The Sentence We Never Received

One of the hardest parts of loving someone who is incarcerated isn’t always the distance, the visits, or even the uncertainty.

Sometimes, it’s the stigma.

It’s the awkward silence when someone asks about your spouse.

It’s the family member who suddenly treats you differently.

It’s the friend who quietly distances themselves.

It’s the assumptions people make about you simply because of who you love.

Families impacted by incarceration often carry a sentence they never received.

A sentence of judgment.

A sentence of shame.

A sentence of isolation.

And the truth is, many of us begin carrying that shame ourselves.

We stop talking about our loved ones.

We avoid answering questions.

We become selective about who we trust with our story.

Some people even create entire alternate narratives because the fear of being judged feels too heavy.

For those of us in professional careers, the fear can be even greater.

We wonder:

Will my colleagues think differently of me?

Will they question my judgment?

Will they see me as less credible?

Will they assume something about my character because of someone else’s circumstances?

I know these fears because I have lived them.

For many years, I carefully guarded this part of my life.

I worried that if people knew my husband was incarcerated, they would only see that one piece of my story and overlook everything else I had accomplished.

I am a healthcare executive.

I am a mother and grandmother.

I am a caregiver.

I am a lifelong learner.

I am an advocate.

I am a woman of faith.

I am a friend.

I am a writer.

And yes, I am also the wife of an incarcerated individual.

None of these truths cancel out the others.

Loving someone who is incarcerated does not diminish your worth, your intelligence, your accomplishments, or your integrity.

It does not make you less professional.

It does not make you less deserving of respect.

And it certainly does not mean that you should live in shame.

People often judge circumstances they have never had to navigate.

They speak on situations they have never lived.

And sometimes, the loudest opinions come from those who have been fortunate enough to avoid life’s more difficult chapters.

But life has a way of humbling all of us.

None of us know what tomorrow may bring.

None of us are immune to hardship.

The truth is that every family is carrying something.

Some burdens are simply more visible than others.

If you love someone who is incarcerated, please hear this:

You do not have to shrink yourself.

You do not have to hide your life.

You do not have to carry someone else’s judgment.

And you certainly do not have to be ashamed.

You are allowed to hold your head high.

You are allowed to speak your truth.

You are allowed to love fiercely.

Because your loved one’s incarceration may be part of your story, but it is not the whole story.

And neither of you should be defined solely by the most difficult chapter of your lives.

With love and solidarity,

Missez M

Because families serve time too.