Excell Network Fall 2022 Magazine

A message from the founder of Excell Network

What does persistence or perseverance mean in a person? It means being consistent, following through, keeping commitments, keeping promises. For example, it means working hard every day towards a goal even on days when we do not feel inclined to work at all. If your goal is to get an A in a school subject, you need a plan and be disciplined to follow through and put forth effort over a long period even on days when it is the last thing you want to do. With this perspective, progress will be made by each decision to be self-disciplined.

However, I principally want to address the necessity to choose goals, to plan a path towards achievement of these goals, and to develop the strength of character to stay with the plan. Developing strength of character is working on self-discipline and not being distracted by how I may feel in the moment. These steps in selfdiscipline are the drops of water that will wear away the stone!

For justice-involved students, the journey to a better life depends on a better education. The ability to follow through on that journey will take more than will power. With the help of our loving God we can better achieve aspirations working towards a better standard of living, a suitable place to live, becoming actively productive citizens, and leading a life in line with human dignity.

I would like to end this message with an invitation to all who are involved in the mission to become that water drop that, not by force but by consistency and discipline, may be able to open the stone of opportunity to others. As a volunteer or as a donor, your small or big contributions for justice-involved students in Excell Network makes a difference.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT!

Un mensaje del fundador de Excell Network

¿Qué significa persistencia o perseverancia en una persona? Significa ser constante, cumplir los compromisos, cumplir las promesas. Por ejemplo, significa trabajar duro todos los días hacia una meta, incluso en los días en que no nos sentimos inclinados a trabajar en absoluto. Si tu objetivo es obtener una A en una materia escolar, necesitas un plan y ser disciplinado para seguir adelante y esforzarte durante un período prolongado, incluso en los días en que es lo último que quieres hacer. Con esta perspectiva, se avanzará por cada decisión de ser auto disciplinado.

Sin embargo, principalmente quiero abordar la necesidad de elegir objetivos, planificar un camino hacia el logro de estos objetivos y desarrollar la fuerza de carácter para permanecer en el plan. Desarrollar fuerza de carácter es trabajar en la autodisciplina y no distraerme con cómo me siento en el momento. ¡Estos pasos de autodisciplina son las gotas de agua que desgastarán la piedra!

Para los estudiantes involucrados en la justicia, el viaje hacia una vida mejor depende de una mejor educación. La capacidad de seguir adelante en ese viaje requerirá más que fuerza de voluntad. Con la ayuda de nuestro amoroso Dios podemos alcanzar mejor las aspiraciones trabajando hacia un mejor nivel de vida, un lugar adecuado para vivir, convirtiéndonos en ciudadanos activamente productivos y llevando una vida digna como todo ser humano merece.

Quisiera terminar este mensaje con una invitación a todos los que están involucrados en la misión a convertirse en esa gota de agua que, no por la fuerza sino por la constancia y la disciplina, sean capaces de romper y abrir la piedra de la oportunidad para los demás. Como voluntario o como donante, tus pequeñas o grandes contribuciones para los estudiantes involucrados en la justicia en Excell Network hacen la diferencia. ¡GRACIAS POR SU APOYO!

Julio Escobar

Gota a gota, el agua es capaz de romper una piedra y no es por su fuerza sino por su persistencia.

Drop by drop, water is capable of opening a stone and it is not because of its strength but because of its persistence.

Founder of Excell Network | Fundador de Excell Network

CHRISTI GROVE

By Dana Perrigan Writer | Journalist | Book Author

In the spring of last year, Christi Grove had her back to the proverbial wall: Arrested for the umpteenth time, she was facing 17 charges, which included some serious felonies such as commercial burglary and identity theft. If convicted, she could spend the next seven years of her life in prison. Losing her freedom would be bad enough. Even worse, she would lose her two young daughters.

Desperate, Christi decided to take action.

“I wrote to everyone I could think of and asked for a residential treatment program,” she says. “That’s something I had never done before.”

There had been numerous opportunities to do so during the previous 20 years of her on-again, off-again encounters with the law, but none of those occasions had seemed so dire. Since her first arrest at the age of 20 for possession and being under the influence of drugs, she had never spent more than six months at a time in jail. And even though her previous attempts had failed, Christi always thought she could clean up her act without any help. She had that kind of confidence.

“I’ve always been good at everything I’ve done,” she says. “I was good in high school; I was good at sports.”

Christi grew up on a farm in Santa Rosa. She lived in a nice neighborhood. Money wasn’t an issue. Her parents, who have now been together 41 years, were solid. Being farm kids, she and her younger brother learned the value and necessity of work.

“Progresó a la morfina, los asaltos, los robos”, dice ella. “Empeoró progresivamente. Así es como funciona”.

En la primavera del año pasado, Christi Grove estaba de espaldas al proverbial muro: arrestada por enésima vez, enfrentaba 17 cargos, que incluían algunos delitos graves como robo comercial y robo de identidad. Si fuese declarada culpable, podría pasar los próximos siete años de su vida en prisión. Perder su libertad ya sería bastante daño. Peor aún, perdería a sus dos hijas pequeñas.

Desesperada, Christi decidió actuar.

“Escribí a todos los que se me ocurrieron y pedí un programa de tratamiento residencial”, dice ella. “Eso es algo que nunca había hecho antes”.

Había habido numerosas oportunidades para hacerlo durante los 20 años anteriores de sus encuentros intermitentes con la ley, pero ninguna de esas ocasiones había parecido tan grave. Desde su primer arresto a la edad de 20 años por posesión y estar bajo la influencia de drogas, nunca había pasado más de seis meses seguidos en la cárcel. Y aunque sus intentos anteriores habían fallado, Christi siempre pensó que podía arreglar sus fallas sin ayuda alguna. Ella estaba segura de eso.

“Siempre he sido buena en todo lo que he hecho”, dice. “Era bueno en la escuela secundaria; Era bueno en los deportes”.

Christi creció en una granja en Santa Rosa. Ella vivía en un lindo vecindario. El dinero no era un problema. Sus padres, que ahora han estado juntos 41 años, eran respetables. Siendo niños granjeros, ella y su hermano menor aprendieron el valor y la necesidad del trabajo.

“It progressed to morphine, stealing, robbery,” she says. “It progressively got worse. That’s kind of how it goes.”

But things went sideways while she was in high school. Molested at the age of 16 by an uncle, Christi says the trauma tore her extended family apart. An injury that sidelined her from playing sports only made things worse.

Although she made it through high school, even managing to graduate early at the age of 17, it wasn’t long before the effects of the trauma she had experienced began to change her life. Christi started drinking and doing drugs, hanging out with a new set of friends. She met an older guy, whose habits only reinforced her new ones.

After high school, Christi got a job at a bank, but it wasn’t long before her first arrest.

“So I lost my job and jail started happening,” she says.

Pero las cosas se torcieron mientras ella estaba en la escuela secundaria. Acosada sexualmente a la edad de 16 años por un tío, Christi dice que el trauma desgarró a su extensa familia. Una lesión que la marc ó y la apartó de la práctica de deportes, solo empeoró las cosas.

Aunque logró terminar la escuela secundaria, incluso logrando graduarse temprano a la edad de 17 años, no pasó mucho tiempo antes de que los efectos del trauma que había experimentado comenzaran a cambiar su vida. Christi comenzó a beber y consumir drogas, pasando el rato con un nuevo grupo de amigos. Conoció a un chico mayor, cuyos hábitos solo reforzaron los nuevos.

Después de la secundaria, Christi consiguió un trabajo en un banco, pero no pasó mucho tiempo antes de su primer arresto.

What also started happening was a pattern of periodically trying and then failing to change her life. Things would be fine for a time, but then something would happen -- stress or the fallout from a bad relationship would cause her to seek relief in her old habits. It was a pattern that would last for the next 20 years, in which the drugs she used and the crimes she committed gradually become more serious.

“It progressed to morphine, stealing, robbery,” she says. “It progressively got worse. That’s kind of how it goes.”

Eventually, it led to her arrest on 17 charges that threatened to put her in prison for seven years.

It led to her desperately writing letters to everyone she could think of to avoid losing her freedom and her daughters.

Fortunately, the letters had the desired effect. Christi was accepted into Athena House -- a residential treatment program in Santa Rosa that has helped women and children for the past 33 years.

“Así que perdí mi trabajo y la cárcel comenzó a suceder”, dice ella.

Lo que también comenzó a suceder fue un patrón de intentar periódicamente y luego fallar al intentar cambiar su vida. Las cosas estarían bien por un tiempo, pero luego sucedería algo: el estrés o las consecuencias de una mala relación la harían buscar alivio en sus viejos hábitos. Fue un patrón que duraría los siguientes 20 años, en los que las drogas que consumía y los delitos que cometía se volvían cada vez más graves.

“Progresó en el abuso de la morfina, el robo”, dice ella. “Empeoró progresivamente. Así es como funciona”.

Eventualmente, condujo a su arresto por 17 cargos que amenazaban con encarcelarla durante siete años.

Eso la llevó a escribir cartas desesperadamente a todos los que se le ocurrían para evitar perder su libertad y a sus hijas.

“I could be a poster child for that place,” she says. “I completed (the program) and learned all kinds of things. It completely changed my life.”

At Athena House, says Christi, things started making sense. She learned how to recognize the self-destructive behavior patterns in her life and how to short-circuit them. She learned why she reacted the way she did to certain situations and began looking at herself differently.

Three months ago, after completing the 9-month program, Christi left and started building a new life. Clean and sober for a year now, she works as the manager of a facility in Santa Rosa that offers safe housing for women who are recovering from addiction or escaping domestic violence. When she’s not working, she spends her time studying and caring for her daughters, now nine and 11.

This fall and spring, Christi will have earned two associate degrees at Santa Rosa Junior College: the first one for a concentration in business and behavioral and social sciences; the second for psychology and administration. Her goal, she says, is to work in a business environment, in human resources, payroll or accounting.

Christi heard about Excell Network through Santa Rosa Junior College’s Second Chance Club, a program designed to support formerly incarcerated students as they pursue their educational goals. She enjoys getting together with the Excell Network students at the monthly meetings and hearing their stories.

“It’s really inspiring to me,” she says. “All of us have a connection. You can see it.”

Afortunadamente, las cartas surtieron el efecto deseado. Christi fue aceptada en Athena House, un programa de tratamiento residencial en Santa Rosa que ha ayudado a mujeres y niños durante los últimos 33 años.

"Yo podría ser un ejemplo de ese lugar", dice ella. “Completé el programa y aprendí todo tipo de cosas. Cambió mi vida por completo”.

En Athena House, dice Christi, las cosas empezaron a tener sentido. Aprendió a reconocer los patrones de comportamiento autodestructivo en su vida y a cortocircuitarlos. Aprendió por qué reaccionaba de la forma en que lo hacía ante ciertas situaciones y comenzó a verse a sí misma de manera diferente.

Hace tres meses, después de completar el programa de 9 meses, Christi se fue de Athena House y comenzó a construir una nueva vida. Limpia y sobria desde hace un año, trabaja como administradora de una instalación en Santa Rosa que ofrece viviendas seguras para mujeres que se están recuperando de una adicción o escapando de la violencia doméstica. Cuando no está trabajando, pasa su tiempo estudiando y cuidando a sus hijas, que ahora tienen 9 y 11 años.

Este otoño y primavera, Christi habrá obtenido dos títulos de asociado en Santa Rosa Junior College: el primero para una concentración en negocios y ciencias sociales y del comportamiento; el segundo para psicología y administración. Su objetivo, dice, es trabajar en un entorno empresarial, en recursos humanos, nómina o contabilidad.

Christi se enteró de Excell Network a través del Second Chance Club de Santa Rosa Junior College, un programa diseñado para apoyar a los estudiantes que estuvieron encarcelados en la búsqueda de sus metas educativas. Le gusta reunirse con los estudiantes de Excell Network en las reuniones mensuales y escuchar sus historias.

"Es realmente inspirador para mí", dice ella. “Todos tenemos una conexión. Puedes verlo."

ADRIAN LEWIS

By Dana Perrigan Writer | Journalist | Book Author

Adrian Lewis grew up in a part of America where the average child -- according to twin studies by the Lancet and Rand corporations -- has greater levels of post-traumatic stress than children in war-torn Baghdad, Iraq.

Known for its poverty, crime rate, gangs, and deadly riots, South Central, L.A., has been depicted in a number of movies, including “Boyz in the Hood.” The film, says Adrian, doesn’t come close to describing the gritty reality he remembers.

“It was pretty dangerous,” he says. “It was a hostile environment to grow up in.”

Adrian remembers being chased and assaulted on his way to and from junior high school. He remembers the day he was shot in the back while walking home from the swimming pool with friends. And he remembers being braced by gang members trying to determine if he was friend or foe.

“I told them I didn’t belong to no gang,” he says. “I thought that would be good enough. But it was implicit: If you grew up in a particular neighborhood in L.A., you were identified as a member of that gang.”

Raised by a single mother, Adrian never knew his father. And when his mother died of cancer at the age of 39, his world fell apart. A month later, at the age of 16, he was homeless and desperately searching for direction.

“Estaba cien por ciento comprometido con la pandilla. Estaba dispuesto a morir por ello. Estaba dispuesto a matar por ello”.

Adrián Lewis creció en una parte de Estados Unidos donde el niño promedio, según estudios de gemelos de las corporaciones Lancet y Rand, tiene mayores niveles de estrés postraumático que los niños en Bagdad, Irak, devastada por la guerra.

Conocido por su pobreza, tasa de delincuencia, pandillas y disturbios mortales, South Central, L.A., ha aparecido en varias películas, incluida "Boyz in the Hood". La película, dice Adrián, no se acerca a describir la cruda realidad que recuerda.

“Era bastante peligroso”, dice. “Era un ambiente hostil para crecer”.

Adrián recuerda haber sido perseguido y asaltado en su camino hacia y desde la escuela secundaria. Recuerda el día en que recibió un disparo en la espalda mientras caminaba a casa después de nadar en la piscina con amigos. Y recuerda haber sido amenazado por pandilleros que intentaban determinar si era amigo o enemigo.

“Les dije que no pertenecía a ninguna pandilla”, dice. “Pensé que eso sería lo suficientemente bueno. Pero estaba implícito: si crecías en un barrio particular de Los Ángeles, te identificaban como miembro de esa pandilla”.

Criado por una madre soltera, Adrián nunca conoció a su padre. Y cuando su madre murió de cáncer a la edad de 39 años, su mundo se vino abajo. Un mes después, a la edad de 16 años, no tenía hogar y buscaba desesperadamente una dirección.

“I was one hundred percent committed to the gang. I was willing to die for it. I was willing to kill for it.”

“Looking back,” he says, “it was a critical time in my life. I did need a positive role model. Not having that guidance, I was figuring things out on my own.”

Impressed by the confidence and financial resources of gang members he met in his neighborhood; Adrian says he became infatuated with what the gang had to offer.

And once he was in -- he was all in.

“I was one hundred percent committed to the gang,” he says. “I was willing to die for it. I was willing to kill for it.”

Three years later, he did exactly that. For the retaliation slaying of a rival gang member, he received a 19 years-tolife sentence and was sent to the California Correctional Institution -- a supermax prison in Southern California -where he continued to take part in gang life, participating in gang riots and assaults.

“I wore my sentence like a badge of honor,” he says. “Coming as I did from dire straits; prison was a cakewalk.”

“Mirando hacia atrás”, dice, “fue un momento crítico en mi vida. Necesitaba un modelo a seguir positivo. Al no tener esa guía, estaba resolviendo las cosas por mi cuenta”.

Impresionado por la confianza y los recursos económicos de los pandilleros que conoció en su barrio; Adrian dice que se enamoró de lo que la pandilla tenía para ofrecer.

Y una vez que estaba dentro, estaba todo incluido.

“Estaba cien por ciento comprometido con la pandilla”, dice. “Estaba dispuesto a morir por ello. Estaba dispuesto a matar por ello”.

Tres años después, hizo exactamente eso. Por el asesinato en represalia de un miembro de una pandilla rival, recibió una sentencia de 19 años a cadena perpetua y fue enviado a la Institución Correccional de California, una prisión de máxima seguridad en el sur de California, donde continuó participando en la vida de pandillas, participando en disturbios y asaltos de pandillas.

“Usé mi sentencia como una insignia de honor”, dice. “Viniendo como lo hice de una situación desesperada; la prisión fue pan comido”.

In 2001, three things happened that changed the course of Adrian’s life. He read L. Ron Hubbard’s book, “Dianetics,” which helped him understand how he had been reacting to the trauma in his life. On 9/11, he saw the horrific destruction of the Twin Towers by terrorists on TV. The outpouring of pain and compassion people were showing each other, he says, penetrated the shell of anger he had been living behind for so long. Later, he watched the TV news report about the fatal shooting of someone he had grown up with.

“I was sitting in the box with no one to talk to,” says Adrian, “and I needed to talk to someone. And so, I turned inward.”

Alone in solitary, Adrian made three vows: He would never lie again; he would never cheat; he would never steal. He also wrote down the values he would live by -- gratitude, forgiveness, humility, health, and service to others.

En 2001, sucedieron tres cosas que cambiaron el curso de la vida de Adrián. leyó el libro de L. Ronald Hubbard, "Dianética", que lo ayudó a comprender cómo había estado reaccionando ante el trauma en su vida. El 11 de septiembre, vio en la televisión la horrible destrucción de las Torres Gemelas por terroristas. La efusión de dolor y compasión que las personas mostraban entre sí, dice, penetró el caparazón de ira detrás del cual había estado viviendo durante tanto tiempo. Más tarde, vio el informe de noticias de televisión sobre el tiroteo fatal de alguien con quien había crecido.

“Estaba sentado en el palco sin nadie con quien hablar”, dice Adrián, “y necesitaba hablar con alguien. Y así, me volví hacia adentro”.

Meditando en la soledad, Adrián hizo tres votos: nunca volvería a mentir; él nunca haría trampa; nunca robaría. También escribió los valores por los que viviría: gratitud, perdón, humildad, salud y servicio a los demás.

Once released from solitary, Adrian began separating himself from gang life by dedicating himself to work in prison. When the opportunity arose, he enrolled in correspondence courses and completed programs in such things as anger management, substance abuse, youth mentoring, communication and dog training.

He also started playing handball.

“Once I walked away from the gang, handball became my refuge,” he says. “I was a man on an island by myself, experiencing fear, loneliness and insecurity, so I went to the handball court.”

On Nov. 22, 2021, after 27 years behind bars, Adrian was released from prison. Now living in transitional housing on Treasure Island, he leads a busy life. He works as an ambassador for Five Keys, and as co-director of Farming Hope’s Garden in San Francisco. He recently completed a class at San Francisco State University and is studying community relationship management at Calbright College. He also trains dogs.

“Ultimately, I would like to do something to help others -- especially those who are impacted by gangs. Maybe as a social worker or counselor.”

Adrian says the Excell Network program has been a great source of support and offers him a place where he can “let down my hair and be myself, be vulnerable . . . an opportunity to share my story and help somebody else.

“Some people tell me I’ve got it all together -- but not necessarily. I’m still fresh out. I still have some issues, but I prepared myself. A lot of the things I’m facing out here, I prepared for. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m willing to go through the process.”

Una vez liberado del aislamiento, Adrián comenzó a separarse de la vida de pandillas dedicándose a trabajar en prisión. Cuando surgió la oportunidad, se inscribió en cursos por correspondencia y completó programas en temas como manejo de la ira, abuso de sustancias, tutoría de jóvenes, comunicación y entrenamiento de perros.

También empezó a jugar balonmano.

“Una vez que me alejé de la pandilla, el balonmano se convirtió en mi refugio”, dice. “Era un hombre solo en una isla, experimentando miedo, soledad e inseguridad, así que fui a la cancha de balonmano”.

El 22 de noviembre de 2021, después de 27 años tras las rejas, Adrián fue liberado de prisión. Ahora que vive en una vivienda de transición en Treasure Island, lleva una vida ocupada. Trabaja como embajador de Five Keys y como codirector de Farming Hope's Garden en San Francisco. Recientemente completó una clase en la Universidad Estatal de San Francisco y está estudiando administración de relaciones con la comunidad en Calbright College. También entrena perros.

“En última instancia, me gustaría hacer algo para ayudar a los demás, especialmente a aquellos que se ven afectados por las pandillas. Tal vez como trabajador social o consejero”.

Adrián dice que el programa Excell Network ha sido una gran fuente de apoyo y le ofrece un lugar donde puede “soltarse el pelo y ser yo mismo, ser vulnerable. . . una oportunidad para compartir mi historia y ayudar a alguien más.

“Algunas personas me dicen que lo tengo todo bajo control, pero no necesariamente. Todavía estoy fresco. Todavía tengo algunos problemas, pero me preparé. Me preparé para muchas de las cosas a las que me enfrento aquí. No va a ser fácil, pero estoy dispuesto a pasar por el proceso”.

Growing up with her family in Chino Hills -- a Southern California city known for its rolling hills and majestic views of the San Gabriel Mountains -- Kris Sosa’s path in life seemed steady and sure.

An honor student at a private high school, she had been accepted to Drexel University in Philadelphia, where she planned on majoring in pre-med. The coming years would be filled with study and achievement and the promise of a fulfilling future.

But the coming years were filled with something else -- the pain and sorrow of loss, the chaos and self-destruction of angry rebellion. And the once promising path would lead, finally, to incarceration in a level four women’s prison in Chowchilla.

“I think my triggering moment was when my dad cheated on my mom,” says Kris. “That tore our family apart. My father left. I felt abandoned and angry. I just made up my mind -- I was gonna do what I wanted when I wanted.”

KRIS

SOSA

By Dana Perrigan Writer | Journalist | Book Author

Al crecer con su familia en Chino Hills, una ciudad del sur de California conocida por sus colinas onduladas y sus majestuosas vistas de las montañas de San Gabriel, el camino de Kris Sosa en la vida parecía firme y seguro.

Una estudiante de honor en una escuela secundaria privada, había sido aceptada en la Universidad de Drexel en Filadelfia, donde planeaba especializarse en pre-medicina. Los próximos años estarían llenos de estudio y logros y la promesa de un futuro pleno.

Pero los años siguientes estuvieron llenos de algo más: el dolor y la tristeza de la pérdida, el caos y la autodestrucción de la rebelión enojada. Y el otrora prometedor camino conduciría, finalmente, al encarcelamiento en una prisión de mujeres de nivel cuatro en Chowchilla.

“Creo que mi momento desencadenante fué cuando mi papá engañó a mi mamá”, dice Kris. “Eso destrozó a nuestra familia. Mi padre se fué. Me sentí abandonada y enojada. Simplemente me decidí: iba a hacer lo que quisiera cuando quisiera”.

“Soon I found myself homeless; that’s when I started to freak out. I didn’t know what to do. Anything to make a quick buck I was up for.”

“Pronto me encontré sin hogar; fue entonces cuando comencé a enloquecer. No sabía qué hacer. Cualquier cosa para ganar dinero rápido que estaba dispuesto a hacer”.

Instead of heading off to college after high school, Kris took off to downtown Los Angeles with her boyfriend, whose use of drugs and alcohol, she says, made him “kind of like a vessel for me to continue the path of anarchy.” She started doing drugs herself -- first crack cocaine, and then meth, which would be her drug of choice for the next 15 years.

A couple of years later, Kris had a son who, she hoped, would change things.

“I thought he was gonna be our glue -- he was gonna fix it all,” she says.

When that didn’t happen, Kris grew increasingly frustrated and unhappy. Desperate, she packed a duffel bag and took off with her son. She stayed with an aunt at first, and even returned home for a while. Restless and searching for something, she distracted herself with drugs and partying. She lost one office job after another because of her drug use.

The downward spiral continued. She got a DUI and was sentenced to 90 days of house arrest and four years’ probation. Fired from her job as a human resource manager, she soon found herself homeless, living in her car. After a friend wrecked her car, she started couch-hopping from one drug house to another.

“That’s when I started to freak out,” she says. “I didn’t know what to do. Anything to make a quick buck I was up for.”

Now in the survival mode, Kris started selling drugs, continuing along what she calls “the path of destruction.” She picked up her first felony — grand theft — over a stolen motorcycle. After an indiscreet telephone conversation with an inmate about smuggling drugs into jail, she was picked up on a conspiracy charge. Running from her troubles in L.A., she fled to the San Fernando Valley where she took up with a new crowd that was into identity theft and check fraud.

En lugar de ir a la universidad después de la secundaria, Kris se fue al centro de Los Ángeles con su novio, cuyo uso de drogas y alcohol, dice, lo convirtió en "una especie de recipiente para que yo siguiera el camino de la anarquía". Ella misma comenzó a consumir drogas, primero crack y luego metanfetamina, que sería su droga preferida durante los próximos 15 años.

Un par de años después, Kris tuvo un hijo que, esperaba, cambiaría las cosas.

“Pensé que iba a ser nuestro pegamento, que iba a arreglarlo todo”, dice ella.

Cuando eso no sucedió, Kris se sintió cada vez más frustrada e infeliz. Desesperada, empacó una mochila de lona y se fue con su hijo. Al principio se quedó con una tía e incluso regresó a casa por un tiempo. Inquieta y en busca de algo, se distraía con las drogas y las fiestas. Uno tras otro perdió, trabajos de oficina a causa de su consumo de drogas.

La espiral descendente continuó. Obtuvo un DUI y fue sentenciada a 90 días de arresto domiciliario y cuatro años de libertad condicional. Despedida de su trabajo como gerente de recursos humanos, pronto se encontró sin hogar y viviendo en su automóvil. Después de que una amiga destrozó su auto, comenzó a saltar de sofá de una casa de drogas a otra.

“Fue entonces cuando comencé a enloquecer”, dice ella. “No sabía qué hacer. Cualquier cosa para ganar dinero rápido que estaba dispuesto a hacer”.

Ahora en el modo de supervivencia, Kris comenzó a vender drogas y continuó por lo que ella llama "el camino de la destrucción". Cometió su primer delito grave. Hurto mayor, por una motocicleta robada. Después de una conversación telefónica indiscreta con un recluso sobre el contrabando de drogas en la cárcel, fue arrestada por un cargo de conspiración. Huyendo de sus problemas en Los Ángeles, huyó al Valle de San Fernando, donde se unió a una nueva multitud que estaba involucrada en el robo de identidad y el fraude de cheques.

Eventually, her crimes caught up with her. Arrested and charged with identity theft and residential burglary, Kris pled guilty and received a two-and-a-half-year prison sentence.

“Everyone was telling me ‘You’re gonna have a great time in there,’” she says.

Things didn’t work out that way. Severely beaten by another inmate who thought Kris belonged to a rival gang, Kris was depressed and fearing for her life. Then she met a woman on the yard, a lifer who befriended her, who protected her and helped reintroduce her to her faith. The woman, she says, saved her life.

“That was the start of my spiritual journey,” she says.

Six months after what Kris refers to as her “turnaround,” she was released from prison. Her parole was transferred to San Francisco, where she entered a nine-month residential treatment program. She began building a new life for herself in a new environment.

Eventualmente, sus crímenes la alcanzaron. Arrestada y acusada de robo de identidad y robo residencial, Kris se declaró culpable y recibió una sentencia de prisión de dos años y medio.

"Todos me decían 'Te lo vas a pasar muy bien allí'", dice ella.

Las cosas no funcionaron de esa manera. Golpeada severamente por otra reclusa que pensó que Kris pertenecía a una pandilla rival, Kris estaba deprimida y temía por su vida. Luego conoció a una mujer en el patio, una mujer que se hizo amiga de ella, que la protegió y la ayudó a reintroducirla en su fe. La mujer, dice, le salvó la vida.

“Ese fue el comienzo de mi viaje espiritual”, dice ella.

Seis meses después de lo que Kris llama su "cambio", fue liberada de prisión. Su libertad condicional fue transferida a San Francisco, donde ingresó a un programa de tratamiento residencial de nueve meses. Comenzó a construir una nueva vida para sí misma en un nuevo entorno.

The path Kris has been on since she was released from prison nearly two-and-a-half years ago has been a fruitful one. She has worked her way up from bilingual peer advocate to human resource and compliance manager at Hospitality House in the Tenderloin. She will soon receive her human resources certification. She also takes classes at City College of San Francisco and San Francisco State University, working toward a master’s degree in social behavioral sciences. She plans to use it to help others through the often difficult and frustrating process of reentry.

“When I was in prison, I knew that I wanted to give back to the community,” she says. “That was my goal.”

Another important goal is to reconnect with her son, whom she hasn’t seen in seven years.

“What keeps me going is my faith,” she says. “I pray every day.”

El camino que ha seguido Kris desde que salió de prisión hace casi dos años y medio ha sido fructífero. Se ha abierto camino desde defensora de pares bilingüe hasta gerente de cumplimiento y recursos humanos en Hospitality House en Tenderloin. Pronto recibirá su certificación de recursos humanos. También toma clases en el City College de San Francisco y en la Universidad Estatal de San Francisco, y trabaja para obtener una maestría en ciencias del comportamiento social. Ella planea usarlo para ayudar a otros a través del proceso de reingreso, a menudo difícil y frustrante.

“Cuando estaba en prisión, sabía que quería retribuir a la comunidad”, dice. “Ese era mi objetivo”.

Otro objetivo importante es reconectarse con su hijo, a quien no ha visto en siete años.

“Lo que me mantiene en marcha es mi fe”, dice ella. "Rezo todos los días."

By Dana Perrigan Writer | Journalist | Book Author

STUDENTS RETREAT STUDENTS RETREAT

On a sunny Saturday morning in late June, a dozen Excell Network students gather in the Mercy Center’s Cypress Room in Burlingame. They have come to the Sisters of Mercy’s well-known retreat center to step out of their very busy lives and reconnect -- with themselves, each other and God.

While those who have attended previous retreats have some idea of what to expect, others do not.

“I’ve never been to a retreat like this,” says Jacky Brown. “My retreat used to be standing on the street corner drinking and doing drugs.”

Like his fellow students, Jacky spent time in prison. Also like them, he left the path that took him there and embarked on one that leads to transformation and achievement. Although he has been up all night working at one of his two jobs to support himself while attending San Francisco State University, he wanted to be here because he likes to be around people “who have their heads on straight.”

“It feels positive,” says Rodney Thompson, who was recently released from prison after serving a 27-year sentence. “These are people doing things in their lives that I want to do.”

What the students are doing -- which is revealed during the introduction phase of the retreat -- turns out to be a lot. Like Jacky, they all work and go to school. Some have families to care for as well. The retreat, says Excell Network founder and retreat leader Julio Escobar, offers them a much-needed respite from their demanding lives.

Sitting in chairs formed into a circle, each, in turn, talks about what a retreat means to them.

I’m kind of a workaholic,” says Bobby Jones-Hanley. “For me, it’s a chance to get away from the rat race and disconnect from the craziness and get recharged.”

“It’s a time when like minds come together -- for rejuvenation, spiritual and emotional nourishment,” says Nicole Bronson.

For Joseph Krauter, a creative writing student at San Francisco State University, it is a “voluntary deviation from what you’re doing, a time to slow down and catch your breath.”

Adrian Lewis calls it a time “to find that energy to be the new Adrian, rather than that old person I was.”

For Walter Hidalgo, it is “a time and place where you can share and be yourself.”

Grive Excell Network Student

Julio asks everyone to close their eyes and assume a posture of reverence. A student rings the meditation gong. The sound of the gong slowly fades into silence. Several minutes later, Julio moves from one student to another, placing his hand on their shoulder and giving each a verbal assurance rooted in Scripture.

Christi

“You say: ‘I’m too tired.’ God says: ‘I will give you rest.’”

“You say: ‘Nobody loves me.’ God says: ‘I love you.’”

“You say: ‘I can’t forgive myself.’ God says: ‘I forgive you.’”

Later, Julio passes out a bracelet to each student that contains a passage from Scripture.

“We need to be reminded that God is with us,” he says, “that what we do we do not do on our own, but that we do it all with God.”

Julio then asks the students to comment on what they experienced during the meditation.

“I have to remind myself that I am blessed and that I have everything I need,” says Jessy Martinez. “If I can just wake up each morning and try to do what God wants me to do.”

“Yes,” says Nicole, “if we just try -- he’s not asking us to be perfect.”

“It was a time of calmness, of letting go,” says Rodney. “I’m used to doing things my way, but I don’t want to learn my lessons the hard way anymore.”

“A lot of the time we want to guide our own life,” says Adrian, “instead of asking for that guidance -- what is the will of the Father?”

“Once I forget myself, I feel a whole lot better,” says Miguel Infante, who underwent several rounds of chemotherapy and surgery in his battle against cancer and was recently awarded a scholarship to the University of San Francisco.

“I know I can’t do it myself, and that I have to do it with God,” says Elizabeth Quiroz, who brought copies of her recently published book, “Purified in the Flames,” to the retreat.

“Times like this are necessary so I can sit still in the moment, be intentional and step out of the wind,” says John Cunningham.

“I felt the calmness and the serenity -which is great, because with me it’s all gogo-go,” says Christi Grove. “It helps me to be open-minded and teachable all through the day.”

In the next phase of the retreat, Julio asks the students to talk about “Living Your Strengths,” a book designed to help people identify their strengths and to put them into action in their lives.

Following the discussion, they are asked to identify their mission in life.

“It’s to help change the perception of the black male,” says Jacky, “because I helped tarnish that image.”

“It’s to be a good steward,” says Rodney, “to be who I say I am.”

“To repair some of the damage I’ve done,” says Adrian.

“To support people who are going through a hard time,” says Jessy.

Bobby Jones-Hanley Excell Network Student

Miguel Infante Excell Network Student

“To become a lawyer and work with the disenfranchised,” says Miguel.

“To obtain my certificate for accounting,” says Walter.

“To use my pain for a good purpose,” says Elizabeth. “To be a light and a foundation,” says Nicole.

“To create opportunity for redemption,” says Bobby. “To help people excel.”

While two students say they don’t yet know what their mission in life is, just about everyone says that they feel their purpose in life, whatever it is, revolves around helping others.

After lunch, the students are given their final assignment: to create a collage -- using words, photos and illustrations clipped from an assortment of magazines -- that represents something about their life, mission or goals. When they are done, each student then gives a brief presentation of their collage to the group.

Elizabeth’s collage contains a photo of a storm.

“Trials can transform you,” she says. “And everything we’ve been through is turning ashes into beauty.”

Rodney’s collage contains a photo of a cheetah and a tiger.

“When I was on the street, I thought of myself as a beast, a predator.” A photo of a house, he says, “represents stability -- I want to settle down and have a foundation.”

Walter’s collage represents his goals to graduate, get a job, to establish community and a happy home.

Jacky’s collage contains a photo of an auto assembly line.

“It’s about rebuilding my life and being a role model,” he says.

Miguel draws the attention of the group to a photo of a cross.

“I was an atheist for 12 years,” he tells them. “Now, my faith is my foundation.”

At the end of the retreat, Julio asks the students what they take away from their day at the Mercy Center.

They tell him: Peace and serenity. Strength. Inspiration. Motivation. Community. Contentment. The desire to serve others.

“I love coming here,” says Miguel. “Every time I come here I feel better.”

Elizabeth Quiroz

Excell Network Student

Walter Hidalgo

Excell Network Student

Jacky Brown Excell Network Student

Rodney Thompson Excell Network Student

Nicole Bronson Excell Network Student