From Surviving to Living

Do you have questions about God? Are you interested in learning about Him? In 2017 I faced many challenges and felt the strain. Oddly, despite these difficulties, I was more at peace than I’d ever been. Do you desire peace? Do you need rest? Listen today and learn how you can begin today, through a saving relationship with Jesus Christ!

TRANSCRIPT

Do you know what it means to be born again? Are you certain that you have eternal life in God?

During the summer of 2017 I was fighting to keep my son and maintain relationships with my family. God would use these events to open my eyes in a whole new way to the things that are important. Discover with me the truth about sin and personal transformation.

We’ll reveal where to get started in having a personal, saving relationship with Jesus and how you can begin today! Listen until the end, you don’t want to miss a word – this is Born Bad!

“I was kicked out of Anthony,” I overheard.

I turned in my chair to see who was speaking. Vikki, one of the ABE students, was talking with the teacher, Ms. Shaibley. It was a Monday afternoon in August 2016 and the school day was nearly over. I was at my desk reading my mail.

Facing a trial for my parental rights next month, I believed the psych evaluation I’d done in 2012 might help me, however I was having trouble requesting a copy from the psych department. I was frustrated and upset. Time was running out.

“What happened?” I heard our teacher, Ms. Shaibley, ask Vikki. She set down her work to give Vikki her full attention.

As Vikki responded the P.A. system overhead burst to life, drowning out the answer. “Two-thirty movement is open! Movement is open!” I watched Ms. Shaibley console Vikki but couldn’t hear what was said.

Vikki was a small person, shorter even than my 5-foot frame. Quite a bit older than me, Vikki came to prison with a third-grade education. I was shocked when she told me she’d left school permanently at age 9.

She lived, or had lived, in the Anthony unit, also known as the parenting unit. Vikki had no young children herself, rather she was a helper for those in the unit who did. When I arrived at prison in 2011, the Anthony unit was giving incarcerated moms the opportunity to have their children spend the weekend with them in prison. The children slept in the same room as their mother, on trundle beds kept under the mother’s bunk.

Not long after my prison orientation, drugs were found in Anthony and kid overnights were suspended. This discovery left everyone dismayed. It was announced that the suspension would last 90 days, however soon drugs were found again. Eventually overnights were abandoned altogether.

The prison readjusted its parenting program to include all-day Saturday visits for children whose moms lived in Anthony. These fun visits often included special holiday parties and special decorations were made by the Anthony unit to celebrate. All women living in Anthony helped, and Vikki was one of these women.

Catching up to Vikki after class I walked beside her as we exited the Core Building. “I heard you mention moving to a new unit,” I began. “What’s going on?”

Vikki shrugged and sighed as she answered, “They did room inspections and found an extra pillowcase in my linens.” She shook her head ruefully, adding, “I didn’t realize that was so serious .”

Linens, or bed sheets and towels, were distributed weekly on “Linen Exchange Day.” Inmates were required to strip their beds and fold all linens neatly in a stack. Wing by wing each unit would call women to the day room to receive new, clean linens.

Vikki, like many women, had probably kept extra linens so she could wash them in her preferred brand of detergent, disliking the harsh industrial smelling soap used by the DOC. One could receive permission to do this, but most women didn’t ask.

Vikki’s comment drew me up short. I’d begun working to identify sinful behavior in my life. It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be, so I asked God to show me my sins.

Now I thought of my own linens. While I did not have extra sheets or towels, I was keeping an extra blanket and pillow. I’d gained the extra blanket from a past roommate who had permission for it. She gave it to me when she went home. Unlike the blanket, I had stolen the extra pillow right out from under a guard’s nose.

I recall my theft clearly. I was sitting in the dayroom and noticed a pile of pillows and a bag next to the guard desk. “What’s all of that?” I asked someone near me.

“Missy is moving,” was the reply.

“Why does she have so many pillows?” I asked and was told Missy had M.S. My own pillow was neither plump nor soft. ‘I could use another one, a better one!’ I thought.

Storing up courage I quickly made my move. Walking past the pile I bent and lifted a pillow on the way to my room. I’d kept the pillow and extra blanket ev...

Discover extra content in the blog post – GENERAL ASSEMBLY!

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Do you desire success, respect, love? Do you feel unconditionally respected and loved?
Eight months into my prison sentence I faced uncertainty. While I waited for employment I considered my failures. I hoped for relief, a better future! Distraction from the truth was easier to find.
Discover God’s perfect will for you and learn how He performs it! We’ll uncover the secret of love as God defines it, and how you can experience it today. Listen to the end, you won’t want to miss it! This is General Assembly.

Credits:

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https://uppbeat.io/t/monument-music/majestic-whispers
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TRANSCRIPT

It was November 2011. Incarcerated now 8 months, I finished the WoW program and became eligible to work again. I’d been fired from my last job so I could not choose the next one. Nervously I checked the mail daily, waiting for a job assignment. The prison would assign it to me based on the needs of the prison. It could be anything.

Starting wages in prison varied from 25 to 50 cents an hour and top pay ranged from one to two dollars. A few jobs even allowed for $4-$6 per hour occasionally.

Prior to incarceration I struggled to manage money. I saw this as a performance issue. Financial success that I could proudly demonstrate – and I enjoyed showing off – would give me the approval I craved. So, I struggled with what my apparent failure said about me. I did not budget; I hated the rigidity, the very concept! I sometimes engaged in “retail therapy” whether or could afford it or not. I never really could afford it. If I could, I would attempt to out-earn my over-spending. I had written bad checks in the past and also played beat the bank with a check. the anxiety of such behavior eventually became too much, and I stopped using checks completely.

I remember the first time I saw the inside of a jail cell. My husband and I had moved to a small town and lived on his income. We struggled. It’s not hard to imagine. We had one car, used food shelves, saw our utilities frequently turned off, and were pretty skinny. On the flip side, we both smoked a pack a day.

To purchase food, I’d written a check I was sure would clear...eventually. I spent it at the local grocery store. It did not clear, and we couldn’t afford to make it good. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was the first time I was arrested for such a thing. My parents and husband found money immediately to pay the fine and I was released within a few hours.

At the time, I felt trapped in poverty, unsure how to escape into stability. I worked from home, sometimes 2 and 3 jobs, while raising our 5 children. I felt desperate to quit smoking. Nothing ever seemed to stick. Inside I died a million deaths, more miserable than the day before.

Can you relate? Do you struggle with finances, addiction, or relationships? Are you looking for solutions?

I thought many people did better. I tried to avoid thinking about it too much. When forced to face my behavior I used justification, excuses and blame-shifting. I yearned to be a self-disciplined financial success!

C.S. Lewis states accurately in Mere Christianity, “No man knows how bad he is till he has tried very hard to be good.” He states further, “Unless we really try, whatever we say there will always be at the back of our minds the idea that if we try harder next time, we shall succeed in being completely good....

“All this trying leads up to the vital moment at which you turn to God and say, ‘You must do this. I can’t.'”

Admittedly, I did not correlate these behaviors with God at all. I did feel they were painful and undesirable. I was the “try harder next time” person.

Do you find yourself seeking success or trying harder in order to be liked or feel worthwhile?

Alarmingly, if I could not manage wages at hundreds of dollars a week or thousands of dollars a month, how was I now going to manage living on just a fraction? Successfully With sanity?

Most inmates r...

Discover extra content in the blog post Last Call!!

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It was spring 2014 and I found myself trying to adjust to a new normal, again. My youngest son had been put in foster care the previous fall, taken from my husband due to neglect and abuse. I struggled to navigate the legal system and social services from inside prison walls. Each time I found myself experiencing hope, it would be crushed by a new pain.

I didn’t know it, but this would be the last year I would have contact with my daughter, my husband lashing out in anger to destroy my relationship with her. Are you struggling with co-parenting or worse, parental alienation? This is a difficult episode to share, a difficult episode to listen to, but there is hope! This is another step in my journey towards lasting spiritual growth and transformation. Join me!

TRANSCRIPT

Have you experienced emotional abuse, legal system challenges or parental alienation? Are you hurting and in need of real help?

In 2014 I was three years into my 8 year prison sentence. I would face all of these painful issues and more as I sought to remain connected to my family. Discover with me the secret of peace in any circumstance, and the issues that stand in our way.

While this episode discusses difficult subjects, it points us to real hope for our future. Listen until the end – you won’t want to miss a word. This is Last Call.

“Mommy? Do you still love us?” Vivi’s little voice sang out across the phone lines. It was the summer of 2014. Timmy, under supervision of Child Protective Services, was in foster care. My heart ached as each month new reports from Social Services arrived documenting their life.

“Yes I do, Vivi!” I answered, surprised at her question.

“I thought so,” she mused. “Brian visited and said you didn’t love us anymore, but I thought, ‘That can’t be true, or why would you send me new bracelets you made every week?’”

Brian was Timmy’s social worker. Pride over Vivi’s critical thinking skills was drowned by outrage at Brian. How could any adult tell children their mother doesn’t love them anymore? I was shocked.

“Vivi, I am so proud of you! You are so smart and I love you so much, yes I do. Thank you for asking me that question,” I reassured her. Privately I wondered how to stick it to Brian.

Have you ever been confronted with uncomfortable questions at an unexpected moment? Have you ever wanted to resolve a painful issue but felt unsure how to proceed? Do you struggle with conflict in relationships today?

I’d been incarcerated for 3 years and called my children daily.

“Do you know why I answer the phone for you?” My husband snarled one afternoon. I did not know. We rarely spoke. My husband’s phone was my only connection to our young children. I called and usually they would answer. Occasionally my husband would answer silently, passing the phone over.

I paid for all phone calls, so money was not on his mind. He didn’t wait for my response as he rushed on, “I answer this phone for you because our sons are old enough to remember you. They would be mad at me if I didn’t.” He sucked in a breath. “They want to talk to you,” he spit out angrily.

Eerily his voice dropped, a man finding control. His next question was almost sing song, “But you know what?” This time he waited for my response. Frozen, I didn’t answer. I was almost afraid to. He snickered into the silence. Feeling more powerful he pressed, “Vivi was only 4 years old when you went to prison. Too young to remember you. It’s my mission to make her hate you as much as I do!” His voice had risen in volume as he spoke, ending at a near shout, shaking with hatred.

I listened horrified, disbelieving. He swallowed a hysteric, manic giggle, continuing. “If I can’t make her hate you, I’ll make her forget you completely!!” He erupted into laughter.

My husband was expressing intentional harm, describing a world without gravity, earth without a sun, things that do not happen. I said something stupid, “But that’s wrong!”

Laughter roared out of the phone. “I know! It’s great!” He waited for me to respond. Speechless again I said nothing. A minute then, instantly calm he hissed, “And no one’s going to stop me.” Click.

Prior to incarceration my family attended church together occasionally. I remember one sermon the pastor told this story: “I asked my wife to name something I could do to make her feel more loved. She answered, ‘Say I love you more.’

“For the next year,” the pastor continued, “ I said ‘I love you,’ more often. The following ...

Discover extra content in the blog post Sex Offender (SO) Treatment!!

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During my prison experience in 2012, I initially resisted a sex offender treatment program, feeling misunderstood and defensive. Embracing change, I pursued a new job and healthy lifestyle, losing weight and feeling better.

I share difficult experiences such as a misunderstanding in jail, and I describe parenting from behind bars and my joyful reunion with my children after a year and a half.

I discuss my difficult journey in personal growth and relapse into deeper depression. Are you working towards change today? Are you fearful it won’t ‘stick?’ Learn the difference between behavior modification and permanent life transformation and how you can start today.

TRANSCRIPT

Are you interested in extraordinary personal growth? Do you want to feel great and live a transformed life?

Join me as we explore my prison experience, navigating a sex offender treatment program, a new job, and newfound opportunities. Discover unexpected moments of hope and profound lessons learned along the way.

From resistance to redemption, we’ll uncover the secret to permanent total life transformation and how you can begin today! Listen until the end, you won’t want to miss a word! This is sex offender treatment.

Told sex offender treatment would remove barriers and open doors to privileges, I nevertheless began in December 2012 with an attitude problem. I’d asked repeatedly over the past year to be admitted to the program as early as possible, yet now that I was here, I felt vulnerable.

Intake began with hours of psychological testing, both written and interviewed. Afterwards I sulked in the treatment director’s office, arms crossed, sullen. Noticing my posture she pointed out, “You look upset.”

Miserable, I explained, “I don’t understand why I need sex offender treatment. This is stupid. I am NOT a pedophile!” Having voiced my concern, I glared at the wall. My face burned. I felt hostile, defensive. I was ready to do anything necessary to remove barriers for myself as a parent, but I was outraged at the requirements.

The director leaned over and responded, “We don’t think you are a pedophile. That’s not the purpose of the treatment.”

Surprised, I removed my glare from the wall and shifted my gaze to her desk, considering. My thoughts returned to a time nearly 3 years earlier. Recently arrested, I sat in county jail waiting for bail to be posted. One day I was told a psychologist was there to interview me for sentencing recommendations.

“Ms. Aho, you have a professional visit. Come with me.” Sitting at a table I looked up in surprise. The guard nodded and pointed at the door. I turned to follow her gaze. Another guard waited outside the red door, his face visible through the window.

I stood, smoothed my shirt, and walked to the entrance of the pod. The door clicked open, and I joined the guard in the hall. We headed for a small legal visiting room. As we neared, I could see a woman waiting for me inside. A metal table sat in the middle of the small room.

The door clicked open, and I was led inside. I studied the woman as I sat. She was medium everything, medium size, medium coloring, medium age. She didn’t smile as the guard left us alone, the door clicking behind him.

Nervously I looked around and waited. I began to feel shaky, anxiety tightening my stomach up. The woman coughed and introduced herself, “I am here to ask you some questions, a psych evaluation,” she explained.

I nodded slightly, wondering. The woman picked up a notepad from the table, clutching it in her arms. She studied it a moment. Waiting, my ankle suddenly itched. Mumbling, “Excuse me,” I leaned forward to scratch my leg. Startled, the woman jumped backwards, away from me in fear, staring at my hand.

I am a small person, a mere 5 feet tall, 120 pounds. My crime included no violence, no weapons, no drugs, no addictions, nothing that would indicate a surprise physical attack from me might be likely. Bent forward, my hand still halfway to my ankle, I paused in surprise. Her fear scared me.

I peered up at her questioningly, my eyebrow arched. Frozen, she stared at my hand and didn’t notice. She looked terrified.

I finished scratching my ankle and sat back. I wanted to leave this room. This lady scared me. It seemed she had my psych eval already completed, some conclusions already formed. We hadn’t yet started but it couldn’t end well.

Returning to the present day, I studied our treatment director, my hostility returning. I demanded, “What am I here for then?”

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her legs and responded, “Let me ask you a question. Why did you have sex with your...

Discover extra content in the blog post – No Pie & 6 Months No Shower!!

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In 2012 I began my second year in prison. Facing another 7 years behind bars I wrestled with clinical depression as I struggled to maintain contact with my children while working a prison job. My oldest son, meanwhile, joined the Army and headed to boot camp, from where he sent frequent letters to me.

I discuss serious depression and its effects, with complete transparency including my inability to even shower for nearly 6 months. I share the joy of parenting, even in a difficult situation and the importance of family connections. Are you struggling with serious depression? Are you a parent looking for support? You’ll find steps you can begin today to feel connected to your children in every situation.

TRANSCRIPT:

Are you parenting in a difficult situation? Do you need solutions and strength?

Join me on my journey through prison as I learn being mom despite distance and incarceration. From daily challenges to pride as I follow my son on his own journey through the Army, discover with me the secret to powerful parenting in any circumstance.

Learn steps you can begin today! Listen until the end, you won’t want to miss a word. This is no pie and 6 months no shower.

It was January 2012 and I worked in General Assembly inspecting gaskets at base pay, 50 cents an hour. PIE work, given out on seniority, paid $4-$6 per hour. I set my sights on top pay and planned. I didn’t have long to wait.

One afternoon prison guards entered, strolled through the room and halted at a nearby desk. A co-worker doing PIE work peered up in surprise. I held my breath and waited. I was next in line for PIE work. All that stood in my way were the current employees doing the work. My hopes soared! Could this be the day coming sooner than I expected?

“Stand up,” they told her. My co-worker set down her work, resignation on her face. As she stood a guard clicked handcuffs on her wrists. The room, quiet before was now dead silent. All eyes watched the drama. Work was boring and this was something to talk about.

The guards led my co-worker out of the room and off to seg. Boy was I happy – delighted! I hoped she never came back! Thank God for the police! God, however, was about to teach me a lesson about rejoicing at another’s bad day.

The next day I came to work, eager to start earning top dollar for the first time. I was already spending future paychecks on imaginary canteen. Clenching three boxes of work, my boss left his office and made a path towards my desk. Humming happily I watched him as he dropped the boxes on my desk.

As he arranged the work in front of me, a phone began ringing behind him in his office. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, shuffling off to answer it. I stared at the work on my desk and waited, toes tapping, still shopping in my head.

A few minutes later he returned and began scooping the boxes back up. Confused, I watched as he removed the boxes he’d delivered only minutes ago. Reading my expression he announced, “I’m sorry. Our vendor just called and cancelled the PIE work contract. Please continue your regular work instead.” Lurching back to his office, he stopped to pitch my dreams in the trash by the door.

shocked, my head felt wooden. I could not believe that had just happened. What are the odds of that timing? It felt like a cruel joke. Next I thought, What are my options? I quickly discovered the other half of General Assembly still earned PIE work.

I immediately requested a transfer. I felt it couldn’t happen fast enough. Transfer granted, I worked to learn this new job so I could do well. It was a weird job and I just wanted to understand expectations of me and how to do well so I could earn the most money possible. Praise was also welcome.

March 19^th, 2012
email subject: we got the box

Email From: Tommy
Message: Hi Mom we got the box you sent us it’s really nice I love love my hat and ring the ring fits perfect and so does the hat I sent you a picture with me wearing the hat. I hope you like it. Vivi thought the ring was hers so good thing I got it first. Vivi loves the purse you sent her and I painted my rocket for camp casey navy blue. I will take a picture of that too and sent it to you. Tim likes his had too. I like the inside and I love you too.
Love Tommy

Struggling with depression, stability remained a challenge for me. Forty hours a week – bankers hours – an impossible task for me to perform consistantly. We were all permitted one day off a month, and I always took it. sometimes, ok usually, I risked an extra day. Due to my attendance record I was never given a raise.

As a result of my skill on the job, I w...