Tag Archives: addiction

Stylin’

VINCE

Two weeks short of 14 years since I entered Hazelden Center for Youth and Family.  I have a lot of fond memories of that place, partially because I actually have clear memories of it.  There are many similarities between then and now, and here and there, and a few substantial differences.

The toughest part here at boot camp has been being surrounded by people at all times.  At no point in the day do we have any privacy.  If I take a shit, there are people in front of me, brushing their teeth, sometimes staring back through the mirror, sometimes trying to engage in conversation.

We have two-minute showers in the morning after PT. Sixty guys, all naked, clothing everywhere, people arguing, some using the toilets with people changing a foot away.  Sinks all at once being used for teeth (inside and outside of the mouth), shaving, hand washing.  On occasion timing is off and somebody will spit out blood and toothpaste onto a razor.  It’s chaos.

I have been here only three weeks, and time is flying by, and I’m getting a lot out of it, but I can’t wait to take a real shower.  Use real hygiene products.  Poop behind a door.

Imagine being wherever you work.  Now, imagine every other co-worker on a toilet, or naked and trying to talk to you.  It’s really something else.  Way more eye contact than necessary.

Today is group (our squad consists of 16 guys.  We’re in everything together, including CD treatment.)  I shared my first written assignment.  We were asked to write a 1-2 page paper on our worst 24 hours.  I put it all out in a 4-page story of my arson conviction back in (I think) 2000.  I may or may not share that story on the blog.  Some things should be left for the book.  Right?

A side note: The last song I heard before I came here from Moose Lake was Style, by Taylor Swift.  The bass line and chilling, beautiful voice have been in my head ever since.  I do not actually know the words though, so my mind just replicates the tone of her voice in its own cadence.  That’s all I can really say about that situation.  Thank you for reading our blog.

Arbeit Macht Frei

VINCE

11 am: So far today we’ve run…eaten breakfast, raked up pine needles in the woods, wheel-barrowed pine needles to the gigantic compost piles, back and forth. Back and forth. Folded the first 2/3 of our laundry, went to lunch, marched back and forth from the chow hall to the barracks in the rain, and then I sat down to write this. Well, right after standing at POA for 20 minutes for head count. In 35 minutes, we go to CD treatment until 4:30. Then dinner, then Thinking for a Change (henceforth TFAC) from 6:30-8:00. And then we spend the rest of our night polishing our belt buckles and boots. Oh, I have to find time to iron my clothes, which I will do now….

5:20 pm: I still haven’t had a chance to iron.

I never ironed yesterday.

Today I spent my first eight hours doing the laundry for all 180 offenders. Standing on my feet all day is harder than most of the other work they have us do.

Well, except for today. We had to move compost from one spot to another. Two and a half hours going back and forth with wheel barrows full of what smelled like feces.

After that, six of us went to the administration building to clean for another hour. Then we ate.

When we came back from chow, our bunk areas had been torn apart. If they find anything wrong they tear it all apart. I had to remake my bed, fold all of my clothing, re-organize. If it sounds like I’m frustrated today, I am. Breathe.

It’s our 25th day.  Sunday my off day.  We still get up at 5:20 am we still have to get dressed and ready.  Ready to sit in our chairs for two long hours.  It’s the most boring day of the week.

By comparison, yesterday was one of our two work crew days.  I personally kept moving pretty much all day.  Part of boot camp is on Department of Natural Resources land.  In trade, I’m sure for payment of rent, we clear the land of brush, sticks, logs, and garbage.  Yesterday was a wood hauling day.

I wheel-barrowed roughly 75 pounds of tools 3/4 miles to the site where we then gathered dead trees from the woods and cut them down to 16 inch logs.  We loaded up all of the 50 wheel barrows, and began the trip back.  The last 300 years was all sand.  It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.  We were all exhausted.  But there was more work to be done.

We took a break to eat lunch and get our hair cut.  Then suited back up to go chop all the wood we brought back.  Funny thing, the splitting mauls are all dull by design.  Rather than a sharp edge, they are filed down at the very tip so we swing, I’d guess, three times more than should be necessary.  Ugh.

I’ll say this, I’m already in the best shape of my life.  And it goes up from here.  I’m tired, sore, humbled.  And I feel great.

 

Down Day

VINCE

Sunday, 6:01 am. This is the hardest day of the week for me because it’s our down day. We don’t do any morning exercises, and there’s no mandatory physical training, no school, treatment, or work crew. So we just sit next to our bunks from 5:20 am until 7:20 am. No breakfast, no coffee. I’m writing to combat my fatigue.

I’ve been working on some mini-meditations we learned in our Thinking for a Change class in which I channel positive thoughts into my subconscious mind. I tell it I have energy, I’m wide awake, and so on. It seems to work. But it doesn’t last long.

One of the problems that has carried over to each facility I’ve been in is the unreliability of our canteen orders.

Last week I ordered five postcards and five envelopes. I got two of each. I was charged for all of them, and also for two paisr of socks, which I didn’t order or receive. I will get credit but not in time to order this week. So I’m stuck with what I have for two weeks.

I spent a couple hours playing cards and walking the track with one of my friends that I met in Moose Lake. He is going to St. Paul when he gets out, two months before me. Anyhow, I’m already starting to build my network in here for out there.

I remember the first time I went to treatment for the right reasons, and stayed sober nearly five years, I didn’t know what to do when the using thoughts started drifting through my head.

Relapse starts well before the actual using. Here, I can look back on all of my actions and feelings and put that together with the tools I’m getting here to not just be sober for a while, but live sober forever.

I’ve collected enough evidence on the outside to make me sure that I’m not the guy that can just have “a couple of beers” or just a couple lines. I use until I physically can’t anymore. I do not stop.

Easter Bunny, Denied

VINCE

We were supposed to start running on Wednesday but the weather hasn’t allowed it. We do the step tape for an hour every other day, and we have been speed walking on the alternate days to get prepared for running. As much as I fear running, I have been excited to see how far I can go, but now we have to wait until Monday for our next chance.

Getting in shape has been tough. When I got to St. Cloud, the first time I did anything for exercise was 35 minutes of softball (only five minutes of actually doing anything) and I could hardly walk for three days. Now I can do the step twice, about 55 minutes of constant motion. It’s a great work out. I started using 1 pound weights and I couldn’t believe how heavy they felt afterwards.

I’m sitting in a chair next to my bunk feeling drained. I couldn’t estimate how many miles we’ve logged marching and walking to various places to clear brush.

At one point we had to run a half mile wearing our full-length khaki uniform, boots, coveralls, gloves, wool cap, and hard hat. The whole time all I could think about was that I had to take a %$*#)@. Thankfully I made it back in time.

After our weekly haircut we ate lunch, then went out for drill and ceremony for two hours. Marching, counter column march, rear march, left oblique, right oblique. It’s really hard. I’m pretty good at it now, some people in our 16-man squad just don’t seem to care. So we argue, bicker, yell. And in the end we’ve somehow grown closer.

Some of them won’t make it. Some of them will never care about anything in life. So I have to focus on me.

So here I am in my chair. Exhausted, quiet, challenged, and hopeful. Time for dinner.

ANNE

My 80-year-old mother wanted to send Vince some money.  She sends each grandchild a card at Easter and other holidays, with $10 in it.  I read off the two addresses, twice.  One for sending Vince the card, another for sending him the money order, which would cost a couple bucks.

She called me later and asked me to re-read all the information because she couldn’t keep it straight.  I typed it and emailed it to her, thinking that would be clearer.

But she sent the money order in the card, so it all came back.  So I explained, again, how she couldn’t send ANYthing with the money order.  She had to mail the card to a different address.  Why?  I don’t know, mom.  I don’t know.  You just have to do it that way.]

Mom n Taisei Vince’s grandma, with her youngest grandson.

No Bars

VINCE

Ms. Maertz:

There really aren’t any rules and regs as far as when I get out. I’ll be on an intense form of probation / parole for the first six months. As long as I’m doing well (passing my UAs, going to meetings, looking for work/working/going to school, they won’t pay much attention to me. And those are all of the things I plan on doing.

The first day or two they usually let us go shopping and see family, that sort of thing. But we are expected to get looking for work right after that.

In five weeks, I’ll be able to call you. I really don’t know too much more than that, but I can’t wait to talk to you.

Things are going well for me here. It’s all manufactured stress. They like to see how we react to things. I usually do well.

I don’t have too much time to read news and articles but the Johann Hari article was really good. [“Everything we know about the drug war and addiction is wrong”]

I do like to read feedback from the blog, so keep that coming.

It’s been a crazy few days. Three days ago we got our red tags removed. Red tags go on our IDs and sort of make us stand out as new guys. It’s the first real hurdle. We felt pretty good about it.

Well. Last night they made us put them back on. Our squad, as a whole, is a mess. Even for new guys. Some of us (thankfully, not me) still can’t figure out left and right. Some of us (me) still can’t make our beds with 45 degree angles and no wrinkles. And some of us (I won’t profile) think it’s okay to rap and use the N word and profanity.

It is now back to being incredibly stressful, but I think we’re still on some sort of “right path.”

Two days ago while on a work crew we went way out into the woods and raked up pine needles into piles for about an hour. Even though we were working, I felt completely at peace. The sun was hitting my face, a cool breeze making the dry leaves scratch each other in a game of leap frog. The birds happily singing to us. And no fences in sight. No fences, no barbed wire, no bars anywhere here. I think of that moment when I get frustrated. I know that soon I will be able to find peace in everything I do.

And just writing all of that settled me down from today’s frustrations. I’m grateful that people actually want to read this. Thank you. And stay tuned.

A Soul Restored

VINCE

Ms. Maertz:

You should check out a guy named Mark A. Fagerwick. He has gone through boot camp and he writes (or maybe wrote) for the Pioneer Press. Just a thought.

[ANNE: Yes, Mark Fagerwick does write for the Pioneer Press, the St. Paul newspaper. I’m sharing his article here because it sums up boot camp well.]

‘Boot camp’ prison alternative — for me, a life-changing program

As a recent graduate (survivor) of the Challenge Incarceration Program, I can tell you that this program was and is the single most physically, mentally and emotionally demanding, challenging and ultimately positive experience of my 55 years.

In 2010, I was convicted and sentenced to 48 months in prison on a DUI charge. I entered St. Cloud State Prison with an attitude of deep resentment toward a system I felt had failed me by unfairly, over-zealously, over-aggressively and harshly judging me. I also harbored and presented a stance of arrogant superiority over my fellow inmates — after all, I was a successful, college-educated marketing communications professional and a deeply spiritual family man. I had achieved amazing accomplishments and attained an outward appearance of success normally associated with right living. I was not a “criminal” deserving four years in a state penitentiary (or so I thought).

The first 24 hours of C.I.P. changed all that.

I was immediately struck with the reality that all of our creator’s children make mistakes, poor choices and self-centered decisions that adversely affect families, loved ones and civilized society as a whole. And, that there are consequences for that kind of distorted thinking and the resulting arrogant, errant choices and behaviors. I am blessed to have been afforded the opportunity to participate in and benefit from this incredible, life-changing, life-giving program.

I owe a great debt of gratitude to the staff and supporters of C.I.P. for helping to realign my priorities, restore my relationships and reintegrate me back into a civilized society where I can affect a positive change in myself and those around me through my experience and by example.

While it is an unfortunate reality that many of my peers in the program will likely re-offend and return to incarceration, the successes far outweigh the failures. And, in my opinion, one successfully saved life and reunited family is well worth the effort. We all deserve a second chance.

C.I.P. is an incredibly powerful and effective program in the much-needed reform of our criminal justice and “corrections” system. While the traditional system of incarceration and the isolation and segregation of certain criminal elements from society is necessary and has its place for many, there are also many otherwise responsible, respectful, repentant individuals who simply lost their way, made horribly poor choices and who sincerely desire another chance to prove themselves and make amends for the wrongs they have done. These individuals are irreparably damaged by extreme and unrelenting exposure to and influence of the traditional prison environment and the unremorseful, habitual and often-violent offenders confined there.

C.I.P. promotes and facilitates an effective combination of intensely regimented discipline, essential cognitive behavioral insight, intensive chemical-dependency programming, rigorous physical training and strictly controlled physical labor, all underscored by positive exposure to an uncompromising but sincerely dedicated staff and a group of program participants who are truly seeking positive change and a better way of life. Surely there are detractors who feel that C.I.P. simply represents a time cut for criminals who “deserve” to serve penance for their crimes — and to a degree that could very well be the case for some. However, for those who take the program to heart, who utilize the tools and skills provided, and learn from their past, society will realize a true and valuable asset — a soul restored, a family reunited, a man completed.

A Roof of One’s Own

VINCE

Ms. Maertz:  [ANNE: I don’t know why he’s suddenly started addressing me as Ms. Maertz instead of Mom.]

Over two weeks in! Things are getting better. Actually a lot better.

Now, to answer your questions.

It’s true that I have to live in a half-way house in Rochester, or with an approved relative in another city, yes.

The reason that we can’t live with another person right away is that we don’t yet have the resources to do so, and while we’re here we don’t have the ability to locate a place to go. Not to mention when we leave, we have nothing. About $400-500, a pair of jeans, and a white t-shirt. (no bed, no lamps, no furniture, etc.)

The no-booze rule is an intensive supervised release (ISR) rule. Ultimately, of course, it’s up to us to maintain sobriety, but there can be no alcohol, drugs, firearms, bombs, etc. in your house while I’m living with you.

There are a couple guys in boot camp that will be in your area when I’m out. Eventually I will be working and will be allowed to move, I believe in as little as 30 days.

Your landlord has to know, by law, that I’m a felon, and my ISR agent will contact them before I’m approved to live at an address. If you own your own place by then it won’t be an issue.

I can start looking for a job on day one. I can start work any time.

The money I get upon my release can pay for a landline. In a lot of cases, agents actually prefer us to have a cell phone because of the tracking ability. I plan on getting a phone right away anyhow for sober networking and job hunting.

Thanks for the comments keep ‘em coming. Let’s get our story out there, it’s a good one.

Everything here is designed to transform every aspect of our lives. Starting with our thinking. I can’t even explain it. It’s better than Florida. How about that?

Love you, mom. Thanks for doing all the typing. I do see a lot of typos. Are they spell checked before they get posted? Also, we do NOT get body cavity searches here, FYI. I’m doing well. I like it here. This is going to change my life.

[ANNE: Typos? The nerve! I pride myself on my accuracy. But then, I have been under a bit of stress lately, which affects my concentration.

About 10 days after I moved to the new apartment, I found a condo I really like. Keep renting, or buy? That is the question. If I ever want to have a decent life in retirement, it’d be good to buy something very modest and try to pay it off. That seems very sensible. However I have to ask myself, “Am I making a $100,000+ purchase just to avoid talking to my landlord about my ex-con son moving in with me?]

Alcoholic, Not Anonymous

VINCE

Today is India squad’s (my squad) down day. Already, we’ve been busy. Doing homework takes a lot of time. So does ironing. We need to have seven creases on our khaki shirts and four on our trousers. Oh, also making our beds takes a while. That is what I struggle the most with.

I am a perfectionist. I didn’t really know that until I got here. Thing is, I can’t do anything here perfectly, so I become frustrated and angry with myself. That can put me in a bad mood, which I communicate with my body language. Like brightly colored smoke. Stay away from me!

I tell myself I don’t want to work on fixing my bunk because I know I can’t do it correctly. And I don’t want to ask for help because I should know how to do it by now and I don’t want to look like an idiot. Do I make any sense here?

I’ll be fine in a few more days. 171 days left. I will take advantage of every one of them.

I received the glasses my mom bought me a couple days ago. I’ve been told a couple times that Buddy Holly called and wants his glasses back, but they look much better than the ones I had.

Okay, this will be it from me for a while. It’s time to focus on Me and my treatment plan. I hope you’ve all enjoyed my writing. There will be more, and when I get out in September I will have plenty of time to write about more of my life experiences and my time here and in prison. I have a lot to write about. I’m not exactly proud of where I’ve been and things I’ve done, but it helps me a lot to think and write about it all. Some of it is certainly entertaining.

Last thing. I know many of you have made comments on the blog. Thank you. Feedback, whether positive or negative, helps me. And if you really want to make my day, you can write to me directly at the address below:

Vincent Maertz 244296

MCF-WR/CIP

86032 County Highway 61

Willow River, Minnesota 55795

USA

“Don’t take life too seriously. You’ll never get out alive.”

– Van Wilder

[ANNE: So there we are, no longer anonymous. If it’s okay with Vince, it’s okay with me.]

Thinking vs. Thinking

VINCE

I just can’t find the time to accurately describe our schedule. It does change daily.

Today I worked for seven hours doing laundry for all three barracks (182 men). Then, before I even had a chance to sit, we went out for drill and ceremony, where we marched for two hours.

Now I have to do my treatment homework, so that’s it until later.

Later. I forgot to mention that the CD treatment here is called Positive Changes. It was developed for the Minnesota Department of Corrections by Hazelden. Hazelden Center for Youth and Family worked pretty well for me back in ’01, so I’m hoping this cognitive thinking approach works for me because I just don’t think the 12 step program is for me anymore. Not to say I won’t go to meetings, when I get out, I just can’t get past the God thing, and I don’t like the idea of pawning my problems off on something that isn’t real.

Way off track there. It’s almost lights out time. Tomorrow is my down day. Good night.

[ANNE: I am a big fan of cognitive therapy, and it’s not the same thing as positive thinking, so I wonder about this treatment program called Positive Changes.

Don’t get me wrong, positive thinking feels a lot better than negative. If you are able to easily choose positive over negative thinking, why wouldn’t you?

But in my 55 years of living I’ve only met two types of people who espouse positive thinking: 1) people who have never faced any serious life challenges, who tell the rest of us, “Just think positive!” and 2) people who are living in a fantasy world, whose lives would be considered by most people to be a mess but who exclaim, “Isn’t everything great!” Actually, the name for this second one is denial—it’s a defense mechanism that protects us from harsh reality until we’re strong enough to deal with it.

I went to Alanon meetings and worked that program for years. I got a lot out of it. I wish Vince could switch the word “god” to “the group” or some other support outside himself that is a support to his sobriety.

Back to the question of thinking, positive or otherwise. In Alanon there are a lot of slogans like One Day at a Time and Live and Let Live. There was one that was simply the word Think. For years I had no idea what that one meant. Think!? That’s all I did! I worried, obsessed, and mentally gnawed on all my family’s problems.

Then one day, maybe soon after I lost my belief in God, I realized it just meant what it said—Think, you idiot! Use the mind that God—or evolution—gave you. Thinking is different from obsessing or worrying. I found it helpful to reason things out with another person who was outside of the situation. It may sound simple, but in alcoholic families we are dealing with people who are not rational but manipulative, indirect, and sneaky. Alcoholics are often brilliant and charismatic, but they’re also liars. People affected by them tend to be martyrs.

And you wonder why I want to move to another country?]

The Drill

VINCE

I’m starting to settle in. But we are warned not to get comfortable. Our punishments for minor infractions like falling out of formation, forgetting to remove or put on our hat when going outside or coming in, are pushups. Those are meant to refocus our attention on paying attention. And there are no shortcuts allowed here.

Somebody was using a pencil to wedge his green scrubby pad into his belt buckle to get some hard to reach copper. A CO must have seen him cheating on the camera and they called him out, took his buckle, smashed it with a hammer, and gave him a new one. That was after five days of scrubbing. To put that into perspective, I have been working on mine for nine days and I’m still not done. Of course, I haven’t been cheating.

My boots are not done. I’ve been polishing the leather tips of them with spit and ghost-coats after applying a thicker first layer a week ago. I have spent roughly 10 total hours just making circles with a thin blue rag. I’m also getting really close to done on my buckle. When we’re done, that frees up a lot of time for treatment and work crew.

The work crew consists of anybody that isn’t in school or doing something else. Today they went into the woods and raked. They actually raked the woods. I can’t really describe to you how pointless that seems, but that’s just one of many way they keep us busy.

Day 10. Getting into it. What used to feel like chaos is what actually makes our days go so quickly. We’re never in one spot for over two hours.

Schedule:

5:20 a.m. Wake up, Head Count

5:25 a.m. Make our beds (with 45 degree angles everywhere), shave, brush teeth, get dressed, put laundry in bins

5:45 a.m. On alternating days, run or do aerobics for one hour. Stretch for 10 minutes before and after

6:55 a.m. Get back to barracks. 57 men shower, pee, poop, get dressed in our khakis, everything looking sharp, belt buckle lined up with our fly and shirt (gig line), boots laced tight and laces tucked into the boot at the top, lockers organized, clothes properly folded, etc.

7:20 a.m. Count. We stand perfectly still at Military POA (Point of Attention) for up to 30 minutes, usually less

8:00 a.m. Chow time. We file in, stand at Parade Rest (feet shoulder-width apart, feet at 45 degree angles, hands locked behind our backs, eyes and head forward, no movement), then slowly move through the chow line. We eat quietly then file out. There are many details I’m skipping, maybe I’ll have time to write about them later.

8:40 a.m. Barracks cleaning

9:00 a.m. Some people go to school, others to morning treatment, some go to work. Work is either KP (Kitchen Patrol) or laundry (me), community work, all sorts of stuff really. I go to treatment at 1:00 p.m. until 4:30.

After evening meal, we do a lot of different stuff including more aerobics or running or going to the library or study hall.

Today we started treatment. Already I’m remembering a lot from my time in Hazelden 14 years ago. One similarity is that I still have to deal with a good number of people who don’t want to be here or don’t think they have problems. They weren’t aware that this was going to be such a big part of boot camp. We shall see how long that lasts.