By Stacey Stokes. Published in Issue 16 of Paper Chained in December 2024.

I’ve been out of jail awhile now. And I wanted to share my experience and thank everyone who wrote to me while I was in jail. I was really struggling when my release seemed like a possibility. A part of me was really scared and wanted to stay in my familiar cage. The other part was an impatient feral animal that craved the outside world.

Sentenced to ten-and-a-half years, then dumped in the real world... One of my friends told me there were delivery drones flying all over Melbourne. I believed him. I dunno! How was I supposed to know anything? About anything? I was very scared. In fear and confusion, I withdrew inside myself. I closed off the world.

So I’m sorry to anyone I wrote to while in prison that I stopped writing. You are all in my heart still. I will never forget any of it. I wish I could forget a lot of it. The midday movie Just Mercy was on TV, it made me cry. Any reminder of prison makes me cry. Cars out the front of my house freak me out, I assume it’s the police come with a warrant to trash my house. I’ve done nothing wrong and they won’t find anything, but still is it? Nope, just the neighbour.

So much PTSD. But that’s the point of prison. To punish you. To hurt you. To break you. Well, they did. I still have nightmares. I dream I’m standing in the meds line waiting for my anti-depressants to help me get through another day in jail. I wasn’t on them before. But now ... waiting. Standing there. It’s so real. Then I wake up confused and disorientated. Where the fuck am I? This isn’t my cell? Oh in no way did the system help me prepare for being out of jail. I need therapy. Years of therapy. Instead I got a few outings like a dog going to the park for walkies. But I’m getting there. I’m having new realizations every day. New lessons learnt. New skills and puzzle pieces.

I’ve learnt that I can talk to whoever I like now. I don’t have to talk to the toxic people now. That blew my mind. In prison you have to see these toxic people every day, you have no choice. It’s a part of the nightmare. But one day I realised, I can just block their number now! It was so simple! I can choose who I see and talk to now! Now, my friends are all so positive and kind. Understanding and supportive. I am truly blessed. I feel so privileged to have them in my life. That alone has made a huge difference.

I’m learning to be “alone”. That is still a hard one. Years and year of having a cellmate. Never ever being alone. Always having a person to talk to. Now, no one. It’s so quiet. It’s unsettling. But I’m getting used to it. I still refuse to buy a cat though, no matter how lonely it is. I’m worried it will lay on my face when I’m sleeping and kill me. Then, it will eat me (joke: don’t call the Crisis Assessment and Treatment team... the CAT team get it?... I’m hilarious)

I’ve learnt that I’m choosing my own adventure now. That’s interesting. In prison I sat at medical for four hours more than once. Waiting. Waiting. But I had a mission. I had an appointment slip! Sure, it was normally to tell me my male hormone levels were alarming low because the GP had never even seen a ‘tranny’ before. But I still had an appointment slip. My reason for existing in that moment. Now, I can do whatever I like, so I’m doing everything! I’m  getting a lot done. I’m super productive. But also, I’m half-assing everything. Then I stop and have a day of sleeping and watching TV and feel super guilty for doing nothing. I should be cherishing this time. I shouldn’t be a lazy shit.

But I’ve learnt I need to be happy as well. I need to be happy to be alone. Happy to relax and watch TV. Happy with who I talk to. Happy with who I am. Because being unhappy is where it all went wrong to begin with.

I’m getting there. But I will never be free again. I know that. The nightmares and paranoia will never go away. The trauma and pain. The tears. It will always be a part of me now. But I can still be happy and grow from all of this. I appreciate things more now. I see my friends happy, and I marvel at it. I go to the park with a cute person and it’s so much sunnier and fun. Simple things are special to me now and I cherish them.

I wanted to die while I was in jail. I tried to hang myself. I could have died, but the leather broke. Maybe it was chance. Maybe I’m incompetent and can’t even manage a suicide. But today, I’m doing OK. I’m glad I messed it up. 

Things like that stay with you. They don’t go away. But we grow. Those times are the compost we use to grow and thrive. Because if I was to compare my life now to how it was before prison, I’d say I’m happier now than I ever was before. That sad angry person is gone. Replaced by a deeply traumatised but blessed person. I’ve seen people from the pre-prison days, and they are the same people. The same clothes. The same town. Ten years on, trapped in a moment in time. They haven’t changed, but I have.

If you’re reading this and you are in jail, don’t die. Don’t kill yourself. Please. You can do this buddy. Maybe if you live long enough, you can see a better day like I did.

And if you are getting out soon or are just out now. I know it’s scary, but you will learn and grow. Things will make sense. Eventually. It did for me and I’m a moron that can’t even manage to hang myself properly. Don’t listen to the screws or the jacks. The haters. I’m sure they are deeply sad people. I bet they talk to their own families the same way they talk to us. 

Listen to meee! And I say... We got this.

Read more articles by Stacey Stokes on her Substack.