Everything That Mattered, I Learned in Prison - Entry by Jessica Wright

I am the vessel to rescue you. While I am not God, I rely on Him to help others. I can’t be all things—I just show up and ask God for guidance to lead me. Lauren Daigle said it much better than I ever could: 

“You are not hopeless, though you have been broken, your innocence stolen. I hear you whisper underneath your breath; I hear your wrestle with your SOS.” 
“I will send out an army to find YOU in the middle of the darkness. Night is true, I (the vessel) will rescue you.” 
“I hear you whisper; you have NOTHING left.” 

People don’t change until their life becomes so unbearable that they hit rock bottom, with nowhere to go but up. I believe your test—your struggles, fears, problems, and past trauma—is meant to become your testimony. Sure, I could throw solutions at you, but the ultimate peace you’re searching for—the kind that surpasses understanding—only comes from connecting with Jesus and spiraling upward to Him. 

Working in prison taught me so much. I’ve seen the impact of rock bottom up close. I learned that most people are carrying more than anyone could ever imagine—trauma, regret, brokenness—and the only thing that pushes them to change is hitting that point of no return. 

The devil is relentless when it comes to breaking helpers. He wants your life in pieces, pulling you away from God. His tactics aren’t new; he roars like a lion, waiting to devour. His goal is to take helpers, first responders, and frontline workers out. Out can look like being disconnected from your family and spouse, living with constant stress, feeling far from blessed, and having no joy or balance in life. 

Many helpers struggle in their relationship with God. They grapple with the injustice they see in the world. How could someone who has caused so much pain end up in heaven next to them? That struggle, combined with the trauma they’ve experienced—often from childhood through adulthood—creates layers of complex pain that can tear apart their marriages. Eventually, their spouses feel disconnected, exhausted, and done. Divorce papers hit the table, and during this time, suicide rates can be at their highest—especially among law enforcement and other helping professions. 

Your husband doesn’t have an anger problem; he has a people problem. He’s not punching the lady who annoys him at Walmart or yelling at his grandma. What’s happening is deeper. He’s carrying emotions that go beyond anger—pain, fear, shame—and probably doesn’t even realize how important it is to process his thoughts, emotions, and the traumas he’s been through. 

Give your spouse grace and space when they’re overwhelmed (over 99 BPM). Take a break, breathe, and revisit the conflict within one to twenty-four hours. 

From corrections officers, I’ve learned that the only thing pushing them to counseling is their wife threatening divorce. They avoid all things emotional—so you don’t have to. They don’t understand (yet) the incredible benefits of doing the work in counseling.