"A number of people have barked at me about not writing enough, not writing more on prison issues, women's issues, or spiritual issues. Then there are those who say I never specifically talk about my day. They want to know what a day in the life of an inmate in maximum security is like. They want details.

This is my day.

It begins at 4 a.m. Breakfast at 4:30. Count at 7. I'm at work by 7:45. At 10:45 I return to my cell for count at 11. Lunch at 11:30, back to work by noon. By 3 p.m. I'm in my cell. 3:30 p.m. count. 4:15 p.m. dinner. A break until 6:30 when I have programs, or groups, or classes, or library until 8:30 when I return to my cell. 9:30 p.m. count. 11 p.m. lock–bed. During the day, I must also do my laundry, write letters, exercise, read, do homework. That is my life.

My day also consists of slamming doors, whistles, yelling, screaming, standing and waiting, sitting and visiting, waiting and watching; my day consists of being told to sit, stand, go faster, go slower, be quieter, be louder: of spending my entire 20 minute lunch break being told to "tighten up," hurry up, finish up, and get up. My day is spent listening to arguing and witnessing cruelty, my day is a fight for survival where I expend large amounts of energy setting the intention of my heart and the focus of my mind on what I hope is good and true. I don't always succeed.

I make my days harder than necessary because I try to perform my job duties as a professional, to teach as if my students and what they are learning is important. My days are long and exhausting and frequently lonely because I refuse to succumb to stagnation, apathy, and indifference.

I live a few feet from death row and segregation, which is a reminder of the thin line I walk. During the day I never forget I am an inmate, a prisoner, a convict, a murderer. During the day I struggle to remember I am a woman, an adult, a person. I could make my days easier by forgetting. But I also know I deserve the days I live. I therefore struggle to remember who I am and face each day with awareness--this is a punishment; it's meant to be tough.

It's also a second chance and that makes it harder too. I want to get each day right: to learn something, teach something, give something, receive something, to be decent, loving and forgiving. How odd it is that nobody inquires about these aspects of my life. Nobody urges me to be a better human being; they merely urge me to be more industrious. They advise me on managing my talents and time but not my character.

The bottom line is that my writing flows at the speed of my heart, and my heart battles to live. That is my day. That is my life. Those are my issues." (Elizabeth Haysom, Fluvanna Review, May 25, 2006).

Elizabeth Haysom is presently incarcerated at the Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women in Troy, Virginia. This column is one of a series, published under the general heading 'Glimpses from Inside.'