Category: Life

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Joshua’s, Tigers, and Bears, Oh My

Women’s Center

September 30th, 2017

Saturday

Day 88

2am

I hate not being able to sleep! I guess we’re going to some sort of picnic tomorrow because Mr. Big asked (well, told) Tori and I to “make a dish.” As in a dish to pass, apparently. I hope we have the stuff to at least make a macaroni salad or something. This was unplanned. My mind just won’t shut off and I know it’s because what happened to Crash’s son triggered me. He hit his head bad in a football game. Had to be carried off the field.

My stupid mind. 

Crash’s son’s name is Joshua, so I looked up an inspirational quote from Joshua in the Bible and gave it to Crash. Of course she is still up too. I hope my children weren’t traumatized by seeing him get hurt. 

Is that selfish of me?

I have to write Tiger a letter.

And finish my letter to Bear (as in Momma Bear), who left for a while to go to rehab, but is coming back after that.

Okay, so I wrote Momma Bear a letter and I still can’t sleep! This is crazy! I guess it’s time to write Tiger a letter. It’s hard to write to a seven year old. Especially hard not to make it all “I love you”’s and “I miss you”’s.

12pm

I finally fell asleep last night. Crash’s son was up and walking finally this morning, so that’s wonderful news. We’re on our way to an AA picnic–it’s about 50 degrees outside. I can’t wait to see the kids tomorrow–I hope to God that Dubya lets Tiger come. I have candy for the kids and a letter for Tiger. I finished my letter to Momma Bear too.

September 30th, 2017


Hey Tiger, 

I can’t wait to see you Sunday, I hope you are coming. I made sure to get a bunch of candy for you guys. I heard at the football game tonight that one of the boys got hurt pretty badly. His Mom is at the Women’s Center with me. His name is Joshua–we all prayed for him. I’m sure they’ll take very good care of him at the hospital.

Anyway, I dyed my hair tonight and it turned bright yellow! It’s kind of a crazy color–wait till you see it.

So how is school going? And how is soccer? Do you like it? I can’t believe it’s almost October already! I wonder what the boys will be for Halloween. Anyway, more news on Joshua–they called and told his Mom this morning that he was up and walking, so that’s wonderful news.

We get to go to a picnic today. It’s kind of cold for a picnic, but it will be nice to get out anyway. On October 3rd, Daddy and I are going back to court and I’m going to ask the judge if you can come visit me every weekend.

Well, I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, and I hope you are doing well! I love you to the moon and back!

Love, 

Mommy

P.s. Always remember that I am proud of you every day, no matter what.

Lets see what my grief book has to say today. 

“Couples need to be reminded that a license to marry isn’t a certificate in mind reading.”

Interesting.

We’re here.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

For Tiger’s Birthday

December 28th, 2025

Sunday

Tiger’s birthday

3:07pm

I called Dubya, and asked him to wish Tiger a Happy Birthday for me. He hadn’t checked his email yet, so she hasn’t seen the letter.

I am extraordinarily sad that it’s her 16th birthday and I can’t be there with her to celebrate it. The pain sears my heart like an iron reddened by fire. First blood, but then, pushed deep, cauterizes it to an everlasting blackened scar. There is smoke, and the smell of cooking meat as it settles into my beating heart: the fact that my only daughter doesn’t want me. 

A searing, breathtakingly awful pain comes, and stays with me, until maybe one day the wound might fade some and the scar might lighten, and not be so fresh and excruciating like it is now. 

She has turned her back on me, a steadfast turn, and is anchored in her position, standing strong like a warrior, surveying the wreckage of the bloodied battlefield after the warfare.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

The End Of An Era

Muncy State Prison

June 10th, 2024

Monday

Happy birthday to me and being 43. I went to Psych and they’re putting me on 10mg of Prozac and 20mg of Abilify. Wip-de-do. Now I’m depressed and sleeping forever. 

Fun. My mother never heard anything from the lawyer. I guess I’m stuck with the Public Defender. After all that.

The ladies here made me a card for my birthday and it was yellow with flowers cut out of a magazine on it. Very thoughtful. The cake was a cheesecake with chocolate. Very good and yummy. And tater tots made out of potato chips. I’ve lost 15lbs since March 2024. The ladies signed the car in their fake names that either I gave them or they gave themselves.

Aw.

June 11th, 2024

Tuesday

4pm

Gem sent me a birthday card. I went to see some mental health lady named Ms. Talon, who asked me if there was anything she could do for me from a mental health standpoint. I don’t even know why she’s there. I said no and left. I did tell her that they took me off Wellbutrin because I have a substance abuse history, and she said, stupidly, “Well, they watch you take your meds, so why wouldn’t they let you have Wellbutrin?” as if she actually wanted an answer from me. Like–I don’t know, lady, you’re the one that works here! Why don’t you fucking tell me?!

UGH.

June 13th, 2024

Thursday

5:48pm

I have felt absolutely awful since they stopped my Wellbutrin. We were locked down today and I barely noticed because I was sleeping all day. I feel like my brain is working in slow motion. Every time I talk to Motorcycle, he tells me about something new he bought, while saying at the same time that he is broke. He also said he’s never missed anyone like he misses me and that he thinks we are now “a part of each other.” Sweet, but seems to ring kind of hollow as of late. That’s probably just because of my attitude, though.

June 14th, 2024

Friday

11:23am

I kind of hate the new roommate, Swiper. She’s a leech. I can’t even eat something without her asking for some. Plus coffee, plus cigarettes, etc., etc., etc. I barely have enough money to support myself, miss. I can’t possibly support you too. She says she’ll pay me back the coffee and the e-cig I loaned her. We’ll see.

In other news, I have court on Monday. I hope they drop at least one set of the charges. I mean, it should be probation. They’re misdemeanor charges. I’m so sick of this shit. It never seems to end. 

1pm

I talked to my mother. She says the lawyer has no predictions about what is going to happen on Monday. I feel like I’m going to cry. He said Potter County is one of the worst places in the country to have mental health and addiction issues.

No fucking kidding.

My mother wanted to know if Motorcycle had any insight into what happened that Friday before the incidents with the police. He said I went to see the kids, but I was extremely sad afterward. He took me to my apartment, I wanted to be alone and take a shower and whatever. I showed up a couple of hours later talking about the end of the world and God and shit. Then I got into a fight with the cops and my world did end. 

Now I’m here.

The Public Defender, Mr. Dick, told my mother that it was nice to meet her and see that she didn’t have horns. He told her I hated her, and hated him too, for that matter.

Jesus Christ.

I guess I’ll write my mother a letter thanking her for trying.

Mom,

I appreciate you talking to Mr. Dick and emailing the District Attorney and trying to get a lawyer for me. I am so very sick of this. I seems neverending. I’ve been doing this in and out of jail thing for almost 10 years now, and I’m very tired.

I talked to Motorcycle, and he, too, said that I seemed fine after seeing the boys that Friday, and I asked him to take me to my apartment. Well, I wasn’t fine–I was crying–but I wasn’t delusional. Then, a couple of hours later I came to his house talking about the world ending and wanting to go get the boys. He said no, and that he wasn’t going to be the reason I went back to prison. I don’t know how long this went on, but he was very confused and didn’t know what to do. 

He says he would be happy to testify on my behalf if this case goes to trial. He’s known me for almost four years, and knows that this was very out of character for me and that I don’t use drugs. He didn’t see me with cold medicine, and was unaware that I had taken anything.

I don’t know whether to take this case to trial or take a plea deal. I I take a plea deal, it’s more charges on my record and then I’ll get a hit from parole, and I don’t know how much time that will be. If I take it to trial and get found guilty, then the judge will sentence me. I don’t know what my OGS score is or what the sentencing guidelines are for these charges. I have to talk to Mr. Dick about that and see what he thinks. In a perfect world, I would take it to trial, because I can’t see a jury convicting me when I was clearly insane at the time of the crime. I don’t know how much I trust Mr. Dick to represent me, though, and I don’t know if I have that much faith in a jury full of people from Coudersport.

I don’t hate you. 

I don’t understand you. I don’t understand a mother working so hard to keep her daughter’s children from her for 10-plus years when they clearly love each other and have a strong bond to each other. 

I know I have addiction problems, and I know I have mental health problems, but you want to know what studies show helps those both the most?

Family support.

And family support and contact with her children is also the number one recidivism reducer for women in jail/prison.

That, and a stable place to live and meaningful work. I haven’t had a stable place to live since Pittsburgh. I tried to work. I gave up on being a vet tech, which was very hard for me, and became a writer, with no help for anyone.

I tried.

I am trying. 

I keep picking myself up off the pavement with no help or support from any of you, most of the time with you actively working against me. 

I’m glad that you are helping now, but I have no idea why, or if it’s something you’re going to use against me in the future. You’ve used my mental health problems against me as a weapon for 10 years now, ever since I told you, in confidence, trusting you, about being bipolar when I was in Clarion Psych.

You went straight to Dr. Religious and had her recommend taking my kids away, no questions asked. Not, “What can we do to help you?” but, “How can we use this against you?” 

So, no, I’ll never understand you. If it were my daughter, I would have bent over backwards to help. That’s what heals people. Caring about them. Not hatred and judgment. That makes it worse.

I feel like this entire thing could have been prevented had you let me see the boys more when I asked. But somehow you don’t think that this is hard for me. Not being able to be around my children has been the worst punishment I’ve been given. Not rehabs, jail, or prisons. Not being given the opportunity to raise my own children. 

It’s tantamount to torture. 

Every minute of every day, I miss them and I grieve for them. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. I have to go on living my life as if I don’t have any kids at all. 

Five children and nothing to show for it.

It’s no wonder my brain cracked in half. This is the worst possible thing you could do to a mother. I’ve interviewed over 50 women in prison, and they all say separation from their children is the worst part of prison. But then, most of them get their kids back from  family members when they get out.

But not me.

Of all the women I’ve spoken to, I’m the only one whose own mother took her kids away. 

On purpose.

Forever.

With no intention of ever giving them back.

It still blows my mind.

So, while I am very grateful for any help that you are willing to give me, I can’t help but wonder what your ulterior motives are. I can only hope that you’ve had a change of heart and are actually being nice to me

So, for what it’s worth, thank you.

Justine

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Heaven, Prayers, and Hair Dye

September 20th, 2017

Wednesday

Day 78

We’re supposed to be getting somewhere between three and five new women by the end of the week. Fun. Mr. Big still hasn’t approved my press release, and this fucking group starts in 10 days. I’ve decided to start reading, “Heaven is for Real.” It’s a description is, “A Little Boy’s Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back.” Hm. 

Quote from Jesus of Nazareth at the beginning: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven.”

5pm

I think it’s so funny that Tori has this sign  on her door that says, “REMAIN CLAM” in big block letters. The reason for this is that the word “Calm” is misspelled on the escape plans that are screwed in to our walls. Super funny.

Watching Grey’s Anatomy with the bitches. Got two new ones today–one oldie, actually, like me–returned, and a newbie, Squish and Tex. Tex is pretty rough and tough. Pretty citi-fied, I guess. At a meeting now–Tex took her shoes off and ooched and ouched the entire walk here. She’s funny. She said she sat on her ass the whole time that she was in jail, and so the walk ( ¼ mile) here was a workout for her. It was funny, she was like, “I have backsweat for real.”  “I have boob and kneecap sweat now!” a couple minutes later.

Grief Book–Harriet S. Schiff

“The fear of the unknown is behind us…because we have already taken a long look at hell.” 

September 23rd, 2017

Saturday

Day 81

8pm

Galeton meeting. 

“Humility isn’t thinking less of yourself, it’s thinking of yourself less.” 

–C.S. Lewis

Tori is having a bad day. She got talked to about not showering enough apparently. I complained about my grief group not getting off the ground.

Acceptance prayer:

“Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God’s world by mistake.”

September 25th, 2017

Monday

Day 83

8:30am

I got to visit with all three kids yesterday. Tiger made me a bracelet and they played with the cushions and made forts and jumped around until Superman bumped his head. They’re at the ages where I’m a little bit (selfishly) grateful when they get minor injuries because then I get to hold them for a couple of minutes without them squirming away. I’m missing so much. My Dad gave me pictures of the boys’ first day of school and Tiger’s school picture. First one I’ve gotten. First pictures I’ve gotten in over a year from them.

I’m off to therapy–riding with Mr. Silent. He’s the twin who never speaks. That’s okay. I don’t feel like talking either. I’m sad today. I finished the book, “Heaven Is For Real.” It’s pretty good. Short read. It’s about a little boy who has to have emergency surgery for appendicitis and takes a trip to Heaven while he’s under anesthesia. Interesting. He describes the angels singing to him and Jesus’ face–turns out he has blue/green eyes and not brown, like I thought.

11am

Therapizing over. Maybe I can get this guy to talk. Let’s see. 

No go. 

Remember high school dances? Why don’t we do that anymore? Like, as adults? People love zumba classes and stuff–why don’t people just get together and dance? I need to know. 

Grief book:

“Depression is thought to be related to feelings of psychological helplessness.”

September 26th, 2017

Tuesday

Day 84

Grief book:

“Life is forever a wiser, more knowing life.”

“Having landed on their feet after being thrown to the ground gives parents a sense of power. They see in the mirror a person who is a survivor.”

“Reasoning that no one or nothing in this world could hurt them more than they have already been hurt, numerous parents say they have become more willing to try things they have previously been afraid to do.”

8pm

What a day! This is my second trip to Coudersport today, the first was for shopping for groceries for the Center and this trip is for a meeting. This one guy is celebrating 40 years of sobriety tonight! 

–”AA didn’t only help me quit drinking, it helped me deal with life.”

“I’ve learned that today, picking up [a drink] would be like picking up a gun and holding it to my head.”

Experience. Strength. Hope.

Chantilly voluntarily signed over her parental rights to her two children yesterday so they can get adopted out. She’s having a really hard time with it. It’s basically been a two-year long streetfight in court for her. Poor girl.

Not that I think she was a fantastic mother or anything. Tonight when I was on the phone with the boys (Dubya didn’t answer so I could talk to Tiger), Superman was running around with the phone, and he yelled, “Mommy, are you bumpin’?!” It was really funny. Like I was inside the phone. I can’t believe I have another seven months of this. The pain of missing my kids is so great that sometimes I fear it will rip me in half. 

September 27th, 2017

Wednesday

Day 85

So…funny thing happened to me today…I went to the dentist and got two teeth pulled and afterward I was sitting outside waiting for my ride when this lady asked me what I was there for. I told her I had just had two teeth pulled and then she asked me if she could pray for me. I don’t mind people praying for me, so I said okay. She put her hand on my shoulder and said a long prayer asking God to take away my pain. Then she gave me twenty dollars!

SO weird.
Even weirder is that I’ve barely had ANY pain from these teeth. I’m a little sore, but that’s it.

Huh!

September 29th, 2017

Friday

Day 87

So I went to therapy at Crossroads–they just asked me a bunch of questions. Let’s see what my grief book has to say to me today: 

“The first year has to be what hell is like.”

–Min

6pm Group

She Recovers:

  1. When she is encouraged to choose her own recovery path.
  2. When she creates a vision for how she wants her life to be.
  3. When she takes small and steady steps towards her vision.
  4. When she makes peace with her past.
  5. When she finally understands that self-care is the secret to her recovery.

I got hair dye with the money that the praying dentist lady gave me. Self care. Tonight is a hard night here. Crash’s son got hit too hard at the football game (that all three of my kids were at), and had to be carried off the field because he had no feeling in his arms or legs. I prayed and prayed for him and all of his family.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Ice Cream, Post Malone, and Prison Birthdays

Muncy State Prison

June 1st, 2024

Saturday

11am

My birthday is in nine days. Penises seem to be the theme here whenever it’s anybody’s birthday, so I can look forward to that.

Daisy put in a Sick Call on Tuesday for recurrent ear infections, and she wasn’t seen this week. She says her ears hurt really bad. I feel bad for her.

I wrote Motorcycle, Paul, and Gem. I hope Paul can put some money on my account before tomorrow or I won’t have coffee, e-cigarettes, phone or kiosk time, etc.

Ugh.

Motorcycle says he can put money on my account on Monday, because that’s when he gets paid. Gem, of course, says that everybody–including her–already got paid.

Ugh.

I can’t do anything about it. I’m reading “The New Jim Crow” again by Michelle Alexander, and I just got “Killing the Black Body,” which is about how reproduction in Black women is discouraged and criminalized in the U.S. Half of the introduction is missing, though. Most of the books in the Muncy library are in really bad shape and are missing pages.

In other news, I think I’m going to Yard today for the first time, because Bambi offered me some ice cream. For ice cream, I’ll go. I feel like the entire compound of over 1,000 women is going to be there, because it’s the first day for wearing T-shirts with no button-up. I won’t be doing that, because then you have to tuck your T-shirt into your pants, and it looks really stupid and I will be uncomfortable. I’ve been losing weight, like I usually do in prison, but I’m not about to tuck my shirt into elastic waistband pants. No thanks.

I’m listening to the top 30 countdown with Carson Daly on the radio. Taylor Swift and Post Malone are singing their stupid song. I have to push a wheelchair to lunch, or I wouldn’t be going. This old Asian lady I push surprises me every once in a while with a cinnamon roll or Oreos. She’s nice. I’m not sure what she’s here for, but the rumor is (that, upon researching, turned out to be true) that she killed her own mother. I always think to myself about these elderly lifers in wheelchairs–do they really think these women are going to commit more crimes? Kill another person? Let’s not be ridiculous.

I’ll be interested to know what Christopher Gregor gets for a sentence. Probably less time than Frankie has (15-30 years) for murdering his own son. Torturing him to death, really.

2:37pm

I went to Yard for the first time. Bambi bought me ice cream, so that was nice. It was nice to walk in grass for the first time in almost three months, too.

I saw a woman I was in Quehanna with years ago. This time she got a nine to 20 year sentence. I didn’t ask her what she did. 

Very sad.

7:35pm

We’re supposed to have a tornado drill. Fun. I talked to Paul–he did put money on my books, it just didn’t show up yet. He sent me a really nice message about my blog and how he loves me.

The Doomsday Dad got the death penalty. Lori Vallow Daybell is appealing her conviction, of course.

June 2nd, 2024

Sunday

7pm

I called the boys. Tiger was there. She was sort of talking to me. She told me that King was being clingy, and I said that was because he loves her so much. She said, “He doesn’t love me! He’s punching me!” So I said, “No punching!” Then I talked to Superman. They lost their soccer game, and they’re packed to go to Wildwood tomorrow. When he and I were getting off the phone, I said, “Does Tiger want to talk?” but Superman said, “I love you bye!” and hung up. 

Oh well. I hope she at least heard me ask anyway. It was nice to hear her voice. She sounds very grown up. 

June 3rd, 2024

Monday

8pm

Kimberly has parole tomorrow. I hope it goes well for her. Daisy still hasn’t been to the doctor for her ear infections. She put in a Sick Call a week ago. There’s no triage system here. They saw me for acne before they saw her for double ear infections.

Dismal.

June 4th, 2024

Tuesday

I don’t have any coffee, e-cigarettes, and now Wellbutrin. I don’t know if Muncy will refill it.

Kimberly thinks her parole one-on-one went well.

June 5th, 2024

Wednesday

All Motorcycle has to talk about is the diarrhea he’s been having since Saturday.

Ew.

He was literally sitting on the toilet while he was talking to me on the phone.

Gross.

4pm

Bambi let Daisy and I watch her TV for a while, which was set to the institutional channel. Apparently, inmates have been filing PREA (Prison Rape Elimination Act) violaton complaints because of invasive pat searches. The TV was telling us that “properly conducted” pat searches do not violate PREA standards, which is another way of saying that they’re ignoring all of the complaints.

Motorcycle says I have to get out of prison before November so I can go to his high school reunion with him. 

Like-what?

What am I, a trophy to show off? How would I feel with a bunch of 70-year olds with their age-appropriate wives?

Ugh. 

I don’t know, man.

 I just don’t know.

7pm

I talked to Superman and King, who are in Wildwood with Tiger and my parents. King was getting first aid because he fell and twisted his ankle and skinned his knee. Tiger was in the shower. Superman said he had a cheeseburger for dinner and that the pool was too cold for him. 

Bambi’s daughter looked up my blog. She said it was good. I’m flattered. Kimberly just got back from working in the kitchen. She stole some coffee and put it in a glove in her waistband, but the glove broke and spilled coffee down the back of her pants. She’s yelling that her butt cheeks are sticky.

Funny.

June 6th, 2024

Thursday

1pm

We just went to lunch and it was pouring rain. Paul sent me a nice message. He says he misses me a lot. I’m going back to bed. Daisy started working in the sewing shop today, where they make all of the officer’s clothing.

4:30pm

Great. 

Reibsome is our Unit Manager again and five people from the bottom tier are getting moved to the top tier and we’re worried that we’re getting a crappy cellie. Reibsome is trying to consolidate cells, which is basically overcrowding people on purpose, which makes people fight more.

Awesome.

There are 1066 women inmates on this compound as of the first of June. 

I hate my life.

7pm

We didn’t get a cellie. Yay. I have $13 on my account and I don’t think we’re getting paid for our prison jobs until next week, so I bit the bullet and asked my mother for money on the kiosk. We’ll see if she does it. And if it gets here before Sunday, when Commissary orders go in.

June 7th, 2024

Friday

9:13am

Well, I was wrong. We got a cellie. That’s just great. She was always fighting with her former cellies over people calling her a thief. That’s fucking great. I can’t deal with someone who steals. She’s such a thief that she’s in prison for being a thief.

Fuck my life. 

Officer Colostomy Bag gave someone on the other side of the Unit, where he’s not even working, a writeup for taking a shower when she wasn’t signed up.

What a dick.

Morocco borrowed an e-cig from me until Cinnamon shops later, and now I’m afraid she won’t pay me back. I already gave one to Daisy because she didn’t shop this week.

This day sucks, and it’s fucking Commissary day. We should be celebrating.

4pm

Morocco hasn’t paid me yet. Now she says 8pm.

Yeah right. 

We’ll see.

7pm

Morocco paid me back. Will wonders never cease. In worse news, I talked to my mother, who said that the second lawyer, Eric Gurney, never got back to her. She’s going to try to call his office on Monday–a different number this time–to see if she can get an answer. If not, she’s going to call my Public Defender, Mr. Dick, and see if she can make an appointment with him to tell him her side of the story. So I have to call him Monday morning so I can tell him he can talk to her.
I called Motorcycle and told him. He said he would be there for me. 

Sweet guy.

June 8th, 2024

Saturday

I miss my kids. They stopped my Wellbutrin completely. Who needs antidepressants in prison anyway?

June 9th, 2024

Sunday

My 43rd birthday is tomorrow. I also have a Psych appointment so I can argue with them about Wellbutrin. Somebody put $30 on my account, so that helps. We have to turn in our Commissary sheets today, so it’s just in time. I’m reading a book by Jen Sincero called “You Are a Badass” that says that you should write down all your craziness about money, so here goes:

So the truth is I really don’t trust money. I also don’t think I deserve money. I’ve never really had enough money, and I’ve struggled mightily for the past 15 years to have any money at all. I resent needing money at the same time that I want my life to be easier because I have enough.

There.

Then the book says that you’re supposed to break down what you wrote to expose your drama surrounding money. 

Okay: 

I don’t trust money because I believe that nothing should have that much control over my life and/or my happiness. When I was a teacher at the Vet Tech Institute, it was the only time in my life that I didn’t have to struggle monetarily, but I fought for that job and believed that I could do it and would be good at it, and I was.

I believed in myself.

So, money does come to me when I believe that I deserve it. 

Good quote:

“God will not have his work made manifest by cowards.”

–Ralph Waldo Emerson

3:46pm

Well this sucks. Kimberly got me tomatoes and chicken and stuff from the kitchen for my birthday, and the CO took it all.

Ugh. 

I hate this place so much. Like–why would you be such a jerk? Do you get pleasure out of it? Everybody knows they feed us garbage for food. It’s not like the CO bought it. She made Kimberly throw it in the garbage. Now nobody gets to eat it. 

Make it make sense.

According to this book, when something bad happens, I’m supposed to say, “Now this is good because…”

I got nothin’.

The book also says that I’m supposed to write down my version of my ideal life, specifically and in the present tense.

So here goes:

I live on what used to be called Miller’s Mountain, in a big, beautiful five bedroom home with my husband and Superman and King. Tiger comes to visit often. We have lots of cats and dogs. We are deliriously happy. We never struggle for money because I make around one million dollars a year with my writing and speaking engagements. I give to several charities for prison abolition on a regular basis. I wear whatever I want and donate the rest to Goodwill. We eat the best organic food and I garden, compost, and recycle. I am proud of my life and I deserve all of the gifts that the abundant Universe bestows upon me. I help people in need. We all love our life together. I will be free forevermore.

On the radio:

“This is the sound of chains breaking

This is the beat of a heart changing

This is the song of a soul forgiven

This is my freedom hymn…”

Now I’m reading Norman Vincent Peale’s “The Power of Positive Thinking, The Positive Principle Today, and Enthusiasm Makes a Difference.”

I am determined to change my crappy life into an absolutely amazing, no-holds-barred, I-can’t-believe-this-is-my-fucking-awesome-existence-LIFE!

Radio:

“What if we could be the light that no one could ignore?

What are we waiting for?”

This book is also about imagining yourself succeeding, which leads to actually succeeding. It even quotes the Bible: “If God be for us, who can be against us?” 

–Romans 8:31

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

–Phillippians 4:13

9:41pm

Kimberly, Daisy, Morocco, Cinnamon, and Bambi did a birthday for me!! SO cool. With a cake and everything. 

Wow.

Benson Boone is singing “Beautiful Things” on the radio.

Best. 

Prison Birthday. 

Ever.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Sexist Pigs and God Shit

Women’s Center

Day 76

September 18th, 2017

Monday

Welp, this grief group project is going pretty much how I thought it would–with a lot of non-answeres and frustration from Mr. Big. He’s very easily distracted and doesn’t seem to have the ability to prioritize well when it comes to matters of importance. 

For instance, I was trying to talk him into letting me send out my press releases today, and he got distracted by one of the younger residents who was bopping around and telling jokes about how she was wearing flip flops with socks

Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike………….really?

Try to keep up, dude. 

This is important to me. 

Bla. Anyway, I talked to my therapist about the group and she thinks it’s a good idea and gave me some suggestions.

My mind has seemed so scrambled lately. I miss my kids so much. Old Toothless passed out at lunchtime and had to be taken by ambulance to the hospital.

She looked terrible. Seemed like a respiratory issue to me. Her oxygen saturation was 93%.

Scary.

The staff handled it well, and called 911 right away. She kept saying her head hurt and she was so tired, poor woman. I hope she’s okay. Maybe she needs to be on oxygen.

Tomorrow I go for an intake interview for intensive outpatient rehab and Wednesday I have a dentist appointment. I am NOT looking forward to that. The last two people that had teeth pulled, the Center wouldn’t fill their pain medication.

WTF.

I do NOT want to have teeth pulled with no pain meds.

Meanwhile, here are some quotes about pain, fittingly:

“When you break through the bottom of sorrow, light floods out.”

“The chief characteristics of those who have passed through great sadness are a gentle gaze upon others and a willingness to wait patiently for others’ growth.”

“Pain tempers the soul and develops generosity.”

“Humility and compassion are borne of sorrow.”

Enough of that.

Okay, so over the weekend we were playing this funny game for group called who, what, when, where, why. Here’s how you play–these words are written on a piece of paper and handed out to everyone, and everyone fills out the who, then folds it over and passes it, and then everyone fills out the what, and folds it over and passes it, etc.

Here’s the one that’s about me:

Who: Jess

What: sharted on Daisy’s chest

When: At Old Toothless’s house

Where: In the Boiler Room

Why: Because Jess’s lupus got cured by the Women’s Center’s water

Hahahaha funny. Mr. Big is always telling me to drink water for anything I complain of, so that’s where that came from.

5pm

Dinner time

8pm

Meeting

I guess they’re keeping Old Toothless at the hospital. Of course they don’t know what’s wrong with her, but went to discharge her anyway, and then she fainted again. I hate that hospital. I should have sued them when I had the chance.

“Progress, not perfection.”

“Don’t leave before the miracle happens.”

“It’s easier to stay sober than to get sober.”

“Recovery is not just about not drinking[/using].”

Sometimes the women in the Center drive me crazy! This poor guy here that says his R’s like W’s is telling a beautiful story to the best of his ability about how he found serenity in nature the other night sleeping out under the stars, and all these girls (yes, girls) can do is titter relentlessly about his speech impediment. 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGHH!!

Funny aside:

Lou: “Do you hear voices in your head?”

Rena: “Just the normal ones everybody hears.”

Day 77

September 19th, 2017

Tuesday


Off to Wellsboro for a Crossroads intake. Fun fun. It’s intensive outpatient therapy, so that maybe I won’t have to go to inpatient rehab. My hands are killing me today, it hurts to write. The weather is so humid it’s still foggy and it’s 8 o’clock. 

When I get back I’ll have to see if the Big Boss texted Mr. Big about my press releases. I don’t know this driver’s name. He’s not a talker. Hasn’t said a word. When I walked out he was talking to another driver and the other driver looked at me and exclaimed, “You got a good one! Stay out of trouble!” Gross. Sexist pig. I wonder how Paul Bunyon is doing. I haven’t heard from him. Writing hurts. I think I’ll take a nap.

10am

Okay, well that’s done. Lot’s of paperwork and tons of signatures. Geez, this guy really likes the brakes. Let’s see what my Bible says for today. 

What Would Jesus Do? 

Thinking with the Mind of Christ

“Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God…For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord…

“We have different gifts, according to the grace given us. If a man’s gift is prophesying, let him use it in proportion to his faith. If it is serving, let him serve; if it is contributing to the needs of others, let him give generously; if it is leadership, let him govern diligently; if it is showing mercy, let him do it cheerfully…”

“Every member of the Body has the potential to be–and should be led and fed toward functioning as–a fully equipped agent of Jesus Christ.”

–Jack Hayford

Grief book

“We have seen how the death of a child is an expulsion from the land of innocence.”

“One of the vital tasks of grief-work is to come to a point where life again takes on meaning. Parents who fail to find meaningful outlets remain stuck. Parents who seek and find meaningful pursuits heal themselves more quickly.”

“Coming to feel worthwhile again is one essential ingredient in healing.”

“Today I know that you can’t save anybody. But I know through the work that I do that sometimes you can help somebody to save themselves.”

–Jill–daughter committed suicide, now an alcoholism counselor

“Repeatedly, bereaved parents spoke of a newly acquired value for empathy with the anguish of others.”

“Not only do these parents say that their focus on “things” diminishes, but they find that materialism and superficiality in others becomes annoying.”

“Bereaved parents acquire a wisdom and maturity prematurely.”

“They didn’t want to get stronger, there is simply no choice; black or white, live through this or die.”

“Steel has to go through fire to get its strength.”

John 1:23 He said, “I am ‘the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord,’ as the prophet Isaiah said.”

6pm

In-house AA meeting:

When ready, we say something like this, “My Creator, I am now willing that you should have all of me, good and bad. I pray that you now remove from me every single defect of character which stands in the way of my usefulness to you and my fellows. Grant me strength, as I go out from here, to do your bidding.”

Our real purpose is to fit ourselves to be of maximum service to God and the people about us.

Ha!

The birthday of AA is my birthday: 6/10/1935

I hate this group. It’s so boring. This woman acts like taking care of her wounded horse once a day is the freakin’ hardest thing she has ever done in her life, and I’m supposed to derive peace and strength and serenity from HER? 

WhatEVER.

Then she lets the women gossip and bitch about the Center for the last 20 minutes of the meeting. It drives me crazy. I am bored out of my skull. I can’t wait to get on the computer to send out my press releases.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Reba MkIntyre, Colostomy bags, and Prison Tattoos

Muncy State Prison

May 29th, 2024

Wednesday

1:33pm

I called the lawyer again. He wasn’t in, but the other attorney told me that he would call my parents today.

The Trump jury is deliberating today on the Stormy Daniels case.

At lunch, one of the women with a walker wore her sunglasses inside the Chow Hall because she had a headache. Two middle aged male CO’s started yelling at her, and she tried to explain why she was wearing them in vain. They made her dump her tray and then go sit at a table and watch everyone else eat. This woman is in her seventies and can barely walk.

Jesus.

4:05pm

I called my mother–she didn’t hear from the lawyer yet. Fuck my life.

8:35pm 

So, the lawyer said no. Something about Potter County being corrupt and his being busy. My mother asked about two other lawyers. Superman and King’s last day of school was today. Superman got an award that said Mister Congeniality, and I couldn’t hear what King’s was. The stupid recording talked over him. I think he said something about Inspirational, but I’m not sure.

The ladies here–namely Daisy, Kimberly, Morocco, and Cinnamon–think they can convince me to get a  prison tattoo of my zodiac sign. Morocco thinks we’ll bond and fall in love over it.

Unlikely, but funny.

May 30th, 2024

Thursday

11:31am

We’re getting another cellie.

1pm

Yay! We’re not getting a cellie!

Phew. That was a close one. Paul messaged me a long message that he loves me and he sent me some stuff on the new potential lawyer. He’s the Public Defender for Tioga County and he has been practicing for five years. Maybe he’s still motivated, then. Hopefully he’s not just inexperienced and dumb.

Ugh.

I’m thinking  positive thoughts, I’m raising my frequency. This IS going to work out. My charges will get dropped or I will be acquitted, and I will never come back to prison or jail.

3pm

I called the boys, they were making a cardboard fort in the living room. I called Motorcycle–he got my letter and bought a Harley motor and was in a really good mood. He must have said he loved me 10 times. He said he had a dream about me last night. He was very lovey. My mother left the new lawyer a message–no response so far.

5:45pm

Trump got convicted on all 34 counts and he is still the Republican presidential nominee. His sentencing is set for July 11th. 

Yesterday King read me a quote for my birthday in his book of quotes. It said, “Whether you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.”

Fitting.

May 31st, 2024

Friday

11:33am 

Nobody’s heard from the lawyer yet. Do none of these people answer their messages?! I just got a letter from the Public Defender’s Office dated April 29, 2024:

Dear Ms. Kenley, 

We have received your application services, and it has been approved. Please contact this office if you want to speak to the Attorney before your hearing. If not, I will speak to you 15 minutes before.

Thank you.

Blog #5

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

Welp, Daisy and I were supposed to get a new cellie yesterday (we didn’t), so we decided to come up with a backstory about her.

Here it is:

Sara the Racist Southerner

Her favorite song is “Fancy” by Reba McIntyre, and she drowned her two kids and the dog in a giant vat of Jell-O. The dog was a yellow lab with hip dysplasia, and she did it because her hubby Robert, was sleeping with the redhead next door, Mandy. Mandy has fice kids, and screws all the neighborhood men, in Basic White Bitch fashion. These events took place in West Virginia, and Sara drove  to Pennsylvania in Depends when she fled.

That’s the end of that ridiculous story.

Speaking of Depends, Bambi did the “Paws Walk” here and nearly shit herself on the track. Then she left green poo on the toilet seat.

Ew.

In other news, Officer Colostomy Bag is on today, rockin’ his hard-middle-parted hair. Also, Kimberly let us know that she feels like her ovaries are falling out of her butthole. She then told us about a woman here who has a very large vagina and finds it appropriate to bring up in casual conversation.

Speaking of vaginas, Morocco says she’s going to convert me to lesbianism. She speaks French, Arabic, and English. Maybe if she whispered sweet nothings to me in French, Oui Oui! Anyway, Morocco also says that her pussy’s so good, she says her own name during sex.

As Kimberly would say– Oh my stars!

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. Lately, every time I’m in a bad mood lately, Kimberly and Daisy tell me to put on mascara because it makes me nicer. Another running joke is a woman here named Orca who is constantly screaming into the phone on video visits, “WHERE IS MOM-MOM’S BOY?  WHERE IS MOM-MOM’S BOY??!!”

Nobody knows where the fuck Mom-Mom’s boy is. 

It’s a mystery.

 Also a mystery–where Morocco’s e-cigarette is. Earlier, she was changing her pants for Yard, so she sat on her bed. When she stood up, she had an e-cig between her butt cheeks. Another fun fact about Morocco’s butt cheeks?

She has “JUICY” tattooed on one of them with a picture of a dripping strawberry. 

Fun. 

I’m going to get the same tattoo, but on my face.

To wrap things up, here’s the poem of the day, courtesy of Kimberly, with a little input from Daisy and I.

‘Twas the night before food stamps

And all through the hood

All the homies were hungry

Cuz they wished a bitch would

All the sneakers were hung

On the power lines with care

Come to my side of town!

You wouldn’t dare!

You’re welcome.

I just have three questions:

Where’s my mascara?

Where’s my e-cigarette?

And WHERE THE FUCK IS MOM-MOM’S BOY???!!

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Meg Ryan, Community Leaders, and Grief Groups

Women’s Center

September 13, 2017

Day 71

Wednesday

I don’t feel good today. Got news that my liver is doing worse again. ALT back up to 900. High normal is 60. Doctor thinks it might be the steroids that caused it. Last night was my last dose of steroids and I’m back to being in pain. We’re doing “music therapy,” which is basically just listening to music about using.

Uplifting.

7pm

Meeting. I can’t believe how crappy I feel. Maybe coffee will help. I tried to start this proposal for the bereaved parents group but I couldn’t concentrate on it. I also forgot to call the kids (well, I was sleeping), which makes me feel like shit. 

It’s roasting in here. I need a shower, but my towels are dirty and I can’t wash them because there are bees in the dryer vents. Yup–bees. I guess they’re getting removed tomorrow.

Goody.

“We can grow in spite of our pain, or, perhaps, because of it.”

9pm

“The cure for grief is motion.”

Megan is joking that she’s going to name her baby “Shaqueefa.”

Funny.

I called Angel in Illinois to see if she would be willing to help out with this grief group thing and she’s on board and already has a bunch of great ideas, so that’s wonderful. She’s great. That gives me hope that it might be possible. I don’t want to do it alone.

September 14th, 2017

Day 72 

Thursday

I feel a bit better today. If Mr. Big (The Big Boss is on vacation) has time today, I have to present him with my proposal. If I’m going to do this grief group, I’m not going to half-ass it. They’re going to have to let me use some form of social media. They’re just going to have to. If I know anything, I know social media is the best way to promote just about everything.

8:30am

There was a fire drill at 5:30am, so I feel like I’ve been up all day already. Welp, gotta do group at 9am, so I’d better do that.

10:30am

Group went well–everyone talked except Chantilly and Elaine, so that’s pretty good. I think I’ll use the same format for my first real grief group. I feel like I should read my grief book more. Crash, who also lost two children, wants to read it, so I’d better hurry up.

“…bereaved parents do not ‘recover’ in the sense of returning to who they were before the death. Instead, they appear to change as they integrate the loss into their lives.”

–Ida M. Martinson

“The  real healing happens when you accept that the pain is always there.”

–Veronica

“When the early ravages of pain subside, a dull ache remains in the far reaches of awareness, a reminder that life can never have that blush of perfection again.”

OMG! Mr. Big just told me that they might want me to be a “Community Leader!”

Cool!

8pm

Bob at the meeting when asked how he is: “Jim Dandy peachy keen!” He’s a good guy. Always wearing overalls and a hat. Hugger.

10pm Called all three of my kids today–no answer at either household.

Forgot to read my Bible today. Let’s see what it says:

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights…”

“This Father who asks you to walk with Him will ask more of you than anyone possibly could–your life, in fact, for the privilege of being on personal terms with the God of the universe.”

September 15th, 2017

Day 73

Friday

We’re watching, “When a Man Loves a Woman.” I love Meg Ryan. 

Yesterday, Mr. Big said, “We’re looking for a couple Community Leaders, and, obviously, you would be one of them.” That “obviously” bothered me all day. Why would I be an obvious choice?

So after the meeting, I asked him about the obviously. Why obviously? He said that it wouldn’t be obvious to me. That personal growth is sometimes only obvious to others, and most of the time only seen in hindsight. He said it’s a good thing.

I guess I’ll take it.

I’ll take the compliment. I wonder what kind of responsibilities come with that. 

The Big Boss says that my possibilities are endless and I just need to be “lifted up.” That feels good to me. Maybe this place will be good for me after all.

The song that’s playing is “Everybody Hurts Sometimes.” We sure do. 

I can’t wait to see how this grief group goes. I can’t believe I have to wait two weeks to see my kids. I have to get that court paperwork done today. I have no money for stamps and envelopes. I’ll have to hand deliver them, I guess. Oh well.

“It’s horrifying how bad you can make yourself feel for being low, and weak.”

–Meg Ryan

We’re still watching the movie. Now she’s making her, “We all deserve a second chance,” speech at the end of the movie after being clean for 184 days. Long movie–two hours. It’s finally over–the kissing and hopefulness at the end. I miss kissing so much. Especially kissing my kids. I make sure to kiss them as often as possible. When I have the opportunity, of course.

Watch: The Case for Christ (according to Mr. Big)

I did a good deed and dyed and cut Elaine’s hair. No one else was willing to help her. Of course I was reading after lunch and fell asleep and slept right through 1pm group. I wonder how that will affect my standing as a Community Leader in-the-running. Not a very good example. And of course it was Mr. Big who woke me up and yelled at me.

Ugh–I’m kind of disgusted with myself about it. And then of course he found out I cut Elaine’s hair–that’s not allowed either. Of course I totally forgot that.

Double ugh.

Anyway–I’m at an AA meeting currently. I called the boys earlier but they didn’t really want to talk–too busy being silly. I don’t know how I’m ever going to do this grief group without ever having access to the computer–there’s always somebody on it.

“We’re all miracles here today.”

“We’ll love you until you love yourself.”

Categories
Life Uncategorized

CPS, Cockroaches, and CO Dickey-Do

Muncy State Prison

May 24th, 2024

Friday

I wrote Paul back and sent him my dirty/inappropriate blog. Motorcycle sent money, thank God. I asked Paul to send money, because Motorcycle sounded stressed about it when I asked him this week. I know he doesn’t have the money to spend.

Our roommate, Empire, moved out yesterday. This morning during Med Line, the Unit Manager walked by and someone screamed, “Shame on you for killing that girl! You’re more of a monster than some of us!!” Apparently, he had told one of the women who committed suicide that, “You keep talking about it, why don’t you do it?” I don’t know how true that is, but it’s horrible if it’s true. That guy is a real prick. I can imagine him saying something to that effect. 

May 25th, 2024

Saturday

6:11pm

I keep thinking about this 6-year old dead boy that was on the news last night whose father killed him. He was shown forcing the boy to run and run on a treadmill, even though he couldn’t keep up and was falling off, and they showed pictures of his injuries while he was alive, apparently taken by CPS. Of course the headline was something like, “COULD CPS HAVE PREVENTED 6-YEAR OLD’S DEATH??”

Duh. 

As far as I’m concerned, CPS isn’t good for anything. They break up families when they’re just poor, and when there is blatant abuse/neglect, they do nothing. Then kids die. But they take pictures of their injuries, so don’t worry. It’s pouring down rain, and we’re supposed to go to Med Line in this shit.

No thanks.

May 26th, 2024

Sunday

9:04pm

Officer Dickey Do just told a story about why he doesn’t eat here anymore that had rats in the kitchen, mice eating the bread (and people serving it anyway), mouse URINE on the served bread, and cockroaches. Then Kimberly chimed in with, “Oh, yeah, the kitchen’s full of cockroaches. We come in the morning and find them squished all over the floor from third shift.”

Oh. My. God.

May 27, 2024

Monday

Memorial Day

1:43pm 

Paul messaged me and said I could call him tonight, so I’m going to call him at 6:30pm. I talked to Motorcycle and he talked mostly about Moroccan olive oil and water purifying straws.

Ugh.

It feels like he’s getting old all of a sudden, and I don’t like it. He used to be fun and exciting, and now all he talks about is infomercials and aches and pains. I mean, I know the man’s in his sixties, but damn.

6:50pm

I called Paul. Things were kind of stilted and weird, and all he would say about his mental health was that things were “difficult.” When I asked him if things were improving, he repeated that things were difficult. He said he was worried about me and then we got off the phone. It was weird. I almost felt worse when I got off the phone.

Ugh.

Today was shit.

May 28th, 2024

Tuesday

12:31pm

So, I’m reading this book, “You Are a Badass,” by Jen Sincero, and here’s the part where I always have trouble–it basically says that we create our own reality. I balk at that because I would never create this for myself.

EVER!

So, I say this to Daisy, and she gets all nasty and tells me that I’m basically a miserable, horrible person all around. I said, “Not on the outside of prison I’m not! I love my life! I love my job!”  Etc., etc., to which she cocks her head to the side and says, “Come on. Come. On.” As if I’m being ridiculous and I am just the most negative, shitty person she’s ever met. Then she says, “Not being mean, but–your life was just great and then you had a mental breakdown and now you’re here?”

First of all, just because you say the words “not being mean” doesn’t in reality mean that you’re not being mean. Secondly, yes, basically, that is what happened. I have Bipolar Disorder. That means that sometimes things happen to me that I can’t control, like psychotic episodes. Like–no matter how many times you tell me I’m a miserable person and that I deserve to be here because I caused this, it doesn’t make it true.

I feel like I’m sorry I told Daisy ANY information about my life at all, because SHE’S so nasty and judgmental. Yesterday she tried to convince me that I’m an alcoholic. Like–do you think I wouldn’t know this about myself? After drinking until I blacked out for several years? Um…a glass or two of wine before bed doesn’t qualify, miss. I feel like she’s one of those people who pretends to be your friend and then turns around and says vicious, ultra-personal things about you behind your back to everyone.

Whatever.

Taylor Swift is on the radio singing “Shake It Off,” so that’s what I’m going to do. Repeat: It’s none of my business what other people think of me. It’s none of my business what other people think of me. I am raising my frequency. I am Love and Light. I am Awesome and made in God’s Image.

There.

I feel better.

1:16pm

I called the lawyer again–this time his secretary answered. She seemed to think that they were still waiting for Public Defender paperwork from me. I explained that no–my mother wanted to retain him as private counsel. She said she would talk to him tomorrow and someone would call my mother. Tomorrow is two weeks since he was supposed to give her an answer.

7:38pm

I talked to the boys–their last day of school is tomorrow. Next year-sixth grade. They’re going to Minecraft Camp over the summer and Wildwood in New Jersey.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Blind Faith, Emily Dickinson, and Violent Explosions

Women’s Center

Day 69

September 11th, 2017

Monday

Off to my therapy appointment with Fred the Driver. My chest hurts today–I don’t know if I’m sick or stressed. Probably both. I’ve filled up two journals so far and have started on my third today. It seems fitting that Ethan’s birthday would end one–the beginning of a new chapter hopefully. I remember when I was pregnant, I was afraid he would be born on 9/11 and it would be a harbinger of bad luck. Ha! I gotta stop being so superstitious and probably just trust in God, like every other happy person on Earth. They just seem to think that every good thing is God’s doing, and then when bad things happen, God helps them through. Blind faith, they call it, and it works for millions. 

Huh.

Reading my grief book–I went through this too when Ethan died, and this is why I wrote Kidowed. 

“Enid – When it was gone, it wasn’t like I could go back to the outside world and say, I am still his mother.” 

To the outside world I am a single woman with no children. It’s hard to come to grips with. I wish there could be a stamp for it like widow or widower, some way I could identify to people when they say, “Do you have any children?” You could say I am a __________! Bereaved is the only word I can come up with. 

Just as alcoholics are said to never be cured, a present is never “cured”” of grief–that parent will never be a “former” bereaved parent, that parent will forevermore be a recovering bereaved parent.”

Fred likes Christian music. Geezoman. He’s a really noisy breather too. Can you really jam to Christian music? It all sounds the same to me. Maybe it’s uplifting to him. I’m being immersed in God stuff.

Hope I don’t drown.

“Studies have shown that children, regardless of age, are able to survive a tragic loss, even multiple losses, if they are cherished and secure afterward.”

Huh.

Maybe my children will be okay after all.

“I measure each grief I meet 

With analytic eyes;

I wonder it if weighs like mine, 

Or has an easier size.

I wonder if it hurts to live, 

Or if they have to try, 

And whether, could they choose between, 

They would rather not die.

  –Emily Dickinson

“In sudden, unexpected death, the parents drop into the pit of extreme despair. Shock, extreme confusion, and disorganization often occur. The world as they knew it disappears in a violent explosion. Their sense of control is assaulted. Life is no longer predictable and sensible.”

“The time of dying is exhausting in every way. When death comes, often there is a small sense of relief. That fleeting feeling passes and the long bout with grief begins.”

Fred’s advice:

  1. Start with the Book of John. The first chapter may be hard, but read it.
  2. “Jesus empowers you to live the life that you want to.”
  3. “Every eye will see him when returns.”
  4. Jesus, I’m sorry for what I’ve done, please forgive me, and please come into my life.”
  5. Don’t live for yourself.
  6. Jesus is first.
  7. Others are second.
  8. You are next.
  9. Teach this to your children by example.

Fred says that without Jesus Christ in his life, the song, “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” was a revelation at a truck stop for him. 

About September 11th, Fred was driving truck when the planes hit. They closed the border so he couldn’t go to Canada. 

John 14 vs 6 “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”’

I’ve accepted Ethan’s death over and over and over again, Ethan’s death. I’m exhausted of being angry.

7:30 (Half of page missing)

My kids are not coming today. They are going to my step-brother Will’s house for his son’s birthday party. They’re step-cousins, if you will. Will molested me and my sister for a good six years growing up. So all three of my children are going to a child molester’s house instead of coming to see their mother. Nice. I guess my parents want to go back to court too.

10:30pm

“I am always ready to learn, but I do NOT always like being taught.”

–Winston Churchill

I dreaded that first robin so,

But he is mastered now,

And I’m accustomed to him grown, 

He hurts a little, though.

–Emily Dickinson

From my book:
“The shadows do begin to lighten ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly, over time; but the landscape has changed.”

6pm

Gawd. Now we’re discussing the resident that committed suicide over at Mountain Laurel. He was about 10 years older than me, rumored to have a wife and two kids at home. Shame. Everybody’s going around saying, “There’s nothing we could do…at least he’s not suffering anymore…”

What is THAT bullshit?!! Of course you can help people who are suffering and contemplating suicide! It’s not just a bomb that goes off! People don’t commit suicide in a vaccuum! They usually suffer for a long time before, and might be able to be helped. Otherwise there would be no suicide prevention programs–duh!

Anyway, we’re talking about resentments. You know who I’m resentful at today? Fucking Brash. He won’t keep his tiny dick out of my business and my name out of his mouth. He’s fucking shit-talking me all over town, and HE’S the one who made the phone call to probation that I was using! I’VE never done anything to that little boy! He’s probably just mad that I wouldn’t fuck him. Dweeb. Hope he got Hep C tested because he was sharing needles with Ike to shoot up his fucking Wellbutrin pills so he could get high while on drug court. God, this woman is so full of herself. I should be listening.