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Loving a Felon: From Prison Walls to the Street Life—A Journey of 978 Days

 


- by DeAnna

I met my husband, Ryan, when I was working as a Correctional Officer in the prison where he was incarcerated. He was an addict—trying, but not succeeding, to stay clean in a system that seemed more invested in keeping people locked in their struggles than in helping them find a way out. The prison system, as crooked as a witch's finger, wasn’t doing him any favors.

I had no idea what addiction really looked like. At the time, I didn’t recognize the signs of when he was using. He was "somewhat clean," or at least that’s what I thought. It wasn’t until he came home and relapsed that I truly began to see addiction in its rawest form.

When Ryan came home, I thought we would start fresh, build the life we always dreamed of. But addiction is like a storm that never really clears. I saw it all—the street life, the highs, the lows, the withdrawals, and the relapses. I watched him battle demons I couldn’t even comprehend. I watched the man I loved go through hell, and I watched him try to claw his way out of it, time and time again.

The first time I really saw addiction for what it was, it hit me hard. I saw Ryan fall back into the habits, the lifestyle, the people, and the drugs. The man I loved—the man I had dreamed of building a future with—wasn’t the man I was seeing. And yet, there he was, fighting. Fighting for himself. Fighting for us.

I saw the withdrawals, the cold sweats, the pain. I saw him desperate to get clean, but at the mercy of a body and mind that didn’t know how to survive without the crutch of drugs. And when he relapsed, I saw the shame and the guilt. But I also saw the determination—the same determination that once helped him survive prison, the same determination that kept him trying to fight for a future.

Loving someone like him is a constant challenge, but it’s also a privilege. You see the raw, unfiltered truth of their struggle, the parts of them that no one else gets to witness. And while the pain and the heartache may threaten to tear you apart, you also see the resilience—the incredible strength that pushes them to fight another day, even when they feel like giving up.

Through all of it—the good, the bad, the heartbreaking, and the hopeful—I love him more. Every relapse, every high, every moment where I thought I couldn’t handle it anymore, only made me love him harder. I fell deeper into this love, not because it was easy, but because I saw the man underneath the addiction. I saw his heart, his soul, his dreams of a life beyond the struggle. And I realized that love isn’t just about the good times. It’s about showing up when it’s hard, when you feel like you’re drowning, and still saying, “I’m here.”

In these 978 days, I’ve watched him try to give up the life he once knew. I’ve seen him fight to stay clean, fight for the life he knows he deserves. But I’ve also seen the moments where he wondered if he’d ever be free of his past. Addiction doesn’t just vanish, and neither does the past. But we keep moving forward, together. And no matter how many times he stumbles, I’ll be right here. Loving him. Supporting him. Holding on.

So, if you’re reading this and wondering what it’s like to love someone in this struggle, let me tell you: it’s not easy. But it’s worth it. Every single day. Because through all the relapses, the pain, and the uncertainty, I know that the love we share is stronger than anything else. It has to be. And I will continue to love him harder, no matter what.

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