"Long-term inmates--those with lengthy sentences--tend to say things like 'Why bother? I'm not going home.' Short-term inmates tend to say, 'Why bother? I'm going home in three weeks, six months, a year.' The ones in the middle tend to say, 'I just want to do my time, get through this, and go home.'

Most people, staff and inmates alike, nod their heads in response to these statements as if they are justifiable rational reasons to molder away in this place. But it irks me. It irks me that prisoners should almost universally feel like this about their lives and it irks me too that I can't slip into this indifferent lethargy. That's not quite accurate. I have slipped into blissful torpidity a few times but I always jolt awake gasping. 'This is my life. My one and only life--I have to do something with it.'

I hear these conversations. 'When I get released, when I get married, when I get that job, when I have kids, when my kids are grown, when I have fewer responsibilities, when I am more settled, then I will....'

I also hear people say, 'There is nothing for me here. I've done everything.' I have to hold on to my eyebrows so they don't hit the ceiling. I have huge long lists of things to do, goals to accomplish, ideas to explore. I never have enough time. How is it possible they have done everything? I cannot conceive of having nothing left to do.

Do we list reasons for inaction because we feel helpless? Are we just lazy? Afraid? Is it a habit? I find it completely irrational--illogical--to accept that if a person is given a choice to do something useful and meaningful or nothing, that they would choose to do nothing. Whether I accept it or not, that is the choice many people make. There are clusters of people, not necessarily inmates, who think striving for something positive is hokey and worthless. Rarely do I hear, 'today is the day I am going to take a step toward my dreams, make a difference in someone else's life, make the world a better place, do something constructive, productive, soul satisfying.'

For example, we have a group here called, The Next Step. It is difficult to define because it's all about community service and self-actualization, about growing, learning, living beyond self-imposed limits. The possibilities are exciting, the potential awesome. Yet the group struggles to exist due to lack of participation, lack of interest. It is drowning in excuses.

It makes me froth at the mouth. Surely, if our lives are dull and unsatisfying, if our dreams are not coming true, if we feel stuck and bored, it is partly our own fault. I think one of the biggest blind spots in my thinking before I came to prison was the belief that I had no options. We always have options. Some of them may be tough; some of them may require a significant adjustment in our thinking, our perspective, in our habits. But we do control what we do with today, this hour, this minute and what we decide to do with them does matter.

We may not have the perfect life we want but we can make the effort to live the life we have. It reminds me of that old song, 'If you can't be with the one you want, love the one you're with.' Otherwise, you may never get to love--or live." (Elizabeth Haysom, Fluvanna Review, March 3, 2005)

Elizabeth Haysom is presently incarcerated at the Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women in Troy, Virginia. This column is one of a series, published under the general heading 'Glimpses from Inside.'