“It makes no penological sense to penalize yourself, in a penal institution,” Mr. Jones said to me one day at Mule Creek in B yard. As illuminating as this statement was, it clearly defined “institutionalization.”

Institutionalization is a product of being behind bars for years and even decades. 

In my case, I have spent more than two decades in 6-by-9-foot cells. I know when to wake up, get on the ground when a “code” is announced, and “bird-bathe” when on lockdown. I understand what to do and say when confronted by aggressive individuals, and choose to deescalate the situation by being assertive. 

For many individuals, breaking this cycle causes anxiety and stress when released from an institution. For example, sights, sounds, colors and dealing with people can be confusing. The newness of life on the streets is, in many instances, unfamiliar and overwhelming. 

It is difficult to readjust when discussing personal informalities, sharing feelings, or having awkward conversations about the past. Being in large crowds, physical closeness and misinterpreting body language causes anxiety. Learning new technological advances and social and cultural conventions is mind-boggling. 

There is a positive side to being in an institutionalized setting. The mundane aspect of the institution creates, in some individuals, a need to find a purpose, excel, and heal. This takes discipline. The same discipline it takes to successfully operate in an institution can be an asset in the free world. For example, the same discipline it takes to go to college, attend rehabilitative groups, work to sustain oneself through art and writing, and practice self-control, can be applied to life in society. 

In summary, the structural nature of being in an institution prepares us for the demands of today’s society. Sure, it won’t be easy, but anything worth accomplishing demands real effort. It takes time, patience and dedication.