My unexpected life journey

Well, I started a new part time job a month ago so things have been kind of hectic.  I’m still getting adjusted to the job but things are going well at work overall.

I’ve been thinking about about my time in the prisons in Brazil.  The one that has the biggest impact was Butanta.  I was there for 1 and 1/2 years.  It was a big adjustment to living with at least 8 people in one room The size of a standard bedroom.  The rooms had no doors which made it a semi open prison.  Before the pandemic, prisoners went into the community for work and would return in the evenings to the prison.  But when I got there, that wasn’t the case anymore.  The pandemic hit Brazil really hard as it did all around the world.

For most of the first year, I didn’t work.  There weren’t many jobs available at the prison and we were not paid in money there.  For the time we worked, it could be converted to time taken off your sentence of you had an attorney who would request the information and take it before the court and get it credited toward the sentence you had.  Some times, the prisons would submit directly to the courts but that was not always the case.  Anyway, I got a job when the prisons were finally allowed to send eligible prisoners on furloughs for a week.  I’ve of the workers was going on leave and the prison needed a replacement.  That’s when I was given a chance to have a job.  It was difficult work at times but it have me something to do with my days.  I basically worked 7 days a week but was only given time for 6 days a week.  We would complete sign ins Mondays through Saturdays but not on Sundays but we would be working.

At this prison, they offered “educational” classes as well.  I was desperately trying to learn more Portuguese so I could have decent conversations with people.  I knew words and could make simple sentences but I was not confident when it came to having conversations with inmates or guards.  I took these classes and completed assignments and was given credit for that work as well that helped reduce my sentence as well.  I worked at the prison was the majority of the rest of my time at that prison before all of us were transferred to another prison because the officials discovered that Butanta was not safe for anyone.

Living in Butanta was, more or less, horrific.  All of the rooms were infested with bed bugs. The pads we laid on were about four inches thick and definitely uncomfortable.  The pads were reused over and over and not clean at all.  Many weren’t even full length pads.  Most of them were shorter than normal because of overuse or parts of them were used for other needs.  The platforms we slept on were roughly made with 1 x 4 pieces of wood and a couple of 2x 4 pieces for the sides.  These platforms were usually infested with the bed bugs as well.  I had bed bug bites all over my forearms and still have some remnants of scars because of this.    The bathrooms were so gross.  The toilets didn’t have seats on them.  The bathrooms seemed to have mold all over the walls – even in the showers.  We couldn’t really even clean them well.  We always wore flip flops even when we took our showers.  Oftentimes, there were other people in the bathroom with you as you showered.  They were either doing their hygiene, waiting to take a shower after you or using the toilet.  With 8 people in the room, you had to go around with this even if it made you uncomfortable being naked around other people.  So, over time, you became accustomed to being naked around others.

I know there are things that I haven’t talked about from my time at this prison but recalling this period of time has been traumatic to say the least.  I’m emotionally drained and will end for now.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to post more frequently soon.

I haven’t been able to bring myself to write about my experiences in the next prison on Brazil.  So I’m just going to talk about things that come to mind.

I recently was hired for a job and this is the first time in a long time that I’m excited about the job – really excited.  I start my orientation on Wednesday, October 8 that will continue until October 10.  Hopefully I’ll be able to start immediately the next day.  I’m just working part time for now because I didn’t want to overwhelm myself into a bad Depressive episode.  I’m managing on my dosages right now and my next appointment is toward the end of the month.  On a personal note, I haven’t been doing well.  I’m stuck in a rut and can’t dig myself out.  It’s so easy for me to get overwhelmed and I freeze and can’t do anything – get out of the apartment or do any major cleaning or even minor stuff to be honest.  But I don’t share this information with my family because I can’t handle what they will say as a result.  I guess it’ll be shared with them if they ever come across this blog.

Mental health problems suck.  I didn’t know what will trigger a PTSD moment or major anxiety.  I know that starting a new job is a major change.  I’ve had nightmares about things that could crop up in the work environment.  It’s because my mind always looks for the worse case scenarios and presents them in my dreams but I didn’t really like that.  It rattles my cage and I feel off for a while after awakening after sleep. The nervousness is starting today but not bad yet.  It may be wise tomorrow but I hope not.  If it does, I’ll just talk to my therapist about it.  I usually don’t have issues with interacting with clients or co-workers in a job setting so I shouldn’t have a problem.

Back to mental health issues, I’ve dealt with people and their inability to understand or try to educate themselves on mental health issues.  When I was a teenager, I was told to just get over it and start being happy.  If only it was that easy.  There is such a lack of general education regarding to mental health although more focus is out on it than a few decades ago.  I was born in 1970 to a lady who put me up for adoption so my parents have had me since shortly after my birth.  Last year was when I found out I had been adopted.  That was a shock.  Everything I thought I knew was a lie.  So many falsehoods told to me my whole life and I can’t talk to my parents about it because they are both deceased.  When I was a kid, I even asked if I was adopted which they denied to my face.  That really affected my mental health when I found out.  It doesn’t affect me as much nowadays but that’s because I don’t actively think about it.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to write soon about my experiences in the last two prisons I was in while I was in Brazil.  For not, I’ll stop here.

My hearing was held on February 12, 2020 in Sao Paulo.  I was handcuffed and placed in the back of a transport van that had no windows in the back.  That was the worst.  I think I may have had a little light in the back but not much.  It seemed like it took forever and I had to really try to maintain my balance on the seat in the back while the guards drove the van to the courthouse.  I finally arrived to the courthouse and climb down in the back of the van as well as I can with my left hip hurting as it was.  We climbed the stairs to the floor where my hearing was being held with an armed escort of 2 officers.  When we arrived together floor, I spoke to an interpreter so that I could understand what was being said and he would interpret what I said.  My appointed attorney meet briefly with me and then we went into the hearing.  There were two witnesses for the prosecution.  I recognized the officer who had arrested me and who did the strip search but the other person I didn’t remember ever speaking with at the airport.  But she gave testimony that I had a conversation with her.  What she said in the hearing were things I never said to anyone.  When I was finally asked questions, the look that the judge gave me was one of malice and disgust.  If looks could kill, I would be a dead woman.  One thing I did appreciate is that he asked the guard if I was a danger to myself or anyone in the court and she said no so he asked that my cuffs be removed during my testimony.  That’s the only appreciation that I had.  I told them I had never known anything about transporting drugs for anyone and hadn’t known that was what I had been carrying.  I told the court that if I had known those packages were drugs I would have flushed them all down the toilet, changed my ticket to go back to America and never spoken to “Marcus” again.  I informed them that they could look on my phone (which the federal police had) and it would show that I never had discussions about drugs between myself and “Marcus”.  The judge ordered for a review of the contents in my phone and the hearing was ended.

After the hearing, I was placed back in cuffs but this time, the guard placed them on extremely tight.  Then she grabbed the cuffs and pulled me out of the courtroom and cranking my hands upwards with her grip.  She never let go of the cuffs even when we were going down the stairs.  She didn’t slow down on the stairs and kept pulling me and I was fearful that I would fall down the stairs again.  She was acting really rough with me and I didn’t understand why.  Finally we reached the bottom of the stairs and began the journey back to the prison.  At that point I was happy to be in the back of that van because I didn’t have to be manhandled again because I knew she wouldn’t treat me that way at the prison.  The head of security liked me and made sure that I was okay all the time.  I knew I never caused a problem and always kept my nose clean so the treatment by that guard was purely unwarranted.

So I made it back to the prison, walked through a metal detector and allowed to return the population.  I tried to go back to work but the guards told me I could just head back to the building which I did.  I was cautiously optimistic because I knew there was no evidence linking me to drug trafficking on my phone.  I went back to my normal routine and waited for the verdict. 

I received the sentence on April 1, 2020.  I thought it was a joke but apparently April fool’s day is only done in America.  I received a sentence of 7 years, 10 months and 15 days.  I didn’t know why.  I couldn’t understand why especially if they looked into the content of my phone and found no discussions about drug trafficking on it.  To say it was a huge blow would be an understatement.  I asked for an appeal to be started and it was noted that is what I wanted to happen.  I was very distraught and walked back to work since it was still in the middle of the shift.  The head of security saw me walking back afterward and was spreaking to a couple of visitors.  She stopped her conversation and called me over.  She asked if I was okay.  I said I was even though I had tears brimming in my eyes.  I know she saw this but didn’t push me to talk more.  So I went back to work and tried to be productive.  I failed miserably.  Reality hit hard and I started crying.  I had to get up from my work station and step away from the group I was working with.  A couple of my English speaking friends came out to check on me.  The manager also came into the room I was in and found me as a couple mess.  I was crying so hard and telling my friends about my sentence so they could relay the information to the manager.  I asked for a few minutes to put myself together before I returned to work.  I knew that this sentence meant that I would be transported soon to another prison because that’s how it usually goes.  I was told it could take months to get transferred but still, I didn’t want to go to the other prison.  There were always horrific stories told  about the prison I would be going to and it terrified me.   Never did I think that my terror would manifest as quickly as it did.  A few days later, I was informed that I would be moving to the other prison on April 8, 2020.

After the humiliating strip search, I gave my statement several times.  I told them the truth which they didn’t believe.  I even spoke with a Brazilian police woman who worked directly with the DEA here in the States.  I told them what I could but it wasn’t much because the majority of the information I had on the “Marcus” was on my phone.  They had taken my phone away when I was arrested and wouldn’t let me near it again.  I know that is because they figured I would delete any incriminating evidence from the phone but I wouldn’t have done that.  I would give them the information that I had whether it was bogus information that “Marcus” had given me.  I wasn’t conflicted about trying to get him brought to justice.  I was very hurt by the intense manipulation that occurred throughout the time I was chatting with him.  I was very angry with him as well as myself.  I couldn’t believe that someone could do that to another person.  I was so hurt and trying to convince myself that it was all a bad dream and that this fake persona was a real person.  Soon thereafter, I had to realize that I was taken for a fool and taken advantage of in the most heinous way.

I stayed in the cells at the airport for 5 days.  I barely sleep and really didn’t eat or drink anything.  Wasn’t allowed to take a shower because they didn’t bring any soap or towels to use.  They hardly even checked on the prisoners that were there with me. There were several men and another woman.  She was in my cell.  We didn’t really talk.  We were both in shock.  Finally, I was sent to a women’s prison there would took the majority of international prisoners.  I didn’t know any Portuguese at all so after a while, I was moved to a building that housed the foreigners.  There I was able to talk in English with other people from other countries.  I got a job in the prison after a few days and that was because the embassy came to visit me.  Medical hadn’t looked at me not about other department other than at intake where we had to strip again and were given prison clothes.  Beige pants, beige sweatshirt and white t shirts.  We were also given linens and a blanket for our beds.  No pillows though.  You learn quickly how to improvise with things to provide a little privacy while you shower and a support for your head amongst other things.

They did head counts in the morning when we woke up and then at night.  We were locked in our cells from 7 pm to 7 am I believe.  Didn’t really know the time because we didn’t have clocks that were readily available to us.  If you worked, which I did, you were at work from 8 am to 4:30 pm.  Came back to our assigned buildings and are dinner immediately and then relaxed as much as you can and hung out with “friends”.

I stayed at this prison from the end of October 2019 until beginning of April 2020.  I knew that the Brazilian prisoners were taking about me behind my back.  But I didn’t care.  At long as they kept their hands to themselves, things would be okay and I wouldn’t have to defend myself and possibly get into more trouble than what I was already in at the time.  There was one incident that happened but it wasn’t intentional.  January 1, 2020, we were in the building and people decided to do a major cleaning of the different floors.  This included soaping and rinsing the floors.  I was called to come downstairs because the guards wanted to see me. I wore a pair of flip flops and headed to the stairs.  As I started to descend the stairs, t someone pushed some water down the stairs at the same time.  The water made my flip flop come off my left foot and I slipped down the stairs.  I hit the corner of the top stair with my left hip and started going down the stairs at speed.  Somehow I was turned around and was going head first down the stairs.  There was a turn of direction on the stairs which meant there was a corner and my neck and head were flying toward it.  I couldn’t allow down.  I just knew I was going to die from a broken neck or skull fracture.  But fortunately some of the other inmate were able to help me slow down and I stopped right at the corner with my neck up against it.  I was in so much pain!!!!  I stayed in that position for a little while so that I could do a self assessment of where I was injured most.  Finally, I was able to rotate into an upright position with the help of other people and two other inmate helped me to get to the infirmary.

I was put into a room and told to lay down which was excruciating.  I was in that room for what seemed like forever but no nurse or doctor ever came to check on me.  I knew my hip was really injured as well as my knee but it wasn’t as bad as my hip.  I eventually forced myself to move and get up and check to see if any nurses were outside the room.  When they saw that, they assumed that I was just fine and there were no problems.  I tried telling them but I couldn’t speak Portuguese so they didn’t understand.  I did eventually soak with a doctor who spoke rough English and he looked at knee but wouldn’t look at my hip.  He freaked out when I talked about my hip.  I told him it was wise than my knee but he just left the room.  I was given a shot of anti-inflammatory in my other but cheek which rivaled the actual injury in the left hip in the pain it caused when injected.  I made myself walk back to the building and nearly tried on the way because I had difficulty raising my left foot over the curb of the road.  I got back to the building and entered.  I told one of the prisoners who spoke both English and Portuguese what they said and then I hobbled up the stairs and went to my cell.  Everyone was there and asked me what was said in the infirmary and how I was feeling.  A couple of them had pain pills since the infirmary only have me that one shot.  I used those pills at night so I could sleep a little.  As I was getting ready for my shower that night, I asked my cell mate if she would look to see how bad the bruising was.  She gasped and started crying.  We had a small mirror in the room and she showed me.  My whole left butt cheek was a big, black bruise.  Before this incident happened, I had been sleeping on the top bunk but she switched with me because of this injury and I was so grateful.  I couldn’t sit down normally – the pain was so severe.

The next day, another prisoner was joking around and asked me why was I still limping.  She smacked my left hip and I crumpled to the floor.  She asked why did I do that and I took her to my cell and showed her.  That’s when she realized that I was far more injured than anyone believed.  She took me directly back to the infirmary after taking with the guards and I showed them the top of my hip.  I’m the information, the nurses took a look at my hip, have me another shot in the butt and have me some feel to rub onto the bruising at least twice a day to help numb the pain.  That is all that I was given by the infirmary.  If the other prisoners hadn’t had a stash of pain medications I wouldn’t have made it through that healing time as well as I did.  Slowly the pain subsided but the bruise remained for months.

I’ll end here for now.  It all seems like it was yesterday still.  The next part, I’ll talk about the day I went to court.

In order to talk about my time in Brazil from October 2019 until June 2025, I need to go back to April of 2016.  I’m not going to go into great detail because I’m just not ready for that.  In 2016, I decided to try and date again.  I hadn’t dated anyone while my son was younger because I have trust issues in general.  So, my son was 19 years old when I started thinking about putting a profile on dating websites.  That wasn’t going well until Marcus contacted me on a dating site and we began chatting through the site.  He asked me question and vice versa.  We sent photos back and forth and I thought things were going well.  So I fell hard for this guy.  The only thing that was not ideal about it was he lived in another state so in person contact was not viable. 

I was desperate for attention.  I was desperate for love.  Yes, I had those things from my family and my son but it isn’t the same as romantically.  When my son was a toddler, I left his father who was psychological and emotional abusive and manipulative.  Shortly after leaving and started to gain allot of weight.  It was a defense mechanism that has lasted for many, many years.  I still struggle with it every day. 

Anyway, Marcus gave the attention that I craved and needed.  At first, things seemed okay.  After a couple of months, he started asking for money and other things to be sent to him.  Not sent directly through him but through other people he knew.  Looking back, I know it was not wise to send these things to him at all.  I kick myself everyday because I did send those things because through time I did things that ended up hurting my family emotionally and financially.  This pains me every day.  Eventually he sent me on international trips with the promise that he would meet me during those trips.  But that never happened.  During the first two trips, nothing untoward happened.  It was during the last trip that my eyes were finally opened and I was in a world of shit.

In September of 2019, he said he wanted to send me on vacation since I had been working so hard caring for my mother who had a stroke.  I told him I appreciated that and I asked my 23 year old son to keep an eye on his grandmother while I was gone.  I was only supposed to be gone for a could of weeks.  That’s not what happened.  He asked me to take a package to Greece for him.  I picked it up from an acquaintance of his in Brazil and was supposed to fly to Greece, drop off the package and then fly back the next day.  Writing and thinking about it now, I know that is very questionable and would have been questioned by customs authorities in Greece.  Anyway, I met his acquaintance and took the package from him.  I took it to my hotel room, examined the four bags of chocolate bonbons (that’s what he wanted to me to take) and placed into my luggage.  I looked at the packages because I wanted to make sure that they haven’t been tampered with because I couldn’t believe he just wanted that to be taken.  But they didn’t appear to have been opened previously so I placed them in my luggage and went to the airport.

At the airport, my life changed forever.  I got ticket and checked my bag and then went through security and customs.  Only, I didn’t get through customs.  I was stopped and told to wait and the little counter where the agent had been sitting.  It felt like I was there for hours.  I didn’t know how long I had to wait there but eventually she came back and took me to the supervisor’s office.  I was asked to describe my luggage which I did.  Airline agents brought my luggage to the office and they asked me to open my luggage so they can search it.  This whole entire time, I’m wondering why they want to search my luggage.  I asked them what they were looking for and they told me that the X-ray machines picked up organic matter in my luggage.  I was confused of course but then I asked them if the bags of chocolate bonbons could have indicated that way.  So, they took the bags out and rescanned them a few times where everyone else were going through the security checkpoints.  I still didn’t understand the reason why they would be examining those bags when they were clearly individually wrapped chocolate bonbons in those bags.  Well, I got my answer when they asked if they could open one of the bags to examine a bonbon.  I told them to go ahead.  I had nothing to hide.  They opened one and unwrapped a bonbon.  To my surprise (and despair), it was not a chocolate bonbons but powdered cocaine.  I was shocked and then very angry at Marcus for doing that to me.  I had no idea that he was into that or that he had been scamming me for years.  I was immediately arrested and placed in a jail cell there in the airport.

I’m stopping there for now.  Writing about this has triggered some flashbacks which are not fun to deal with.  I’ll write more soon.

I thought I had written another post but apparently not.  After much thought, I decided to start a blog to share the journey that I have been walking.  Lots have happened and I’ve been in therapy a couple of years after decades of just harboring everything within myself and being slowly eaten away by harsh emotions, memories and experiences I’ve had throughout life.

The most recent experience was returning to the United States after being in Sao Paulo Brazil for almost 5 years.  The transition of being back home in Texas has been trying and very difficult at times.  I’ve suffered from depression since I was 12 years old.  I was briefly treated once back in 2005 (I think) but the doctor didn’t want to renew my being the prescription and I just have up trying to get help.  For most of my life, I’ve thought that people didn’t really want to help me in any way.  So I thought the doctor was being the same as everyone else who enters my life.  I’ll get into this more in future posts.

In Brazil, things were difficult overall.  Most of my experiences in Brazil will also be shared in future posts but now I’m talking about finally trying to seek help for my decision and anxiety.  The anxiety had probably there for most of my life but it became more prevalent while I was in Brazil.  Finally I got some help but, for a short time, I lapsed in my treatment.  But I was finally put into contact with a therapist (whom I still meet with to this day on Whatsapp).  He helped me find a psychiatrist who prescribed me medications to help with the depression and anxiety.

Once I returned to the states, I took the remainder of the medications I had from Brazil but didn’t take the necessary steps to find a psychiatrist until months later.  My deposit has gotten so bad that to the point I was having suicidal ideations.  My therapist other me to find a psychiatrist and make an appointment so I could be put back on medication since it seems I can’t really function without the medication.  I agreed and made an appointment for March of this year (2025).  I knew it was time to reach out and get the help I needed with my mental health.  There have been some adjustments but now I feel like I’m on the right medications with the right dosages for me.

So I think I will end on this note and try my best to post daily.