How Alcoholism Affects Parenting
Saturday morning. I snooze the alarm and crawl out of bed. Jail time. Again. It’s my second time visiting the Lynwood Women’s Jail. It took me another security clearance from the sheriff, but here I am again: I am on my way to jail. Today, I get the chance to speak with more than hundred of women inmates. I start to doubt myself, what do I really have in common with inmates who are waiting for their verdict.
But this time, I am not that afraid. I know what to expect. The drive, the heavy doors. The cold building, the sanitizing smell. The different colors of inmate uniforms. It’s all familiar.
Women Lynwood Jail – this is where I talked to the inmates
Pic © insidecdcr.ca.gov
There seems to be nothing in common between us. I am free. I am a good citizen (at least that’s what I want to believe). I can wear anything, eat whenever, and sleep whenever I want. I am different, yet I have so much in common with them.
I visited today to tell them about my story. I was once affected by someone else’s addiction. My life, my family and everything I knew was shaken by that person’s addiction. I felt like their addiction became my own as my life was dictated by their ups and downs. My actions, my thoughts and my feelings were outside of my control. I played into the games–sometimes even orchestrated it–dancing with insanity.
Like these women of all colors, ages, and backgrounds, I was the insane one. The definition of insanity is to do the exact same thing over and over again and expect different results.
That. Is. Crazy.
That. Was. Me.
Today I can say that I found my recovery through something more powerful and much greater than me. I learned to let go, stop analyzing, and start seeing results.
I enter the long, cold, white hallway. They are standing in line waiting to sign their names, take their meds, and brush their teeth. There are three floors with cluttered with bunkbeds. I see them… And their babies. Make-believe babies.
Women in blue inmates’ scrubs sit hugging fabric dolls, rocking them, wrapping them in a white thin, coarse towel. They pretend it’s a soft blanket. Hundreds of women playing pretend mommy here in jail. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any more surreal.
The charged women in Lynwood facility jail had the opportunity to participate in a parenting program for eight weeks. In this program, they receive a doll which they must treat like their baby. They must journal all their activity with the baby and write about their emotional state each day. They cannot leave the babies, not even for a few minutes. If they need to leave for a bit, they need to find the doll a babysitter–a friend who is willing to care for their baby. If they neglect the doll, the doll is removed from their care and their baby is gone.
It’s hard to believe, but the majority of these women are moms. Some are even pregnant. While they wait to their trial or verdict, their children are with their dads, other family members or in foster homes. This exercise is not about learning how to change a diaper or feed a doll. It is about the emotionality of caring for another human-being. The fabric-make-believe babies are perhaps the first time any of these mommies felt empathy and cared for another life–even if it is make-believe.
This is how they learn empathy and compassion. Social skills and responsibility. Although these skills are usually developed from a young age, some of these women were not fortunate enough to experience these lessons during their childhood.
I was in jail today, and as much as I shared with others, it was profound to receive. When I think about my past, I have immense gratitute for where my life is today. Change doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time, courage, failure, and drive to pick yourself up again and again. If you have experienced a positive change in one area of your life, make sure to give back to others. This is the only way we will move towards a better, different, more empowered world
Cover picture © www.kcrw.com
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