Today marked a turning point for me, even if it doesn’t look that way on the surface. Every Monday, I go to a group as part of my parole. In the past, I’ve had mixed feelings about it—most of the time I stayed quiet, only speaking when we went around and shared about our week. Honestly, I saw it as something to endure rather than something to engage in. But today was different.
Jessica, who leads the group, introduced a new book she’s adapting for us. It’s technically meant for individual workbook-style use, but she’s reshaping it into group lessons. Today’s focus was on change and motivation. We went around the room twice—first to rank how important change was to us, and second to rank our confidence in our ability to change. Both times, I gave myself about a 9 or 10.
When I explained why, I said something I’ve always believed deep down: everyone has to change. Sometimes change is bad, but it can also be good—it depends on how it’s implemented. As I spoke, the words just flowed. When it came to confidence, I said that if you truly set your mind to something, anything is possible. Success fuels confidence, but failure can too. Every failure teaches you a new way forward, and sometimes that lesson is just as motivating as success. It reminded me of the idea that if you set the bar high, you’ve got the rest of your life to chase it—getting just 1% better every day.
This was the first time I really spoke up in group. And for the first time, I didn’t just feel like I was sitting there fulfilling a requirement. I felt engaged. I felt like what I said mattered—not only to me but maybe to someone else in that circle, too.
What really struck me was the timing. During group, I got a text from someone I know who’s also on supervision. He sent me a voice message about the importance of reflection—comparing where we are now with where we’ve been, and thinking about what needs to change to get where we want to go. It tied in perfectly with what we were talking about. I couldn’t help but feel like there was something meaningful in that alignment.
Walking away from today, I realized two things. First, maybe this group has more to offer me than I’ve been willing to admit. I even thought recently about asking for individual sessions to avoid the group setting, but today I paused and recognized the value in hearing from others. The men in this group, in my opinion, want to change. They want to be better than they were before, even though life put them in a hard season that ended in incarceration. And that resonates with me, because I want that too.
Second, this experience doesn’t have to stay in the walls of that room. The lessons and reflections can carry into my mission—through my nonprofit work, through outreach, through conversations with others who feel stuck. If this book’s first chapter can spark that much thought and motivation, I can only imagine what the rest will do.
For the first time, I see this group not as a burden, but as a stepping stone. A good change. A tool I can use—not just to fulfill a requirement, but to grow—and to help others grow, too.
And maybe, if someone out there stumbles across these words—someone on parole, someone in a group they don’t want to be in, someone who feels stuck—they’ll realize change is possible for them, too.
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