For months I refused to look up anything prison-related. Doing so would have made it too real. But as my sentencing drew nearer, I had homework to do—I needed to choose what Camp I was going to request.
I searched Google endlessly. It felt hopeless. There was seemingly no information that felt trustworthy. My options were limited: either piecing together fragments of information from neglected forums or engage one of a handful of prison consultants whose shabby websites seemed designed only to prey on my anxieties.
I found peace of mind only once I spoke with someone who'd been through it too. Someone who, like me, never foresaw themselves heading to a prison camp. Someone who, like me, once had an able reputation, vibrant businesses, proud achievements. Someone who, like me, had temporarily left behind a life filled with loved ones who would be profoundly affected by my absence.
The simple act of hearing from a kind stranger who'd been through it all—who emerged whole on the other side—and more courageous because of it all—furnished me the peace of mind that I, too, would be OK.