Jen Shah: Journal Entry #2
Kashanna, whose nickname is Special K, also surrendered with me yesterday. We've kind of stuck together the first full day as we both walked in shocked, stunned and scared trying to figure out where we go from here.
Today is Saturday, there is a 6AM brown bag breakfast brought into the common area of our unit. I was so tired and didn't wake up but Special K got one for me. She is kind, and there are not many kind people in this place. It had one piece of wheat bread, an apple, two packets of jelly and a packet of instant oatmeal. I ate the piece of bread; a lady was offering instant coffee in the common area but I didn't have a mug. I saved the apple and oatmeal packet in my locker since I don't go to the commissary until next Tuesday. If I get hungry, I can at least have something to eat.
I cried silently sitting on my top bunk bed last night pretending to fall asleep reading a book, but in actuality my chest was hurting as if my heart had broken in a million pieces. I laid in the dark alone with my thoughts of having to say goodbye to my family - to my sweet husband and boys. Sharrieff's face was seared in my thoughts, remembering Omar's tears as I hugged him tight, Sharrieff Jr's face on FT as I said goodbye to him from the SUV before we arrived at Bryan FPC.
As I stare into the dark, I think this has to be a dream - but here I am. I keep thinking this is insane, completely ridiculous. Why am I here? I mean, I know why I'm here, but this just feels like someone like me doesn't belong here. I've never been in trouble before. Then I instantly stop myself from going down this self-destructive path of thinking. I am here because of my bad decisions. I am here because I did this to myself and there is no one to blame but me. The pain and guilt I feel for creating victims, for doing this to my family - putting them through this ordeal the past 2 1/2+ years. And their pain of having to watch me surrender yesterday, and now the beginning of what will be 78 months without me is crushing my soul.
I woke up to Special K nudging me saying "wake up, our PAC #'s work". What?? I immediately jump up, grab my glasses and stumble off the top bunk. I look for my PAC# paperwork and quickly go to the phones so Special K can show me how to activate my PAC #. The only way I can make a telephone call to the outside world is by activating my PAC#. Special K already had someone show her how to do it earlier that morning. My heart is racing. My hands are shaking. The thought of finally being able to call my husband and hear his voice is making my eyes water. I activate my PAC #, record my voice greeting and set up the few contacts I could remember in the computer. Now I must wait an additional 15 minutes before I call my husband. I tried three times and the system says "you cannot make a call at this time". I am trying to stay patient and not get frustrated. I must learn to focus on what I can and cannot control. That will be the key to my adjustment. I am not alone in my struggles and I must remember that on days where I want to just see my husband and children. My eyes are filling up with tears. I go to the bathroom and cry so no one will see me.
