The Quiet Exhaustion No One Sees

There are emotions that scream.

And then there are emotions that go silent.

Lately, mine have gone quiet.

Ryan and I have been through hell and back over the past two and a half years — the kind of hell you don’t come back from unchanged. The kind that strips you down to survival mode and leaves you standing there wondering when you stopped feeling so much… and why that now feels like relief.

He relapsed.
And while the world loves a clean, simple explanation for relapse, the truth is messier. His reasons are tangled in trauma, in a past that never loosened its grip, in wounds that existed long before I ever entered his life. Addiction didn’t start with me, and it didn’t end because of love — no matter how much we wish it worked that way.

As for me?
I learned about a world I only thought existed on television.

Drugs. Addiction. Street life. Prison culture. Relapse cycles. Withdrawal. Chaos disguised as normal. Survival disguised as strength. I didn’t grow up in this world. I didn’t study it in a textbook. I lived it — unexpectedly, unwillingly, and deeply.

One day, when all of this is over, I will write the book.
The full story.
The raw truth.
The parts I keep locked away right now because some things aren’t meant to be explained while you’re still bleeding from them.

For now, I share the minimum. Not because the pain isn’t real — but because some pain is sacred, and some pain is still actively happening.

What I can say is this:

I am numb.
I am cold.
I am exhausted in a way sleep does not fix.

I am tired of the drama.
Tired of the chaos.
Tired of the prison world and everything that comes with living through a bid with the person you love.

Being a prison wife is not just hard — it’s brutal.
It is more than taxing.
More than painful.

It is a hell I cannot fully explain to anyone who hasn’t lived it.

It is loving someone through steel doors and recorded phone calls.
It is learning to smile while carrying fear you don’t speak out loud.
It is being strong so often that weakness feels foreign.
It is holding your breath through lockdowns, violations, rumors, and silence.
It is waking up every day and choosing endurance — not because you’re fearless, but because walking away was never an option.

People see loyalty and think it’s romantic.
They don’t see the cost.

Right now, I’m not dramatic. I’m not hysterical. I’m not falling apart.

I’m something quieter than that.

I’m tired.

And maybe that’s what survival looks like in this season — not screaming, not explaining, not defending… just standing still long enough to catch your breath in a world that never stops demanding more from you.

If you don’t understand this life, that’s okay.
I wouldn’t wish understanding it on anyone.

But if you do — if you’ve lived it — then you already know.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re tired too.

Comments

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...

Another FBOP Failure: Tammy's Story — When “Funding” Becomes a Death Sentence

Here we go again. Another woman, another broken promise behind razor wire. Another excuse that starts with “funding” and ends with neglect. Tammy’s story is not new. It’s not unique. And that’s the biggest tragedy of all. Because her life—and her vision—matter. And so does every other person sitting in a Federal Bureau of Prisons (FBOP) facility, hoping for even the most basic human care. Recently, Tammy reached out to share what’s been going on at her facility, and I think it speaks for itself: "Recently I wrote about how the BOP seems to be broke. They took away several items at food service due to funding—like the salad bar (which, by the way, was just plain lettuce mix and generic dressing), they’ve limited eggs (maybe understandable with the bird flu), and removed extra items like beans and rice. What I didn’t mention, but probably should have, is that my prison doesn’t even repurpose leftovers. They literally throw away pounds and pounds of food daily from our kitche...

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...

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

Search This Blog