On the bus ride back to the real world, I was scared but hopeful as I envisioned new possibilities.
—
Returning to reality and traveling on the bus from the incarcerated world I’d known felt completely surreal. Crazily enough, I was optimistic, but from the outside looking in, things were far from upbeat. Finally replacing the County blaze orange jumpsuit for the civilian clothes I’d walked into jail with, brought back a sense of liberation.
Being confined to a dorm room with 59 other inmates, wasn’t exactly the ideal place to clear my head in the middle of any crisis. Oddly enough, that chaos served as an incubator for practicing peaceful interaction and using self-growth skills I’d acquired. After incarceration, habits I’d practiced on the inside, writing, reading, and drawing, would serve me well.
◊♦◊
With things looking disheartening, to say the least, with a felony record, no vehicle because my car had been “totaled” in the accident leading to the arrest, no job, and in the process of foreclosure, bankruptcy, and finalizing a divorce.
Thankfully, I had a place to stay with family, but things were far from the normal life I’d known.
In the midst of this, somehow, I had a renewed sense of vision for what the future had in store. On that bus ride back, new opportunities on the horizon began to peek through the mess that had numbed me. Having learned valuable lessons, I was more than ready to begin to rebuild.
◊♦◊
Don’t like ads? Become a supporter and enjoy The Good Men Project ad free
200 Feet of Vision Makes It Easy
“One day at a time,” was the mantra back when I’d first entered the jail system, As I prepared for the shock to the emotional system, I recalled a story from Jack Canfield. (Which I paraphrase.)
“Imagine a car driving through the night, the headlights only see two hundred feet forward. We can make it all the way from California to New York driving, even through the dark, because all you have to see is the next two hundred feet. And that’s how life tends to unfold before us. And if we focus on the next two hundred feet, the next two hundred feet will unfold, and so on and so forth and our life will keep unfolding. Eventually, we arrive at our destination of whatever it is we truly want, because we want it.”
This story made sense and having the laser focus on just 200 feet at a time, with the intention to arrive at a goal, kept everything clear and disarmed outside interference.
Months later, following my release, I landed a job at a Fortune 500 company and acquired new skills. Later I set my sights on working for a large bank and saw that goal through as well.
Using this principle of just seeing 200 feet ahead when rebuilding or pushing through tough times made a difference for me.
◊♦◊
A Lone Wolf Dies Alone
I used to believe. “Nah, I got this. I don’t need anyone’s help.” For years, I stubbornly looked away when people extended a helping hand. Looking back, that was part of my downfall.
As men, we’re taught we have to “keep it all together” and we’re told to “suck it up, be a man.”
Which causes men to avoid asking for help altogether, when we should search to find advice from mentors and trusted friends. Which leads to the next important component we’ll need to rebuild a life; a trusted community that wants to see it thrive.
As a recovering hard-headed man, who’d turned down help for years, having caring friends and trusted confidants that “shoot it to you straight,” aided me in making rebuilding my life a top priority.
When rebuilding, keeping our vision focused on just enough of the road to see ahead simplifies the clutter of reaching our destination. Backed by our wolf pack cheering us on, we create a life that thrives to new heights.
I know, because that’s what happened to me, even after imprisonment.
Receive stories from The Good Men Project, delivered to your inbox daily or weekly.
Receive stories from The Good Men Project, delivered to your inbox daily or weekly. —
Photo: Flickr/John
.
Thanks for sharing your story with such honesty, Vidal. The story of incarceration is an American tale that’s unfortunately become all too common. The stigma of felonies is a curse, especially upon males of color, that needs to be discussed much more widely. Thank you for contributing with such bravery, and may you continue to do so here and elsewhere in social consciousness.
Hi Kristen, Yes, as I witnessed first hand the stigma is real, but I believe we can counter act the stigma by educating instead of just imprisoning. There are so many gifted and talented men that need the right kind of guidance and outlets to change paths to a better way of life. Thank you Kristen, for you support and feedback.