Imagine being incarcerated for 1,385 days, away from your children and grandchildren? Melisa Schonfield shares her story about what she learned while in prison and the effects it had on her family. She compares prison life to real life in ways we may not have thought of. What’s it like visiting the doctor in prison and the things she did when she was released because she had been institutionalized. Hear this and more. Melisa also discusses her new book “Bitter or Better” and how she could’ve been bitter after everything she went through, however has taken another path to make a better life for her and her family.
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Bitter Or Better With Melisa Schonfield
I’m here with Melisa Schonfield who spent 1,385 days incarcerated in a New York prison. Melisa could have been bitter about the time she spent in prison away from her family but she chose to find and keep the better part of herself and not succumb to the darkness of prison life. Melisa, thank you so much for being here. We have so much to talk about.
Thanks for having me, Julia.
You’re welcome. Let’s start with when you were incarcerated and family. What was it like being away from your family all those days?
In the beginning, I almost felt like I deserved it. I thought I was doing them a favor by being away from them. I felt ashamed and embarrassed. With the humiliation that went with it, I felt they were better off without me. After a couple of weeks, it hurt. It was painful to be without them. The isolation is very difficult. I felt very guarded. I did not want to make friends with anybody because I feared their agenda. It made it even more difficult than when I would call home and hear the things that were going on at home, which would make me miss them even more. Where they would go, who they would see, I was missing all of that but more than that, I was missing doing it with them.
Did you like hearing about what things were going on? I’ve heard different things people say, “I don’t want to tell my loved one because I don’t want them to be upset,” but then I’ve heard other people that have been incarcerated saying, “I do want to hear about it because I want to stay involved even though I can’t be there.”
As confusing as this may sound, I felt both of those things. I wanted to hear about it but I wanted to be a part of it so it hurt to hear about it but I never let them know that I did not want to hear it.
When my brother was incarcerated, I didn’t want to share what I was doing. I didn’t want him to feel bad because he couldn’t be there. However, if somebody is coming home, it’s nice to know what the family is doing. We interviewed people and they were telling us about how pictures helped. The mother that was incarcerated said that when she could see the pictures, she could imagine being there. It’s up to each person in each family to decide what they want to communicate.
Pictures helped a lot. They told the story. I used to call it my wall of shame because there were so many pictures up there. It was shameful that women who were in so much longer than me didn’t have the same privilege of all those photos.
When you were incarcerated, your family visited you. How important were those visits?
They visited me often so did friends. I’d have probably three or more visits a month between family and friends. My daughter and grandson visited me the most. It was usually every once a month because it did get expensive going back and forth. You look forward to those visits. You wake up in the morning and almost don’t want to eat breakfast because you want to save it for when they arrive in the infamous vending machines. You look out the window waiting for them to come.
Every minute is precious because the visits start at a specific time and end a specific time. Share on X
Every minute is precious because the visits start and end at a specific time. When I would see my daughter Eli running up the walkway, the women on my floor would all yell, “Hi, Eli. Ola, Eli,” depending on what women were watching. The excitement was incredible but in the same breath, when it was time for them to leave, I would try to keep that poker face when the sadness would start to come knowing it was going to be a while before I see them again. It was bittersweet.
I can still relate to that because for us, on the outside, it was the same too. When I would say goodbye to my brother, it would be so difficult because I didn’t know when I would get back. I remember that one time I was walking out. I’d keep a straight face but then as soon as I was out, I start crying and the guard asked me, “Why are you crying?” I looked at her. When you’re on the inside, it’s more difficult. You can’t let your emotions go.
For men, you’re probably correct. For women, we were always an emotional mess. Usually, my daughter and my grandson would stay right up until they were told they had to leave. When I would go upstairs, the count was about to take place. I had 45 minutes to 1 hour and 30 minutes to cry, feel sad and do whatever it is I felt I had to do but I would hold those tears back and I wouldn’t let them see it. When they laughed, I’d keep a smile on my face, kiss and hug them and wave goodbye.
It must be so wonderful to be home. We have another episode about coming home, hugging them for the first time and the special relationship you have with your grandson, Eli. Think of the joy that he brought to the women in the prison when they saw him too. They’re saying hi. It’s the little thing. That was good. Thank you for sharing that. That’s insightful and emotional for everybody.
We want to bring up that it is what it is and we do the best we can. There are ways that we can take care of ourselves and through support groups. When you’re in the prison system, it’s probably more difficult to find that support. Before I go on to the next thing we’re going to talk about, what did you do to support yourself?
As bizarre as this may sound, it was easier for me on the inside than for my family on the outside. I had that commonality with every woman in that facility that we were all dealing with that isolation, how we handled visits and all of that. We were also protected from a lot of the stressors that our loved ones were still exposed to on the outside. For my family, probably for some friends too, it would be difficult to share what they were feeling with other people because a lot of people would look down on them for having this relationship with me, that’s what they feared or they didn’t understand.
Almost like soldiers who go to war can’t relate. They can’t explain it to other people unless you have that shared experience. Soldiers of war are a whole lot more honorable than being an inmate. We were still able to share that experience on the inside. As difficult as it was, we were still protected from a lot of those stressors. That did help us.
I didn’t realize all of this until I was discharged from the facility, to see the things they went through and what they sacrificed for me. You don’t realize that because you’re always asking, “Could you send me this? Could you do this for me? I need this paper.” You don’t realize the burden that you’re placing on family and friends by doing this until you’re out and see it.
It’s a trauma for both sides. Thanks for acknowledging that. It’s difficult on both sides. We need to acknowledge that and respect each other. When we come out and come together, there’s a healing that’s taking place with your family. I love the wording that we put together. Prison life compared to real life. It was more like prison pen pals but some relationships came out of that. It’s almost like online dating.
It’s a bad online dating in there. When I was informed I was getting divorced from my ex-husband, I was so devastated and the women didn’t know what to do for me. They decided to sign me up for one of these online prison dating pen pal places and they’re called pen pals. It’s not considered dating. Your name gets put into whatever this organization is but it’s online. In this particular case, it was a woman seeking a man. All of these men get all these letters about three weeks after you’re signed up. I got one letter from someone who was a missionary. He wanted to come and read the Bible to me. There was another one who was about 30 years younger than me who said he liked older women.
There were a few that seemed very nice. They usually included a picture, which I’m not sure was a good thing or not but the similarity again of online dating is you’re looking at a photo first. They would say a little bit about themselves. Some of the letters were crude and obnoxious. I don’t know how they got through the mail room, except that maybe someone in the mail room never read the letter. I wound up with some interesting artists that wrote to me and they would include some of their artwork, which was very beautiful.
I had a couple of military men that wrote to me. The similarity was that they were isolated and so was I. I had somebody come to visit me twice. What was interesting was the visiting room CO, after the visit was over, said to me, “Who was that guy?” I explained who it was. She says, “No, you don’t want to see him again. He’s not your type.” I said, “I don’t know how you know that.” I would have to call them, which means I would have to get their phone number and everything approved. They’d have to put money on the phone for me to call. It was funny.
I saw one man when I got out of prison but it was only because this was arranged through someone else, not through this particular dating pen pal site. I had met him several times while I was incarcerated. He has since passed away. He’s not a boyfriend material at all. Nonetheless, it was a friend. The similarity of online dating on the outside is you’re looking at a couple of brief things that they write and choose. You might speak on the phone. You go for that infamous, horrible, uncomfortable, first coffee date to see if there’s anything there.
The simile ladders are very real and it’s funny when you put it into that perspective. Either one, they’re both like endless job interviews. There’s a lot to be said for how we used to meet people, whether it meant the grocery store or through friends that you don’t do it that way. Some women did meet men through other inmates, which is even funnier.
They would come to visit. Unlike a lot of other places, you don’t need an approved visitor list. Anyone can come to visit you. If you ask who’s there, they will tell you and you can refuse the visit or go down but typically, you don’t ask. You’re thrilled someone is coming to visit. It’s a surprise when you walk into the visiting room who it may be if you didn’t see them walk in but that the similarities are real.
Interestingly, you said that people have been introduced through other inmates. In our previous episode, there’s somebody who met her now-husband through a friend on the outside. Her friend’s boyfriend was incarcerated and suggested that she meet another person that was incarcerated. Long story short, it’s a great story. They’re married with a baby. There are some circumstances where you never know where you’re going to meet the right person but I thought that was interesting. We talked about some other things like the differences between prison life and real life. Do you want to talk about a few of those?
On Memorial Day weekend, I got help from my daughter and grandson because I decided we were going to dig a fire pit. We got down to where it’s all rocked. My property must have been a rock quarry before we were here. As I’m digging, I’m mumbling how if I was to even take a spoon and check out dirt or pick out a rock, it would look like either I was creating a weapon or trying to escape. Here it is, I’m insisting that we have to dig 3 feet down to make this fire pit. It brought back some of those memories of all the things you couldn’t do like planting bulbs as I’m digging and putting the bulbs in the ground.
I had asked if I could deadhead flowers in prison. There were a couple of places where they had flower gardens. I was told no. I wasn’t allowed to do that. At first, they said, “You needed to get approval.” They said I do have a medical so I’m not allowed to do that. One of the biggest differences for me is being able to go outside, pick a weed and not have to look around and see if anybody is watching.
You have to really fight for what you want in prison and what you need. Share on X
If I want to plant something, I can. Even what’s for dinner. Only because it’s Tuesday doesn’t mean it’s taco night. You can change that up. You take so much of this for granted like freedom of choice. There is no choice in there. Whatever someone else decides for you, it changes from day to day and sometimes minute to minute but it’s not your decision and you have no control to change it. On the outside, you have that freedom.
One of the things I asked you about was your glasses because that was a big thing with my brother. What was your experience with getting glasses in prison?
I had to go on a list that took quite some time with the optometrist. Once he came, he took the prescription for reading glasses but the regular prison glasses still took several months. I had ordered glasses that also turned into sunglasses. I’m surprised we were allowed to have them but they did offer it. I had to pay out of pocket. It wasn’t cheap either. It was over $100. I don’t remember the specific but that took anywhere from 4 to 6 months as well. The problem is someone like me who can’t read without glasses would have meant all those months.
I would not have been able to perform the job that I was assigned to in prison which was a teaching assistant. I would not be able to read a book, knit or do all these things that you need your eyes to see. When I’m out, I have a pair of reading glasses in every room, including the bathroom and my car because A) I’m going to lose them or, B) I’m going to need them and I know where they are. It’s not given any value for the immediacy of what the needs are of an inmate. Inmates too often are not looked at as worthy people. Instead, they’re looked at as a commodity in a warehouse and that’s how you feel a lot of the time.
Thank you for sharing that. The reason I asked is that you’re wearing these beautiful blue light glasses. When I started wearing glasses, I’d never realized how important it is because I never had glasses before. When my brother was incarcerated and he didn’t have glasses for a while, I think of all those months that he couldn’t read, see or he could have been asked to do something and somebody might have thought that he was being disrespectful when he just couldn’t see it. I’m so thankful that you can get glasses and they look beautiful.
They’re blue, which is one of the forbidden prison colors.
Before we close out on prison life versus real life, this is a hard topic but how about going to the doctor.
I had an experience because of a prison incident. I had to go to the ear, nose and throat doctor. I’ve had to have repetitive nose surgery because I was assaulted while I was incarcerated. I’m having problems that when I lay down at night, I can’t breathe. I said to the ENT doctor, “If I could stick something in my nose to keep my nostril open, I would be okay. I don’t want more surgery.” He smiled and said, “There is something.”
He talked about these nose cones and there’s a little piece of plastic that connects the two cones so you don’t get these cones stuck up the nose. I thought, “This would have been one way to solve my problem while incarcerated,” but they would never let me have these because they can be used as a weapon to hurt someone else in a nose or maybe modify into something else. When I was incarcerated when this happened, they waited almost a year before I was seen by any physician for this.
It was another couple of months before I was able to have the first surgery, which was a botched surgery. Five weeks before I was released, they took apart my nose and attempted to fix it. While she did a good job, I needed some revision work which I had done. There are still issues with it as happens too often with noses but with the medical, you have to fight for what you want in prison and what you need. Occasionally, you come across a good physician who doesn’t look at you as an inmate but sees you as a patient in need of a service. I was blessed to have a couple of doctors like that because, without them, I’m not sure the shape I would have come out.
The idea of having medication is a whole new realm. If it’s fairly benign and you don’t have drug addiction issues, they’ll let you carry some medication but anything that can cause you to be tired or have some other reaction, you have to pick up at the medical clinic. Twice a day, I would have to go. One would be before breakfast and the other one would be before bedtime but it was never the same time. You’d have to listen for the announcement that it’s medication time. Like a stampede of elephants, everyone would run to the line. Regardless of the weather, inclement weather, whether it was snowing, raining or 90-degree heat, it didn’t matter. You’d wait in this line outside.
The medical clinic was air-conditioned. Once you were in, it was fantastic in the summer. The medications are lined up in these little paper cups. I believe it went by your last name but then your DIN number would also be with it. You had to check that cup before you pop these pills into your mouth because the cups are next to each other so pills frequently jumped into someone else’s cup. The last thing you don’t want is someone else’s HIV medicine, transitioning hormones or psychotropic meds. You want to make sure you’re getting the right thing.
There is no HIPAA in the clinic. Everyone knows what everyone else is taking because you’re all standing in the same line. Even if you move up, there are several feet between you, which they tried. You still hear what’s going on. There is no privacy there. Medical trips, you were never privy to when you were going on one. You could try to escape was their logic. If you were having surgery, you would be told when you would go to the clinic at night, “You can’t eat or drink after midnight.” That was your clue. “I’m going out tomorrow and they’re doing surgery.” That was the only thing you would hear.
On regular medical trips, you’d be woken up at 4:30 in the morning, along with the mess hall workers and you would all leave to go to the mess hall together at 5:30 in the morning where you would sit and wait until 7:00 AM. When the medical clinic would open, you’d be given your bag lunch with breakfast and lunch, as I prefer the good old brown bag. You would get stripped, then handcuffed and shackled after you passed your little strip search. You’d stay that way in the van until you got to the facility that you were going to for that particular medication. Only to have things reversed but you didn’t have to do the strip search later.
It was exhausting. Very often a waste of time. A lot of the physicians would look at you in your green uniform while you’re handcuffed and shackled. They loathe you without even knowing you. You’d have to fight for what you wanted instead of having them think you were apt to see what you could get. Some people did look at medical trips as a great field trip for the day. It’s out of the facility. I didn’t feel that way. I felt that it was labor-intensive and it was. It was very tiring.
For women, very often these medical trips were in male facilities. You’d have to deal with the stereotypical male behavior when women would come through their facility. When we would go to one hospital, in particular, the women were put into a small slop sink closet to keep us away from the men. We’re in these chairs, all rammed together in this tiny little closet. It was uncomfortable. It made you feel so unworthy. If we didn’t feel unworthy, to begin with, it brought it to new lows. Seeing whatever the physician may have been for the day, you were in maybe five minutes and even that was pretty long and then somewhat dismissed and you’d go on.
Depending on what the procedure was, very often you weren’t even allowed to do things that you needed. Pain meds if it was a procedure that would require pain meds. You’d have to go to the infirmary afterwards because you weren’t allowed pain meds on the minimum facility. It punished the victim. Do you want the infirmary, which is a whole other realm of custody care and control or do you want to do it without pain meds and stay in your facility? Either one wouldn’t be a good choice. Can you suck up the pain or do you want to stay in a hospital, a room with three other beds other than yours?
We’re from a different facility and not the one where the infirmary was located. We were not allowed to mingle with the other women there. You would have to stay in your room with a group shower and toilet. No phone or television. If you were allowed to bring your reading glasses with you because very often on trips, you weren’t, you could read. There were a couple of books there but if you didn’t have glasses with you, you couldn’t even do that. Being ill or having whatever condition, you were almost punished for it. You couldn’t always get what you needed or you’d have to wait so long you didn’t care anymore.
You may not have a choice about what you are going through, but you have a choice as to how you go through it. That’s the bottom line of being bitter or better. Share on X
What was your experience on the outside?
Unfortunately, I took this mentality with me. That was my bit of being institutionalized. My first visit was for a mammogram. The woman said, “Let me go outside. I want to check your record and see what we can compare this to.” I looked at her and said, “Would you like me to wait outside?” That’s something I would’ve had to do in prison. You’re not allowed to remain in the room unless somebody is with you. She says, “No, sit there. I’ll be right back.”
I find that I don’t go to the doctor as often as I should. I feel like I’m wasting their time or I don’t want to pay the copay, whatever it may be. My daughter gets very annoyed with me and will say, “You’re not in prison. You’re entitled to medical care.” I need to remember that but that’s something that was ingrained like, “Why are you going out again? There’s nothing wrong with you.” You take a backseat to all of that. It’s not that important.
Slowly, I’m getting back. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back to where I was prior to incarceration. I know I’m worthy but it’s a matter of accepting that medical is there to help me, not me to accommodate them. That’s unfortunately what institutionalization does to you. It takes away that feeling of, “Excuse me, I am important and worthy. I need treatment.”
You are important and worthy. I’m so glad that you are taking care of yourself. In everything that you’re telling us, you could have come out of this being bitter. You decided to write a book Bitter or Better. I love the title. You did come out better. You did better yourself and taking care of yourself. Could you tell us a little bit about the book, Bitter or Better?
On day one, I was afraid to talk to other inmates. I decided I had to get it out somehow. I started writing a journal from day one. It occurred to me after the first raid of a dorm by the Cos that they could take anything away from me and also destroy it. I started sending home my daily journal in letter format. My ex-husband at the time was keeping all of my letters and then my daughter took that job over after the divorce. I had to pick a direction because the journal every day is different. I put it together as a book.
I included the legal documents that landed me in prison, how and why and what happened prior to committing a crime. As I got out of prison, there’s a little bit at the end of the book about what it was like getting out. My grandson, all he wanted from me was to make cookies and lasagna with me. A very small order but at the time, he was six years old and more than half of his life I spent in prison. This was a novel thing for him. It takes everyone through the journey of walking in, thinking I was still a free-minded woman having all that taken away from me, learning how to survive the system and getting ready for the reality of being released that is there.
You don’t believe it’s going to happen. It did happen. How did I transform to accept life on the outside without detesting the people who helped put me in prison? The real work was I’m trying not to be angry, hurt or bitter by those that didn’t help me who had the power to do that. Instead of fighting the system, understanding that it’s far from a perfect system but if you look at what goes on around the world, this is a better place to be as far as incarceration goes than so many other countries. I didn’t have a choice about what I was going through but I decided I had a choice as to how I went through it. That was the bottom line of being bitter or better.
You have a choice and control over that. The only thing you have control over is how you come out of things and handle things. I love the title Bitter or Better. You could have come out differently but you decided that you were going to make the most of it. When you were incarcerated, you helped a lot of women that were there. You not only were working on yourself and deciding that you’re going to be better but you also helped other women have better lives. I want to thank you for that.
You’re most welcome. I was a licensed clinical social worker prior to my incarceration. Most of us who go for that degree, don’t do it because we think it’s a great idea. We usually do it to heal something that’s happened in our lives. It’s a calling. You’re born into that. I did not want to change who my core was while I was in prison. That meant helping the Spanish women speak enough English to be able to pass a GD. For someone who didn’t understand math, I show them the easier way of doing it. Someone who was struggling knitting a pair of socks and had a rip something out, I taught them, “Don’t rip it out. There’s a way to go through a line and do this.”
If I could help somebody, I would. Very rarely did I charge for it, which is like the prison mentality. You charge for anything that you do for someone else. The only people I did charge were mean. People who were not nice to other people. I would charge them cigarettes. Cigarettes were my means of money to get my laundry done or if I needed something that I didn’t have from the commissary but someone got in from home to trade. I would sew buttons for women who didn’t know how to sew. You ripped a hem out but weren’t up to getting new clothing yet.
It’s no big deal for me to sew. I was able to do that for them. The thing that I love doing most and I’ll never be charged for it was reading college papers for the students who were attending Hudson Link or Bard. It gave me back a few of my lost IQ points while I was in there. I was always curious as to what grade we earned because I taught college for seven years on the outside as well. It was nice to know that I could still get an A or B on a paper.
Even though I didn’t write it, I still corrected and fixed it. I did the editing for them. I’d hoped that maybe some other women would learn how to pay it forward. Not everything is about an exchange of, “I did this for you. What are you doing for me?” It’s a basic human kindness and I never wanted to give that part up about myself. I hope it’s something I never give up on in the future.
I don’t think you will. It’s a part of you. It’s ingrained and goes with you wherever you go. I’m glad that you still have it. People can get Bitter or Better on Amazon. I haven’t gotten my copy yet but I plan on it. You’re doing your book launch soon. I’d like to end with the Ommegang story because give a call out to them. I got to go there when I was out there. Taking care of yourself is important and we talked about things that you couldn’t do in prison and compared prison life to real life. Do you want to end with the Ommegang story?
My grandson had a sleepover so my daughter and I decided we had to do something without him. We went over to Ommegang, which is a brewery down here for brunch. They do what’s called beer bingo brunch. As we’re ripping off our bingo cards, we have loaded coffee and chicken waffles. I look at my daughter and start laughing. She goes, “What’s so funny?” “We had bingo while I was incarcerated.” She goes, “You did?” I said, “Every couple of months on a Friday night, we would do bingo but I never got to play because every time my housing unit was called, I would get right to the doorway and that was the cutoff for people.”
There’s a cutoff with Ommegang also but the weather is so beautiful here. Everyone was outside and she did want to have brunch so I got in to play bingo. There are all different prizes at Ommegang. They’re all related to their brewery, whether it be free drinks, a sweatshirt, a t-shirt or a souvenir glass. Believe it or not, in prison, there were also prizes for bingo but they were a bag of chips and a can of soda equally as important as these other things that Ommegang but you have to know the audience that you’re entertaining.
Drinks would not fly while you’re incarcerated but it doesn’t mean people didn’t try to do it. The excitement is the same. That we’re playing for some insignificant prize but it’s fun and it gets you out of the house. In prison, gets you out of yourself. It’s very similar and different. I got to tell you, it’s a lot more fun at Ommegang than it was in Taconic.
I’m so glad you got to play and got out. You’re taking care of yourself. Everybody, Bitter or Better, it’s on Amazon. Melisa, thank you so much for spending this time with me.
Thank you, Julia.
Important Links
- Melisa Schonfield – LinkedIn
- Episode – Past Episode – Lisa, Alexis, and Eli on Maintaining Their Connection as a Prison Family
- Bitter or Better
- Ommegang
- https://www.amazon.com/Prison-Hidden-SentenceTM-ARRESTED-INCARCERATED/dp/1735438804/ref=sr_1_1?crid=GZMY1AWUPQ9F&keywords=prison+the+hidden+sentence+in+books&qid=1654477830&sprefix=prison+the+hidden+sentence+in+books%2Caps%2C114&sr=8-1
- https://prisonthehiddensentence.com
- https://prisonthehiddensentence.com/podcasts/Pelipost-Pictures-for-Loved-Ones-in-Prison/ – Past Episode
- https://PrisonFamiliesAlliance.org
About Melisa Schonfield
Melisa Schonfield is a retired LCSW-R She maintained a successful private practice for 17 years before surrendering her license prior to incarceration. She was also a psychology and sociology adjunct for Jefferson Community College.
While incarcerated in NYSDOCCS for 1,385 days, Melisa wrote a daily journal that recently was published. The book details the choices that had to be made to get from angry and bitter to content and better, as well as navigating the penal system. Although now divorced, Melisa is a mother to two grown children and a grandmother to a little boy she adores.
Jail Aid says
Melisa did great. So proud how you went through incarceration.