"Whatever," I said, and backed out the door.
"Let her go, man. You need to go to the hospital. We’ll get her ass later."
Well, they didn’t get my ass later, but the cops did. Since I’d cut him on the jugular vein, they charged me with attempted murder. The only reason he survived was ’cause he applied pressure to it right away. He testified that he had pressed so hard, for so long, that the paramedics had to literally pry his hands away. The doctor who treated him testified that he sutured off the jugular vein to control the bleeding, and since it was on the external jugular vein and not the internal, which is much bigger, and the carotid artery and vagus nerve were not damaged, he expected a full recovery. I took a plea and plead guilty to aggravated assault, and got sentenced to five years at Bedford.
On my first day at Bedford, I knew it wouldn’t be long before somebody tried me. I was ready for her. In fact, I wanted somebody to try me so I could make my rep, and nobody else would fuck wit’ me. It didn’t take long.
I had been there for a week, and was walkin’ across the yard when I passed by a group of white bitches, and one of them decided she wanted to holla. "That’s one fine nigger bitch there."
I turned around and went right at her. She was a lot bigger than me, but I didn’t care. "What you say?"
She stepped up. "I said you was one fine nigger bitch."
Before she got the word "bitch" out her mouth good, I was on her ass. It didn’t take long before the guards came and pulled
me off her.
They sent us both to the hole. The whole time we was on lockdown, this bitch is callin’ me out. I mean yellin’ at the top of her lungs about how she was gonna kick my ass when we got out the hole. I didn’t even bother to answer her, but I knew what I had to do.
On the day the guard came to take me back to population, I had a plan. When I was leavin’, the guard told her to get ready ’cause he would be back for her next. After I was checked into my buildin’, I went right back out and went to the isolation unit, and waited outside for her to come out.
As soon as she was close enough to me, I rushed her. Before the guard could stop me, I had her on the ground and was poundin’ her in the face. When they finally got me off her, her face was bloody, and I was on my way back to the hole.
When I got out the hole this time, they made me talk to the shrink. Her name was Dr. Carol Goodwin. After a couple of sessions wit’ her, she told me that I had anger issues. "Let’s face it; anger is a fact of life. Our world is filled with violence, hatred, war, and aggression. Psychologically, many theories of human development focus on the infant’s struggle with anger and frustration, and the primitive fantasies of aggression, guilt, and reparation that result from these feelings. In essence, we grow up with anger right from the beginning of life."
"So what all that mean to me?"
"That anger is a natural human emotion. It’s nature’s way of empowering us to ward off our perception of an attack or threat to our well-being."
"I know what you sayin’. Somebody come at me, I just go off."
"The problem is not anger. The problem is the mismanagement of anger. Mismanaged anger and rage is the major cause of conflict in our relationships with other people. I suggest that you take an anger management class."
"What the fuck is that?"
"The term anger management commonly refers to a system of psychological therapeutic techniques and exercises, by which someone with excessive or uncontrollable anger can control or reduce the triggers, degrees, and effects of an angered emotional state. One technique for controlling anger is finding agreement with another person, rather than conflict. The use of deep breathing and meditation can be used as a means of relaxation. As the issue of anger varies from person to person, the treatments are designed to be personal to the individual."
Since I didn’t have shit else to do, I took the class and really got into it. It taught me a lot about myself, and the source of my rage. I learned ways to deal with my anger like, takin’ a timeout and counting to ten before reacting, or puttin’ some space between me and the person I’m angry with.
"Once you’re calm, express your anger. It’s healthy to express your frustration in a non-confrontational way," Dr. Goodwin said. "Stewing about it will only make the situation worse."
She told me that I need to think carefully before I say anything. "Then instead of focusing on what made you mad, work with the person who angered you to resolve the issue."
"I don’t know about that one, Doc. You run up on a mad mutha fucka, they ain’t tryin’ to hear, let’s work it out."
"I can understand how that might be the case, but you could use ‘I’ statements when describing the problem. This will help you to avoid criticizing or placing blame, which can make the other person angry or resentful, and increase the tension between you."
"Like what?"
"For instance, say, ‘I am upset you didn’t help with the housework this evening,’ instead of, ‘You should have helped with the housework’."
At first, I didn’t think none of that shit was gonna work, but Doc told me to at least try some of the techniques we talked about, and I would see that they work. She said that I shouldn’t hold grudges. Try to use humor to release tensions. "Lightening up can help diffuse tension," Doc said. "Don’t be sarcastic though."
I laughed. "Why not?"
"It can hurt people’s feelings and make things worse. And I strongly recommend that you practice relaxation skills. Learning skills to relax can also help control your temper. Practice deep-breathing exercises, or repeat a calming word or phrase to yourself, like ‘Take it easy, Qianna’."
I tried some of the shit she told me, and it worked. Now I’m not gonna say that I was an ideal inmate after that. I still got into my share of shit, and got wrote up for shit almost daily. But I did manage to stay out the hole the rest of the time I was there. I did all of my time, and now, I’m out. And I swore to myself that I was never goin’ back to jail ever again. This time, it’s gonna be different.