A crisis of confidence is so common that it should be considered a universal part of the adoption process.

My friends in prison were mostly women more like myself: not historical figures who I did not relate to as peers, but hookers and addicts.

The only thing I remember writing in prison is a couple of poems for an inmate magazine they did once a year.

I can say now is that sneaking up on people is a major delight in my old age, but it always has been. A desire, even a need, to shock.

My husband regarded my prison past as a dirty secret and never asked me one single question about it. But what I had experienced and witnessed was eating at me and I needed to "tell somebody."

I was already a wreck when I went in, and prison nearly destroyed what little was left of me. I was worse when I came out than I was when I went in, and was not positively changed in any way.

One of the principle things life has taught me is that we always have a choice. When we say we "can't," we usually mean we're just not willing to pay the price.