Prison can seem like the end of the world. One moment you are free the next thrown into twilight purgatory where insanity is the norm and the norm drives men insane.

In my decades on the inside, I have learned some truths.

First, the abnormal becomes normal and what is normal in the free world could get you killed in prison.

Second, a sense of humor is essential to surviving and keeping sane behind bars.

Third, slather enough ketchup or hot sauce on prison served meals and everything becomes edible.

Fourth, no one cares about you in prison so the sooner you get over it the better off you’ll be.

With these four truths in mind allow me to muse while offering sound advice for anyone reading this soon to be cast away to prison. My condolences.

“Newbies” (new arrivals) receive the ‘Book of Rules’. A daunting tome of warnings of do’s and don’t’s you are expected to saintly abide by lest be thrown into segregation — also known as The Hole.

Newbies are easily spotted. Shell shocked wide eyed men wandering the cellblock aimlessly, the Book of Rules clutched in hand or pressed against chest as if a spiritual guide.

I used to go out of my way to help and save them often at great personal expense and peril. But I am battle worn, and time has exacted its toll from me.

Like new birds shoved from the high nest where flight or death awaits, the Newbie free falls into a new reality. It is here where most rules are unwritten, and those that are written are bent at the whim of prison’s cruel warders. That thick Book of Rules? It only applies until it doesn’t.

Allow me to offer the following personal stories borne from experience. I gift them to you with a sense of humor for that is how I have survived this long treacherous journey.

TRUTH #1: In prison, the abnormal becomes normal and what is accepted as normal in the free world could get you killed.

The Hollywood hit movie Shawshank Redemption poorly represents prison but does capture examples of the abnormal becoming normal. Yes, there are crooked guards, assaults and shankings with homemade knives, and sadly, suicides. These are exceptions yet frequent enough that you get used to it.

The first bit of advice I received about prison came by way of a stranger in county jail. It was excellent advice that saved me from a long learning curve. I now pass it on to you.

Black inked images of piercing skulls and slithering snakes sleeved out the stranger’s arms.

“Hey man,” he said. “Want some advice about prison?”

“Uh, sure,” I said. All I ever saw him do was scowl and do pushups in a corner all day long.

I’ll never forget his words:

“First, stop being scared because it’s written all over your face. When you get to prison don’t ever steal, snitch, get into debt you can’t pay, or mess with your cellie’s shit because that’s the dude you gotta close your eyes to at night. Workout. Stand up for yourself and you’ll be fine.”

I’ve done exactly that for 31 years. I bear witness that if you do the same you will be fine.

TRUTH #2: Once in grade school my best friend and I ate glue paste in art class as we crafted construction paper turkeys for Thanksgiving. Teacher scolded us for it, but we couldn’t stop laughing because we thought it was the funniest thing in the world. A willingness to embrace this type of humor is important in prison because it eases a lot of stress and keeps you sane. I will explain.

My first day as an involuntary guest at Madison Correctional Institution had me battling hunger pangs within hours upon arrival. By contrast my cellie Taz, danced about our tiny tomb headphones blaring while shoveling fists full of Lays BBQ chips to his mouth.

Taz had no outside financial support yet lived like a king because he had a prison hustle. A prison hustle is anything you do to earn money — there are hundreds, your creativity is the limit — and with a hustle you can live reasonably stress free in prison.

One day Taz told me the painfully obvious.

“You need get hustle!” He said, in his broken Spanish English.

Indeed he was right. I hustled by helping guys pen letters to judges pleading for early release. I typed out standardized forms for sentence modifications, filled out documents for guys for all kinds of long shot requests — because that’s what they were. I was always humored when guys wanted me to write letters to the very same judges who had sentenced them in the first place and told them “You’re a menace to society!” or “I sentence you to the maximum!”. But hey, the customer is always right and it sure beat being hungry all the time.

I once even took up crafting beautiful construction and tissue paper roses which I sold to Newbies desperately clinging to dead or dying relationships. It’s a good thing I paid attention in grade school art class because I had no idea that the Universe was preparing me to survive prison. Oh, and incidentally, my grade school friend went on to become a renown neurosurgeon. I, on the other hand, balanced that out by coming to prison.

TRUTH #3: Slather enough ketchup or hot sauce on prison served meals and everything becomes edible.

I slid my tray down the cafeteria line with plastic spork in hand. The scent of grilled burgers watered my mouth. I was about to taste my first prison served meal. The server set a fat, juicy cheeseburger and a hefty side of fresh deep fried French fries on my tray. Wow, I had thought. This is great.

Little did I know that the Universe has jokes. Nearly every meal for three decades onward would be bland, cold, cooked to mush or outright inedible.

I’ve witnessed mouse droppings in the pancakes, mop strings swishing about in kool-aid dispensers, and crunchy bits in my cold cereal that I’m pretty sure wasn’t cereal.

On most days, I make my own food with products purchased from commissary, which is the prison store. Don’t have any money? I’ve been that guy. All I can say is that I learned early on that ketchup can be a meal in itself.

TRUTH #4: No one cares about you in prison. Stop whimpering thinking it’s the end of the world. Take that sheet from around your neck, step down from the chair, and take a deep breath.

It’s easy to believe life ends once in prison. I have been guilty of this. In my first year, I entertained thoughts of clocking out of life altogether, give up and surrender to the world. I can’t do this, I remember thinking. I don’t have the strength

My family had disowned me. I was broke, always hungry, and struggling to survive. I slaved day in and day out at a prison job scrubbing toilets and mopping up all manner of DNA. I had found Hell.

The moment I realized no one in prison cared if I lived or died came the first time I got sick. I had spent Christmas bundled up in bed battling cold chills, then half naked fighting hot sweats in a fog of feverish delirium. By the time the sun crested above the cold horizon I had hugged more than one community toilet.

Somehow, I managed to wander the100 yards to the infirmary for help only for a nurse practitioner to dismiss me saying, “You’ll live, take some aspirin.”

They say what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger. Um, hmm.

Priso is a crash course on growing up, especially if you are young like I was. It’s wake-up call for everyone else.

 

*Christopher Monihan is a writer, journalist, and 2024 Stillwater award recipient. He is incarcerated in Ohio.