_{(Click the Play button to listen to the whole podcast.)}

We’ve come a long way in this series, and I want to thank you for staying with me. I also want to turn these last few pieces toward the family, because prison isn’t just about you—it lands hardest on them. I was 33 when I went in, not married, no children. I know it would have been devastating to leave a wife or kids at home. I saw that pain every week in the visitation. And I also saw the opposite—families who grew closer through the struggle.

That’s the perspective you have to keep. Your family is watching, whether you see it or not. Every call, every visit, every letter shapes how they view you. Which brings me back to a contrast I saw every day: the men who used their time to complain, and the men who used it to stay grateful.

Two people can serve the same sentence under the same conditions and live it entirely differently. One had money on the books, steady visits, outside support. Yet he found a way to complain about everything—peanut butter at commissary, late mail call, cold water in the showers, fire alarms at 2 a.m. He turned inconveniences into constant grumbling.

The other had little support and worked three jobs nobody else wanted. But he used every spare moment to teach younger men, to study, to write, to prepare. He never wasted energy on petty complaints. His family, when they could connect with him, saw effort and gratitude, not bitterness.

Which example do you think their families remembered? The grumbling father or the one who showed dignity in a hard place?

I heard phone calls where men exaggerated prison life just to elicit sympathy—telling wives how unbearable it was, then hanging up and going to play cards or watch the NBA playoffs. What’s the point of that? Families already carry the burden. Complaining or lying only makes it heavier.

Your family doesn’t expect perfection. They expect honesty. They expect perspective. They want to be able to say, “He’s using his time well. He isn’t wasting it. He isn’t bitter. He’s still leading us, even from inside.”

The philosophers we’ve talked about matter here. Viktor Frankl: Those who have a why can bear almost any how. Marcus Aurelius: You could leave life right now—let that guide how you act. Epictetus: focus on what you can control. These aren’t abstract ideas. They’re practical. They help you decide whether you’ll spend your days grumbling about commissary or showing gratitude and effort to the people who love you.

Your family is watching. What story do you want them to tell?

Justin Paperny