From Guard to Wife: My Journey in the Shadows of the Justice System

Every day that passes, I find myself more determined to speak out about the harsh realities of the prison system. I am not just advocating for my husband, but for every individual behind those walls who has been forgotten or mistreated. The more I learn, the more I realize just how broken the system is — and how many voices go unheard. Recently, I’ve had to reach out to numerous state authorities, demanding answers and accountability for the conditions my husband and many others face daily. From medical neglect to retaliatory actions, it’s become clear that those in power are far more interested in maintaining control than ensuring justice. It’s a hard truth to face, but I refuse to let fear or frustration stop me from pushing for change. What I’ve come to understand is that the outside world has no idea what their tax dollars are not paying for. These prisons are not places of rehabilitation. They are warehouses for human lives — places where people are discarded and left to fend for...

  There’s something incredibly powerful about reclaiming the voice I once felt I had to silence. For years, I kept so much bottled up, not just because I didn’t know how to say it, but because I wasn’t sure anyone would listen. After spending so long in an environment where control and silence went hand in hand, I’ve had to relearn what it means to speak up. And now, every time I do, it feels like a piece of my soul is healing. When I look back, I realize how much the prison system demanded silence. It wasn’t just a job—it was a world where keeping quiet felt like a necessity. If you wanted to survive, you couldn’t challenge the system. You couldn’t question the injustices happening around you, because doing so meant risking everything. And so, I stayed silent, even though deep down, the guilt of not speaking up weighed heavy on me. Now, in this new chapter of my life, I’ve realized that my silence doesn’t have to define me. In fact, every word I write now is a declaration of freed...

Every day I wake up, there’s a part of me that’s still haunted by what I left behind in that prison. Not just the concrete walls, the endless rules, and the broken system, but the guilt that I didn’t speak up sooner. That guilt has lingered, hanging over me like a shadow, reminding me of the silence I once carried. I often ask myself, “Why didn’t I do more? Why didn’t I speak out then?” The truth is, it wasn’t as simple as just speaking up. When you’re entrenched in a system designed to strip everyone of their humanity — inmates and staff alike — it becomes harder to see your way out, much less make a change from within. At the time, survival meant keeping my head down, following the rules, and making it through each day without becoming another casualty of the system. But as time passed and I walked away, that survival mode didn’t let me rest. The guilt grew. It was no longer about just doing my job — it was about the broken system I left behind and the voices that were still silenced...

For years, I stayed silent, trapped inside a system that broke down more than just inmates — it chipped away at the souls of those who worked within it, too. I witnessed things that should have been called out, abuses that should have been stopped, and yet I didn’t have the strength or the voice to do so at the time. That silence became a weight, a lingering guilt I’ve carried ever since I left. Leaving wasn’t just about moving on from a career that no longer served me; it was about confronting my own inability to speak up in the face of corruption. It’s taken me time to realize that my silence then doesn’t define me now. In fact, that silence has fueled the fire inside me, pushing me to speak louder and with more purpose than ever before. I am finally using my voice to address the things I left behind. The truth is, the prison system is broken in ways that go far beyond what most people can imagine. It’s not just the inmates who suffer, but the people working inside those walls — torn...

 As I look back on my time working in the prison system, it’s hard to ignore the heavy weight that used to follow me daily. The guilt, the burden of things left unsaid, and the trauma of experiences that shaped me in ways I didn’t even realize at the time. Leaving that world behind wasn’t just about walking away from a job; it was about shedding a version of myself that had become entwined with fear, control, and survival. One of the hardest parts to reconcile was the guilt of leaving behind such a deeply corrupt system. I witnessed injustices, abuses, and practices that gnawed at my conscience, yet, I didn’t have the voice to speak up while I was still inside. For the longest time, I carried that guilt — the guilt of staying silent, the guilt of not doing more. It was like I abandoned not only my colleagues and inmates but also a part of myself that believed in change. But as I’ve come to realize, letting go of that past has opened the door for something far more beautiful: growth...

For the past six months, I was stuck in a situation that was slowly breaking me down, but I had no other choice. I had nowhere else to go. The place I was staying should have been my refuge, but instead, it became a place of torment, one that mirrored the very thing I’ve been trying to heal from for years. Every day, I had to deal with a man I barely knew making inappropriate comments, giving me those looks that made my skin crawl, and behaving in ways that triggered me deeply. It was like living with a shadow of my past—the 16 years of abuse I endured from my stepfather came flooding back. Every word, every gesture, every time he crossed a line, it was as if I was reliving that trauma all over again. But I stayed, because I didn’t have any other options. My safety, my housing, and my basic needs were tied to tolerating his behavior. Even though I’m in a safer place now, it feels like I can’t fully escape. I’m constantly on edge, waiting for the next violation, the next moment when I’l...

Lately, I've found myself overwhelmed by the never-ending buzz of social media—the endless notifications, the pressure to keep up, and the constant influx of everyone else's lives. So much drama, so many opinions, and so many voices trying to drown out our own. It’s easy to lose ourselves in the chaos, isn’t it? I realized that I was getting caught up in it all and losing sight of what’s truly important: my own well-being, my growth, and the peace that I work so hard to maintain. So, I decided to do something that felt a bit radical in today’s digital age—I took a few days away from social media. I shut down the apps, silenced the noise, and made a conscious decision to get back to the basics, to find out what my soul truly needed at this moment. It wasn’t easy at first, but that’s how I knew it was necessary. The Power of Silence The first day felt strange. There was an urge to reach for my phone, almost like a reflex, every few minutes. It’s incredible how much we’ve conditio...