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Daisy’s Mother, Crystal Leschner, and Chasing Liberty

Muncy State Prison

July 26th, 2024

Friday

6:47pm

I’m just going to take the open plea to the judge and see how that goes. I’m not going to do any better with that fucking DA. I can feel it in my bones. I called my mother and told her. She seems to think it’s the right decision. I asked her about Lilly. She said she’s going to Alaska next week with her Dad. Daisy and Morocco are busy doing prison tattoos. Morocco is getting some woman’s name on her finger covered up with a tiny mustache. It’s not going well.

July 27th, 2024

Saturday

An old Black lady grabbed my arm as I walked past the other day and exclaimed, “Oh my, honey, why is your arm so bruised?” I looked down at my arm, confused. “Oh. That’s where I used to shoot up,” I said flatly. “Oh!” she said, and gripped me with both hands, “Lord Jesus! Please heal her!”

I muttered thank you, wrested my arm away, and vacated the area as quickly as possible.

Jesus Christ.

July 28th, 2024

Sunday

7:52pm

Daisy’s mother had a stroke. This is a disaster for many reasons, not the least of which is that she is responsible for five of Daisy’s children. She was talking gibberish, so Daisy’s 16-year old son called the ambulance, but they said she was stable and didn’t take her to the hospital. This doesn’t make any sense to Daisy or me. Isn’t a stroke a life-threatening emergency? I’m worried that the five younger children will end up in the system, in foster care, and Daisy won’t get them back. She still has over a year to do in prison. She cried when she said, “I just don’t know what’s going to happen to my kids,” with both of her hands on the sides of her face in a gesture of helplessness and despair. “And HE gets to get OUT!” she said, talking about her abusive ex.

The unfairness is profound, and hung in the air between us like a wall of broken glass. She angrily sorted through the things in her shower bucket. I was getting out of the shower and she was getting in. “Her mother died of a stroke when she was fifty,” she said. 

I’ve never seen Daisy look so pale and in shock.

I impotently asked her if she wanted a hug. “No, I definitely don’t want a hug,” she snapped. Zuko asked if she could at least pray for her and her mother and kids, and she relented and said yes.

Later, it turned out that her mother, Mary, had refused to go to in the ambulance. I feel helpless, too. It’s not like you can say, “What can I do?” when in reality, you are in the same boat and can’t do anything at all.

July 29th, 2024

Monday

10am

I called my lawyer. He said an open plea is what he was going to suggest. He said he’ll ask if I can plead and be sentenced on the same day. So now I have to sign paperwork, get sentenced, then see what parole is going to do with me.

4pm

Daisy got called back from the sewing shop. Her mother went to the hospital and went into cardiac arrest. She survived, but her muscles are deteriorating from non-use and poisoning her. She’s in intensive care. It sounds really bad. Daisy had to give CYS permission to place the kids. They all went with someone they know, which is good, and the two youngest are together. So much for that CYS appeal that I wrote for her. Now they have to be involved.

July 30th, 2024

Tuesday

Daisy’s mother died last night.

They said she went into organ failure. I feel completely useless. Daisy says she feels the same way. Bambi got her an e-cigarette, at least. Daisy’s sister is driving from North Carolina to Pennsylvania to deal with her mother’s affairs.

Daisy said that her mother was sitting in her own urine and feces on the couch, and the house was infested with bedbugs. Nobody knew how bad it was. 

Daisy said that her mother was her best friend.

She asked me if I would think less of her if she testified in a federal case to the the fuck out of here. 

“No.” I said.

Of course not.

The woman has seven children, five of whom need her badly. The neighbor lady went to the courthouse for temporary emergency custody of the three youngest ones. Daisy doesn’t even have her phone number. I wonder if she’ll have to fight her in court to get them back. I can’t help feeling like the nightmare is just beginning for her.

The father of two of the kids is dead, and the father of the rest of them is in prison for raping and sodomizing their daughter. I wonder if she’ll get custody of any of them back. 

Then I feel terrible for even thinking that.

July 31st, 2024

Wednesday

4:11pm

Daisy seems a little better today, and hasn’t cried as much. She decided that she doesn’t want the neighbor lady (who now has custody of three of the kids) to have the kids. She might have to be shipped back to Somerset County to fight that case. Daisy also got a message from Little Man, the ex-boyfriend who repeatedly tried to kill her. He sends his condolences. And his “love.”

Ridiculous.

She’s serving this sentence for hindering HIM. And now her mother died. Yesterday, she said, “This puts the last nail in the coffin of the Little Man thing. I’m here because of you! And my mother DIED!”

I hope she’s right.

She didn’t respond to his message. I have told her before about Crystal Leschner, whose boyfriend stabbed her to death, and then cut up her body and put it in a suitcase in a shed in his backyard in Pittsburgh. 

That was the first story I covered as a reporter for the local newspaper. I interviewed her family. 

It was awful.

Crystal had said that if she ever went missing, he would be the reason.

She turned out to be right.

August 2nd, 2024

Friday

8pm

I talked to my boys. They were playing a game with their cousin where the floor is lava, they each own different territories, and cheese is money. They each get five cheese for pushing each other into the lava.

I got a book at the library today called, “Drug Use for Grownups: Chasing Liberty in the Land of Fear,” by Dr. Carl L. Hart.

Sounds like a good read.

August 3rd, 2024

Saturday

1:30pm

Kimberly is talking to a Lieutenant because Officer Kibbe (yes, I’m naming names) is doing invasive pat searches. According to Kimberly, following one such search last week, she said, “Oh! You just touched my coochie lips!” 

Kibbe responded, “That’s okay, because I bought your dinner.”

Disgusting.

We’ll see what happens. 

Probably nothing.

Kimberly is effectively off work until the “investigation” is over.

In this book, “Drug Use for Grownups,”  it says that 70% of people who use drugs do not become addicted to them. 

The author, Dr. Carl L. Hart, tried a whole bunch of drugs in his research for this book, even becoming (on purpose) physically dependent on heroin so he could experience the withdrawal symptoms.

Interesting.

“The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons.”

–Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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Baby Daddy’s, Drugs, and Mind Vacations

Women’s Center

December 19th, 2017

Day 169

Tuesday

9am

On our way to Coudersport for grocery shopping and to distribute my fliers for the grief group. And hopefully to stop at the courthouse, so I can file this paperwork so that the boys can come every weekend, no questions asked. Nickolai is upset today because her Sugar Daddy hasn’t answered the phone last night or today. I worry about that predicament. She and her Baby Daddy decided that they would be together now, but she still needs the Sugar Daddy for money to pay for cigarettes and fines and such. I hope he didn’t quit her, but it seems inevitable. She’s really upset that he won’t answer the phone anyway.

12pm

Grocery shopping done. On our way back to the Center. I got the court papers sent to my parents. Here we go again. My mother’s going to fight me just out of spite, I bet. 

1pm

Now we’re watching and addiction movie: frontal cortex, bumps and grooves, gyri and sulci, determine judgment, morality, personality–frontal cortex determines choice, emotions.

Drugs work in the midbrain–does not think, does not handle choices. Tells us to eat, defend ourselves, sex drive. 

In addiction, drugs work on the midbrain.

Pleasure center–drug is in survival spot (instead of eating, etc.)

Brain’s Hidonic Capacity

{Pleasure Sense}

Defect in the brain’s ability to perceive, process, and act upon pleasurable experiences.

Addiction–Pleasure Unwoven

Brain weaves together memories, emotions, etc., to create a pleasurable experience. 

  1. Genes
  2. Reward
  3. Memory
  4. Stress
  5. Choice

40-60% genetic, but something in the environment has to turn the genes on. 

Dopamine–

Survival

  1. Eat!
  2. Kill!
  3. Sex!
  4. Drug!

Glutamate–memory chemical

Good stuff. 

Paul Bunyan wrote me! 

He’s doing well as far as I can tell, but not making much money working at the bank, poor guy. Also, Joey gave me the nicest card today. On the outside, it says: 

You are never alone. There’s a wonderful peace in just knowing that God never leaves us alone, and whether we feel He is with us or not, He loves us and calls us His own. His Word is our hope and our comfort, a refuge when life brings our way those times we need wisdom and guidance and strength to sustain us each day. 

Then on the inside it says: 

I think of you often and hope that you find God’s love brings you comfort and great peace of mind, always remember that I really do care–If you think I can help, please just call. I’ll be there.

Then, she wrote on the inside:

“Justine, 

You have touched my heart in so many ways. You’ve been my listening ear, my lean on to walk, you’ve broken my heart when the ones who should be seeing your hard efforts haven’t. I know I haven’t done much, but I hope I have helped some. I will never forget you and I hope you don’t forget me. I know you call your kids but maybe you can call me too. As soon as I move into my house I will write so you have my direct address. I hope that just as I’ve seen how you are trying, everyone in your family will see and be even more proud of you than I am. Thank you for your friendship you’ve given me while I’ve been here and I hope it doesn’t end once I’m gone. I’ll be praying for you to be reunited with those beautiful babies and never be away from them again. I’ll miss you!

Love, 

Joey

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So nice!

I hugged her for a really long time after that. 

We’re watching “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” and naming each character after people here at the Center. It’s funny. Psych wards aren’t so different from this place. Nurse Ratchet is Kat. Funny. 

4:30pm

Oh my. 

All of the staff is having a meeting, so Old Toothless and I were both in the laundry room doing laundry. She got upset because the washer she wanted was being used, and then there was no good soap and of course there was no staff to ask and…she started crying. Like hung her head and just wailed. Poor girl. I hugged her and told her that I would turn on the TV for her and put on the Hallmark Channel, like she likes. I hope I don’t get into trouble, but I didn’t know what else to do. We weren’t supposed to be using the front lounge because of the meeting, but oh well. 

I didn’t know what else to do.

Omg.

Now the staff meeting is out and two people got writeups, Pink and Nickolai. Pink for threatening to punch Brystal.

December 20th, 2017

Day 170

Wednesday

Last night was good–at the meeting we all had to share using the word rainbow. Nicholai picks a word for every meeting that we have to use, and that encourages everybody to share at meetings. 

December 21st, 2017

Day 171

Thursday

Happiness is a form of freedom, and of all people, I should be the freest. I’ve earned this happiness and this freedom.

–Angela L. Wozniak

Happiness is always within my power. My attitude is at the helm.

When you pray for God’s guidance, don’t complain when it’s different from your preference. 

—Our Daily Bread

I can pray for guidance without any expectation. I know I will get what I need. 

Well, I got a bimple. That’s a boob pimple, for anybody who doesn’t know. On my way to Crossroads counselling–two hours of group and then one hour of individual. This guy likes bad 80s music–Everybody’s Workin’ for the Weekend

Being informed of and following the rules of the Women’s Center will be beneficial to my future. Following the rules is important because rules provide structure and stability, and hows respect for yourself and others. 

Not following rules

Not getting into trouble

Being able to succeed

This about sums it up:

“The more you follow the rules, the more you don’t have to write an essay.”

–Alana

Nickolai got on restriction for being somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be–same thing I got written up for. She’s really stressing about the essay–500 words on following the rules. 

She’s also stressing a lot about Baby Daddy vs. Sugar Daddy to pay for fines and warrants and cigarettes, but loves and wants to be with Baby Daddy– *sigh*

The struggle is real. 

I told her she has to get rid of Sugar Daddy one way or another, but she’s dragging her feet. I probably would milk that cash cow for all it was worth first too, if I’m being honest. She’s in a tough spot trying to plan for this baby and never knowing what happens next. 

Tex changed the radio station–she doesn’t even ask anymore–the drivers hate it. 

Yesterday turned out to be a really great day. Nickolai seems even more focused on her recovery than ever right now, which is awesome. She cried the other night when everybody shared using the word rainbow. The next night the word was revelation, and next, survivor. I’ve started to pass out fliers for my grief support group, Survivors Anonymous. I think the name is stupid, but maybe it’ll catch on. 

I miss my kids so much. 

My mother says that she might bring the kids the day after Christmas.

“Pour Some Sugar On Me” is on the radio. I guess the 80s won the battle–good song. 

It’s nice and sunny today. The new male residential worker is on today–I wonder how he’ll do up against Pink all day. I already don’t want to go back there. 

Speaking of Pink, she saw a really nice grey coat in the supply closet and thought of me, so she put it in my room with a Christmas card yesterday.

How nice!

You know, if she could control her mouth, she’d not be bad at all. What a temper! Loves the drama. Addicted to it, it seems–her voice is permanently hoarse from yelling all of the time, I think. Bud a good person deep down–hard exterior.

Like a beetle or something.

Armor on the outside.

Maybe I should call her Junebug–loud and obnoxious, with an exoskeleton, flying around bugging people, looking for drama. 

Okay, okay, I’ll stop.

Tori’s high on cough medicine, and she wrote me this in group in super tiny writing: 

Have a really low tolerance for this. My body feels like novocaine numb. I need a shower my vagina smells like cat food. Walls look a little melty. I’m gonna blame it on my meds, haha. 

Oh my. I hope there are no repercussions for this. Oh Tori, Tori, Tori…..never grew up. Poor girl. Parented herself all those years waiting for her mother to mother her…still waiting…that’s her hole, her deep dark secret. 

Bad Mom

I had one too. 

Now as I look at her staring hopelessly out the window…I encouraged her to call her kids on Christmas. She says they never answer when she calls, so it’s disappointing. She says she has not attainable goals, so that’s why she’s not trying. I tackled to her about college and kids but…you can see it in her eyes.

She’s dead from neglect. 

Nobody caring for Tori. 

She’s in mourning for her lost soul.

Back at the Center. Nickolai and Mr. Big are butting heads today–he told her to “wipe that look off of your face,” when we were having lunch. I would have told him to not go around saying how people’ faces should look. 

I cried in individual therapy today. 

I’m so sad that I won’t be there for Christmas.

Watching Bones on TV. Mind vacation–much needed.

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Conversations with God, Prison Blog #7, and Starvation

Muncy State Prison

July 18th, 2024

Thursday

I’m reading the third Conversations with God book by Neale Donald Walsch, and it says that you should control your thoughts so that you only think on good thoughts, and when things are bad, express gratitude. Like–how is that possible and what fucking planet do you live on? Am I supposed to be grateful to be in prison then?

Well, I’m not.

July 21st, 2024

Sunday

News–

Biden drops out of presidential race, endorses Kamala Harris. 

BLOG #7

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

So, there is a newer woman here with dreads who reportedly smells bad and masturbates constantly. Zuko has named her The Stinky Diddler. She woke Zuko up one night rifling loudly through her locker, and when she noticed Zuko was awake, the Diddler said (like it was a completely normal thing to do), “Sorry, I was just looking for something to hump.” 

Swiper, for reasons unknown, has made it her personal mission to get the Stinky Diddler removed from the Block.

Meanwhile, everyone here–or nearly everyone–is about to get their periods. Kimberly says she’s cramping so hard her butthole hurts. 

Oh my stars.

Another reason for cramping around here? The stomach virus going around. Diarrhea for everyone! This in 100F degree heat. It stinks in here. 

Also going on, Daisy wants to make hooch and Swiper has a giant zit on her chin that she’s been busy doing surgery on for a week. Like–literal surgery–with a sewing needle. Anyway, Daisy had to smack the zit cream out of her hand because she was overdoing it something fierce the other day. Daisy yelled, “Swiper, it doesn’t even have skin on it anymore!” to which Swiper shrieked in her defense, “Just ‘cuz yours has skin on it!” and scrambled to retrieve the Zit-B-Gone off the floor.

In other news, Cinnamon does a weird thing where she rubs blankets or sheets between her fingers and her thumb for comfort, which, for some reason, Kimberly and Daisy think is hilarious. Because of this, any chance they get, they now “woobie” me, which is to rub things on me or near me between their fingers. All of a sudden, I’ll see Kimberly’s disembodied arm sneaking between the wall and the bunk to randomly “woobie” me, which freaks me out, so I smack it away.
So weird.

Speaking of Kimberly sneaking around, she recently snuck back cheese to the Unit from the kitchen in her bra, which now has a giant orange greasy blob on it. In even more Kimberly sneaking, in the midst of pube shaving, Morocco, at Kimberly’s behest, threw a bowl of cold water onto Daisy in the shower. 

Daisy nearly cut off her vagina.

Meanwhile, I talked to Motorcycle the other day. He was slurry and hard to understand, so I asked him if he was drinking. “No, I’m jutht happy,” he slurred. This means he’s high as fuck, which is funny. He told me he want to bundle me up and I can be his bundle of joy because I make him happy. He was also telling me about his backyard plans, where we can party and “make whoopie…and hamburgers.”

That’s about all of the news around here right now. Swiper and Daisy have taken to calling me “The Incredible Shrinking Woman” because I keep losing weight, and Crystal Methany said at Med Line the other night that Donald Trump was not her president because she’s a reptilian.

Oh my.

She also said at dinner that there was a little man in her rice that some girl’s eyes were behind her eyes. She’s fucking crazy, and for this reason Daisy and Cinnamon sat with her for lunch–to witness the crazy. Wouldn’t you know she was completely normal with them!  So now they think I’m making the whole thing up. 

This fucking place.

Stop woobieing me!

July 23rd, 2024

Tuesday

I had court today, and they offered me four years of probation and six months of house arrest. 

Ugh.

How will I work? It seems very excessive to me. I could do an open plea to the judge and take my chances with him. I don’t know. I’m going to call my lawyer tomorrow morning and see what he thinks. Then, if I plead guilty, , I get a parole hit too.

This sucks. 

Then, back at the ranch, I woke up to Swiper putting Daisy’s creamer in my locker. She apparently took some of it and then didn’t want to get blamed for it, so she put it in my locker. 

What a jerk.

7:30pm

I talked to Gem, Motorcycle, Paul, and my mother and father. Nobody had any advice. Zuko, and everyone else here for that matter, think I should take the DA’s deal. That’s because they think anything is better than prison.

8pm

Daisy just found out that the guy who snitched on her is getting out in August. This is also the guy, Little Man, who tried to kill her several times. 

July 25th, 2024

Thursday

So, Motorcycle needs cataract surgery in both eyes. It seems like he’s getting old really fast. Like, I feel like any minute I’m going to be pushing him in a wheelchair, with him beeping and booping because of his insulin monitor, wearing a pirate eye-patch. Then he says he’s horny in the same conversation. 

Sexy. 

No wonder he thought I looked so good when he visited me–he can’t see anything!

Oh my God, is this my life?

I mean, okay, I’ll reel it in a little. I love this man. I guess I just thought there would be more time between Middle Aged and Really Old.

Ugh.

This morning when I woke up and looked in my locker, Daisy had put a note on top of my coffee cup that said, “I put creamer in your cup.” That was so nice of her. I’m out of creamer.

Let’s Get Free Magazine Issue 12, July 2024, p. 31

Hungry and Malnourished: Food Service in the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections

On May 9, 2024, The Pennsylvania Prison Society released a 20-page report–

Excerpts:

“Food served in state prisons leaves incarcerated people hungry. Meals do not provide enough calories to meet incarcerated people’s needs, according to the Dietary Guidelines for Americans (DGAs), the nutritional benchmarks that guide U.S. government policy. In a new survey of people in Pennsylvania state prisons, 80% of men and 70% of women reported being hungry every day between meals.

Menus likely contribute to diet-related illnesses. They contain twice the recommended amount of starchy vegetables and refined carbohydrates and half the fruit and vegetable servings recommended by the DGAs, exacerbating disease risk for a population disproportionately affected by chronic illnesses. Hunger forces incarcerated people to buy expensive junk food from the prison commissary. Seventy percent of incarcerated people surveyed said they rely on commissary items, such as instant ramen, honey buns, and potato chips, to get enough to eat. 

www.prisonsociety.org/resource/food-report

P. 37

The Prison Policy Initiative along with the Alliance for Safety and Justice, Crime Survivors Speak released to the public–the first of its kind–a nationwide survey that showed 82% of crime victims would prefer investing in more programs for at-risk youth and other crime prevention. 

Only 14% of crime victims prefer investing in prisons and jails.”

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Hanky-Spanky, Broken Vaginas, and Revirginization

Women’s Center

December 15th, 2017

Friday

Day 165

11:30am

Now we’re having an anti-bullying meeting because Chantilly is bullying Elaine apparently (again). She seems to be hell-bent on having this abusive co-dependent relationship with Elaine where she tells her that nobody likes her so that she feels bad about herself so that she depends on her more, which is mean. Of course, it doesn’t work, because Elaine goes around being depressed and crying about how nobody likes her, and gets a lot of attention for it. Of course Chantilly just lies her way out of it because she is a compulsive liar.

Ugh.

At least it makes Pink feel better, who, ironically, is the person calling the meeting. A couple days ago she’s calling her lawyer to leave because Elaine farts near her, today she’s defending her against bullying. I don’t know whether that’s personal growth or bipolar disorder. I ate too much for lunch. Now we’re watching “28 Days” again.

December 16th, 2017

Day 160

Saturday

11am

Going to a meeting in Wellsboro with the gang. Nickolai is back! She’s not happy about it but I am. Haven’t heard about the job but I did hear from the Presbyterian Church about my grief group–they okay’d the first and third Wednesday nights at 8pm for my group. I’m going to start it January 17th so I can get the press release out and everything in time. I guess Nickolai finally told her Sugar Daddy about her pregnancy with another man–he didn’t care! Wow, I’m shocked and glad for her. At least she’ll have some options about places to stay if she gets out. I don’t get to see the kids this weekend. I have to get that court paperwork to Coudersport this week. My mother’s going to flip shit. 

Oh well.

Let her.

She started it. 

We’re going to be late to this meeting. Tex and Chantilly start work tomorrow. Tex says she’s going to act like she doesn’t know Chantilly. I read two AA stories in the back of the Big Book–I need to read more before I see my sponsor tomorrow. Hopefully it doesn’t snow so she comes. I can’t believe how loud Pink is. She is a good cook, though. And she writes good poetry–I’m going to transcribe some of it here, if she’ll let me. She made stuffed French toast this morning, it was good. Then we had to do Community Service at Mr. Big’s Church, then chores when we got back, now a meeting–what a Saturday.

Pink calls sex “hanky spanky.”  

Funny.

“Roxanne” is playing on the radio–Pink is head-banging to it. She’s so high-energy–good for entertainment value. Nickolai thinks she’s going to be at the Center until she has the baby. Pink has a toothache even though she has no teeth–phantom pain she says. 

Hm.

Let’s see what my Parenting book says.

1pm

Meeting was good. Tori says her pants are wet because one of the dudes there had giant feet and a tongue ring. 

Hm. My vagina is broken, I’m convinced. I think I’ve been re-virginized. I don’t even have sex DREAMS anymore. I still have dreams about doing drugs, but not sex. 

Hm.

Slammy says she’s going to get me a pair of winter boots, so that’ll be good. Classic rock on the radio–blech. The rest of the stations are Christmas music, which Tex hates, and she’s in charge of the radio. I only have to go to Crossroads on Thursdays now, so no more Tuesday group. I’m not at that “level of care” anymore, according to Mr. Big. He took yesterday off. Must be nice. I wish I could take four days off. I’m so sick of being at the Center. I’m considering asking for early release if I get this Senior Resident position. I have to try not to gain weight over the holidays, I’ve been doing good at least maintaining my weight lately and not gaining–155lbs. I ate too much candy yesterday–the Candy Man comes to meetings three times a week now. Tex just told Pink she’s going to punch her in the clit. That should be interesting. Pink is wearing stretchy pants with dream-catchers on them and Tex was making fun of her ass, saying that she was catching everybody’s dreams. It was funny.

Red got news that her probation officer wants her to stay at the Center for 4-5 months and then go to in-patient rehab after that, but she only has until February 2nd to “get her shit together” and get her kids back, or else she has to sign adoption papers. 

5pm

Now Tori, Nickolai, and I are watching some horrible movie where this 10-year old goes around killing people with a clown mask that’s based in the ‘70s. 

Gross.

Now he’s in a sanitarium. The mother still goes to see him. I don’t know what I would do if my child killed a bunch of people. The mother in this movie ends up killing herself.

God.

What a fucked up movie.

Nickolai just got a phone call from the State Police wanting to make good on her bench warrant, which she says she paid yesterday. Hopefully they can find a record of it.

Boy, this guy just keeps on killing people. I can’t handle this movie. I’m going to take a shower. 

I talked to the kids–all three at my parent’s house because they have my mother’s side of the family’s Christmas tomorrow. They were doing well–watching a movie and eating snacks like I should be doing with them. I’m so jealous. Henry said, “Mommy, I miss you when we don’t come to see you.” I told him I missed him too. I hope my parents are listening and that they don’t keep them from me when I get out of here, but I have a feeling they will.

8pm

Now we’re watching Fred Claus. It’s about Santa Claus’ bitter brother.

December 17, 2017

Day 167

Sunday

No visit today. I’m bitter today. And ridiculously tired. Good thing it’s Sunday and I can sleep. I have a head-cold. Sometimes I get so down here that it seems there’s nothing to look forward to. I can’t even call the kids because I know my mother won’t answer her cell phone. She said she would consider bringing the boys Wednesday, but she didn’t know. That probably means no.

December 18th, 2017

Day 168

Monday

1pm

I got a lot of rest yesterday, that was nice. Women’s Health group right now. Breast cancer–being a woman, growing older, having a close blood relative with breast cancer, having breast cancer in one breast already, bla bla bla.

Oh my goodness, the Women’s Health lady had a son that died this past summer (suicide), so I gave her a flier for my group. Poor woman. 

Group over.

Ha! Now we’re making up words–Red thought that Kegel exercises were pronounced Queegle, so they decided that Queegle means queefing when you’re doing your Kegels.

Funny.

5pm

Watching Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2–it’s funny. Joey got everybody personalized water bottles–mine has cats on it and Tori’s has poop on it! Funny!

Omg.

Elaine just called Pink the Wicked Witch of the West. She had to go to the doctor because we both went for the ball in volleyball the other day, and she ended up with a jammed finger. Now she has to wear a splint for a while.

6:30pm

Now Pink is crying and freaking out–saying Brystal is a totally different person when Kat is not around. Now she wants to talk to her kids and she’s bawling her face off. Oh boy, now Brystal, on of the Residential workers, heard her call her a fat fucking bitch and she’s writing her up and she can’t go to the meeting tonight. And she has to go to her room when she gets off the phone. Everything is fuck this and fuck that and she wants to go back to jail.

Dumb.

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Cinnamon, Blow Jobs, and CYS

Muncy State Prison

July 6, 2024

Saturday

I had a wonderful dream last night that I was back with Dubya and happy. 

Very happy.

Daisy has been very unhappy. She’s here for at least another year and her mother isn’t doing well. She’s very sick and vomiting every day and doesn’t know why. She has five of Daisy’s seven kids, and Daisy is worried. She’s trying to get her two youngest to go to the Milton Hershey School, but now they don’t want to go.

Good quote:

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.”

–R. Buckminster Fuller

INTERVIEW

“Cinnamon”

38yrs

White

Four children, ages 21, 18, 16, 12

Trauma? 

Yes–domestic violence as an adult, sexual abuse as an adult

Substance abuse?

Yes, cocaine–started in 2021 to cope with abuse

Arrested 1/2022 for attempted homicide, aggravated assault

What happened?

Cinnamon and her fiance had a store, fiance’s ex-girlfriend came over to hang out with his son. Ex-girlfriend ended up giving fiance oral sex. There was a fight, Cinnamon got a gun and shot ex-girlfriend, who lost a kidney, but survived.

Sentence?

6.5-13yrs, has been incarcerated for 2.5 years

On mental health meds, denies any mental illness

“If the incident didn’t happen, I would have overdosed or he would have killed me. He overdosed and died 10 months after my arrest.”

Is prison rehabilitative?

“I think I’ve changed a lot, I’m learning to cope with anger. In County I completed the TC (Therapeutic Community) Program. I never had rehab or trauma therapy. I don’t want to go back to doing drugs. Jail kind of saved me.”

What do you do for fun?

“I love to read, play cards. On the outside I’m always with my kids, hiking. I’m not the person they portrayed me as in the news. I have remorse. I’m a good person. I’m a soccer mom. The media said I was a menace to society and the court treated me like I was a monster.”

July 7th, 2024

Sunday

It is stiflingly hot and humid out. I’m glad for my $10 fan. I’m reading “A Grip of Time: When Prison is Your Life” by Lauren Kessler. Everyone here–or nearly everyone–is about to get their periods, and most seem miserable.

2:53pm

I talked to Paul. I’m so glad he’s my friend. Even when he’s depressed, he still cracks jokes and is very funny. And he cares about me. Sometimes I feel like there are very few people on this planet who actually care about me, but he’s one of them.

Earlier, CO Monster stopped by our cell and told us a lengthy story about how his 16-year old lifeguard son saved a 3-year old from drowning the other day. It was strange to be talked to by a CO like a regular person. When he left, Swiper said, “I think he likes you, Justine.”

Weird. 

July 10th, 2024

Wednesday

4:27pm

Daisy is losing her shit. Yesterday, Bambi and I got into a heated argument over who deserves welfare in this country, and Daisy got involved, and I thought she was going to come up off her bunk at Bambi. Bambi is a self-righteous, entitled asshole who stole almost $1 million from her work and knows nothing of being on welfare. She has no remorse for her crime and even stole from a second company while out on bail working for them.

Anyway, Daisy heard that some woman is putting money on her boyfriend’s books, and she also feels like she’s losing all contact with her children. This, combined with her mother’s failing health, is wearing on her something fierce, and she says she simultaneously feels helpless and wants to scream.
I can relate.

July 11th, 2024

Thursday

That reporter from Spotlight PA messaged me and wanted to know if she could use my name in her article. I told her she could. The article is about roasting in prison. It might be reckless to let her use my name, but I feel like it’s the brave thing to do. The prison might retaliate. 

We’ll see what happens.

July 12th, 2024

Friday


There’s an inspection here today, so there are even more rules than normal. No clotheslines hanging up, no smoking on the housing units, etc. I saw a couple of guys in suits when I went to Commissary. They must be sweltering. It’s got to be in the nineties outside. Daisy wants to make hooch since they’re supposed to be giving us plums, nectarines, and peaches this week. Sangria, she says. 

Hm. 

I’m not going to the Hole for that. They gave us green plums yesterday. 

Gross.

July 13th, 2024

Saturday

4:23pm

Daisy gave up on the idea of hooch, thank God. I dissuaded her. A bunch of people here, myself included, have a stomach virus. Diarrhea for everyone. 

Kill me.

Today I had to go to some wheelchair pushing certification class where we had to demonstrate that we knew how to do three things with the chair and that was it. We didn’t even have to push anyone in the chair. That and some stupid handout that told us to take ramps backwards, which is impossible here because the ramps are too steep. This after I’ve been pushing a wheelchair for four long months now. Some say we get a raise after the class, others say no. I don’t even know how much I get paid right now, I only know that it comes to $30/month. I’m guessing 20-some cents an hour.

My stomach hurts.

7pm

News–

Assassination attempt on former President Trump

July 16th, 2024

Tuesday 


Kimberly got paroled. She’ll get out at the end of November. I’m happy for her. I have court a week from today. I have to push Ms. Grumpy Crabass around all day today and tomorrow in 100 degree heat. 

Fun.

Swiper had gastric bypass surgery and two bowel obstructions in the past, plus cancer, and now all she eats is Ramen noodle soups with juice packets on them. She doesn’t even take her thyroid medication or vitamins and then wonders why she’s tired. Daisy and I tried to have an intervention for her yesterday, but she just doesn’t seem to care about her health.

In other news, a woman here named Justine recognized me from Quehanna. I didn’t recognize her, but she remembered all kinds of things about me, like I’m a writer and I have twins…then she asked me for a dead e-cigarette.

Ugh.

8pm

Justine is getting bullied because she’s overweight and walks slowly, apparently. I stood behind her in Med Line tonight, and I asked her how her day was, and she told me about it with tears in her eyes.

People are so mean here.

Swiper got an alert from Medical that her bloodwork shows that she has iron-deficiency anemia. I’m not surprised. In fact, I AM surprised that she’s not more sick and functions as well as she does with no nutrients in her body.

I wrote an appeal for Daisy’s case with CYS. She doesn’t want them in her mother’s home, because her mother is already under enough stress and all they do is cause more trouble and offer no help.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Homicide, Diarrhea, and Assassinations

Muncy State Prison

July 6, 2024

Saturday

I had a wonderful dream last night that I was back with Dubya and happy. 

Very happy.

Daisy has been very unhappy. She’s here for at least another year and her mother isn’t doing well. She’s very sick and vomiting every day and doesn’t know why. She has five of Daisy’s seven kids, and Daisy is worried. She’s trying to get her two youngest to go to the Milton Hershey School, but now they don’t want to go.

Good quote:

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.”

–R. Buckminster Fuller

INTERVIEW

“Cinnamon”

38yrs

White

Four children, ages 21, 18, 16, 12

Trauma? 

Yes–domestic violence as an adult, sexual abuse as an adult

Substance abuse?

Yes, cocaine–started in 2021 to cope with abuse

Arrested 1/2022 for attempted homicide, aggravated assault

What happened?

Cinnamon and her fiance had a store, fiance’s ex-girlfriend came over to hang out with his son. Ex-girlfriend ended up giving fiance oral sex. There was a fight, Cinnamon got a gun and shot ex-girlfriend, who lost a kidney, but survived.

Sentence?

6.5-13yrs, has been incarcerated for 2.5 years

On mental health meds, denies any mental illness

“If the incident didn’t happen, I would have overdosed or he would have killed me. He overdosed and died 10 months after my arrest.”

Is prison rehabilitative?

“I think I’ve changed a lot, I’m learning to cope with anger. In County I completed the TC (Therapeutic Community) Program. I never had rehab or trauma therapy. I don’t want to go back to doing drugs. Jail kind of saved me.”

What do you do for fun?

“I love to read, play cards. On the outside I’m always with my kids, hiking. I’m not the person they portrayed me as in the news. I have remorse. I’m a good person. I’m a soccer mom. The media said I was a menace to society and the court treated me like I was a monster.”

July 7th, 2024

Sunday

It is stiflingly hot and humid out. I’m glad for my $10 fan. I’m reading “A Grip of Time: When Prison is Your Life” by Lauren Kessler. Everyone here–or nearly everyone–is about to get their periods, and most seem miserable.

2:53pm

I talked to Paul. I’m so glad he’s my friend. Even when he’s depressed, he still cracks jokes and is very funny. And he cares about me. Sometimes I feel like there are very few people on this planet who actually care about me, but he’s one of them.

Earlier, CO Monster stopped by our cell and told us a lengthy story about how his 16-year old lifeguard son saved a 3-year old from drowning the other day. It was strange to be talked to by a CO like a regular person. When he left, Swiper said, “I think he likes you, Justine.”

Weird. 

July 10th, 2024

Wednesday

4:27pm

Daisy is losing her shit. Yesterday, Bambi and I got into a heated argument over who deserves welfare in this country, and Daisy got involved, and I thought she was going to come up off her bunk at Bambi. Bambi is a self-righteous, entitled asshole who stole almost $1 million from her work and knows nothing of being on welfare. She has no remorse for her crime and even stole from a second company while out on bail working for them.

Anyway, Daisy heard that some woman is putting money on her boyfriend’s books, and she also feels like she’s losing all contact with her children. This, combined with her mother’s failing health, is wearing on her something fierce, and she says she simultaneously feels helpless and wants to scream.
I can relate.

July 11th, 2024

Thursday

That reporter from Spotlight PA messaged me and wanted to know if she could use my name in her article. I told her she could. The article is about roasting in prison. It might be reckless to let her use my name, but I feel like it’s the brave thing to do. The prison might retaliate. 

We’ll see what happens.

July 12th, 2024

Friday


There’s an inspection here today, so there are even more rules than normal. No clotheslines hanging up, no smoking on the housing units, etc. I saw a couple of guys in suits when I went to Commissary. They must be sweltering. It’s got to be in the nineties outside. Daisy wants to make hooch since they’re supposed to be giving us plums, nectarines, and peaches this week. Sangria, she says. 

Hm. 

I’m not going to the Hole for that. They gave us green plums yesterday. 

Gross.

July 13th, 2024

Saturday

4:23pm

Daisy gave up on the idea of hooch, thank God. I dissuaded her. A bunch of people here, myself included, have a stomach virus. Diarrhea for everyone. 

Kill me.

Today I had to go to some wheelchair pushing certification class where we had to demonstrate that we knew how to do three things with the chair and that was it. We didn’t even have to push anyone in the chair. That and some stupid handout that told us to take ramps backwards, which is impossible here because the ramps are too steep. This after I’ve been pushing a wheelchair for four long months now. Some say we get a raise after the class, others say no. I don’t even know how much I get paid right now, I only know that it comes to $30/month. I’m guessing 20-some cents an hour.

My stomach hurts.

7pm

News–

Assassination attempt on former President Trump

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Thing 1, Thing 2, and Mr. Big

TWO MONTHS MISSING

(No date)

6pm

The Big Boss gave me the okay to apply for online classes, so that’s mildly exciting. I say mildly because there’s a serious downside–now I have to beg for money from everybody and their mother. I started the application for the WISP scholarship through A Way Out, which helps abused women. Brystal said she would be one of my “recommenders,” so that’s really helpful. It turns out she’s not so bad after all.

I’m watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory–the Johnny Depp version–it’s super weird. 

No word from Medplast–the place I applied to work. I have so many things hanging in the air that it’s making me a little stressed. Kat gave me a bunch of bras, so I’m handing them out–they’re brand new. Not fancy, but a bra’s a bra. Those bitches are expensive. So I made some people happy.

Group on spirituality:

  1. Experience the healing and empowerment of love–from others, self, and an ultimate source.
  2. Experience renewing times of transcendence–expansive moments beyond the immediate sensory spheres.
  3. Have vital beliefs that lend meaning and hope in the midst of losses, tragedies, and failures.
  4. Have values, priorities, and life commitments centered on issues of justice, integrity, and love to provide guidance in personally and socially responsible living. 
  5. Discover and develop inner wisdom, creativity, and love of self. 
  6. Develop a deepening awareness of oneness with other people, the natural world, and all living things.

Pink says she was a model. Huh. Now I’ve met a model. She’s popping her teeth in and out right now and saying that she’s gained weight so her teeth don’t fit right. Maybe she needs a pair of skinny teeth and fat teeth like jeans. 

Haha.

She looks like Thing 1 and Thing 2 right now because her pink hair is all crazy and sticking up all over. And I thought my hair was bad. She had cornrows in her hair and took them out, that’s why it’s a mess. Omg we have to stay here until 7:30pm–blech. Half an hour of nothing left. 

Pink is telling everyone now that if she gets written up, she’s leaving. How dumb. An escape charge versus a write-up? 

Duh.

I wish it was bedtime. We’re not going to a meeting again tonight because of the weather. The roads are untouched by snow, but no matter. The Weather Channel predicts inches, so that’s that. So no seeing Ken this week. He hasn’t written me either. I doubt he will. When he asked me if I thought my friends were right, and we were destined to be together, I told him I didn’t think I believed in destiny. I’m not quite sure how true that is. I mean, is the Women’s Center my destiny? And if it is, WHY??! The time is craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawling. 

7:12pm

There are four women crammed on one couch–Tori, Tex, Joey, and Pink, and they are talking about how the angelfish in the fish tank is  anorexic. He does seem to spit out half his food. Maybe there are fish eating disorders. This spirituality packet says about journaling: 

“Journaling is another, often overlooked, contemplative practice that can help you become more aware of your inner life and feel more connected to your experience and the world around you. Studies show that writing during difficult times may help you find meaning in life’s challenges and become more resilient in the face of obstacles.”

7:26pm

In the history of all of the galaxies, time has never moved so slowly.

December 13th, 2017

Wednesday

Day163

9am

Group on Refusal Skills. Repeat of last week’s group. 

Fun.

So Mr. Big yelled at me for going to the meetings at Harbor on Tuesdays. So, I go to Crossroads an hour early, go to group for two hours and then sit there for another hour while Tori is in her individual session. Well, instead of sitting there, I was going to a meeting at Harbor for the second hour. Well, I guess I’m not supposed to do that.

Huh.

So he talks down to me and assumes I’m lying and being devious somehow, when in reality, I thought that’s what I was supposed to be doing!

WTF!!

9pm

I felt terrible today–half-asleep for most of it. I didn’t even go out for a cigarette between 11am and 7pm, I just didn’t want to be cold. It’s about 20 degrees outside. Even the Candy Man asked at the meeting if I was sick. Mr. Big bothered me all day and chastised me for not being a role model. Fuck that. Somedays I just feel like crap! I can’t help it!

Whatever.

No one could ever live up to his standards anyway. At the meeting tonight Pink got yelled at for laughing by Annie, who is usually very light hearted and soft spoken. She fairly shrieked, “I take my recovery very seriously, and if you don’t, you can leave!” It was uncomfortable for everybody, especially because it was at the very beginning of the meeting. 

Oh well.

I don’t know about her. Kat was telling me that she was going to talk to Mr. Big about her attitude. She’s always shouting and swearing about something. Off to bed.

December 14th, 2017

Thursday

Day164

1pm

Just got back from the dentist. Tex is upset because somebody on the street saw her and called her “healthy,” which, she says, is just another way of saying, “Wow you’ve gained some weight!”

Wow, my mind just got blown. Maybe there is hope for Pink. Comes in like a fuckin’ hurricane and now I find out she writes poetry!

Awesome!

And she’s writing poetry about staying clean! 

Double awesome! 

I met with the Parenting Classes lady for the second time today. She gave me a book called, “The Incredible Years.”

Today was a good day. The people at the church finally called me back and said that I can use their room the first and third Wednesdays of every month for my grief support group, so that’s awesome news. I’m going to start it January 17th. The meeting was good–it’s my home group and the one Mr. Big attends. He didn’t come to work today because he has a man-cold, from what I gather, which, as  everybody knows, are about a thousand times worse than any other type of cold.
I can’t wait to read this new book the parenting lady gave me–it looks really good. I have some reading to do in the AA Big Book too, before Sunday.

I talked to the boys tonight–tried to call Tiger but no answer–and they told me about sledding and how much they missed me. It’s so painful to hear that some days that I just don’t feel up to calling them at all. It just hurts so much. I was talking to Red today, who also has twins, and she said that she would put a bullet in her head if her parents refused to give her twins back.

I know the feeling.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Tiny Turds, Jail Myths, and Meth

June 21st, 2024

Friday

3:54pm

I talked to Gem–she says my court date was rescheduled for 7/24.

Ugh.

Swiper did end up giving me a bag of coffee. Thank God for small favors. I wrote the boys a letter.

June 22nd, Saturday

Saturday

7:03pm

It freaking poured cats and dogs while I was pushing Ms. Moon to dinner, and then we had to wait in the hurricane at this tree, and then when we came out from dinner, the tree had fallen over! Meanwhile, this stupid CO was telling us to move further under the tree before we went to dinner! Fucking unbelievable.

Then we come out and the tree’s in the road.

Fuck.

Thank God no one was hurt.

June 23rd, 2024

Sunday

I’m now reading, “The Power of Positive Thinking,” by Norman Vincent Peale, and it says we should never think of the worst that can happen, only the best, and the best will happen.

I will do my best.

June 27th, 2024

Thursday

I found a Ms. magazine! (Summer 2024) And it has a story about mass incarceration in it! What are the odds?! Here are some excerpts:

“Roughly 191,000 women and girls are locked up in the U.S. today, making the country one of the top incarcerators of women globally. In March [2024], the Prison Policy Initiative released a report detailing where and why these women and girls have found themselves in custody.

  • 53% of the 77,000 women in state prison were convicted of nonviolent drug, property, or public order crimes. 
  • 45% of the roughly 7,000 girls confined in the U.S. are being held bu the immigration system.
  • 61% of the 84,000 women held in local jails and 31% of the 16,000 women in federal prison have not yet been convicted of a crime.”

June 28th, 2024

Friday

Welp, the presidential debate was dismal. Trump lied a lot and Biden mumbled a lot.

Predictable.

I’m reading Neale Donald Walsch’s Conversations with God Book I again. It says you should thank God in advance for stuff you want to happen, as if you are already experiencing it. Like, if you want money, thank God for all of the money that you have, even if you don’t have any, and it will come to you.

Okay. I can do that.

It also says that you attract what you fear the most.

Hm.

June 30th, 2024

Sunday

7:12pm

The BET Awards are on. I’m having trouble caring about anything lately. I talked to the boys. They went on a bike ride on some trails in New York today. They sound happy. I dumped hot garbage on my foot today. I hate it here. I’m having trouble assigning any meaning or purpose to my life. It’s all struggle.

So much suffering.

Why?

For what?

July 4th, 2024

Thursday

Independence Day

There’s a new woman here we’ve named Methany Methica who goes to a Methodist church and methes around a lot. She seems to dance or bounce everywhere and is always happy. Strange, in a place like this.

July 5th, 2024

BLOG #6

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

Welp, I was looking in some magazines for some blog ideas, but all I found was some lady wearing sunny-side-up eggs over her nipples in a Cosmo, so I’ll stick to what’s going on around the Block.

A while ago, back when CO Dick ‘Em Down was here, he caught some women huddled in the corner over by the kiosk and screamed, “Get OUT of there!” One of the women yelled back, “There’s a bookshelf! There’s a bookshelf back here!” So he yelled in return, “GET OUT OF THERE! YOU WERE NOT BOOKSHELFING!!”

Later, Ree, for reasons unknown, shrieked, “Fuck this fucking shit!” to which CO Dick ‘Em Down responded, “Hey!”

“What?” Ree said innocently.

“I don’t know, but it sounded violent!” he spluttered.

Ree retorted, “What? Me? I’m not violent! I don’t even know why I’m here!”

Funny. 

And she’s here for snatching an old lady’s purse.

In other news, Daisy’s son Dan (the litter box pooper) apparently pooped this time in her mom’s driveway. His excuse was that, “It was just coming out!” and that there was no time for a toilet. 

Dan is seven.

Next, in case you didn’t know, here are some popular jail myths:

  1. If someone puts cookies or candy on your pillow, you’re their bitch.
  2. If you don’t finish a book, you’re coming back.
  3. If you get the heel of the bread on your tray, you’re going home.
  4. If you walk around the Yard three times with someone, you’re together.
  5. If a guard drops their keys in front of you, you’re going home.
  6. If you still have toenail polish on when you leave, you’re coming back.

Another popular question around here for no reason is, “Would you rather have ice cream flavored shit or shit flavored ice cream?

And yet another discussion was a request by Kimberly to describe our sex lives in a movie title. Popular responses were:

  1. Sex in the City
  2. Superbad
  3. Gone in 60 seconds
  4. Too Fast, Too Furious

In other Kimberly news, she has one dread, who we’ve named Dreadrick. He just hangs around. She also has a stray hair that has removed itself from her hairline. His name is Harry and he’s British. He’s just a wee lad.

In even more Kimberly news, here’s some Kimberly quotes:

  1. “Hi, it’s me. Your conscience. I know we haven’t spoken in a while.”
  2. “Opinions are like orgasms. Only mine matters.”
  3. “WoooooOOOOOOW!!”

Also, my birthday was on June 10th, and the ladies here made me a whole cheesecake, complete with “Happy Birthday” written on it in melted chocolate, AND sang to me, AND made me a card. 

Best. Jail Birthday. Ever.

And for the grand finale, Morocco dragged Kimberly into the bathroom to show her her turd because it was so tiny and cute.

WoooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

Categories
Life Uncategorized

The Terminator, Avril Levigne, and Shih-tzus

Women’s Center

October 3rd, 2017

Day 91

Tuesday

Song: 

“There’s hope that’s waiting for you in the dark, 

You should know you’re beautiful just the way you are.”

8am

On my way to court. Mr. Big said I looked like the Terminator this morning after he asked me why I was dressed up. Hopefully I’ll have strength in this hearing. When I lose my faith in myself, I do badly in court. Crash, a couple other women, and I prayed this morning that it would go well.

11:30am

Crash left today. She gave me her number so I can keep in touch. The judge decided Lilly can come for two hours every other weekend. Well, the first, third, and 5th weekends of the month. On Sunday. I can’t believe that Dubya would rather pay and attorney $200/hr to figure these things out than speak with me like a reasonable human being.

Gawd.

Avril Levigne is screeching, “Why do you have to make things so complicated,” on the radio.

That’s how I feel.

October 5th, 2017

Day 93

Thursday

10am

This day is so boring. Chantilly, Tex, and I are sitting in the lounge working on “goals.” I’m plucking my eyebrows, Chantilly is scrapbooking, and Tex is cracking jokes. I’m beginning to really like her. She has a two-year old, and she’s a really good mom. We were helping Mr. Bob the Builder, the maintenance man, clean out his shed the other day for Community Service, and she’s super funny. She’s like a citi-fied version of a country girl. She’s so funny–she’s sort of comfortable in any situation–when getting in the truck, she used my leg as an anchor to hoist herself up, without even asking. It’s the kind of weird thing people do that creates a camaraderie between them.

“Do stuff. Be clenched, curious. Not waiting for inspiration’s shove of society’s kiss on your forehead.”

–Susan Sontag

“The reason for living is to get ready to stay dead for a long time.”

–American Horror Story

3pm

On my way back from individual “therapy” at Crossroads, the drug and alcohol place. It’s not so much therapy as it is some guy asking me random questions about my life. Maybe he’s trying to get to know me. Anywho, let’s see what my grief book has to say today:

“…one of the enduring changes that parents find in themselves is a sense that the purity and luster of life have been tarnished.”

October 9th, 2017

Day 97

Indigenous People’s Day

Monday

I haven’t felt like writing much. Been depressed. I had a new driver today who took me all the way to Smethport and back only to find out that I didn’t have an appointment. I told them that at the Center when the driver showed up, but no bother.

I got to walk around Smethport a bit in the rain and pretend I was a normal person. It was nice. Then on the way back I asked the new driver if he believed in God, which is a new habit of mine. It makes for good conversation anyway, and I’m interested in other people’s experiences with God, spirituality, and religion. He was a believer, and spoke to me for a while about how he was faithful and went to church. Then we talked about me for a bit, and why I was in the Women’s Center, and what happened to me in the first place that I started doing drugs at all. He told me that when I had walked up to the van, he had thought to himself, “She’s young and beautiful. Why is she in a place like this?” 

I’m not sure why youth and good looks would except someone from drug addiction or brushes with the law, but that’s another story, I guess. He told me I needed to start small and build a new life. He was nice.

I have some weird bump on my toe. It doesn’t hurt, but I wonder what it is. Maybe I’m just getting old and lumpy. It reminds me of Big John, who had a bump on his finger that he lovingly referred to as his “bimp” if anybody asked about it. It was funny. “Oh, that’s my bimp!” He would say, as if a bimp is a thing everybody had. 

Another funny thing–at the meeting tonight, someone was talking about having “drunk dreams,” and wanted advice. Some people could relate, and when one person started talking about it, she mistakenly said “wet dreams” instead of “drunk dreams.” It was really funny because she didn’t catch it for a minute, and when she did, we all laughed uproariously.

October 10th, 2017

Tuesday

Day 98

On my way to Pittsburgh to meet with a new rheumatologist. They’ll probably just give me a PA and do a bunch of bloodwork. My driver is chatty, but I don’t feel like talking today. Just not in the mood. I miss Pittsburgh something fierce. I never had to worry about not having a job, never worried about money, always had a car and a place of my own…life was good.

I found a daily Bible reading in my purse, so we’ll see what that has to say for today: “We need to keep our focus on Jesus and His Word, or we will slip off the narrow way and fall onto to broad way.”

I was talking to Fred the Driver the other day about that woman who came and prayed for my teeth not to hurt at the dentist’s office, and his response was, “Maybe she’s an angel.”

Nice.

Welp, had my appointment. They’re going to start me on Plaquenil again. That should help with the pain. I can’t believe how much I miss Pittsburgh. I feel a profound sense of sadness now that we’re leaving. I spent the best years of my life here. I wish so badly that I had never left.

Anyway, I’d better stop wallowing–it’ll just make my depression worse. Maybe I’’ll go back to Pittsburgh. It always seemed full of possibilities, and it still feels that way. We’ll see. Seems like I’d need a car first. 

Tori and I started working out yesterday. I always feel like one of those memes that says, “What you think you look like when you work out” –and has this gorgeous skinny woman running gracefully through a meadow with perfect hair and makeup, and then there’s “what you really look like when you work out,” and there’s a fat, dumpy lady in a sweaty T-shirt with her hair a mess and makeup running down her face…Yeah, I’m that one for sure.

My next appointment is on Big John’s birthday, which is 1/23. He was born in 1945, so when people would ask his birthday, he would shout, “12345!” and then see how long it took them to catch on. 

Yay! This driver bought me Sheetz food! I haven’t had a veggie wrap in months!

Well, I better ask this guy if he believes in God. Nothing else to talk about. Yes, believes in God. No, doesn’t go to church. Yes to Heaven, no to Hell. His wife is Jewish. Wants religion to be more accepting. He thinks Jesus Christ would be appalled at Christianity in America today. “Religion aside, I think you’re either a nice person or you’re not,” he says. He thinks missionary work is odd. He misses the connection of church but can’t find one he connects with.

He adopted both of his kids from Guatemala! Cool!

There was a shooting in Coudersport a couple of weeks ago. Guy shot his girlfriend and then shot himself. 

Horrible.

It smells like Fall. It’s wonderful. I wonder if there’s a connection between Asperger’s and Tourette’s Syndrome. The driver is saying, “You don’t appreciate how much attention and love kids need…to feel important, how totally critical that is.”

He’s got that one right.

There isn’t enough love in the world.

October 11th, 2017

Day 99

Wednesday

I used to hate Wednesdays because Ethan died on a Wednesday. Now they’re just kind of noteworthy. I’m on my way to a two-hour group at Crossroads in Wellsboro. I promised myself I wouldn’t write much about individual people at the Center, because the last time I did that, they got really pissed at me, but this one woman is acting like a fucking child and it’s really starting to piss me off. It takes a lot for other people’s attitudes to affect me directly, and hers has started to, which makes me mad. Her name is Barista, and she got written up the other day for calling a staff member “fucking ridiculous,” which I think is fucking ridiculous behavior for a 30-year old woman, but whatever, I don’t make the rules. She just bitches CONSTANTLY!! I just want to tell her to shut the fuck up and grow up, but instead I brought it up during the “Cares and Concerns” portion of our morning Communnity group in an effort to be diplomatic. We’ll see how that goes.

Ha! This guy that’s driving me says that he bred Lhasa-apso’s together with Shih-tzu’s and called them Lossashits! 

Funny.

Well, we’re almost there, I guess. This guy’s daughter wants to be a vet tech. Hope she makes it.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Letters From Tabby

Muncy State Prison

June 15th, 2024

Saturday

6:32am

Nikolai is here. I saw her in the Chow Hall.

June 17th, 2024

Monday

5pm

Court was cancelled.

June 18th, 2024

Tuesday

It is 100 degrees outside. 

Dismal.

Swiper, the new-ish roommate who is known for being a thief (and that’s why she’s here) got into a fight with Daisy, Cinnamon, and Morocco about some e-cigarettes.
Predictable.

Every cell she’s been in has accused her of stealing. I don’t have a lock for my locker and she already owes me a bag of coffee. 

Ugh. 

Now this room is tense and awkward like it was when Burgundy was here.

June 19th, 2024

Wednesday

Juneteenth

3pm

Tabby wrote me:

Justine, 

This stationery was given to me by my grandmother decades ago. She and I would exchange letters from the time I could read and write. She lived in Montana and I lived (still do) in western Washington. In those days calling long-distance was not an option as it was far too costly. I adored my grandma and she adored me. I was in my 50’s when she died-so lucky, so very lucky. I think about her all the time, especially when I bake bread, as she taught me how when I was about 12 years old. For years I would call her (as an adult I could bear the expense) every time I baked bread.

Anyway, this stationery is so very precious to me so I use it very judiciously. When it is gone–that’s it. She can never replace it for me.

I tell you all of this to let you know how much I think of you–I believe in you–you matter to me.

I was pleased to get your letter even as I realized how deeply unhappy and defeated you are feeling. I can well understand that. Vent to me as much as you need to do so. You need an outlet and venting in a letter is one effective way to provide yourself that outlet. It is not the only way, of course. But it is safe–it will not get you into trouble. It is not self-sabotaging. Hard as I believe it is, you must do everything possible to avoid anything that ends in trouble for you and therefore makes your time even harder. Easy for me to say, I know–but things are hard enough as they are. Anyway, enough of that–I did not write you with the intention of lecturing you. 

In terms of how expensive everything is in prison and how little they actually provide–I already did know that all of this is substandard and inhumane. And there is not a uniform practice either. Some places do a little better, some a little worse, and all of them not nearly good enough. I will do my best to help you from time to time. I am retired and on a fixed income. I am not poor–but I do have to be careful. Fortunately, I don’t have fancy or expensive taste, and since I don’t work, I live on perpetual vacation! That is good enough for me. 

I will help as I am able and am happy to do whatever I can. Naturally, I wish I could do more–a lot more–but I will do what I can.

May 11, 2024

I start most mornings at my sister’s house. She has Stage IV terminal cancer and is currently enrolled in a Stage 1 clinical trial. She is 10.5 months older than I am and has been “my person” since I was born. I am terrified of losing her. Folks tell you to “prepare” yourself. How on Earth can a person even do that??? They can’t. It is hard to describe how in limbo we all live–never knowing what is coming at her and if we can help her survive it. She has already significantly lived beyond the average prognosis and expectancy for her very rare and aggressive type of cancer, which means that we all entered the land of the unknown about a year ago. It has not been smooth sailing by any means either. Last year at this time she was actively dying. How we managed to save her is a long and complicated story–but it was her husband, best friend, and me who figured it out! Fred Hutchinson Cancer Center with world renowned oncologists and WE had to figure it out! Can you believe that? I am often caught up into a lot of caregiving and appointments–and sometimes that results in my very limited availability. If I ever seem unresponsive, that will be why. There are weeks when it is all hands on deck 24/7. It is usually very unpredictable as to when that may happen too.

So now you know something about my life. Also, my mother died 11/8/22. It was about one month after my sister’s cancer was determined terminal. If there was anything good in all of this it is that my mother didn’t have to watch my sister’s illness and live with the fear of losing her eldest child. They were very close. My was wonderful to all of us–I have a younger brother as well–but she and my sister were particularly close. I am forever saddened that my sister is going through this without my mother’s love and support even as we are all relieved that she does not have to go through any of this. But the loss for us? It is immeasurable and always present.

May 17, 2024

Well I no sooner finished the above when we entered an all hands on deck situation. My sister developed uncontrollable nausea and a full body rash from her clinical trial meds. Phase I trials are brutal as they are the first introduction to patients and are designed to measure toxicity. They are determining if humans can tolerate the medication and if so, can they tolerate a therapeutic amount.

Truly guinea pig territory. But as of right now there are no other effective options. She and I spent the day at Fred Hutch trying to get her comfortable. It is demoralizing. 

In any event your letter (2nd letter!) was in my mailbox when I got home at 5:30pm today. Truly a happy surprise, but now you are one letter ahead of me–so this long-ass letter will just have to count as two letters!

I enjoyed reading your blog stories. I had just come to the conclusion that I would have liked more stories about your experiences and life in prison when I got your remark that Motorcycle told you the same thing! It made me think that, given we were both thinking the same thing, that perhaps we were on the right track. Again, I would also encourage you to resume your interviews. Of all the things you have written, I find the women’s stories to be the most compelling and interesting. Your own story is compelling and interesting–enough that you wrote TWO books. 

6/2/24

I am going to have to just get this into the mail or you are never going to get it. As of today my sister is home and I am with her. They have reduced her dosage and did finally get that burning rash under control. It has been so miserable. I am hoping that things stay a bit calm for a while. There was more I wanted to write about but that will have to be saved for the next letter. You had mentioned that you would try to call me at some point and I hope you were able to get that arranged. Please call anything as I would like to talk to you. I am eager to get an update on your legal issues too. I could talk to Motorcycle but I really much prefer to get information directly from you. So please call or write again and let me know how things are. I will try to be a better correspondent in the future. I know I have been disappointingly terrible.

XOXO

Tabby