Visiting Day

4 Comments

The post today is written by my sister Lisa after her recent visit to see me in prison.

Whilst in Florida setting up a permanent camper site, I took my final days to drive to the panhandle. Outside of Panama City, about 20 miles east there is a small town called Wewahitchka. Here is where the prison sits, in the middle of a swamp where my brother Clark resides.

I had picked my mother up at the new airport in Panama City so that we might visit Clark together.

Knowing that my brother suffers from bi-polar disorder, still I was ill-prepared for his state during this time. Sure, he mustered a laugh or to at some remembrance or joke. But for the most part he was angry. Plain anger oozed out of every word and tone. At one point I had to place a hand over my mother’s trembling hand to nudge her to silence. Mom’s urging for Clark to try and rekindle his faith more, journal more, read more, etc. only encouraged an elevation of anger in his voice and agitation in his manner.

Sometimes you just have to go with the moment and let it be.

What must be remembered by all who know and love Clark is that he is grieving. Grieving has five main steps and each can be gone through again and again. And steps can overlap.

1-Denial-”this can’t be happening to me”, No crying. Not accepting or even acknowledging the loss, in Clark’s case his freedom that was soon to be taken after the crime.

2-Anger-”why me?”, feelings of wanting to fight back, or get even with those whom choose to not to keep in touch seeming to care not. Or just his whole situation and the loss of freedom.

3-Bargaining-bargaining often takes place before the loss, but in Clark’s case it may simply be an attempt to make deals with God to stop or change his situation.

4-Depression-overwhelming feelings of hopelessness, frustration, bitterness, self pity, mourning loss of freedom as well as the hopes, dreams and plans for the future. Feeling lack of control, feeling numb. Perhaps feeling suicidal.

5-Acceptance-there is a difference between resignation and acceptance. You have to accept the loss, not just try to bear it quietly. Realization that it is his own doing that will keep him from living in freedom. Finding the good that can come out of the pain of loss, finding comfort and healing. Our goals turn toward personal growth. Stay with fond memories of life outside of prison.

At this visit I found Clark to be angry, at his own admission, at everything and everyone. He won’t go outside to the ‘yard’ because it angers him to not have the ability to do more or go further. It’s simply reminds him of what he no longer has. He’s angry with family that refuse to visit or write.

He has a lot of depression as of this visit with his feelings of numbness and lack of control. I don’t believe him to be suicidal, but more self-preserving. His anger and numbness at this time keep him protected.

When starting this website, Clark was elated to have an outlet. With time his manic state of writing seemed ceaseless. But then, as is normal with the disorder, he cycled down. Believing his writings useless and childlike, he stopped.

He has promised to send me the rest of his novel work to be proofed and then I will forward the first two chapters and the last at the request of a professor friend of ours in Florida.

It is my hope that he will resume writing again soon, but I do understand the need for him to cycle up once again before this is possible.

Please consider writing Clark and if you ever will be in his area ask him to send you a visitor form as it will need approved before you would be allowed to see him. And check out the prison site here to learn about visiting rules. His mailing address is on the Contact page.

Lisa Coleman Griffiths

Why Write?

9 Comments

I once again try to write, the mere mechanics of pulling out paper, picking up the pen, has been a struggle for days on end. I have looked over my manuscript that took three years to write and I’ve surmised “What a Hack!” To have submitted to my sister such trash!

But I will, bit by bit, keep sending it page by  page. I want to convey, to give thoughts. How good my words flow in my head at times when the pen is not in my hand, or is it only perceived as being so. I am untrained to write. My mind for the most part is a super ball in a 4×4 box.

Why should I write? I ask it over and over. Is it ego? I must say yes. Is it looking for recognition? Yes! Why? I’m nothing special, no great mind. A life not lived in full, as to impart some golden nugget for others to draw from. To nourish and and lift up. Somehow I still crave.

I love the words of gifted writers of history. A well written auto biography. Oh, the gifted of words! I read where Jack London once said, “Inspiration does not come easy. It is coaxed with a club.” If this is so, with me I need a bigger club.

I found in sports, or at least was schooled, ‘practice makes perfect’, which was amended to ‘perfect, perfect practice makes perfect’. If true, the grind of sitting down at least every day to write, as I’m told I should do, will reap little in growth. To practice garbage. Garbage in, garbage out as they say.

My sister Lisa is so gifted in writing, a late bloomer as they say. With formal schooling? Yes, but an innate ability beyond me. I envy her, but am so proud of her. For she gives me encouragement. She gives me an avenue to attempt, when I have little else for self esteem, sense of worth.

I try, the one less than gifted. The hack. Spilling words upon the lines of the page not knowing where much goes except a period. And then not even knowing that for sure. So I will try again, perfect or not, maybe at times raw, but not nearly as raw as my emotions, which I desperately want to say upon the page.