A Complete Guide to Editing The Dance Emergency Contact Sheet
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What was the last thing you said to someone before they died?
There are going to be some graphic images implied. Read cautiously.“It's ok. Stay warm. I'm trying..”It was a cold, windy night in southeastern Colorado. I was a truck driver, delivering dairy products to grocery stores many, many years ago.On that night, the wind was carrying the snow off the nearby mountains and the roads were warmed from the sun earlier in the day. As the evening turned to night, everything had frozen over.A young woman had just left a party after an argument with her lover. She may have been unknowingly driving too fast for the icy conditions. Her car had skidded off the road and tumbled over the snowbank and laid crumbled smouldering in a patch of destroyed evergreen trees.I must have been about a minute behind her on the road. As I drove over a ridge and into the curve, I saw the snow dancing over the roadway and the glare of solid ice beneath it. I also saw a peculiar divot in the snow. I tenderly slowed and caught a glimpse of something red in the tree line ahead. I stopped well short of the odd trail leading from the road off into the snow. I have no idea how the truck stopped on a sheet of solid ice.I steered my truck towards the trees and was shocked by the wreckage. And, then I saw her. She lifted her hand. She was alive.Knowing where I was, town was several miles away. On the opposite side of the road was a gate for a large military base with an emergency contact number. I dialed my cell phone as I jumped out of the truck saying there was a bad accident, the road needed to be closed, and send help to the road by back gate now.Another truck had stopped at the top of the hill. I yelled to the driver to stop people from coming down the hill and to call for help.I grabbed a flashlight and fire extinguisher.. and then I ran. The snow was about a foot deep, and it was a couple hundred feet to get to the car. The gas tank had ruptured and there were sparks flickering in the dashboard. Steam was billowing into the cold. Her door would not open. The windows were shattered. Frame was crushed. I asked if she was ok. She was not in good shape and could barely whisper. The rear door was partially open. So I pulled with all my strength and was able to crawl into the car. She was badly broken, bleeding, shaking, and I knew I had to move her out of harms way.The other driver was yelling to me if I needed help or if there was anybody else down here. I told him that there was only one and I had to get her out of the car. Although he was a large guy, from a quarter mile away, he was outside the car in a matter of seconds.We knew emergency assistance was still at least 10 minutes away. I covered her with my jacket and sprayed the contents of the fire extinguisher into the dash, ahead through the shattered windshield. The other person took it from me and sprayed the engine and under the car.She was barely breathing, grasping for my hand, and telling me to find her phone. The other person with me was on the other side of the car trying to open the door to tear away the back of the passenger seat. She was bleeding badly. We knew we had to get her out of the car.By that time, maybe 3 minutes had passed. Another driver approached on the road from the opposite direction and stopped where I had parked. It was a husband and wife. Before they could say anything I told them to jump in my truck and get the mattress out of the sleeper. And they just looked at me. The other man looked over the roof at them and said there was a girl dying and we needed the mattress. Now. In less than a minute, the mattress and my sleeping bag were sitting a foot away.When I told her that we found her phone, she stammered in a gargling voice and told me to call Tommy. I wiped the blood from her lips with my sleeve and assured her that I would.We guided her out of the passenger door and wrapped the deep gouges in her arms and stomach. Her ribs were all broken. Her arm was broken. Her opposite leg was broken. Her face was badly contorted and she had a really nasty cut above her ear. But, she was still breathing. Still fighting.While the wife stayed up at the road frantically giving updates to, and getting instructions from the first responders, we gently guided her up the hillside to the road using the mattress as a sled.Once we were on flat ground, we were told to try and sit her up to help the breathing, fearing that with any internal injury her lungs would fill with blood. She was wrapped in my jacket, covered with a sleeping bag and I knew she wasn’t going to make it. We were just too far from civilization.The husband tried to extend a sense of urgency to whoever his wife was talking to. The other man was understandably in shock at the unfolding ordeal and was taking a minute to collect himself. I was sitting sideways on the mattress behind her, trying my best to shield the swirling breeze and holding her shaking hand.“It's ok. Stay warm. I'm trying.”She drowned in her own blood about 2 minutes before the first sign of flashing lights appeared through the trees.Maybe 10 or 12 minutes had passed between a pretty night to be out driving to that horrific moment in time.The whole fire department showed up. Several ambulances. Several police cars.I didn't ride with her to the hospital as she was hurried away. But, my jacket did. And, that is fine.Minutes later I realized I still had her phone in my pocket. I was giving a statement to the police officer about what had happened. I told the female officer that she urgently wanted me to call Tommy.Thinking Tommy would want to know the situation, the officer took the phone and searched the contacts.I didn't know who Tommy was but I could hear him scream in pain when the officer said that she was heading to the hospital, it wasn't looking good, and he should get there.Everybody present for the event gave a statement about the incident and, after our vehicles were checked for any damage, we were all free to go.I called in to my job and said I would be late with my deliveries. They understood and said they would reschedule.A few days later, I got a call from an unknown number. I answered thinking it might be an accident investigator.It was Tommy.Tommy had a twin sister named Janice.Janice died in my arms.Until that moment, I didn't even know her name.I shared the details of the accident and answered whatever questions I could. Apparently I had a piece of opened mail in one of the inside pockets of my jacket. He had noticed it earlier in the day when the family picked up her property and realized it must have belonged to whoever was with her in the snow. I told him that he was the last thing on her mind and said his name in her last breath. And, that was the truth.Tommy said that she had called him right before she left the party. He told her to stay there and that he was on his way to pick her up. She said no and was on her way home at the time of the accident. — Wow. Heartbreaking.He asked if I was ok and if I needed anything. I said I was fine and offered my sincerest condolences.I accepted the invitation to attend her funeral and met very briefly with her family to offer any support I could. They were amazingly kind-hearted people who did nothing to deserve such pain.She was 22. Beautiful girl. Tragic loss.Out of respect for the family, the names are changed, the date is missing, and the location is intentionally vague.I left a piece of my heart there.
Did a narcissist destroy your sense of well-being?
Did a narcissist destroy your sense of well-being?YES. But I’ve got it back and I’m stronger than ever.When I first realized what I was dealing with I experienced sheer terror.I remember sitting on the bathroom floor sobbing when I experienced my epiphany. It didn’t happen suddenly… the realization of it all transpired over the course of 72 hours. That’s the time it took to go from the most outrageous accusation against me by my husband (that was so unbelievable something had to be wrong) to researching ‘emotional abuse’ and coming to the most horrific conclusion. Pieces came together slowly, one by one. And yet every single piece fit precisely. There wasn’t a piece that didn’t fit. Every question that I ever had, every misunderstanding, every bit of confusion over our relationship could now be explained. I was dealing with a person with Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD).There was a single moment in which I came to the full realization that what was done to me was intentional. My ex husband meant to hurt me. There was a BEFORE and an AFTER in this moment, and there was no going back. My world turned upside down in an instant.I went from feeling sorry for myself and wanting to reconcile - to being confused - to being utterly terrified of my ex husband in 72 hours. It was like a chain reaction that couldn’t be stopped … once in motion I couldn’t stop researching and validating the repulsive and ugly truth.My ex husband’s capacity to emotionally and psychologically wound me to my very core was so well developed over the years he could strike at will and injure me to the depths of my soul at any time. He would do this in front of my kids and make me look like the unreasonable parent - the crazy one - when I reacted to the pain. He was so adept at abusing me in front of others and looking so innocent while doing so. In retrospect, he so loved painting me as the crazy one (and I’m quite sure this continues to this day). The gaslighting in the last few years of our marriage so effectively tore away at my self esteem that I no longer recognized myself.Although most of the abuse was reserved for me as his significant other, our kids were not immune to a dose of his torment to boost his self esteem. He once verbally abused my daughter in front of my sister and niece … I sensed it coming and tried to stop him, but he was unable to contain himself. My daughter recoiled and ran upstairs crying and I chased after her. The hurt he is able to inflict is so painful it causes you to physically run away. My sister and my niece told me that they looked at each other and asked ‘what just happened?’ He was that skillful at hurting us covertly he could accomplish it in front of others who had no idea what happened. My husband responded with ‘my daughter is a bitch’.He verbally abused my son as well, bullying him over & over about his volunteer work, his college choices, video games … anything that he didn’t really like.He also gaslights his sister, though she is unaware.It’s insidiously Machiavellian.There are no visible scars with psychological abuse, but have no doubt - the scars are real and they run deep into your psyche. You (and your children) live for years in a hyper-vigilant state with a sixth sense of knowing you are under attack, but you don’t know the source. This leads to actual physical changes to your brain - read …The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma: Bessel van der Kolk M.D.: 9780143127741: Amazon.com: BooksWhen you realize that the source of your unease, tension and anxiety is your significant other - and that it was intentional - the level of betrayal is so base it it difficult to describe. It is utterly devestating. Your world is upside down. Your abuser was YOUR SAFE PLACE - where is safety now? What you once thought was true is no longer true. What else did you miss? Who else is out there? What else isn’t true? Who else is lying? You become paranoid. There is no sense of well being. You no longer trust yourself.And then you realize that you were NEVER loved … only used. You were nothing but an object to them. Your entire relationship was false from the very beginning, based on the complete fabrication of a personality that didn’t really exist but was crafted specifically for you to fall in love with. You were purposely isolated. You have been duped. You have been conned by a master manipulator. A piece of your soul is forever lost. I could barely function. My brother flew in to help take care of me as I could barely take care of myself.The term ‘sleeping with the enemy’ must surely have been coined by a person who had been narcissistically abused by their significant other.I’ve read multiple accounts from those that have been both psychologically abused and physically abused that describe the psychological abuse as more damaging and more difficult to recover from. Yet no one else sees the psychological abuse. You can’t prove it. This complicates your recovery a thousand fold. People don’t believe it. The story is just too crazy to believe. I get it … it’s so unbelievable that it took me 20 years to see through it (and I was sleeping with him every night). I can’t expect others to see it immediately. Why they don’t see it. Yet.However, once you see it, the clarity is so true that you are unable to NOT see it.Please don’t ever even slightly insinuate to me that ‘it takes two to tango’. There is no dance when one person is dancing and the other person is lying and manipulating. There is only horror music playing in the background as one of the partners tries desperately to dance. Over and over you try to dance. And over & over you are manipulated and lied to. You get knocked down and you get up and try to dance again. Occasionally your abuser tosses in a little love bombing to throw you off (like a random food pellet followed sometimes by an electrical shock - just like one of BF Skinner’s rats) and you’ve got a slow rate of extinction to the behavior. This is why you don’t leave. You keep believing you can fix things. You keep trying to get back to that (false) love. You are trauma bonded. You keep trying to dance - but you’re the only one trying to dance. You’re entirely unaware that your partner is trying to make you trip and fall. And you’re entirely unaware that he’s enjoying it. And yet again, you try to get up and dance. And the cycle repeats.Don’t ever even think of mentioning that phrase to a person who has suffered abuse. No one asks to be abused. Nobody wants to dance this morbid tango.So … did this destroy my sense of well-being? Most certainly. My ex husband had moved out but lived only 3 blocks away. As I would be driving home I needed to drive within a block of where he was living. As I began to approach that intersection my heart would start racing … I began to experience terror and panic attacks when I knew that was in close proximity to him. My sense of safety was compromised. I changed the locks on my house. I bought a baseball bat (guns are out of the question for me). I was afraid to be home alone. I jumped out of my skin if someone rang the doorbell.He would periodically spend time in another state … but when he returned from spending time away the terror and panic attacks would return.I couldn’t sleep, and when I did I would wake up with the sheets drenched in sweat and twisted up like pretzels. My sleep was not sound.I was terrified to let my kids spend time with them.But I have healed.************************************************How did I respond and get better? How did I heal?NO CONTACTYoga and excerciseMeditationAn incredible therapist to whom I will be forever gratefulEducation. I learned everything that I could about the disorder. I read books by Harvard MDs and internationally recognized experts on NPD. I learned about the physical changes to the brain caused by long term covert abuse. I learned from reading posts by the wonderful Elinor GreenbergI spent time on Quora validating my experience- it’s amazing how so many of our stories are similar. There are many obviously intelligent and compassionate writers on Quora whose writings helped me forgive myself for being so royally duped. I was not the only one. This knowledge is so empowering.I spent time on Quora understanding the other side of this horrible dance by reading the posts of those brave souls who suffer from NPD and share their thoughts in this forum. I am thankful to them for opening my awareness of what my ex-husband was dealing with. Reading their posts helps me to be more compassionate in dealing with my situation. These posts greatly assisted me in releasing my anger, hatred and desire for vengeance as I came to recognize the disorder for what it was. I was able to move past those horribly consuming emotions and leave them behind. That alone was a powerful and significant step in my healingAs a final (?) step in my healing I am about to embark on a spiritual journey… hiking solo 25 miles across the Grand Canyon. This is my own personal way of crossing this chasm … first hiking down into the depths of my soul …spending some time there … and then hiking up and out - emerging into my new life. I am ready to move on and not look back. I have learned a life lesson in a very painful way. I feel already at peace with myself but I feel I need to strengthen that peace and bolster it in place by doing something physically challenging. Something that literally represents my journey that culminates at its highest point.I am so excited for my life going forward. I’m wiser, no longer naive and incredibly strong. I had to learn this lesson, and I have my ex husband to thank for that.
What does it feel like the first few days in prison?
My first day in prison, I was on a van with 7 other youth offenders we were labeled CYA rejects because we had gotten into trouble more than once while in the California youth authority, and we were over 18 so legally we’re adults, well when the van that was transporting us pulled up to the first gate at DVI Tracy state prison!! (Duel vocational Institution) where it stops and then the transportation co’s get out and surrender all guns to the tower that’s in charge of opening the gate and counting how many of us are in the van, and they check under the van and under the hood for contraband, then the other gate starts sliding open and we drive more into the prison grounds I remember it being a long road with green grass on both sides for a good ways, once we get to the front of R&R receiving and release, the door opens and there’s a big old Mexican Corrections officer and he had us get out of the van strip butt naked do the prison dance lift your balls spread your cheeks all that bullshit then we were given an old orange jumpsuit and these brand new kung fu looking slippers and a sack lunch. we were put in a small room where we could see all the convicts coming from other jails off the bus or van and getting naked same as us shen we arrived, and then he put them in another part of R&R petty soon we were called up One at a time for or property and you can only have what’s approved or allowed so I sent almost all my stuff home since only certain approved items are allowed in the reception center part of prison and which Also means nothing pretty much is allowed !! After they go thru your property and give you what you can and can’t have like paperwork and books then they take your finger prints, pictures for your ID,also your given a CDC# mine was H64388 then you fill out your emergency contact Info in case something happens while your in prison, and then they have you sign a body receipt in case you get killed while in prison your family has permission to get your body, afterwards a Correctional official put us in a cage with other convicts, parole violators and guys with new prisons terms , guys dope sick from heroin and meth only days off drugs and the streets with parole violations!! After a while they start calling off names for housing and when mine and a couple other youths names were called the correctional officer gives you a bed role with sheets and a blanket and pillow case, (never seen a pillow in reception not once) and then you walk with your hands behind your back at all times all the way to our assigned housing unit/ mine was G wing cell 105… but in DVI their called housing units our in being in Tracy their called wings because it’s all inside a long huge building with huge buildings also called wings coming off the sides.When I first walked into G wing it was like a movie almost unreal it was 3 tiers high and the building was 50 cells long on both sides of the wing/building!!! There were a few big convicts called tier tenders Running around the building passing tobacco, coffee and books to cells from other cells getting there hustle on also along the way ! A black correctional officer walked over to us and said I don’t like CYA rejects if you get out of line in my building I’m gonna let my tier tenders come up in your cell and let them have their way with you and that I can promise!! This was not sounding good. as I looked around as well as the other youth authority rejects, I saw a big ol tattooed Peckerwood and a big northern Mexican all tattooed looking right at us smiling!! The Shit was getting real for us and the prison story’s I’d heard about were very unsettling in my mind that’s for sure!! The building was loud and old and our prison ID’s literally had CYA reject typed under our prison numbers!! after I got my assigned cell I walked over to it looked around one last time before the cell door automatically popped open for me to step inside and then correctional officer that controls the cell doors by control on the second tier hits the button and my cell door automatically starts to close. I walk in the cell and some old man is in there, the cell is about 10 x 8 foot with a toilet and sink and 2 beds they were both spring under the mattress at the back of the cell was a big window you can open part way for air and had small glass panes all over . above each bed Was a light bulb on the wall with a chain to pull so it turns on and off and then on the opposite wall had a heater built in to it so as to try and keep the cells warm in the winter. Soon it was 5 o’clock count that means every convict in every prison in the state of California is standing up at 5 o’clock for standing count Then a Correctional officer comes by and makes sure your standing up as they count you and the rest of the convicts! After count clears we wait for our building to be called for dinner when its our buildings time for dinner the cell door slides open and you walk out with your ID and as you walk you have to have your hands behind your back but that’s everywhere you go in reception, on the way to the chow hall you have to show your ID to the correctional officers standing by the door as you walk into to the chow hall stand in line and grab a food tray when it’s your time. At least we could see them making the food trays, in the new prisons there’s just a slot in the wall the tray comes out of.The food wasn’t the best , CYA feed really good compared to prison food but on Sunday’s DVI reception Center is the only one in the state that gives you fried eggs every Sunday. Don’t know about now, Anyway I was still trying to pay attention to everything going on around me! I was at table with 3 tattooed perkerwoods from Stockton that wanted to ask me a million questions, what Youth authority institution were you at? Why’d they send you here ? where you from? just feeling me out! I had nobody from my hometown in DVI reception center with me , it was all Merced to Sacramento counties that goes there for reception! You don’t get that long to eat as soon as you sit down and start eating the correctional officers start calling rows to get up dump your tray and and place it with the others as you head out the door and back to the building With your hands behind your back if don’t have them behind your back they may treat it as you being hostile or some other BS excuse. Back in my cell I barley talked to my cellie and as I lay down I smoke a burglar cig Rollie Id just made. After I finished with part of a book I was reading, I remember it was the black marble by Joseph wamba all I could hear were inmates and convicts yelling laughing singing and carrying on conversations with each other coming through the widow that was cracked halfway open, I was in a culture shock, I’d only seen movies about prison and here I was living in it!! I don’t remember sleeping that great my first night but after awhile I got used to it!! Your not in the reception center very long I saw people leave to another prison with In 30–90 days. That’s was my first day in prison at DVI Tracy In the spring of 1993. The next day i wake up to the cell door opening and I pretty much follow the same routine as last night only difference were the CO’s because one stopped me, it was a female and she asked for my I.D. I gave it to her she acted like she was studying it and asked me if my parents knew I was here? I just stared at her at her and was then told to get back in line to eat chow/breakfast. after chow that morning when I got back to G wing the correctional officer stated calling our names and popped my cell door and was told to go to medical diagnostics that’s where you get a physical And they take your blood then you see the dentists they look at your teeth, then you see a counselor next who tells you your custody level by how many points you have, they told me 32 points level 3 which in California is Maximum security , they also tell you your EPRD which is your earliest projected release date , how much time you have left . then asks for you to pick 2 prisons you want to go to I thought right like their really going to send me to a prison I wanna go to? It ain’t like one option is better than another it’s all prison. after you finish with everything it’s back to your cell and on the way hands behind your back. I just made it back in time for Lunch. The tier tenders pass out sack lunches and place 2 of them in front of your cell door if theirs 2 people in the cell. and the correctional officer opens the door you grab both and hand one to your cellie. lunch consisted of a brown paper bag 4 pieces of bread sum lunch meat in clear package ( the meat is gawd awful, a small bag of chips like from elementary schools and a piece of fruit and either a cookie or trail mix once finished eating the correctional officers yell trash out…. the door to your cell has about a 3–6 inch gap under it so you can push your trash out and on to the tier, the tier tenders come by with a big push broom and sweep all the trash off the tiers to the bottom. next they’ll sweep it all In a big pile and sweep it all into big garbage cans one at a time. We had yard 3 times a week and that’s was it! 2 times a week Monday and Wednesday 2 hours on the big yard which had 3 Huge weight piles, one for each race, a swimming pool that stayed without water and a mini canteen shack that was for the mainline General population to use only and a soccer slash baseball field and a track that went around the whole yard . and on Saturday for an hour we got the small concrete yard that consisted of a couple handball courts a couple of metal tables and stools attached and a few dip and pull up bars and the rest was everybody walking in circles or sitting down with backs to the walls. The mainline got screwed out of a lot of yard because there’s no night lights on the yard so the mainline only gets night yard on day light savings time, and because of reception they got screwed out of morning yard every Monday and Wednesday. My first week was just checking things out with another CYA reject whom was also white and 19 we had made a promise to one another to watch each other’s backs ,in the van while we were on our way to prison. we also promised to help each other out with food hygiene etc when one of us were out. he was from San Francisco so nobody from his hometown was here either just like me so we decided to do the buddy system and I also knew he’d fight if need be. The weeks started going by fast once we got store and had food and tobacco, hygiene and all the other small things that we take for granted on the outside. It was two weeks later the Correction officers moved me to the second-tier because they needed my cell for some handicaped old man! Well they put me in a cell with a weirdo and I mean… literally a F n weirdo, once I got my stuff squared away I asked him what was up with him? I like to know whom I’m living with. he told me he was in there for armed robbery and raping his wife. Well I heard some crazy stuff.. but really who rapes their wife?!? Besides a sicko?!? Well I heard rape and wife, that right there wasn’t sitting good with me at all so I was thinking like how am I going to handle this? I’d never been around one before so I was like I’m going to get this POS to fight me! so I started playing some youth authority mind games with him and testing his heart, and his pretty much had him questioning his manhood!! He was a pretty stocky dude with a good 80–100 pounds on me but I had the reach advantage. As the hours progressed I want really much caring for his disgusting rank body oder and I especially didn’t like him for being a rapo so I kept fucking with his head, finally when I had realized this dude was a lame with no heart I took all his shit except his hygiene and that shit stain definitely needed to wash his ass or something because I’d never smelled anything so foul in my life. in the first few hours Of me being in the cell with him for a few hours the lame lost all his shit (except hygiene) and I had him questioning if he really liked dudes instead of chicks because he was a rapo I also hadn’t decided if I wanted him to go to a officer and tell him he can’t live in the cell with me and he needed to find another house! I wanted to hit up some older convicts about my situation and how I should handle it. Well we walked out of the cell and Onto the second tier I said hey NAC ( which is CYA slang for not a claimer meaning your weak and don’t gang bang ) I said walk 10 feet in front of me, I don’t want to smell your nasty ass body stench.. well this POS took 4 steps and turned around (in front of the correctional officers that were on the tier by us and not to mention other convicts/inmates around us) and started swinging at me like he was a prize fighter. When this happens I’m Thinking to myself when in the fuck did this dude get a pair of nuts? did he not a have a pair of nuts in our cell? We could’ve went toe to toe in the cell but no he had to pull a PC move in front the cops ,I’m glad this POS couldn’t fight for being that big or I’d have been in trouble !! He was heavier and older than me but i had been in Gladiator school the past couple years where fights were an everyday occurrence. It was so bad in the institution I was in you had to be 120 days to the house to trade line, they figured if you were short to the house maybe you’d stay out of fights. Well anyway this shit stain was swinging his ams like a human windmill with his head down so just put a one two on him the a uppercut and he fell on the tier when he fell I started to push him under the railing and off the second tier ,luckily the correctional officer’s were there quick and broke it up but another 5–10 seconds and he’s over the 2 nd tier and falling on his head and Id been looking at a new change! the two of the 5 correctional officers grabbed me and threw me inside my cell to handcuff me, if they had gotten there a few seconds late he was going over that tier but luckily for him he didn’t go over and off the Second tier and on his head, but it come really close to him going over. So we were handcuffed and taken to the cages which are the size of a phone booth and built like one except made out of a steal mesh from top to bottom and you can’t sit just stand.Now the correctional officers are escorting me to K wing which is the hole; ad seg/ administrative segregation where a big mean looking black sergeant had me strip down buck necked and then commenced to tell me I’m a piece of shit and a CYA reject, your just a bunch of problems and I’m gonna get my ass beat eventually and kept calling me scarecrow! then the Black sergeant that's been giving me shit starts asksing me if I’m in a gang, I said yeah I am!! He asked what do you gang bang? I said Fresno City Skinheads!! right then he looks at me like I’m a racist then down at my cold little shriveled dick and said your no man you just a boy! Then the sergeant commenced to slap me rite on the tip of the head on my dick with his gloved hand!! it hurt so FN bad and stung that I had tears in my eyes!! then the sergeant Started laughing like it was really funny That he slapped the tip of a 19 yr olds dick!! Finally they took me to the right side of The building where they put all new people that first comes into ad seg and you stay in that part until you see The committee! Its one tier and a row of maybe 12 cells all in a line. the cells had one bed in them bars and then like a mesh over the bars and has a tray slot to get your food when They brought it to you at chow !! When the older convicts that were in there asked me for my lock up order, I passed it over to the woods That had already been there. After they read why I was back there for socking up a rapo I started getting respect and it felt good, the woods were shooting me books and a cigarette after every meal!! Couple days later my cell door pops for a shower, as I’m walking to the shower I happened to look over and about4 cells down from me is the rapo well I noticed a mop bucket with the mop and handle leaning against the wall that last inmate forgot to put away after he was Thru mopping, so I took my shower and then got a really good idea! So after my shower On the Way back to my cell I stopped by the mop bucket grabbed the mop handle and unscrewed it from the mop. then I walked over to the Rapo and said hey Punkass remember me? He looks up from lying down and I then Proceeded to poke at him with the mop handle through the tray slot and started poking him and it was almost like poking at a rat in a cage well he’s screaming like a broad and all his screaming got the attention of the correctional officers and they came running in and gaffled me up and took the mop handle from Mecand escorted me back to my cell but i Could see that by looks on their faces that the correctional officers were really surprised That I had it in me to do something like that, but I could tell they respected what I just did!! I spent two weeks back there and then one nite I saw committee and they looked at me and said put him Ad Seg for 90 days then back in Reception and so I did my first time in the hole in prison and after 90 Days of playing handball twice a week and chess by calling out pieces and numbers for moves to squares everyday, after my 90 days they put me back in reception right on G wing , as i walked into G wing that black cop that told us if we got out of line That he would Let his tier tenders have their way with us, well he had respect for what I did and offered me a job as a tier tender it’s not a paying job and you don’t get halftime but you do get out of the cell 5 days a week from 6am - 2pm every day on second watch and you get extra lunches and a shower every day plus you get to hustle books and tobacco or coffee if your out of things!! This was my first 95 days in DVI state prison Tracy in K wing and G-wing , after that a few weeks later I was Called to pack up my things because I was to the going to the mainline and that’s where I did my first term level 3 mainline and housed in H wing in DVI California state prison Tracy! Thats one moment in my life I’ll never forgetHope this answer helps not much happens the first few days but then by the first month rolls by it’s a different story because you have learned the routine and program by then I saw a lot of crazy shit in there during my first term
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