Author: Jessica Kenley

Jessica Lynne Kenley is an independent author, freelance writer, and news reporter based in Coudersport, Pennsylvania. Born in Buffalo, New York, in 1981, she has built a diverse professional background centered around writing, editing, and content creation, focusing heavily on social justice and human interest stories.

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Loneliness, Letters to Tiger, and Lockdowns

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.

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Rockabye, Alcoholism, and AA

September 9th, 2017
Saturday

Day 67

11am

Off to a meeting. I can’t wait to see my kids tomorrow.

Song–

Pray– Kesha?

“I hope you’re somewhere praying, 

I hope your soul is changing, 

I hope you find your peace

Falling on your knees

Praying…..”

Song–

“Rockabye

Ooooh love

No one’s ever gonna hurt you love

I’m gonna give you all of my love

No one matters like you love

So rockabye….”

I wrote Lilly a letter. Still driving. Preggo #1 seems like she’s going to have that baby soon. Speaking of babies, I’m reading my grief book more.

It says: 

“Very young children, by necessity, form the centerpiece of life. They absorb the lion’s share of the attention of the primary caretaker. When that young child dies, the parent is out of a job that literally consumed each of her waking hours. In addition, young children are untainted. Our love for them is pure and unconditional., so that the loss  strikes at the heart of our hopes and dreams.”

I can relate to Evelyn, who lost an adult son, when she says, “I blow up at little things, out of proportion. I’m aware that I’m ultrasensitive and that I sometimes hurt people. I have no purpose in life. What should my purpose be in life at this point? I don’t enjoy anything to the extent that I used to. My entire book, Kidowed, was a blow up. 

The entire thing.

“The more ways in which people find meaning and fulfillment in life, the less crippling it is when one of those avenues is closed. That is why parents who lose only children [Ethan] lose not only the child but the entire aspect of their existence that was defined in the parent role.”

Meeting:

Easy does it (but do it)

Recovering addicts aren’t perfect after all. Our friends and sponsors are human, just like me.

Rodney: 

“I’m not drug-proof, I’m just drug-free. We do not become perfect, we become better.”

[We’re not bad, we’re sick.]

“We trust them, allowing them to love us until we can love ourselves.”

Megan: 

“I just want to live my damn life.”

“The glow of early recovery.”

Me: 

First time I said to the judge that I needed help and had a problem.

–Last night’s chip

“If I love me, why am I still doing destructive things to me?”

“The disease dies in the light of exposure.”

People hugged me. It was nice.

“The hardest part is ‘I,’ when all of the steps begin with ‘We.’”

“The higher the peak, the wider the recovery.”

“She came in with butterflies on her shirt and stretchy pants.” –Crash on an 11 year old addict going to meetings. “My heart hurts for her every time I see her.”

Song: 

The truth is…that you could slit my throat…and with my one last gasping breath, I’d apologize for bleeding on your shirt,

Maybe I should hate you for this…never did ever really get quite that far.

I found out that Crash wasn’t using to get into the Center, she was driving on a DUI suspension. She’s been clean for 15 months today and I talked to her today about sponsoring me. I wonder how that will go. I’m kind of excited about it but kind of scared that it’ll be a big flop like my last sponsor. Maybe it’ll be different because we’re sort of friends. Maybe she’ll think I’m a big flop.

Huh.

I guess we’ll see.

She told me, well showed me a tattoo that says, RIP [name of her child] on her back after I spoke (AGAIN!!) about Ethan at the meeting today and cried. That was big of her. Poor baby, only lived to be 17 weeks–what’s that–four months? Just about the age Kaylee was. Heart defect caused by alcoholism. I wonder how she dealt (well, deals) with the guilt?

I need to know.

Maybe I’ll ask her sometime. Her story prompted me to tell her about the abortion I had when I was using and drinking heavily in 2011. Of course, it was Mother’s day weekend. 

My punishment. 

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Life Uncategorized

Shitty Days

Women’s Center

September 8th, 2017


Grief Book: 

“The edifice of his life shook but withstood the emotional holocaust.”

“Many years later, Madelyn remains depressed. Her life is empty and her guilt profound. Without the consuming purpose of caring for her sick son, she is emotionally destitute.”

Boy, can I relate to that one. After Ethan died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I got a night job when I already had a demanding full-time job, worked on a co-dependent relationship with my alcoholic sister, and got involved with an animal rights/rescue group and thus started taking in inordinate numbers of stray cats for later placement. I needed something to fill every minute of my life so I didn’t go stark raving mad, which I was terrified of, because I could feel the insanity lurking just behind my busy, productive facade.

8pm

Group: Reading: “Trust the Divine Plan”

God, one of the women in my book lost her only son after she told him he could leave rehab and she would take care of him and then he died of an accidental overdose!

Horrible.

That’s like Gert, losing a husband in a car accident and then having a son commit suicide.

Horrible.

9am

Wow this day is going slow. Last night I found out that I’m not allowed to work after waiting for two months for my work release papers.

Nice.

The Big Boss’ reasoning? My health problems aren’t resolved. WTF. I have SYSTEMIC LUPUS. MY HEALTH ISSUES ARE NEVER GOING TO BE RESOLVED!! OMG!!

And when did she turn into a doctor? This pisses me off so bad. Grrrrr…. I tried to talk to Mr. Big about it, but but that didn’t work. All he has are jokes and rhetoric. Not helpful at all. He told me I should change my attitude because I said it was difficult to talk to the Big Boss because she gets so defensive and nasty with me. I can just look at her and she gets mean! I think I intimidate her, and I don’t think that’s anything I can change. At least I get my steroids. Yay. I feel much better today.

More of my book:

“Death is loss. Death of a child is the ultimate loss.”

Group:

How to Surround Yourself with the Right People:

“If you hang around someone with a cold, you’ll eventually catch a cold. What are you catching from the people around you?”

“Don’t give up what you really want for what you want right now.”

9:40pm

Went to a meeting. Managed to get through the whole thing without crying (because I didn’t talk) and then this really sweet old lady asked me how I was, and I started crying, telling her about Ethan’s birthday. Then this Asian guy sees me crying and busts in with “DO YOU NEED A HUG?” and then I got swarmed with about eight hugs, which made me laugh through my tears. I love that group of people. 

THEN, I was leaving, and the Asian guy follows me out, running down the stairs after me (he does everything loudly and at top speed, it seems) yelling, “I give you a chip, I give you a chip!” Then he hands me an AA chip that says, “HAD A SHITTY DAY AND DIDN’T DRINK!” 

HA!! HILARIOUS! And super nice. 

What a great crowd.

Tonight’s group was about anger. I’m not mad anymore, I’m just really, really sad.

What a fucking life.

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Justice, Murder, and Insanity

May 15th 2024

Wednesday

1:35pm

I called Motorcycle–he went to a choral concert at Tiger’s school in Port Allegany, and he saw her. He said she’s growing up to be “quite a little young lady.” He says she has my nose. I think her whole face looks just like me, but whatever. He said she was wearing a puffy skirt and a jean jacket.

I miss her.

But she doesn’t want to talk to me and she won’t reply if I write her. I can’t do anything about that.

May 16th, 2024

I don’t believe this. My mother says that she might pay for an attorney for me. I’m floored. She says he has to accept the case yet, so she’ll find out within a week. I’m speechless. I called Motorcycle to tell him and he was happy for me. I hope it works out. Her exact words were: “We might pay the fee for TJ. I called him and he and I commiserated about how Potter County deals with mental health cases. He seems nice.”

4:40pm 

My mother sent me another message saying that Paul’s sister is on a cruise, and that she’ll do my taxes when she gets back. Um…I gave her that paperwork in January. Ugh. Whatever.

I just read in “Unfair” by Adam Benforado that about 10 percent of people who are convicted of crimes in Germany and the Netherlands go to prison, and that number is 70 percent in the US. Also, in Norway, no one is given a sentence of over 21 years, no matter what their crime. 

Here’s what John McCain had to say about solitary confinement after he spent more than two years in isolation: “It’s an awful thing, solitary. It crushes your spirit and weakens your resistance more effectively than any other form of mistreatment.”

Also, according to the Department of Justice, over 200,000 inmates each year are raped or otherwise sexually assaulted in custody. And here’s some stuff about mental illness in prisons: There are upwards of three times as many mentally ill people in jails and prisons as in mental health facilities. Of these people locked up, only a third have received mental health treatment since they became incarcerated.

11am

So, I went to a group this morning, and they were talking about how Muncy was on the 10pm local news about the two women who hung themselves. I guess their families were on the program. I wish I had the internet. I’m assuming that both of the women died–nobody seems to know about the second one still.

Next, this book is talking about brutality inside jails and prisons. The Manhattan U.S. Attorney General in 2013 reviewed how the teenage population (692 inmates) at Rikers was faring, he found that 44 percent of them had been beaten by the guards at least once. 

These beatings resulted in serious injuries, such as lacerations requiring stitches, facial fractures, and head trauma. It’s the same across the country. 

Between 2010 and 2014 in Georgia, 34 people were murdered inside INSIDE state prisons.

Another interesting finding was that putting people in jails and prisons actually makes them less likely to follow the law, because people lose their respect for the law. Also, we now spend more on incarcerating people than we do on higher education, even though education prevents crime.

“There can be no equal justice where the kind of trial a man gets depends on the amount of money he has.”

–Justice Hugo Black

5:43pm

We haven’t eaten dinner yet. I’m wondering if I’m going to be able to make my 6:30pm phone call. The rumor is that they put somebody in a restraint chair and put her in the Hole. The 4:30pm count still hasn’t cleared. People are talking about eating each other. I didn’t eat lunch because it was fish. Nobody can use the phone and they’re pissed.

5:52pm

Count clear. We finally get to eat.

7:05pm

I talked to Gem earlier–she says that Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia qualify for an insanity defense in Pennsylvania, and that I should take these cases to trial. She doesn’t seem to realize that taking cases to trial is very expensive and might mean that I have to stay in prison longer than if I took a plea deal. Then again, if I won and was acquitted of the charges, I wouldn’t have three resisting arrests on my record. And two disorderly conducts. But if I lost, I could get a sentence of two to four years on each resisting arrest. Would it be worth it to fight the charges? If I had unlimited resources, yes.

But I have essentially no resources.

I talked to the boys, they went to see the movie “Migration” today. They both liked it. Superman tested positive for Lyme again and is on Amoxicillin. He had headaches for a few days and stayed home from school and my mother took him to the hospital for a blood draw. He was very brave, she said. She insisted on Lidocaine. I wonder what this new thing is for her that she is advocating for my kids. And for me. She never does that, especially for me. Maybe she’s had a change of heart. 

Whatever it is, I’ll take it.

It’s very confusing, though. She’s spent so long fighting against me, it’s hard to imagine her caring about me or being nice to me. 

Anyway, I talked to Motorcycle and he got my dirty blog. He said, “It sounds like you girls need some dick.”

Truer words were never spoken.

I wrote Gem, Motorcycle, Paul, and Superman and King.

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Life Uncategorized

From Heroin Addict to the Local Strip Mall

INTERVIEW

“Kimberly”

Age: 29years

Female

White

Two children

Trauma?

Childhood trauma, abusive boyfriends

Addiction?

Yes, drinking at 13, pot. Meth at 15, painkillers, heroin

Mental Illness?

Not diagnosed with any, no meds presently

How much time have you done in jail/prison in your entire life?

3-4 years

What happened?

“I was selling dope, fucking the dope dealer, met up with a CI (Confidential Informant), got a PWID (Possession with Intent to Deliver).”

Sentence:

3 ½ – 7 years 

Public Defender, Plea deal

“I would have done better with a paid lawyer. I took an open plea because the judge seemed very understanding. They kept continuing the court case. I had two cases in Lancaster County, I got another charge for selling $20 worth of dope from Lehigh Valley. I was told I would get a 1-2 year concurrent sentence with the other charges and I did.”

Gravity Score: 3

Had a weed sale on juvenile record.

Were you treated fairly by the system?

Not necessarily fair. It was my first adult drug charge for five grams of Fentanyl. I was never offered rehab. My codefendant got 3-6 years. He might have had a paid lawyer. Drug addicts are treated more harshly.”

Plans?

“Go to my grandma’s house, try to stay sober, reconnect with my kids.”

Is prison rehabilitative?

“Not prison, but space between drugs and me. I’d be dead if I wasn’t here, but long-term rehab would have been better.”

Career?

“I’m going to start at the local strip mall.”

What do you do for fun?

I never really had any hobbies as an adult.

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Mother’s Day in Prison

May 12th, 2024

Sunday

Mother’s Day

I slept all day. I didn’t even go to Med Line this morning. My mother messaged me a message from Superman and King: “Happy Mother’s Day. We love you. We have a soccer game at 10. We lost the last one. If we could send heart emojis, we would. We’re going to send you a Mother’s Day card.”

I’ll call them at 6:30pm if I can. I have to do trash right now. 

I called the boys. Motorcycle didn’t answer twice. Of course–he can’t be there for me when I’m having a hard time. That’s just crazy talk. Superman was trying to ride his bike up the porch stairs. King was pretty talkative–mostly about Roblox.

May 13th, 2024

11:12am

So I talked to my lawyer, the Public Defender. He didn’t help at all. He hasn’t talked to the DA about my charges, and he doesn’t know what the state is going to do with me. He was just then reading the Criminal Complaint while he was on the phone with me. He kept saying, “You don’t belong in [prison].” Yeah, well, help me out then!!

He asked me over and over again why this keeps happening to me and what is the cause. If I fucking knew, I wouldn’t fucking be here!!

FUCK!!

They all want me to have a nice little reason that they can package up with a cute little bow, and then they can tell the DA that this will never happen again. I don’t have a goddamn reason, sir. I don’t know if this will happen again. My guess is yes. Probably in two or three years. See you then, Dick.

1:35pm

I called my mother, who said that she would call Paul’s sister about my tax return. I have to find a way to pay for a different lawyer. I talked to Motorcycle and he said that he would talk to my work about my last paycheck. That’s not going to do it, but it would help. I wish my parents (or anyone) would just loan me the money and I could pay them back. I’m afraid to hope that there could be a better outcome for this.

3:27pm

Gem sent me a card! On the inside, she wrote, 

“You are the strongest person I know and I know you can get through anything! You got this! Love you so much!

Love, 

Gem

I don’t know about that, but I appreciate the sentiment. The actual card said something about thoughts and prayers and God.

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Money, Lawyers, and Fat Women

Muncy State Prison

May 5th, 2024

Saturday

11:27am

I have a phone call with my lawyer on Monday. Waiting for lunch. Burgundy’s new roommate was complaining about her in Med Line this morning, and how she won’t let her hang lines anywhere to dry all of her clothes and wants to use all of her stuff.

Sounds familiar.

Also, apparently, Burgundy tried to have sex with her. So much for her just being an “associate,” like Burgundy had described her a couple of weeks ago. From “associate” to “unwilling lover.”

Hm.

She still hasn’t said a word to me or Daisy since she got back on the Block. The rumor is that there’s something wrong with the toilet in their cell over on Echo Block, so when it gets fixed, they’ll be going back over. Thank God for THAT.

I have to ask Motorcycle for money this week and I don’t want to. He said since his half-brother’s mother died, he might be going to Philly to help him sell her house. He thinks he’s going to get money out of this deal and wants to build a new bike with it. Of course, no mention of me getting a lawyer with any extra money he might have.

Ugh.

I guess I’ll send him my dirty blog. I’m not sending a letter with it. Last night he answered the phone with a curt, “What’s up?” as if I was bothering him, because he was around other people.

Fuck that noise.

Any other time, it’s “Hello darling,” or “Hey, baby.” I didn’t call him this morning. I’m pretty sick of the guy. I’m sure my mood will change at some point, he’s just pissing me off right now.

7pm

I called my boys. They said Tiger got a new dog called Buck and he’s six months old and he bites. They played Roblox today with her and went fishing. They were making ice cubes out of Gatorade. I’m surprised that they are allowed to have Gatorade. I told them to be sure to tell my mother Happy Mother’s Day tomorrow. They’re looking forward to playing Roblox with their cousin tomorrow. I asked Kimberly if she wanted to do an interview today but she said no. I called Motorcycle earlier. He had just gotten a tattoo of a skull that his granddaughter drew. Our phone call got cut off because he was driving.

I wonder what my lawyer will say on Monday. I’m afraid of getting years in here. People keep saying, six months, six months, but they don’t know. I know better than that. Shoved into another plea deal probably. Fuck. More shit on my goddamn record. I wonder what would happen if I took my chances at a jury trial? Two cases. Two trials. I would be here through next year for sure.

We’re supposed to have some special meal tomorrow for Mother’s Day. Barbecued chicken or something. Big deal. I’m sure every mother here would give her right arm to be with her kids instead. I know I would. 

I’m sad.

I just read something that says that a woman’s weight may make jurors more likely to give her a guilty verdict if she is overweight. Thin men especially are more likely to give a guilty verdict to a heavy woman. The same bias does not exist for men. 

Figures.

The U.S. system is so flawed.

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Life Uncategorized

Chatty Cathy, Guilt, and God

Women’s Center

September 5th, 2017

Tuesday

Geezoman.

Off to Smethport half an hour early with Freddie, the most conversational driver in the universe. I was waiting to have a cigarette, so I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet. 

Yuck.

I wasn’t expecting him until at least 8am. It certainly doesn’t take 2 ½ hours to get to Smethport. Geez. Of course he drives like a caterpillar. He wants to know ALLLLLLLLLLLLLL about me–what I do, where I was born, etc. Blech. If I had had a cigarette and coffee I wouldn’t mind. No such luck. Maybe I’ll feel better after my therapizing. Now he’s asking me if I have kids. 

Not the day, sir!!! So, I left my first two kids out (I don’t need his pity) and just told him about the other three. Turns out he has a pair of twin boys too. Hm. Oh! I just found out that my appointment was at 9am, not 10am! That makes more sense. Of course I had no idea.

10am

Appointment was good. I love my therapist. After 25 years of searching, I finally found a good one. Reading my book so that Chatty Cathy will leave me alone.

“The darkness of grief is a connection to the deceased that is hard to relinquish. Enjoyment feels like betrayal.”

“Parents  say they have to ‘climb out of the well,’ scratching, clawing, backsliding, inching toward the light, one agonizing day at a time.”

1pm

Parenting classes in a minute. We had to write a parent child vignette (story/basically). Here is mine:

Parent/Child Vignette

I was folding laundry, and Tiger, 3, was playing in her kitchen. She was trying to pour water into her teacups and kept accidentally spilling it on the floor. “Darnit!” she exclaimed. I said, Nobody’s perfect, honey, keep trying.” She considered this for a moment, and then said quietly, “Well, you are.” I went over to her and hugged her and told her that I loved her.

Tiger is:

*Forming a close bond with me

*Practicing her fine motor skills

*Learning to feel loved and safe

*Bonding with me and learning to trust

There, I did it.

Wow, all we talk about it violence against children in this class–not that the teacher wants them to. They all talk about how much they were beaten and how much they beat their children. Nice. It makes me so mad. If they had to bury a kid or two, would they still beat their existing children and take them for granted? I need to know.

Book:

“Just as you can’t teach a child to walk before his muscles are ready, you can’t force the mending to proceed before the mourner is ready.”

“Part of the grief in losing a child is knowing that your child was cheated out of life’s simple pleasures.”

September 6, 2017

Wednesday

Day 64

Of course my doctor’s appointment got rescheduled, but only until tomorrow, so that’s good. We had drug and alcohol group. It was about stereotyping surrounding men and women.

Now I’m watching “It’s kind of a Funny Story.” It’s about a kid who is suicidal and gets committed to a psych ward. It’s NOT kind of a funny story. It’s actually an extremely sad and boring story. I have to go ask if I can interview at Emperion. Now I find out that others have been denied their requests to work there because there are drugs there.

September 7th, 2017

Thursday

Day 65

9am

Time for group. Waiting for some exciting packet to read. Talking about suicide attempts. One of the women is leaving today. Lucky her. She’s telling a story about how she got kicked out of rehab for asking a worker if she could have a moustache ride on his moustache. Nice. She’s going to Maple Manor this time. Fifth rehab. Four kids. One’s a month and a half old.

Okay, group.

Understanding and Coping with Guilt and Shame

–Learn to forgive yourself

–Talk about it

– Change the related behavior

–Practice forgiving others

Munchy’s baby is doing backflips in her belly. She lets me touch her belly when she’s active. It’s so cool.

Now everybody’s talking about guilt. And using. And when everybody started. Most early teens.

“The first thing you put in front of your recovery is the first thing you lose.

–Crash

Now we’re talking about detoxing. I remember detoxing from alcohol–NO fun at ALL. At  least they gave me Librium to help. 

I was playing rummy with Old Toothless, but I went to smoke and she went to play solitaire on the computer. So now I’m watching Shameless by myself– everyone else left for Community Service. I didn’t go because I have a doctor’s appointment. Everyone is thin and beautiful on this show–it makes me really, REALLY miss being thin. No matter what I do, I can’t get under 150lbs.  I’m going to talk to my doctor about it. And the sleep study. And a referral to a rheumatologist. I want to go to the Lupus Center of Excellence in Pittsburgh. 

Off to my doctor’s appointment. This driver didn’t introduce himself, and he likes classic rock. 

Hm. 

It’s pretty chilly today. Makes my bones ache. Half the sky is dark grey clouds and the other, half blue. I miss my kids. Bindi, my mother, told me she is bringing all three this weekend. Good. Gets me out of that baby shower anyway. Jimi Hendrix is on. Not bad. 

Here comes the rain.

Welp, went to the meeting and got my 60 day chip. Then I talked about Ethan’s birthday for what seems like the millionth time, and felt marginally better.

The reading was on the second step–coming to terms with and learning to trust in God basically. I’m still learning about this part. 

On the board it usually says something stupid, but tonight it says, “God’s will for us becomes our own true will for ourselves.”

Mr. Big gave me an NA book of my own after the meeting tonight. He must have paid for it. That was super nice. I went to the doctor today and he gave me Prednisone–WOOHOO–now I will feel much better for a week. I got a referral to the Lupus Center of Excellence in Pittsburgh too–YAY!! And also my doctor is willing to prescribe me something to lose weight, (double YAY!!), but I have to wait until my liver tests are normal.

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Life Uncategorized

Farts, fists, and minivans

May 11, 2024

Muncy State Prison

Saturday

Blog #4

Neither Here Nor There: Musings from the Other Side (of the Razor Wire Fence)

Welp, still here at Muncy, and because I feel like it, here’s an entire blog of dirty and/or inappropriate stuff. It’s ribbed, for your pleasure.

You’re welcome.

Daisy is measuring her release  date time by her menses. She has 15 periods left before she gets paroled. Raja, on the other hand, is having her period, and just remarked that there is a serial killer in her underwear. Jason Kelce was recently quoted in People magazine about not wearing underwear with, “I find it unnecessary and problematic to the freedom that my boys like to enjoy.”

Fun fact: Daisy doesn’t wear underpants either.

In other news, I’m gassy and it’s gross. 

Ever farted in front of 50 people? Everyone looks around and tries to fine the culprit  like they’re in kindergarten–”EW! Who farted??”

Over here. It’s me. I’m the problem, it’s me.

Meanwhile, the neighbors are insulting each other again. This time it’s: “You look like my ass without lotion,” and “You look like a long-titty-no-nipple-havin’-ass-bitch!”

Oh my stars, as Kimberly would say.

In other news, Daisy and I were talking about dating Black men, and I recounted a story about the first Black man I dated, when I was 19 and in college. He had the whitest name ever–Robert–and he sold a magazine where I worked as a bookstore clerk. He would buy me Boone’s Farm drinks and I would get drunk at his apartment where there was black shag carpeting and an entirely glass coffee table. When I broke up with him, he couldn’t believe it. He looked at me, aghast, and said incredulously, “But I licked your butthole!” I had no idea that asshole lickery had bonded us for life. I thought the man had just lost his way.

Silly me.

When Daisy dated her first Black man, they went to see the Exorcist, and to hear her tell it, the theater was so cold that her nipples were hard so she tried to cuddle up to this guy, but she couldn’t get too close because his breath was so bad. “He had a turd in his cheek!” she shrieked, and then fell over on her bed laughing. “Never again,” she declared.

This started a sex-story-athon, so next, my first husband apparently thought I wasn’t very good at blow jobs, because he bought some DVD when I was 20 to teach me the ABC’s of giving head.

The nerve!

It featured real couples and also featured some of the least sexy sex I had ever seen. Some of these couples had to be 60 years old, with mom-bods and beer guts galore. “Oh, that’s hot,” I thought, and proceeded never to give him a blow job again.

 Daisy then told me about some porn she saw where a woman had a ton of sex toys up in her vagina. She was like, “She had the Mary Poppins of pussies! Like–just when you thought she was done, out comes another one!”

Then she asked her boyfriend, Wizard, to look up Urban Sex Positions for entertainment while she was incarcerated, and he came back with “The Minivan.”

Soooooooooo….you’ve heard of “The Shocker,” right? Two in the pink and one in the stink? Okay, so this one is two in the front and FIVE in the back, like a freakin’ minivan!

“What, you just punch them in the butthole? I asked, mouth agape. She shrugged and said nonchalantly, “Some people like being fisted.”

Ew.

Then we got into a conversation about men on meth who want to fuck for six hours straight with their “al dente” dicks and to butt stuff, but never get off.

Boy, do I not miss THOSE days.

*sigh*

Good times.

Like I said, you’re welcome.

And who farted?

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Life Uncategorized

Rape, Haldol, and Speech Impediments

Women’s Center

Day 62

Labor Day

Monday

September 4th, 2017

I had another dream last night about when I was a Vet Tech. I really miss the work. This afternoon I laid down, but weirdly, all I could think about was two years ago, when this whole mess started, and how the nurse at the hospital catheterized me against my will. That still really bothers me. It was like being drugged and raped. Haldol, handcuffs, and a nasty nurse with a catheter. In front of a police officer.

Horrible.

I wish I could sue that woman personally. I probably could. But what would you call it? Rape? Illegal invasion of a body cavity? Assault? I’ll have to look it up. That’ll be a fun time.

More of my book:

The curriculum for mourning includes:

  1. Undoing emotional bonds with the deceased
  2. Devising comforting ways to maintain bonds
  3. Finding meaningful activities that give life new purpose
  4. Banishing guilt
  5. Allowing pleasure to revive

“Somewhere along the line, the load get a little lighter and the sky a little brighter.”

7:30pm

Off to a meeting. Drama about who’s going and who isn’t. Luckily, I get to go–I needed some time away, and I only got to go to two meetings last week. And bonus–this one has candy! Most of the time anyway. Munchy is getting pissed off at Chantilly always being right up her ass. Also, Chantilly made a mistake and told a few residents that she and Munchy had slept together. Of course that spread like wildfire and got back to Munchy, who of course adamantly denied it.

Then Chantilly tried to act like she had never said it, but I know she did, because she said it to me. I didn’t tell anyone, but when Munchy asked me if it was true, I told her the truth. I don’t know why she does it, but Chantilly is a chronic liar and can’t be trusted. It sucks because I never know whether to believe her. 

Went to the meeting–there’s this  one guy there named Rick, and he’s a running joke with the women here because he has a speech impediment and can’t pronounce “R”’s. Like–what the fuck–the poor man can’t even pronounce his own name. So he’s relentlessly getting made fun of, anyway, and today he spoke three times at the meeting about what a hard time he was having, and even started crying once. So they all said he was drunk! Sometimes I just think that some of these people are nasty, egomaniacal shitheads. 

Then one of the women there asked me what was wrong with me after the meeting. I told her that I had lost a son, and that his birthday was coming up, so I was sad. It’s funny, she misunderstood me and thought that social services had taken him away from me, and that’s what I meant by “lost.” You can’t win, I tell ya. 

If you say that you lost a child to people outside AA, they think you had a miscarriage, and if you’re in AA, they think you had a bad run-in with social services. No one thinks they actually DIED. Ugh. I have to read more of my book–or practice the serenity prayer more. Anyway, she said she could relate, because she had lost children, but they were reunited now.

Then, when she realized that they were DEAD and not LOST she told me a bizarre story about how she, too, had lost four children at 16 years old (Is that even possible–four kids by 16??!!) AND a husband in a house fire and then spent four years in a psych ward in a catatonic state afterward. I was like–WHOA. I don’t even know how to respond to that because it is so fantastical. She told me she was married at 13, and four kids by 16?? The only one she told me an age of was six months old.

I’m beginning to think she’s got a touch Chantilly Lace’s disease. I don’t know. Hopefully that really didn’t happen to her. I just don’t know. Anyway, she told me to call her (I won’t), and to talk about it with someone I trust (I’ll try).

Time for lights out.