Proud Prison Wives
Shatter Your Shame
Shatter Your Shame
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This 6x9-inch book with 236 pages and a durable glossy cover
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IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER
I, Noél Bartlett, am committed to following all applicable Federal Bureau of Prisons policies and procedures while sharing, documenting, and memorializing our family’s prison journey and the letters and manuscripts Brett sends to me.
For complete clarity, I alone am the owner, operator, publisher, and financial beneficiary of Proud Prison Wives and this website. I am also the sole publisher and beneficiary of any books or other works published through Proud Prison Wives, including SPEAK DOG, SHATTER YOUR SHAME, and any future manuscript of Brett’s that I independently choose to edit, develop, and publish.
Brett is currently incarcerated in federal prison. He does not own, operate, manage, or conduct business through Proud Prison Wives, nor does he receive any financial benefit from the publication, sale, or promotion of these books, letters, manuscripts, or website content.
I am incredibly proud to take my husband’s raw letters and manuscripts and transform them into beautiful, meaningful books that allow others to witness his journey and cheer him forward as he chooses to use his time in prison productively.
Brett and I also take the safety, security, and privacy of the institution extremely seriously. In the letters and manuscripts he sends me—and in the material I ultimately choose to publish—identifying details may be intentionally changed, combined, omitted, or rearranged. This may include characters, conversations, events, timelines, locations, and other details in order to protect the privacy of staff, fellow incarcerated individuals, and the institution itself.
The heart and spirit of Brett’s writing are based on his lived experiences, but these writings should not be interpreted as a literal, chronological, or identifying account of daily institutional life. Some details of Brett’s experience will simply have to wait until he has fully completed his obligations to the Department of Justice.
Again, I, Noél Bartlett, am fully committed to respecting and following applicable Bureau of Prisons policies and procedures. I consider it a privilege to preserve our family’s story, document this chapter of Brett’s life, and share the good that can still come from an incredibly difficult season.
Thank you for reading, supporting our family, and respecting the purpose and boundaries behind what we share.
— Noél Bartlett
Owner & Publisher, Proud Prison Wives
What if the greatest prison you've ever lived in wasn't made of steel bars... but shame?
Maybe your prison looks different than mine.
Maybe it isn't surrounded by razor-sharp barbed wire or locked behind heavy steel doors.
Maybe it's the guilt you carry from a failed marriage... the regret of a decision you wish you could take back... the addiction you can't seem to overcome... the secret you've spent years trying to hide... or the quiet voice that keeps whispering,
"You'll never be enough."
I know that prison.
Because I've lived there too.
While serving a federal prison sentence, I discovered something that changed my life forever:
The greatest prison wasn't the one around me... it was the shame within me.
In these pages, I'll walk beside you through my own journey from shame to freedom. You'll meet unforgettable "barbed-wire brothers" whose stories prove that no past is too broken, no failure too great, and no life beyond the redeeming grace of Jesus Christ.
Together, we'll pull those heavy shame bricks out of your backbreaking backpack, uncover the REAL YOU beneath the lies, and discover how God can use your deepest wounds to build a purpose-filled future.
Because your past was never meant to bury you.
It was meant to build you.
So if you've ever wondered...
"Can someone like me really be forgiven?"
"Can God still use my life?"
"Is freedom actually possible?"
My friend...
Welcome.
A BIG BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL FUTURE AWAITS YOU!
Now let's go slay that shadow of shame—together!
The Story About Shatter Your Shame
Random person, quietly after hearing a little of our family's story:
"I don't think I could survive what your family has been through."
Me, smiling because I know something they don't:
"Can I tell you a secret?"
Random person:
"Of course."
Me:
"The hardest prison our family ever lived in wasn't the federal prison that took my husband away."
"It was shame."
Random person:
"Shame?"
Me:
"Yes."
"The shame of feeling like our story was ruined."
"The shame of believing our family's future had been stolen."
"The shame of wondering if people would ever look at us the same again."
"The shame of believing God could never use our brokenness for something beautiful."
"That prison almost destroyed us."
Random person:
"So... how did you get out?"
Me:
"Jesus."
"And one handwritten prison letter at a time."
"While serving a federal prison sentence, Brett began writing me stories that weren't really about prison..."
"They were about freedom."
"Freedom from shame."
"Freedom from regret."
"Freedom from believing your worst decision gets the final word."
"Those letters slowly transformed our family."
"Eventually we realized..."
"If they could transform us..."
"Maybe they could help someone else too."
Random person:
"That's what this book is?"
Me:
"Exactly."
"Shatter Your Shame isn't just Brett's story."
"It's an invitation into your own."
"If you've ever believed you're too broken..."
"Too far gone..."
"Too damaged..."
"Too ashamed..."
"This book was written for you."
Random person:
"I think... I need to read this."
Me:
"I think you do too."
"And after you experience the freedom found in these pages..."
"Will you promise me one thing?"
Random person:
"What's that?"
Me:
"Find someone who's still living in the shadow of shame..."
"Walk beside them."
"Help them discover the freedom you've found."
"Because that's how shame loses."
Sneak Peak of Shatter Your Shame
I will never forget my first day in federal prison.
Every surreal detail of incarceration is seared into the deep crevices of my brain.
Dressed in an oversized, stiff jumpsuit that scratched against my neck and swallowed my hands, I was marched across the freezing cement compound by a broad-shouldered correctional officer whose silence felt heavier than his presence. His boots struck the concrete in steady, authoritative thuds while mine shuffled half a step behind — not walking like a free man, but moving like property being transferred.
He didn’t speak once during the long walk.
Not a single word.