Love, Justine

Muncy State Prison

May 18th, 2024

10:50am

I had a wonderful dream about me and Tiger. We were outside and talking and laughing in the grass and I hugged and kissed her and it was just wonderful. I think we were having a picnic, like I used to do with the boys every time we would have visitation and it was nice out. Of course Tiger was never there because she goes to a school 45 minutes away and the visits were at 3pm. She didn’t want to go anyway, most of the time. I don’t know what I would say if I wrote her a letter anyway. I’m bipolar, please forgive me?

*sigh*

I don’t know. 

Tiger, 

I don’t really know what to say to you. I had a really good dream about me and you last night where we were outside in the grass talking and laughing. Like normal moms and daughters do.

I never wanted it to be like this. I don’t know if you know this, but I am bipolar. It runs in my mother’s side of the family. This means that I have psychotic episodes sometimes where I have no control over my behavior, and I make bad decisions. This is why I’m in prison now, and what caused me to leave your Dad when you were little. I wasn’t diagnosed yet then, and I didn’t know what was going on with me, but I knew it was very bad. I thought–I honestly thought–that you would be better off without me. Drugs and alcohol are also a part of my story, but I stopped doing that many years ago. I was self-medicating because they made me feel more normal, but then I got addicted to them and it was a disaster. I finally got diagnosed as bipolar in 2015, and was then able to get help with medication But I was already involved in the criminal justice system by then, and my life continued to be very bad. I had no support from anyone, and I was alone. I tried and tried to be allowed to stay in your life, but your father and my parents had decided by then that I wasn’t good for you, so they spent the next 10 years keeping you away from me. We went to court several times, but I always lost because I didn’t have an attorney and they both did.

I never wanted to stay away from you, but my mental health wasn’t stable, and they didn’t want me around you. They thought they were doing what was best for you.

I have a better handle on my mental health now, psychotic episodes still happen to me, and then the police come to arrest me, and then I commonly fight with then because I don’t want to be arrested, and then I end up in prison. I have no memory of these events, and I have no control over them.

Bipolar disorder is a disease that has to do with chemical imbalances in the brain. People cannot help whether they have a mental illness or not. Sometimes I have to be hospitalized in a psychiatric hospital so they can change my medication and stabilize me.

I’m telling you this because I believe that you deserve to know, and not as some excuse for my behavior. This is a reason, not an excuse. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but you deserve an explanation.

I hope you are okay. If you ever decide you want to talk to me, I would be overjoyed. If you wanted to write back, you could, using the Florida address on the front of the envelope.

I love you.

Mom

I don’t even know if Dubya will give that letter to her. I don’t know if I should even mail it. I’m sure Dubya will take issue with it, but it’s the truth.

The last part of the book, “Unfair,” says that according to recent research, problem-solving courts that aid in perpetrators apologizing to victims and facilitating forgiveness by victims of the people who committed the crimes are far more effective than punishment. 

Makes sense.

We teach our kids to apologize and forgive, but adults we lock in cages? THAT doesn’t make any sense. Okay, that’s the end of that book. Onto a new book:

“Interrupted Life: Experiences of Incarcerated Women in the United States by Rickie Solinger, Paula C Johnson, Martha L. Raimon, Tina Reynolds, and Ruby C. Tapia © 2010.

Of course, on the first page it says that women prisoners have increased 700 percent since 1977. Some other stats: The majority of incarcerated women are poor, African American or Latina, are there due to nonviolent or drug offenses, are not educated, are mothers, and have had childhood trauma resulting in mental/physical health problems and histories of substance abuse.

No kidding.

6:38pm

Lockdown. I talked to Superman and King–they were watching some princess movie and eating chicken wing dip. They’re building a new tree fort. Apparently there was a fight over on M Unit, that’s why we’re locked down.

Muncy State Prison

May 19th, 2024

Sunday

7:18pm

Not much happened today. Bambi has had the shits for three days, and now Daisy is feeling nauseated. I feel like I’m next. I worked on Bambi’s story a little bit today, and I can’t believe what an incredible idiot she was for believing this guy she was with for so long when she kept catching him in lies over and over and OVER again.

Whatever.

I told her I’d write the story, so I’m writing it.

Muncy State Prison

May 20th, 2024 

Monday

4:17pm

I got ahold of Motorcycle–he hasn’t been feeling well. He’s having dizzy spells and headaches. He also says I’ve ruined him because he never cared about anyone enough to be lonely for them before, and now he’s lonely.

Awe. Sweet.

7pm Lockdown. Fighting.