A LETTER & A POEM FROM TRAVIS - by Travis Christian (BB8099)

April 15, 2020

Hi Dede,

I wrote a poem. If you think it’s good, can you put it on your blog? This is day one of my writing. I want to aim for one poem a week. It feels great to write. I feel like I’m contributing to society.

It’s funny how fear is always present. Was that how it was for you when you were writing? Fear of failure? Fear of inadequacy? I won’t tolerate fear. Sorry about my handwriting. (Travis writes with the wobbly inside stem of a pen. The prison removes the outer casing.)

It’s a beautiful day as far as I can tell. (Travis uses a narrow slit of a window to look outside. He sees mostly sky.) I have swallows building a nest just outside on a light. They inspire and comfort me.

How are you doing? I hope this virus isn’t as serious as it seems. I’m trying to not be pessimistic about reopening the country. Hopefully, California will have been locked down long enough not to re-expose citizens.

Inside is a letter I wrote to you about a week ago. I never sent it because I tried to make up a poem and I got overwhelmed. Please don’t share that letter.

Well, anyway, here’s my poem that I would like you to share if you think it’s appropriate. Also, thank you for even being willing to go through the effort of sharing my poetry.

I hope you’re doing okay. I’m laughing at myself the way I behaved at our last visit.

MY POEM

by Travis Christian

I’m sitting in silence staring out my window,
All I have is myself to look forward to.
I hear whispers of temptation beside my head.
I pretend that I don’t hear them, instead.

I’m thinking of everyone that I’m connected to.
The birds work to build a nest,
With each passing dash, I’m impressed.

I’m sitting in silence staring out my window,
I relax as I refocus.
I’m reminded that I’m not alone,
And, for the moment, I feel at home.

This is my attempt at a poem for day one. Let me know what you think. Looking forward to hearing from you.

Stay young,

Travis

NOTE: You can write to Travis and/or others. See their photos and mailing addresses on the blog’s Pen Pal page.

A NEW PAGE ON THE BLOG - PEN PALS by Dede Ranahan

A NEW PAGE ON THE BLOG

PEN PALS

With the corona virus pandemic, visiting rules have been changed in most US prisons. Many of our SMI family members are in prison and often in solitary confinement. We’re all experiencing various levels of solitary confinement as we stay home — with one or two others or by ourselves — in response to COVID-19 directives. We’re getting a feel for the stresses of being in isolation. Can you imagine being seriously mentally ill with schizophrenia or bipolar disorder and being in solitary confinement with family visiting sessions cancelled? No. Neither can I.

Several of you have asked if there might be a way to set up correspondence with SMI prisoners (in and out of solitary) to let them know they’ve not been forgotten. I’m adding this page to the blog as a place to post the names/addresses of prisoners who would welcome news and connection to the outside world. In other words, they’d love to receive letters from you.

Please send me a brief description of a SMI prisoner you know who would like to receive mail. A photo of them would be great if you have it. I’ll begin this list with Travis Christian whom I’ve been visiting and writing about on the blog. Send your information to me at dede@soonerthantomorrow.com. Thank you so much.

Travis Christian

Travis Christian has been in prison for over seven years for a crime he committed while he was in a psychotic state. You can read my stories about Travis on the blog. Check the archives on the right. Travis was due to be released this year, but now, he’s in solitary confinement indefinitely for attacking his cellie while in another delusional state. The DA recently told Travis that he’s bringing charges against him for attempted murder. Travis is potentially facing many more years in prison. Travis’s mail address: Travis Christian, BB8099, C-12-242, Mule Creek State Prison, PO Box 409060, Ione, CA 95640.

Dillon McCandless

If you could add my son Dillon to your list for mail, that would be great. I'm very worried about him. He’s currently in isolation in Butner, NC. He has schizophrenia and is in isolation most of the time because he either won't stay on meds or they don't have him on the right medication. He was doing so well when he first arrived but we don't know what has happened and I can't get anyone to tell me. He can't even call us for a month. He was at a medical center in Rochester last year and spent four months in isolation there unmedicated. Then in Oregon for seven months and three of those in isolation. He’s been moved numerous times because federal prisons don't know how to take care of the mentally ill. I know he needs mail and positive, encouraging words. Dillon’s mail address: Dillon McCandless 19101023, FCI Butner Medium 1, P.O. Box 1000, Butner, NC 27509

Mason Lantern

My son, Mason, is 28. He’s been ill with schizophrenia since 2009. He just made it through high school to get his diploma. He used to be a math and science whiz, loved playing online computer games, and made friends easily. He was also great at sports. Any sport you put him in he could do, and he loved it. For a minute there, he was in a good treatment program. He lived at home, was able to attend community college, made friends, had a girlfriend, and started taking piano lessons and practicing. However, he's been in pretty bad shape since 2012. He’s had in multiple arrests, failed attempts at treatment, been homeless, and spent significant time in the largest mental hospital in the world — Twin Towers Los Angeles County jail for men. He's there now and we're hoping to get him into a locked IMD but chances are he'll have to be held at the county hospital until a bed opens up. Mason’s mail address: Mason Lantern, #5854725, Terminal Annex, PO Box 86164, Los Angeles, CA 90086-0164.

WANT TO JOIN TEAM TRAVIS? by Dede Ranahan

On Saturday (January 18, 2020), I drove to Ione, California to visit Travis Christian at Mule Creek State Prison. I’d been sick for three weeks and was glad I was feeling well enough to make the hour-and-half drive. I didn’t want to let Travis down and miss our regular monthly visit.

When I checked into the visiting center, the guard said, “Your visit will be delayed 20 minutes or so. We had a fog check this morning. Everything was locked down. It took us an hour to complete the prisoner check so we’re running a little behind.”

The guard pointed me toward a table. After a few minutes, a prisoner with a dust cloth stopped and asked, “Would you like me to straighten your table? Would you like me to clean it off for you?” This prisoner spoke with a pleasant smile on his face. He wore glasses and bore tattoos on every exposed feature — arms and neck. I thanked him. He said, “Have a good day.”

In a half hour, the guard directed me to one of four visiting cubicles reserved for prisoners in solitary. Travis was already coming through the door on his side of the glass. I picked up the phone. “Hi Travis.” “Hi Dede.” Already the clock was ticking on our one-hour visiting time. Because I’d been sick, I hadn’t written to Travis since our December visit. He’d learned I was sick from my neighbor who writes to him. “Are you okay? I was so worried about you, Dede.” In an hour, Travis would be all over the emotional map. Glad to see me. Sad and missing his family. Afraid for his future. Anxious because he’s received no information about how long he’ll be in solitary, when he’ll face trial, what the charges will be. Frustrated with his weekly therapy sessions. “I wish I could sit on a sofa when I talk with the clinician.”

I asked, “What do you sit on?”

“I’m in a cage.”

Travis spends too much time in cages. He paces in a cage during his three-hour yard times. “Do you have something to sit on if you want to stop pacing?” “A toilet.” “Does the toilet at least have a lid on it?” “No".

(I think I need to get a job at this prison. I’d make a few changes.)

I told Travis that Kelli Buttler, a Sacramento woman who writes to him on a regular basis, reached out to me and said she’d like to visit him, too. I told Kelli about the paperwork involved to become an approved visitor. Travis’s eyes lit up. “I like her letters. I’d love to meet her.”

I posited another idea. “Travis, how would you feel if we could set up a Team Travis so you’d have a visitor every weekend? Would you like that? Would it feel intrusive? What do you think?”

Travis’s eyes got teary. “That would be amazing. I’d love that. No, it wouldn’t be intrusive. If someone cares enough about me to come visit, I’d want to be open with them.”

I didn’t promise anything. “I’ll see what I can do.” (If I were younger, I’d take this ball and run with it. Maybe an organization of volunteers to visit prisoners in solitary all over the country. A quiet stampede to call attention to the inhumanity in our criminal justice system. Sometimes I get carried away :-)

As usual, our hour flew by. Travis mentioned Pat, Joan, Sue, Christy, and Kelli (I’m not remembering all the names) who are writing to him on a regular basis. “Joan writes me everyday. I told her she doesn’t have to write that often. She has her own life to lead.” Someone sent him a copy of the book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions On Writing and Life by Anne Lamott. It came from Amazon and he didn’t know who sent it. He loved the book and read it in three days. “Please tell them ‘Thank you.’ I’m writing. Some stories. Some journaling. I’m writing for my family. I love them so much. I miss them.” Teary eyes.

I drove home thinking about Team Travis. Could we get volunteers to visit once a month or every other month or three times a year? We’d prioritize Kathy’s visits with her son and work around her schedule. She lives in southern California and tries to visit once a month. Kelli had asked me, “Is it scary visiting the prison?” I said, “No. It’s not scary. It’s depressing but so rewarding. You make a huge impact on someone’s life — offering a lifeline to the outside world. Letting them know they’ve not been forgotten.”

I hope to hear from some of you. Let’s see where this goes. Team Travis. It has a nice ring don’t you think?

Travis’s mailing address:
Travis Christian BB8099
C-12-242
Mule Creek State Prison
P.O. Box 409060
Ione, CA 95640

On the way home from Mule Creek State Prison
Photo credit: Dede Ranahan

THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR LETTERS TO TRAVIS by Dede Ranahan

Yesterday, I drove to Ione, California to visit Travis Christian (BB8099) at Mule Creek State Prison. Travis is in solitary confinement for one-and-a-half to two years. He lives in a tiny, walled cell with a bed and some lockers. He’s allowed “yard” time three days a week — one half hour in an 8x10 foot cage. He attends “groups” a few times a week — again in a one-person cage. Sometimes the group watches a movie. Travis says they’re going to discuss stress management. (I’d like to know how to manage stress in solitary confinement 24/7.)

I’ve been visiting Travis once a month since October 2018. (You can read about my visits here.) I knew of Travis’ s mother, Kathy, through this blog. At first, Travis was in prison in Southern California, then he was transferred to Folsom, California which is about 45 minutes from where I live. Now, in Ione, the trip takes an hour and a half. Prison staff told Kathy that Travis was transferred because Folsom is over-crowded. A couple days before he was moved, a prisoner in Travis’s cell block hanged himself.

Travis originally went to prison for stabbing a man he thought was Satan. He ended up in solitary after punching a med tech he thought was Satan. Now he’s in trouble again for attacking his cell mate because he believed he was Satan. A recurring delusion. “I thought I needed to rid the world of evil,” Travis says. The back story, this time, is that Travis decided he was “fine,” went off his meds with prison permission (“It’s his right,”), and ended up in the prison hospital. Kathy had pleaded with prison staff to not take Travis off his meds. “We’ve been down this road before,” she told them, “and it always ends badly.” The staff said they would monitor Travis. So much for that. Now Travis is facing an attempted murder charge and many more years in prison.

When Travis walked into the visiting booth (he sat behind glass and we talked on a phone) he seemed dazed. He’d had no human conversation in over a week. He said, “I’m okay,” and then he teared up. “I’m being punished. They try to break you in here. Dede, sometimes I lose it. I want to give up.” As we talked, Travis began to relax. “I miss human conversation so much. Thank you for coming.”

Travis did have some good news. “Friday, I got over 20 letters — from all over the United States. I couldn’t believe it when the guard handed me my mail. ‘All this? For me?’ People wrote that they read about me on your blog. They said, ‘Hang in there. Do not lose hope.’ I was overcome. I broke down. I couldn’t read for a while. I couldn’t do anything.”

I asked, “Travis, when you’re feeling overwhelmed, can you ask to see your doctor?”

“No, Dede, it doesn’t work that way. I see my doctor once a week at a scheduled time.”

I told Travis his mom has ordered a TV for him and it should arrive in a week or so. “I’m counting on that TV,” he said. “To get my mind on other things. To feel more alive. I have to hold on until I get that TV. And my property. They haven’t given me my things from Folsom — some books and photos and stuff. I don’t know when they’ll give them to me.”

At times, each of us was quiet — trying to think of something positive to talk about. “All we have is this moment,” Travis said. “Let’s talk about now. How are you doing, Dede?”

As our visit came to an end Travis asked, “When are you coming again?”

“Travis, I’ll keep coming on the second Sunday.” Through the glass, I blew him a kiss.

On the drive home, I opened my car windows and sucked in the outside — the brown California grasses, the clusters of black oaks, the herds of cows and goats. I reflected on my visit with Travis. The prison felt surreal. Like the twilight zone. The guard at the motor entrance smiled and told me, “Have a good day.” The staff attendee in the visiting area was pleasant. He apologized that my 11 a.m. visit with Travis began one half hour late. A baby in a pink headband cooed on an inmate’s (her father’s?) lap. Couples hugged and bought hamburgers from vending machines. Children, polished and shiny, sat politely in family circles. Travis entered the visiting booth with his hands behind his back. He inserted them into a slot in the door to wait for a guard to remove the handcuffs. As he described his cell and his dreary routine, the juxtaposition of normal and bizarre jarred my body and my senses.

Travis is alone. Totally alone. One of many, throughout our country, who are isolated for days, months, and years. Anything could happen. Additionally challenged by his serious mental illness, Travis could lose the will to survive. He needs to know the world hasn’t forgotten him. Right now, I’m a connection. I’ll be there for him as long as I can be. He needs me, and you, and all of us.

At the end of the day, we’re lucky if we can help one person. One person at a time…

Travis’s mailing address:
Travis Christian BB8099
C-12-230
Mule Creek State Prison
PO Box 409060
Ione, California 95640

Travis intends to respond to everyone who writes to him. Sometimes he’s out of paper or stamps or envelopes. His writing tool is a pen filler — the internal part of a pen. The casing is removed. It’s difficult to write with the filler. Travis tries to wrap paper around it to make it thicker and easier to hold. “I’m still figuring out how to do this,” he says. You can send books to Travis but only by ordering and shipping them to him from Amazon. He’s reading a fantasy book right now because “It takes me out of here.”

END PROLONGED SOLITARY CONFINEMENT by Dr. Mariposa McCall, Psychiatrist

On February 8, 2018, I along with Dr. Everett Allen (an internist who worked for several years at California Pelican Bay State Prison's solitary confinement), Cyrus Ahalt (a UCSF Public Health and Criminal Justice researcher), and Steven Czifra (a UC Berkeley MSW intern who was confined in solitary confinement for eight years while in juvenile then adult corrections facilities), presented on the relevance of solitary confinement to community mental health at the California Contra Costa County Psychiatry and Psychology monthly meeting.

Solitary confinement is being held in a small cell for 22 to 24 hours a day with minimal property and no meaningful human contact. We reviewed the physical and psychological harms of this most restrictive housing placement. In addition, we explored the dual loyalties for providers as they participate in this practice. As providers, is it ethical to declare someone fit for this high risk containment? This is what is happening — we are witnesses and participants.

Canada's Supreme Court declared solitary confinement unconstitutional in January 2018. A few months later, India, too, acknowledged this preventable harm. When will this nation reach this decision? On any given day in the USA, 100,000 are held in these extreme conditions, some unconscionably for years and decades. Fifty percent of suicides occur in these restrictive segregations, and self injurious behaviors are rampant.

This is preventable. We, as providers, will see these individuals as patients when released. Ninety-five percent of those incarcerated will be released. As community members, we will walk, shop, eat, live with them. Do we want traumatized or rehabilitated individuals? Some of you may feel this issue does not pertain to you, but ethical guidelines of "first do no harm" and human rights concern us all.

I am hoping you will join me in signing the petition I wrote to end prolonged solitary confinement (greater than 15 days) in American jails, prisons, and detention centers. Please share with others. Click on link below to read and sign the petition.

https://www.change.org/p/helping-professional-organizations-end-prolonged-solitary-confinement

Photo credit: Tim Pearce/Flickr.com

I'M LOOKING FOR A FRIEND (FROM SOLITARY) by Jorge Fajardo

4.1.18

Dear Ms. Ranahan,

Hello, my name is Jorge (George). I received your address from a friend of mine. He told me you help people with mental illness connect with positive people. I'm all alone and suffer with a personality disorder and manic depression. I grew up in the system alone.

I admit I wasn't exactly an angel, but I don't believe I'm a bad person. I'm tired of being alone and now I'm looking for a friend. My condition is getting worse. I'm actually waiting to be transferred to a mental hospital. So if you can help me find a friend I would highly appreciate it. I draw, write poetry and I'm planning to write a book.

Well, thank you very much. If you can help, great. If not, thank you anyway. I'm sorry for the depressing poem. But it's my feelings that guide me. Thank you again for your time.

Sincerely,
Jorge Fajardo

P.S. Happy Easter.

LOVE?
by Jorge Fajardo

When I was a kid, I was all alone
No love, no care, and without a home.
Foster care, group homes, then juvenile hall,
I lived this life, my head held tall.

I became a man, with no love in sight.
I stayed alone, I was prone to fight.
Prison is now the life I live,
No hope in sight, something's gotta give.

It hurts to wake up, I hate my life.
Living in pain and a bunch of strife.
I still try to keep my head held high.
I'm getting worse and worse, I'm ready to die.
All I want is love but I don't know what it is.
Can someone please show me before I give?

You can write to Jorge at this address. Thank you.
Jorge Fajardo
CDC# AN9115
California Mens Colony
State Prison/Cell# 4288
PO Box 8101
San Luis Obispo, CA 93409

Help Us Shatter The Silence

National Shattering Silence Coalition is collecting stories about people with serious mental illness who have encountered the criminal justice system and we will be sharing them for the National Stepping Up Day of Action on May 16th. This year we are showcasing stories that involve the criminal justice system and how it handles those with serious mental illness. By being brave enough to share your personal story or the story of a loved one, you are helping us to shatter the silence! You are encouraged to share pictures or videos of your loved ones with us as well. By telling our stories we shed light into the dark issues those living with serious mental illness face every day in America.

Your story is important, and we want to hear it!

CLICK HERE TO SHARE YOUR STORY

Thank you,

National Shattering Silence Coalition

A THANK YOU FROM SOLITARY by Travis Christian

April 2, 2014

Dede

I'm happy to tell you I'm feeling better. Ever since I got moved I've been able to talk to people in their cells next to me. I'm still in solitary but having other people around me going through the same things helps me endure the time.

I've been exercising almost everyday so I believe this is helping my depression. I still am suffering side effects from all the medication they had me on such as having difficulty processing my thoughts. I feel like I have major writer's block sometimes. I also feel like I don't have feeling. I feel numb, but other than that I'm doing good. I'm starting to write poetry which is a good sign of progress.

Thanks for putting my letters on your blog. I have gotten letters and cards from various people that tell me they heard about me through your blog. These people have touched my life and given me inspiration to live my life. I no longer feel hopeless but I am struggling with my purpose.

I like to sing, it's what make me the most happy. I want to make people feel better through my music but ever since my accident with the psych-tech, I haven't been able to sing. This deeply affects my relationship with God because I like to sing worship songs to him. I think God is testing me to see if I really love Him or not. I do. I love God.

The support I've gotten from people has encouraged me to keep my faith and belief that God has a purpose for me. These letters come at a time when I'm down and out. The love and support I feel is making me want to give back to society all my love and dedication. The key to my turn around is taking it one day at a time. Taking the advice from you and everyone else. And believing that God has a purpose for  me. I'm still not as close to God as I want to be. I'm praying to get closer to Him.

Pat sounds like he was a nice guy. I wish he were still around. I'm sorry for your loss. But I'm sure he would be proud of your advocacy for people with mental health issues. I know if it wasn't for you and all the letters I've gotten that I wouldn't be as positive as I am. Thank you.

I hope your mother has a happy 100th birthday. She must be a tough old lady. Enjoy your time with your grandchildren. Have fun getting ready for your mom's birthday. Keep plugging away on your book and blog. I pray you get lots of work done.

Until next time, have a blessed time. Thank you for the card. I appreciate you putting my letters on your blog. I pray you are well in Jesus name.

Love, Travis.

You can write to Travis at this address. Thank you
California Men's Colony State Prison
P.O. Box 8101
San Luis Obispos, CA 93409-8101
Travis Christian
CDCR#: bb8099
Cell #: B-1

4-18 Travis' mother writes: Hi Dede, Travis is still at Men's colony in San Luis Obispo.  He is most likely going to be transferred, tomorrow, to the new Folsom prison in Sacramento. His lawyer's been trying to stop the move but, so far, it's still continuing. I visited Travis on Sunday and he was pretty down about going and very frightened. He's going to a level 4 180. It's the highest level. The only higher level is solitary confinement.  Travis said, "It's for the most violent offenders." Once again, I fear for his life. The mail from Men's Colony will follow him to Folsom. When I get his new address, I'll send it to you. Thank you for being a friend and a light for my son. Kathy

Help Us Shatter The Silence

National Shattering Silence Coalition is collecting stories about people with serious mental illness who have encountered the criminal justice system and we will be sharing them for the National Stepping Up Day of Action on May 16th. This year we are showcasing stories that involve the criminal justice system and how it handles those with serious mental illness. By being brave enough to share your personal story or the story of a loved one, you are helping us to shatter the silence. You are encouraged to share pictures or videos of your loved ones with us as well. By telling our stories we shed light into the dark issues those living with serious mental illness face every day in America.

Your story is important, and we want to hear it.

CLICK HERE TO SHARE YOUR STORY

Thank you,

National Shattering Silence Coalition

LETTER FROM TRAVIS IN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT by Travis Christian

2-15-18

Dede,

Thank you for writing me. I'm dealing with some spiritual issues. It's easier to just give up than it is to fight. I've got myself in trouble and now I have to face the music. Honestly, I don't like the song. But that's life. 

My life is a wreck. It's not going to be easy to keep it together. Isolation just accelerates my mental/spiritual illness. I don't believe in mental illness. Well, in my case, I know my problem is a spiritual problem. I'm in isolation because I hit a psych tech. Who does that?

I'm learning about myself. It's painful. I wasn't let out of my cell today. I could complain all day but it's not going to change anything. I'm just trying to be strong. 

So what happened to Patrick? I appreciate your reaching out to me. I know my mom is fighting her butt off for me. She told me your son died. I'm sorry to hear that. So what does your blog do?

I believe I have a mental illness. I'm scared I won't get help. I'm afraid I'm going to die. I don't know what to say. I can't concentrate. I regret hitting that psych tech. I need help. I feel like I'm dying. I need to be positive.

I hope you're well. Good luck with your blog and book. I'm thankful to be alive still. I want to live. Nice meeting you. Thank you for your prayers.

Travis

Travis can receive cards and letters. No books. Thank you so much.

Since this post, Travis, due to health reasons, has been moved. His current mailing address is the following:
Mens Colony
Travis Christian
cdc#bb8099
Mental Health Crisis Bed
PO BOX 8103
Colony Dr.
San Luis Obispo, California
93409

Letter from Travis 2-15-2018