8. The Magical Power of Breaking Open

In this episode, Sirona West shares her transformative journey through a life-altering experience of being arrested and spending time in jail. She reflects on the emotional and spiritual challenges she faced, the connections she built with fellow inmates, and the healing work she engaged in during her confinement. Sirona also discusses the complexities of family dynamics and the struggles of navigating her children's well-being while incarcerated. The episode concludes with a powerful poem that encapsulates her journey of resilience and hope.

Takeaways

2025 is a year of significant change and growth.
Experiencing arrest can lead to profound personal transformation.
Building connections in difficult circumstances can provide support.
Mediumship can be a source of healing for oneself and others.
Family dynamics can complicate personal struggles and healing.
Resilience is key in navigating life's challenges.
Art and creativity can flourish even in confinement.
Understanding one's own trauma is essential for healing.
Support from friends and family is crucial during tough times.
Finding one's voice and purpose can emerge from adversity.

Chapters

00:00 Introduction and Reflections on 2025
07:18 Processing and First Days in Jail
12:09 The Emotional Toll of Separation
17:01 Discovering Spirituality in Confinement
21:55 Settling into a New Dorm and Social Dynamics
26:02 Messages from the Spirit World
31:16 Family Dynamics and Emotional Strain
39:56 A Poetic Reflection on Resilience
42:43 Outro

Transcript

Beautiful new day everyone. Let's go ahead and take a nice deep breath together in through the nose and out through the mouth.

It's 2025. We have made it to this year of nine, this magical portal of rare astrological events that will have us witnessing some big changes in our lives. I am here for it and I want to honor all of the gifts of last year. I met so many incredible people, tried so many new things, really opened my heart to share and receive so very much love. And I'm just so grateful to all of you who are in my life. 

I also experimented with some free offerings last year to provide safe, inclusive, and uplifting spaces in person and virtually for those that needed it. I want to thank each and every one of you who participated in the Divine FemiNest Gathering and the Holiday Support Circles to experience healing and community. It has been such an honor to serve you and to get to know you. 

This year, I'm going to be focusing on some other projects, like this podcast, and you can still connect with me through my one-on-one offerings and mentorship, which you can find at sironawest.com. For the most up-to-date info on my offerings, you'll want to make sure you're on my email list. You can find the link in the show notes as well as my bio on Instagram. I'm @sironawest

Since there are going to be less opportunities for us to connect live, I still want to stay connected with you here. So if you have questions about any of the content I'm sharing on this podcast or about your own healing or spiritual journey, please send them to me and I may answer your question here. Chances are other people might be wondering the same thing, so ask away, and your question could spark insights for other people. You can email me at healwithsirona@gmail.com or send me a DM on Instagram. Again, it's just my name @Sironawest. 

One last note before I begin. As always, there are sensitive themes here that may not be suitable for children. I've written out this episode for today and I've changed the names of all the people mentioned here. 

So today I'm going to talk about what it was like going to jail on December 22nd, 2021. I was arrested on charges of parental kidnapping and being a fugitive of justice. If you want to hear about what led up to this point, I would suggest going back to listen to episode six. For the most part in this podcast, each episode builds on the last one. So if you're tuning in for the first time, you may want to go back and listen to previous episodes. 

We left off where I was arrested at the Department of Social Services in Hudson, New York, after taking my kids in for a forensic interview. At that point, we had a temporary protective order but the original investigation into child abuse allegations against their father had been determined to be unfounded in Texas. So this was supposed to be a second opportunity for them to speak for themselves, but it turned out to be something entirely different. 

We walked in around 4:00 p.m. and the kids were taken to a back room for the interview. I was taken to a separate room and after being asked a series of questions, including who has custody of the kids, I was arrested. Their father had obtained custody of them illegally in a county that no longer had jurisdiction over our case. But after years of a long custody battle, living and hiding to protect the kids with limited resources, I had been unable to fight the order.

So to continue with the story, I was taken in the sheriff's vehicle from the Department of Social Services to the jail. I was feeling a little out of my body, but very grounded at the same time. Mostly the cold and darkness were the only things I could focus on. As we pulled into the garage inside the jail building, I started to see a little girl in my mind about two or three years old with straight brown hair down to her shoulders. I began to realize it was the daughter of the sheriff sitting in the front seat, the one who had laughed in my face when he placed me in handcuffs. All I could hear was, she's going to be okay. I began to sense that she had cancer or something, and it felt like I was seeing her a little further down the road once it was all over and she was better. She was smiling and happy and holding a stuffed animal.

It was the most bizarre and sobering moment because I hadn't even entered the building yet. I was still trying to process what was happening, physically unable to get out of the car until someone let me out. And already I had a message for someone. But I knew I wasn't going to tell him. I felt trapped in a box inside of a box as the officer got out of the car.

I watched several more men in uniform walk around the garage talking. I wondered what would happen next, feeling like they could do anything. I flashed to the worst moments you see on TV, where people in uniform do what they want because they can. Finally, someone with a clipboard came and opened the car door. I began to breathe again as another officer opened a door to a hallway and I entered the gray institutional facility that would become my home for the next three and a half months.

At first, I was taken into what seemed like the sheriff's office, where there were more piles of men in uniform. I was told to sit on a bench and wait. Handcuffed to the bench, I began to hear conversation about how I was a fugitive of justice. All I could think about were my kids, and at that moment, I had no choice but to surrender. I closed my eyes and went deep into meditation.

Occasionally, I would be asked a question and then I'd go right back into it. I have no idea how much time passed, but eventually it was time for me to be processed in. A couple of officers walked me down long hallways, one beside me with his hand on my arm and another one behind me. We paused at each door, which had to be unlocked by someone sitting inside a booth, monitoring security cameras.

When I got to the women's side, I was introduced to a C.O. named Lacey. She was a petite, fairly masculine woman who was so young that she almost looked like a kid. I later found out she was about 25. Her job was to oversee the process of me going to the bathroom for a urine test, taking a quick shower and receiving my new clothes. They included a pair of massive dingy used underwear along with a large used sports bra, both of which were originally supposed to be white. Next, I was given a large pair of pants and a top that felt like a thicker version of scrubs, striped black and white. Wow, this really is like the movies, I thought. I'm just glad they're not orange. 

Lacey was really friendly and almost apologetic as she went through the motions, placing my urine sample and clothes into plastic bags with gloved hands. At this point, I was beginning to feel like, okay, this is really happening. I also wondered what it must be like to grow up in a small town where you end up going to jail every day for work at such a young age. 

Next, I was introduced to Darla, who explained that I'd be going to booking. The two of us walked back through the same hallways, her arm on my elbow as we chatted and waited for doors to be unlocked. Soon, I found myself back among the male C.O.’s. It was time for fingerprints, photos, and a long chat. By this time, I was getting tired and feeling really unsure around all these men. I didn't like the feeling, and I just wanted it to be over as soon as possible. They were nice enough, though, and I watched as they checked off the tasks they were supposed to do. Again, I thought about how this was their everyday life. What an interesting way to spend so many hours of the day and night inside a place with no natural light, rolling people's fingers across a machine. 

Eventually, I was told to sit in a chair at a desk across from an officer who would ask me lots of questions. When he asked if I'd ever been arrested, I said no. He thought he'd better rephrase the question. No, I mean, have you ever been arrested anywhere - like outside of New York? Again, I said no, and he just stared at me in disbelief. Later, I discovered that most of the people in the jail had been there or somewhere before, often many times. The fact that I was charged as a fugitive perhaps indicated that I had some experience running from the law. I had no idea how long I'd be there, but I could already tell that I was going to stick out. And I knew this wasn't a good thing, but I'd have to make it work. 

When the questions were all finished, I was finally taken to my cell block. There were about five cells in it and only two other people were in there. Since it was COVID time, this was a quarantine block where you stay for two weeks before being moved to wherever you're going next. When they showed me which cell I'd been assigned to, I thought, just my luck, the one with the most visible toilet - directly in the line of sight from the main door and the windows to the hallway. And it wasn't just women in this part of the jail. All genders walked through that hallway. Whether they worked there or lived there, they could see everything. Peeing and showering in front of Lacey wasn't so bad, but this would take some getting used to. 

I was given a mat, which they like to call a mattress, to put on the metal shelf they like to call a bed, a small, clear plastic cup, a toothbrush, a smaller than travel sized toothpaste, a thin towel, a sheet, a blanket, a change of stripes, and another set of dingy undergarments. Once I was locked in and given a few instructions, I quickly found myself in conversation with Amelia and Josie, who were on either side of me in their own cells. 

Amelia chimed in first, and it was comforting to hear how chatty she was. Though, I had already observed that she was a bit demanding with the C.O.’s, begging for the remote to the TV and extra time out of her cell to call her husband. It seemed like she would just ask for things so they'd hang around a little longer. Maybe that was her way of feeling like she wasn't alone. I had no idea how much I would learn about her over the next couple of weeks. 

Josie mostly spoke when spoken to and Amelia would raise her voice so that Josie could hear her and ask her to tell me about herself. Apparently they had both been there before at the same time. So Amelia felt perfectly comfortable bossing her around. Josie was dealing with a lot of physical pain due to sudden withdrawal from methadone. She wasn't able to sleep and she had very little energy and you could hear it in her voice when she spoke. It sounded like it took a lot of effort.

Both of the women had children and Josie also had grandchildren. I instantly felt so much compassion for them both. It felt like they were children themselves, helpless and like maybe they never had the support in life to stay off drugs or make different choices. I wasn't sure and I got the feeling that their family members might feel differently, but I couldn't help feeling that way. 

Shortly after getting settled in my cell, I was able to make a call to my mom and she told me she'd be flying in the next morning. It was three days before Christmas and the flights were crazy. So that was the soonest she could get there. She sounded worried, but was trying to remain calm as she told me she had spoken to the case workers who had the kids and what they had told her. She also mentioned speaking to my friend who lived nearby and they were making a plan to get everything together once she arrived. 

In that moment, I felt supported and I was grateful that she was able to come. If we hadn't had the protective order, the kids would have been sent back to their dad. But we did, and it was such a relief. Later that evening, a male C.O. came in and asked me if I'd like to speak to my children. I remember feeling shocked and I felt more gratitude in that moment than I can ever remember having in my life. He opened my cell and took me to the hallway right outside the cell block and I stood at the little table as the call was connected. 

I remember hearing the voice of my oldest first and then one of the twins. Mom? Mom?! Where are you? What is going on? I could hear the other twin in the background having one of his episodes and a woman telling him he had to calm down or he couldn't have his snacks or toys. It was so overwhelming. I did my best to sound calm and told them I was having to figure some things out and that Yaya would be there in the morning to pick them up. I just kept repeating that she was coming to see them and take them to her house in Tennessee.

I remember hearing them cry and say, ‘okay.’ I said something like, ‘I love you so much. I'm sorry and everything will be okay.’ I didn't want them to have to process the news that I was in jail until they were with my mom and sister. That was the only thing I was sure about. I thought I'm not going to put this on them when they are there with strangers. I imagined it would only make it worse. This is one of those moments that still comes back to haunt me and sometimes I think, should I just have told them? Would it have helped to know something rather than nothing? But I didn't have practice for this moment, and I did the only thing I knew to do. I thanked the C.O. over and over again for letting us speak.

Trying to sleep that night was almost impossible. Whenever the exhaustion kicked in enough for my mind to stop for a moment, I was quickly jolted awake by the pain of lying on the thin mat underneath me. After a couple of days, I learned I could ask for an extra mat, which made a big difference.

As the next few days unfolded, there were calls with lawyers, friends, and family. My mom and her husband were granted emergency temporary custody of the kids. We spoke on the phone a couple of times and it was a chaotic transition for all of them. They didn't arrive back in Tennessee until Christmas Day. Friends and family wrote letters to the governor of New York and generously put money on my books so I could get a few things I needed.

None of us could tell how long I'd be held, and all I could do was continue to surrender and adjust to my new way of life. During the first week or so of being there, I realized I had to be really present with the experience. If I tried to connect mentally to what was going on outside with my family, or what would happen next, it would drive me crazy.

I discovered I could buy a few things like drawing supplies and playing cards on commissary, which helped to pass the time. Much to my surprise, once I received the cards, I began to download messages that corresponded with each one. I was being told how to give readings with the playing cards. I had used Oracle decks before, but I didn't know anything about cartomancyi, especially with a regular card deck. So I started with Josie.

We did readings and healing sessions and she began to get a little relief from the acute pain that she was in. We spoke quietly as I didn't want word to spread that there was a witch in the house. I had just gotten there and this certainly wasn't going to help me blend in, but it felt really good to be using my gifts and seeing that they were needed.

At one point during the first two weeks when I was still in quarantine, I spoke to my friend on the phone, the one who lived about an hour away. I might as well give her a name at this point. We'll call her Kara. Kara and I did a lot of psychic work together and she told me, as cryptically as she could on the recorded line, that someone on the other side had visited her and told her that she would be coming to me very soon. She described what she looked like. She said she had short gray hair and that she was kind of like a grandma figure. I said okay and went back to my cell. I didn't think too much of it, and after a day or so I knew that it would come back to me at the right time.

Soon someone new arrived in the cell block - Bailey. She was a teensy little thing with long red hair. Her stripes hung off her even more than they hung off me, and she shuffled to keep from tripping on the long pants as she walked to her cell. She looked absolutely exhausted, and I was instantly curious about her. There was something about her heart, something drawing me to her. She was placed at the far end of the cell block so we couldn't talk easily unless one of us was let out for a phone call or a shower.

I was able to gather that she had been picked up on an old warrant and that she had five kids, one of whom was a newborn that she was breastfeeding. My heart broke into a million pieces when I found out. Feeling the weight of my own pain and imagining how much heavier it would feel if I were in her shoes. I was furious and disgusted at the legal system. I didn't care what she had done. I knew that every single person in there was dealing with unhealed wounds that had led them to these circumstances. And it wasn't fucking fair. 

As we got to know each other a little bit more, I discovered that she was into spiritual things like I was. She proudly told me about all her kids, how she loved to cook with them, teaching them how to bake, and how her oldest was even starting to get into tarot reading and posting her videos online. I could tell she had a close bond with her kids, even if it was fraught with traumatic experiences.

Finally, after the two weeks were up, I was moved into a dorm with five beds. Two other women were already there, and this was a completely new experience. I'm not gonna lie, I was scared at first. Both of them had this gangster energy that made it clear they could kill me in two seconds if they wanted to. I was assigned to the bed next to Tessa, who was now positioned between me and Blake.

After dragging my heavy mats onto the bed, I sat down, leaned my back against the wall, and half smiled as they sized me up. I was relieved when Tessa started making small talk. Blake, on the other hand, got up from her bed and made a lot of quick jerky movements around the room. She tried to get the attention of the COs through the window, asking for things and being loud, almost as if she was trying to establish that this was her space, that she was in charge.

I quickly learned that these two were practically family, best friends for sure. They'd been in and out of the system together over the years and had a ton of stories about different prisons they'd been to. They liked to emphasize how prison was much more fun than jail. You get a job, activities, and tablets to watch shows and listen to music. Here, we had one communal TV and nothing else to do except wait for the next meal. Tessa was still in a relationship with a woman in her previous prison who happened to be trans, and they kept in touch by writing letters back and forth. 

After a few days with the two of them, I was able to read their behaviors more easily, and they started to open up more. Tessa had mood swings, and sometimes she wouldn't even talk to Blake. That was always an awkward time. It felt like when a couple is in a fight. Tessa controlled the TV, and she only played one thing. The country music channel. So for at least six hours a day, we'd listen to the same 20 songs over and over again. And her highlight of the week was always the countdown. I grew up in Tennessee, so luckily I have an appreciation for a good country song, but even the biggest fans would have gone crazy without a wider selection. 

Shortly after I got settled in the dorm, Amelia joined us. So now we were four. She'd been sent to another dorm, but had trouble getting along with the people there, so she was moved. Blake and Tessa had history with Amelia too. They knew all about her long, dramatic conversations with her husband, her whining, and her neediness. It was kind of like Blake and Amelia were sisters. They would complain about each other, talk behind each other's backs, but if anyone else said something about one of them, they'd be the first to defend each other. Such fascinating dynamics.

Our cell block was attached to the one next to it. And there was a small opening above the shared sink where Blake liked to climb up and pass messages back and forth to the other women. She timed her climbs perfectly, waiting until the COs were away from the desk where they could see us. Then she jumped down super fast when they started coming back.

Amelia's bed was right next to mine and she quickly latched onto me, making me her unofficial life coach. My mentor had sent me a book, one you've heard me mention before, You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay. I'd read passages aloud and Amelia would eat them up. It was like every single word lit up something in her. She'd never heard anything like it and was hungry for more. She had someone order the book for her. When it arrived, she handed it to me because she had underlined and made so many notes in my own copy.

Soon, we had our own little book club going in the dorm. There was a book cart that circulated around the jail, and it became the thing we looked forward to most each week. We alternated between spiritual books and young adult romance novels, which, to my surprise, are actually pretty hard to put down once you get hooked. I discovered powerful books by Black authors I hadn't read before, soaking up the wisdom that poured from the pages.

After a little more time passed, Bailey showed up one day and took the last bed, the bunk on top of Amelia's. And that's when things really started to open up for me. We began chatting and she shared with me that her mom had recently passed. She was really sad that she didn't have her to talk to anymore. Immediately, I realized that's who Kara had seen and told me about on the phone. It was Bailey's mom who had visited her and told her she'd be coming to me.

From that moment on, I often found spirits lining up to deliver messages to the women in the dorm. It became so constant and loud that I eventually had to ask them to give me a break and come back later. I had never experienced my mediumship this way, so clear and powerful. It was an incredibly beautiful experience and the healing that flowed through me for these women was a gift. Not just for them, but for me too. It was a high frequency in a place that desperately needed it. 

We kept it discreet though, because I didn't want the COs to find out. For the most part, I gave messages to everyone except Blake. She usually acted uninterested when the rest of us would talk about our loved ones who had passed. But one day she timidly asked if I might be able to contact her best friend. It didn't take long before I began to feel like I was lying in the middle of a dark parking lot with a tall brick building to my right. My chest felt heavy and it was hard to breathe. I knew I had been shot. Hesitant, I asked if that was what happened to her friend. It took a lot of courage for Blake to ask me to tap in and I could sense the weight of her vulnerability. 

As I shared what I was feeling, Blake nodded and confirmed that her friend had died that way. I reassured her that it hadn't been painful, that it just felt like pressure and a surrender into the abyss. The amount of love that poured through from her friend for Blake was overwhelming. The message was for Blake to know her own value, to forgive herself for her past choices and to understand that she could choose differently moving forward. Blake was quiet, teary, and grateful. 

Soon after, word spread to the other dorm about what we were doing. I began giving readings in the rare moments we were let outside with the other women in the small yard - which was really just a basketball court divided in half by tall fences. It was freezing and we were given thick coats and hats to help us withstand the cold.

These outdoor readings were tricky though, since we were being watched the whole time. Sometimes I do the reading ahead of time, take notes, then pass it on when we were outside so I didn't have to talk too much. It was often emotional with crying involved and the COs didn't like to see people having what looked like serious private conversations. 

There was one reading I did for a woman whose mom had passed and she was carrying a lot of guilt. She and her mom had often done drugs together, and one day she came home to find her mom dead on the couch. She'd always thought her mom had overdosed, but during the reading, her mom showed me that it hadn't been an overdose at all. It was a pulmonary embolism. The woman was relieved to hear that, and it brought her a lot of healing. Her mom also showed me how much she cherished their relationship and apologized for the way things had been.

She kept referencing a newspaper, but I couldn't make out the details of what it was about. When we went back inside, the same woman climbed up on the sink in her dorm and called for Blake to come. She told her to tell me that when she returned to the dorm, there was a newspaper on the table. The woman looked through it and found a story about her boyfriend. Apparently, he had stolen her car, and for some reason, the story had been printed in the paper.

There were other mystical experiences I had off and on, one of which involved a being who entered my awareness, and at first I couldn't tell if it was a Spirit guide or who it was. Eventually I realized it was the soul of someone who was living, someone with whom I began to feel a deep connection. This being was blonde, and though I couldn't get a name for them, I felt an undeniable connection and so much love. 

They appeared very androgynous. I couldn't tell if they were male or female, and they shined like a beam of light that comforted and empowered me whenever they came to me. At first, I saw them standing on a mountaintop, and I felt as though they were calling me forward, guiding me to a beautiful experience somewhere in the future. Over time, it became clear that they were in California, somewhere near San Francisco, it felt like, though I couldn't pinpoint exactly where they were.

I began journaling about these experiences, enjoying the inner life I had cultivated. It was a much needed reprieve from everything else. The intensity of it all seemed to crack me open in a way that allowed me to experience this connection. I made sure to keep up with yoga and I would do my best on a thin towel on the concrete floor, and meditation. The girls would often joke that even if a tornado came and the building was crashing down around us, I'd be sitting with my eyes closed on my bed humming quietly. 

I wrote poetry and made art with colored pencils, finding so much peace in this space. I felt surrounded by love and the support of the spirit world. One poem in particular was channeled from my higher self to me on New Year's Day. It was also the first day I saw birds outside our narrow window. Magic had found me, even here.

Eventually, I settled into a routine communicating with the kids. Most evenings, we'd have phone calls where they'd tell me about their new school, the same elementary school I had attended in fifth and sixth grade, their friends, and the activities they were enjoying. But these conversations also included tough moments. They were still dealing with significant behavioral challenges and occasional meltdowns, which were a lot for my mom and her husband to handle.

Tensions between my mom and me began to grow. I felt frustrated by some of the choices being made and the way certain situations were handled. It was clear she hadn't been prepared to take on the responsibility of raising my kids. And the weight of it all was straining her relationship with her husband, which had its own complexities, even without the added stress. It was also affecting her career. Eventually, she decided to close her business of 20 years. 

The kids seemed to internalize the message that these issues were their fault, that they were too much for her to handle. One of the things that was most difficult to process was that she would continually allow the kids to go with someone in our family who is a known predator. This person was always ready and available to take the kids off her hands, and she let them. Over and over again. Later, I discovered that my kids had to physically defend themselves against this person on more than one occasion. They would cry and tell my mom they didn't want to go, and she would send them anyway. 

There is so much emotional charge in this one circumstance for me that I didn't even want to include it in this story. But as we were reminded in a previous episode, in a bell hooks quote, there can be no love without justice. And it's my job to make sure that this pattern of keeping secrets that hurt people ends now. My kids deserved better. Like all kids, they deserve to feel safe in the world. 

As I tried to process the steady stream of stress and difficult stories coming my way, I slowly began to learn how to detach and not take it all on as my own burden. Reading Louise Hay's work, I started to see that each of us have lessons we came here to learn. The circumstances I carried so much guilt over weren't as straightforward as I had believed. My mom wasn't just my mom. She was also a woman with her own life, many layers of her own unhealed trauma, and her own relationship with her grandchildren. The situation was more complex than just one person - me - getting into an abusive relationship, having children, ending up in jail, and then leaving those children as a burden on her mother. 

Yet I still struggled with the feeling that her love was conditional. I didn't feel the kind of unwavering support I had witnessed in other families - the unspoken understanding of we're in this together no matter what. Instead, I was made to feel as though I had caused more trouble by trying to undo what had been done, that none of this was her responsibility, and that I should have somehow prevented it all. 

What made it even harder was that my kids began telling her directly about the things they had gone through with their dad. She reported them and they are included in the legal paperwork along with her custody order. She knew the truth. She couldn't deny it. And yet she still resented being in the position she was in. 

One day, during a phone call, she said the words I knew she was thinking all along. She wished I had stayed in Texas. My friends in the dorm witnessed all of these difficult conversations and saw how it affected me. They offered comfort in the form of words when they could. At times they were shocked by the things they were hearing and it was nice to have support, even if they were people that had serious issues of their own. In here, we were all just human, and we needed positivity.

Meanwhile, I was in regular communication with my lawyer and I knew I should be getting released soon. I was being held on a warrant from Texas, but the law only allowed another state to hold me for 90 days if Texas didn't pick me up. And they never did. So on the morning of April 1st, I went to court and was granted release by a judge. By that time, it had been 100 days. I was taken back to the jail to be processed out and the feeling was surreal.

The other women in the dorm were thrilled for me, but the process dragged on for hours and I was left alone in a small visiting room with windows on all sides wondering what was happening. The kids seemed to internalize the message that these issues were their fault, that they were too much for her to handle. One of the things that was most difficult to process was that she would continually allow the kids to go with someone in our family who is a known predator. This person was always ready and available to take the kids off her hands, and she let them. Over and over again. Later, I discovered that my kids had to physically defend themselves against this person on more than one occasion. They would cry and tell my mom they didn't want to go, and she would send them anyway. 

There is so much emotional charge in this one circumstance for me that I didn't even want to include it in this story. But as we were reminded in a previous episode, in a bell hooks quote, there can be no love without justice. And it's my job to make sure that this pattern of keeping secrets that hurt people ends now. My kids deserved better. Like all kids, they deserve to feel safe in the world. 

As I tried to process the steady stream of stress and difficult stories coming my way, I slowly began to learn how to detach and not take it all on as my own burden. Reading Louise Hay's work, I started to see that each of us have lessons we came here to learn. The circumstances I carried so much guilt over weren't as straightforward as I had believed. My mom wasn't just my mom. She was also a woman with her own life, many layers of her own unhealed trauma, and her own relationship with her grandchildren. The situation was more complex than just one person - me - getting into an abusive relationship, having children, ending up in jail, and then leaving those children as a burden on her mother. 

Yet I still struggled with the feeling that her love was conditional. I didn't feel the kind of unwavering support I had witnessed in other families - the unspoken understanding of we're in this together no matter what. Instead, I was made to feel as though I had caused more trouble by trying to undo what had been done, that none of this was her responsibility, and that I should have somehow prevented it all. 

What made it even harder was that my kids began telling her directly about the things they had gone through with their dad. She reported them and they are included in the legal paperwork along with her custody order. She knew the truth. She couldn't deny it. And yet she still resented being in the position she was in. 

One day, during a phone call, she said the words I knew she was thinking all along. She wished I had stayed in Texas. My friends in the dorm witnessed all of these difficult conversations and saw how it affected me. They offered comfort in the form of words when they could. At times they were shocked by the things they were hearing and it was nice to have support, even if they were people that had serious issues of their own. In here, we were all just human, and we needed positivity.

Meanwhile, I was in regular communication with my lawyer and I knew I should be getting released soon. I was being held on a warrant from Texas, but the law only allowed another state to hold me for 90 days if Texas didn't pick me up. And they never did. So on the morning of April 1st, I went to court and was granted release by a judge. By that time, it had been 100 days. I was taken back to the jail to be processed out and the feeling was surreal.

The other women in the dorm were thrilled for me, but the process dragged on for hours and I was left alone in a small visiting room with windows on all sides wondering what was happening. 

When I returned, the women in the dorm were upset and confused on my behalf. They insisted that I needed to sue. But at that point, the last thing I could imagine was getting into any more legal battles. I was exhausted, worn down, and I just wanted to sleep. It was Friday night and I wouldn't be able to face the original judge until Monday. Monday finally came and I was back in front of the judge who initially granted my release.

He was furious when he discovered that his orders hadn't been followed. It turns out there was never a new warrant issued. The sheriffs had presented the original warrant again on Friday night and re-arrested me with it. This time, the judge issued a new order, making it clear that under no circumstances could I be arrested again in the state of New York.

We went back to jail and the familiar process began again. But this time I was able to walk out. I frantically jumped in the taxi Kara had sent, feeling terrified that something might go wrong. I remember the drive from the jail through the beautiful countryside of upstate New York. The sky felt so big and I felt a sense of freedom as I watched birds flying. Most of all, I remember the simple comfort of being in my own clothes. By then, it felt as though I had been in jail for much longer than three and a half months. My nervous system had been conditioned to a new way of being. And now, everything seemed so new.

And that's where the story ends for this episode, but before I go, I want to share the poem that my higher self gifted me on New Year's Day, 10 days after my arrest. It's called, ‘Caged Bird, So Happy, So Free,’ which of course is a nod to Maya Angelou, whose book I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, I had just read.

‘It's in the midst of despair, 

the circumstances seemingly beyond repair

That's where you'll find me, 

always right there. 

And right here and right now it may seem 

your life is completely unraveling, 

But don't give in,

You'll soon find yourself singing.

Songs of triumph, songs of grace. 

You'll feel the constant warmth 

of the sun on your face.

And you'll sing and you'll say, 

gone tomorrow, here today, 

all my sorrow has been washed away. 

I don't have to convince you 

because these blessings, your birthright, 

will flood the shaky ground 

you are used to balancing on. 

You are ready, so ready to reap 

the beauty of the lush rainforest 

Born of seeds you've sown so deep.

Always pouring out, watering without fail. 

Baby girl, it's time you set sail. 

You know where your treasure awaits. 

You feel love in every moment 

and the coordinates are clear. 

Just follow your guidance 

and don't look back. 

You'll find out exactly why 

you've been led down this path. 

Right here and right now, 

it all belongs to you.

There's abundance beyond your imagination 

in all that you do. 

Reach out and embrace what is waiting for you. 

Then, you'll show others the way too.’

Thank you so much for listening today. If you are a survivor of domestic violence or trafficking in the US, please know that help is available. I've included important resources in the show notes, including phone numbers and websites to guide you in finding support. Remember to take your deep breaths and I'll see you in the next episode.