybody saw him as weird, but when you asked him if he was normal, someone others would socialize with, he would say yes. In truth, his mind was so high in the clouds that he didn't see anything but his spirituality as his crutch, which left him off balance--and he couldn't even recognize it.

You had this being what they see as normal, and it's not. It never will be, not when men aren't given the proper guidance--and that's where mental health comes in.

These therapists were trained to come into a prison and do a job that should change the status of those they help. But how can that be done when you have, on average 1000 incarcerated men in a prison? The number of therapists-- if we're lucky- was five. Five. How much time could be given to a single patient on a weekly, monthly, or yearly basis? Not enough to even begin to help those in need. Remember the crack in the dam.

The incarcerated men in prison should be trained to assist with the problems that they're housed with. Imagine having 50 men who took a mental health course and now being utilized to combat the problems around them.

The prison system has a big problem, and sadly, it'll only get bigger if those in power stay on this course. I don't feel comfortable with any of this, not when it's an us-versus-them kind of mindset; incarcerated men versus the prison industrial complex that won't see us as anything but numbers on a count sheet.

We can evolve, and so should those that oversee the prison industrial complex. All it would take is a conversation, trust, and a belief that being united could change the prison industrial complex for the better. Remember this: I started out lost, but through hard work, I developed into something unique. So can the men around me, if given a fair shot.