I had a sentence that had me in for many weekends in a row (in Canada). I had some weekends where I was in a room with others, weekends where I was on my own in

I had a sentence that had me in for many weekends in a row (in Canada). I had some weekends where I was in a room with others, weekends where I was on my own in a very small cell, and other weekends where I was in cell with one other person. 1. In a "day room" with 5-8 others. It also had a TV. The television was a blessing and a curse. Since I wasn't the only one in the cell, I didn't have control over it, so it just blared for 12 hours straight. You couldn't leave the room and take a break from it, so it became hard to deal with at times. That room had a bathroom with a door on it, which was nice. With five people in the room it was tolerable. We all had mats on the floor. Once we were up past 5 or 6, it was mat to mat with hardly any room to maneuver. The worst part of this room was that the lights never turned off completely. It was agonizing trying to fall asleep with fluorescents on all night. One nice thing: there were windows up near the ceiling that reflected light onto the wall throughout the day. It's amazing how meaningful a bit of light becomes when you're stuck in a room for 52 hours straight. 2. I only spent one weekend by myself in solitary. It was a tiny, filthy cell. There was only enough space for my mat with just enough room left to step around it. The edges of my sheet were black by the end of the weekend. This was a rough weekend. They turned the lights off around 9pm, which was an improvement over the day room. I meditated, that helped. I could feel my mind start to warp and unravel during the weekend, so I can't imagine how others do it for weeks on end. Mid weekend a guard took pity on me and handed me a book. I had to pace myself reading it, trying to make it last. 3. Other weekends were spent in cells that were a bit wider. Two inmates to a cell, bunk beds so we weren't on the floor. This wasn't too bad, though it had a real dungeon quality to it with beige metal walls and giant rivets. No privacy when using the washroom - it was right next to the beds so you're face is a couple of feet away from your roommate's bed when you're on the toilet. The ceilings where fairly high, with a tiny window letting in a bit of light. You couldn't see out of it. It was frustrating, because you could see it used to be a full window, but they'd covered up most of it. When it got dark, the bottom of dropped out of me and I was overcome with a really profound sadness. 4. The dorm was the best experience by far. I only got one weekend in the dorm which sucked. It had around 16 bunk beds and was quite spacious. Usually they cram it full, which would have been hellish, but there were only 6 or 7 of us, so it felt luxurious. There were large windows, frosted so you couldn't see out, but it was the best thing ever. We don't realize how much light affects our mood. Having that natural light stream in all day was like mana from heaven. The dorm had two tables with benches which meant I didn't have to eat balancing my food tray on my lap, sitting on my mat. It had a TV, but the room was large enough you could go to the other end and sort of take a break from it. I got a deck of cards that weekend, which was a welcome distraction. 5. Pods: these were similar to #2, but smaller. They had a small bench to eat at, but other than that, just enough room to pace back and forth. They did have windows that you could actually see out of. That was a treat. I would just sit and stare at the trees and the sky for hours. I would feel quite melancholy and sad, but seeing the world outside made me feel somewhat connected. The cell was small enough that it felt quite psychologically oppressive. I know how a lion feels, pacing back and forth at the zoo. It's sign of mental distress, and I couldn't stop myself from doing it. One thing I noticed is that you have to find a way to break up the monotony of the day. Pace for a bit, lie on bed, pace, sit on the bed, stare out the window, lie on the bed but looking at a different section of the wall. Sunday nights were the worst. It was difficult to fall asleep, and I always ended up waking hours before we were released, not knowing what time it was. Most weekends I could get a sense of time, but in #2 and #3, there was no way to tell the time. It really messes with your mind, not knowing if an hour has passed, or 4 hours, or 30 minutes. I was fortunate in that it only ever lasted for 52 hours, but even that was difficult to endure some weekends.