At first, I just wanted time go by as fast as possible. 2922 days, each one basically the same, let’s just get em over with. I learned how to do that quickly, and in several ways, and could’ve gone on like that for 2-3 years easily, without much self-reflection. In fact, that’s how a ton of inmates do, only to come back again and again thru the revolving door of the justice system.
But when I found out I was gonna do 8 years, thats when everything changed. My focus broadened; the horizon was much further out. I had to do something in that span of time, too large a chunk of life to just bide my time. For the first time in my life, I was planning years and years of my life in advance, with realistic goals and concrete steps to take. I may have been 30 in physical age, but I started to think of myself as 36 (how old I’ll be when I’m out).
At the end of each day, it wasn’t just enough to feel gratefully surprised at how fast the hours went, but needed to feel accomplished, that I’d done at least one thing toward some greater end.
What’s weird is that, in the process, the daily tasks I set for myself–the journey itself– became small rewards in themselves. Not just the obvious stuff like work and exercise, but the mundane chores like doing laundry by hand. All these things actions were keyed in on the same energy, all tiny dots in a much grander vision, like a pointillist painting.
Easy Trouble 