The Walk Home | Reentry Is More Than Release

I spent about 17 years of my life incarcerated. 

For a long time, I thought getting out meant I was coming home.

It doesn't.

Getting out is a date. Coming home is a process.

Prison teaches you how to survive prison. The streets teach you how to survive the streets. But what happens when the behaviors that once kept you alive don't work in the life you're trying to build?

That was one of the hardest lessons I had to learn.

I knew how to watch a room. I knew how to protect myself. I knew how to react quickly. I knew how to survive.

But being a husband, father, business owner and member of a community required something different.

I had to learn another way to live.

You Can Leave Prison and Still Carry Prison With You

The gate opening doesn't automatically change your thinking.

You can change your clothes, get a job, get a phone and sleep in your own bed—and still operate from the same blueprint you used inside.

That's why reentry can't only be about housing, employment and checking boxes.

Those things matter. But we also have to talk about human behavior.

What happens when somebody has spent years learning not to trust?

What happens when being vulnerable once made you a target?

What happens when aggression, isolation or control once helped you survive?

You don't simply turn those behaviors off because somebody hands you release papers.

My First Mentor Was a Streetlight

After coming home, I remember standing at a streetlight when nobody was around.

The old me could have crossed.

Nobody was watching.

But the light said WAIT.

So I waited.

Then it said WALK.

And I walked.

That sounds small. It was.

That's exactly why it mattered.

I was learning to do the right thing when nobody was watching.

Transformation isn't always some huge moment.

Sometimes it's a streetlight.

Sometimes it's telling the truth when lying would be easier.

Sometimes it's walking away instead of reacting.

Sometimes it's keeping one promise to yourself today.

Those small decisions start building a different man.

That's What I Mean by The Walk Home

The Walk Home isn't just about people leaving prison.

It's about learning how to live differently when the old way no longer works.

Every one of us has patterns we've learned from somewhere—our childhood, our environment, our relationships, the streets, prison, work or simply survival.

The question is:

Is the blueprint that got you here capable of building where you're trying to go?

Mine wasn't.

I had to build another one.

And I'm still building it.

That's the walk.

JC Almanza
Wrong to Strong

Getting out is a date. Coming home is a process.