Finding Yourself in Recovery in Prison

I found my identity in substance use. I learned that I was a bottomless pit of emptiness, which meant no matter how long I fell, I would never hit the bottom.

But that was a lie. I didn’t find myself in drugs, I lost myself in drugs. In fact, I was lost way before drugs found me. Drugs are the finders of lost things! Drugs make the fall feel endless and everlasting, that is until you actually hit your bottom (because everyone has their own bottom).

I found myself in recovery in prison. Through therapy and self-reflection I realized that in order to beat back the temptations of the Eater of Lost Souls, I was going to have to find myself. But who was I? I had been lost for so long that I had no bearing on the Me.

The journey took me back to my childhood trauma where all things begin. I needed to connect with that child before the scars, before the fear. And in reconnecting with myself I found my identity. Who I was all along.

With this rediscovered True North I was able to map out a direction in life which didn’t include drug use. It included more therapy, but it also included me being in service of others. I’ve acquired a skill for identifying lost things, and so when I come across someone who is lost, I help them find themselves.

When I’m counseling others, I hear reflected back to me my own fears and concerns. I am reminded about those dark places where people lose themselves. I am reminded of the cold nights walking aimlessly trying to find a place to sleep. I am reminded of the blackouts and the loss of friends, family, and humanity.

I enter into these conversations believing that I’m there to support them, to help them, but in actuality they are helping me. Their real and current pain keeps me in a healing place.

Hemingway once wrote, “Everyone gets broken in life, but some get stronger in the broken places.”

I am now stronger in my broken places, but they are still places that exist within me. I have to be careful to take care of them, to apply more love and attention to those places. It is easy to forget. It’s easy to stop taking care of yourself because you are so concerned with taking care of others.

So I make time for self-care. I meditate every day for at least 20 minutes, and I stretch for another 20. I read and write, listen more, and speak less.

But there are times when my mind goes to those dark, lost places. My memories chase me around in circles, and I continuously try to evade capture. It goes without saying that I’ve been caught a time or two, but here’s the truth: recovery is a verb.

I am constantly recovering, recovering from drug addiction, recovering from childhood trauma, and recovering from the kinds of thinking that was distorted and misguided.

I am now a board-certified recovery specialist and peer. But I’m still healing. Day by day, scar by scar.

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Shawn Harris #DC3424
Pennsylvania Department of Corrections
Coal Township
PO Box 33028
St Petersburg, FL 33733

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