Skip to main content

The Resilience of Surviving a Prison Marriage



Prison is more than just bars and razor wire—it is an evil force that sinks its demonic claws into anyone connected to it. It doesn’t just punish the one inside; it punishes those who dare to love them. My husband and I are living proof of the resilience required to survive a prison marriage. We aren’t just battling time—we’re battling a system designed to break us both.

Two Separate Lives, One Marriage

Being married to someone in prison means living two separate lives. My husband is fighting to survive inside, navigating a world where trust is non-existent, and danger lurks in every corner. Meanwhile, I am on the outside, fighting a different kind of battle—staying alert to those who seek to harm me, ensuring that our love withstands the weight of the system that wants to crush it.

He is forced to exist in two realities: the hardened world of prison, where vulnerability is a weakness, and the world we’ve built together, where love is his only refuge. But being married to a former correctional officer makes him a target. He is called a traitor. He is manipulated emotionally, threatened, and even physically harmed. His loyalty to me has become another weapon for them to use against him.

The Outside Battle

On the outside, I am not safe either. People are watching, waiting, searching. The stigma of our love has made me a target. Those who hate our marriage, those who don’t understand it, they see me as the enemy. I have to stay vigilant. I have to protect myself. And still, I stand firm. Because this is not just a fight—it is a war for our future.

Why I Walked Away from Being a CO

I quit being a correctional officer to advocate for the humanities of prisoners. In the academy, I was taught to, and I quote, "hate all inmates equally." But I refused to let that mentality define me. I understand that some deserve to be incarcerated, but not all. People like my step-father, who molested me for 16 years, are allowed to roam the earth freely with no reprimand, but an addict like my husband is forced to live in this cruel world of imprisonment. And yet, in the eyes of the system, I am seen not only as "law enforcement" that automatically hates them, but now, after our arrest, as "law enforcement gone bad." I am fighting daily for the truth in all of that—on both sides.

It is a wicked system, one that is consistently swept under the rug when challenged. Despite my husband attempting suicide due to the emotional burdens he carries, despite them denying me visits because I was a former CO and am now considered HIGH RISK to the prison as a visitor—because I know the internal ways—it all "maths," if you will. And it is so corrupt, it is sickening.

Not an Easy Life, Not an Easy Fight

This life is not for the weak. It is not romanticized fairy tales or hopeful endings tied up with a bow. It is pain. It is fear. It is resilience. And yet, through all of it, I choose him.

Not the man in a prison cell, not the man being forced to play a role to survive—but the real man. The sober man. The free man. The man who loves me, fights for me, and will one day walk beside me in a world that can no longer keep us apart.

Because at the end of it all, he is worth it.

#PrisonMarriage #SurvivingPrison #LoveBeyondBars #StrengthThroughAdversity #EppersonEmpowerment #PrisonReform #FightingForTruth

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Exposing the Deadly Reality at La Palma Correctional Facility: How Many More Have to Die?

For years, La Palma Correctional Facility in Eloy, Arizona, has been a hotspot for controversy, yet little has been done to address the rampant corruption, officer misconduct, and systemic failures that have turned it into a living hell for those incarcerated within its walls. Most recently, another inmate has died—one of many whose deaths could have been prevented if those in charge had taken real action instead of covering up their negligence. On January 2, 2025, I fought to have my husband moved out of La Palma due to the sheer volume of drugs flooding the yard, which were being brought in by correctional officers. I reported specific names to the Special Security Unit (SSU), thinking that doing the right thing would bring change. Instead, my concerns fell on deaf ears. Now, here we are, with more inmates losing their lives—many of these deaths are suspected overdoses, yet little to no investigation ever seems to result in actual change. A History of Negligence and Deaths This lates...
2 comments
Read more

Until You’ve Walked Through Those Gates, Sit Down and Be Quiet

-By DeAnna You see memes like this floating around all the time — the ones that crack jokes about how “good” inmates supposedly have it. You know the ones: they talk about sex three times a day, reading books, working out, and then “complaining” about prison life. People laugh, hit share, and feel smug because they think they know something about what it’s like inside. I used to be one of them. I used to think prison was “right.” I believed it was what people deserved if they broke the law. I repeated the clichés: “Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time.” “Three hots and a cot.” “They’ve got it easy in there.” And then… I worked there. Let me tell you something: until you’ve walked through those locking gates — hearing that buzzer, watching that steel door slam behind you, feeling the air shift from free to suffocating — you don’t know a damn thing about prison. Until you’ve seen the reality — the mace, the gas grenades, the cell extractions that leave blood on the floor, the...
Post a Comment
Read more

Two Years for Corruption. Seven Years for Addiction.

  There’s something I can’t shake today. And honestly… it makes me sick. I just read about a correctional officer at the same prison my husband is sitting in right now —Lewis Prison Complex—who was caught smuggling heroin, fentanyl, and cell phones into the facility. Not using. Not struggling. Not trying to survive addiction. Smuggling. Trafficking. Profiting. Investigators didn’t just catch him once either. This wasn’t some “bad decision” moment. This was a full investigation—months long—with surveillance, evidence, and tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of drugs tied to it. Let me say that again… A man with a badge, authority, and access was bringing poison into a prison —into a place already filled with men fighting addiction, trauma, and survival every single day. Now here’s the part that I cannot wrap my head around… My husband is serving seven years for doing drugs. Seven years. For addiction. For a battle that started when he was a child—before he even had ...
Post a Comment
Read more