Tag: Mental Health

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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

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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.”

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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.

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Letters from Paul

Muncy State Prison

May 23/24

I received your letter today. Thank you for your response. I enjoy reading your writing, so please send more. I especially love your new name, “Barney Holland.” I think that should be your pseudonym when you branch out into writing smut or scifi novels. I hope you are able to get [a lawyer] other than the Public Defender, he weirds me out. I didn’t realize there were so many elderly persons there, but I’m glad you are there to help them to get around and live their lives for what it’s worth. You definitely will be the person who is able to bring joy to those that are on the brink of suicide.

I am doing better. I’ve been working steadily in my spare time to finish the remodeling of the tenant bathroom. It’s getting new floor tiles and moulding so it doesn’t look like a piece of shit like when you were there. I used the plane that you and Motorcycle found for me to install a plank in the kitchen where mice may have been coming in, it worked wonderfully. 

The bank is still going great. I got everyone a card and a fancy chocolate bar to tell them that I appreciate them being there; they were thankful.

I’m making a big pot of stew as I type this, it’s 15 minutes from being done and I am hungry. I thought about 

Your fruit salads as I was cutting and eating the veggies. I’ve been making apples a regular staple for a snack, and drinking water, but I could do better. Taz (the neighbor’s cat) came by to talk about his day as I was going back and forth between both sides of the house. He had a lot to say. 

I would love to hear your voice in a phone call, but please bear with me just a little longer. I enjoy reading your letters, but I will talk to you soon on the phone. I’m really going full ham on trying to take care of myself, and trying to take care of personal projects. I saw an unfinished portrait of you I was drawing in my sketchbook, I hope to finish it soon. I’m doing a portrait for a friend’s husband who passed away unexpectedly years ago. It’s a challenge, I don’t hardly do any male portraits, and this portrait is more of a memorial gift for a sweet lady.

I miss you and am waiting to see you again. To hold on to you and help you and love you and support you. I miss our cuddles in my bed where it feels wonderful to embrace someone that has had a profound impact on my life and to embrace someone who is perfect.

With heartfelt love, 

Paul 🙂

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Loneliness, Letters to Tiger, and Lockdowns

Muncy State Prison

May 18th, 2024

10:50am

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

*sigh*

I don’t know. 

Tiger, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

Mom

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

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

Makes sense.

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

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

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

No kidding.

6:38pm

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

Muncy State Prison

May 19th, 2024

Sunday

7:18pm

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

Whatever.

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

Muncy State Prison

May 20th, 2024 

Monday

4:17pm

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

Awe. Sweet.

7pm Lockdown. Fighting.

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Rockabye, Alcoholism, and AA

September 9th, 2017
Saturday

Day 67

11am

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

Song–

Pray– Kesha?

“I hope you’re somewhere praying, 

I hope your soul is changing, 

I hope you find your peace

Falling on your knees

Praying…..”

Song–

“Rockabye

Ooooh love

No one’s ever gonna hurt you love

I’m gonna give you all of my love

No one matters like you love

So rockabye….”

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

It says: 

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

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

The entire thing.

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

Meeting:

Easy does it (but do it)

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

Rodney: 

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

[We’re not bad, we’re sick.]

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

Megan: 

“I just want to live my damn life.”

“The glow of early recovery.”

Me: 

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

–Last night’s chip

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

“The disease dies in the light of exposure.”

People hugged me. It was nice.

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

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

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

Song: 

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

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

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

Huh.

I guess we’ll see.

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

I need to know.

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

My punishment. 

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Uncategorized

Justice, Murder, and Insanity

May 15th 2024

Wednesday

1:35pm

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

I miss her.

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

May 16th, 2024

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

4:40pm 

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

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

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

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

11am

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

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

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

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

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

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

–Justice Hugo Black

5:43pm

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

5:52pm

Count clear. We finally get to eat.

7:05pm

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

But I have essentially no resources.

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

Whatever it is, I’ll take it.

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

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

Truer words were never spoken.

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

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Life Uncategorized

Mother’s Day in Prison

May 12th, 2024

Sunday

Mother’s Day

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

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

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

May 13th, 2024

11:12am

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

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

FUCK!!

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

1:35pm

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

3:27pm

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

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

Love, 

Gem

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

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Life Uncategorized

Chatty Cathy, Guilt, and God

Women’s Center

September 5th, 2017

Tuesday

Geezoman.

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

Yuck.

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

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

10am

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

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

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

1pm

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

Parent/Child Vignette

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

Tiger is:

*Forming a close bond with me

*Practicing her fine motor skills

*Learning to feel loved and safe

*Bonding with me and learning to trust

There, I did it.

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

Book:

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

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

September 6, 2017

Wednesday

Day 64

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

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

September 7th, 2017

Thursday

Day 65

9am

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

Okay, group.

Understanding and Coping with Guilt and Shame

–Learn to forgive yourself

–Talk about it

– Change the related behavior

–Practice forgiving others

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

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

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

–Crash

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

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

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

Hm. 

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

Here comes the rain.

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

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

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

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

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Periods, Hell, and CO’s

May 5th, 2024

Muncy State Prison

Thursday

Stryder wrote me a message this morning that he’s done trying to be a part of my life, so I guess I don’t have to send this letter after all. 

Whatever.

I should have known that was coming when I said don’t visit me. He only cares about me when he can stick his dick in me. Well, fuck that noise. I’m better off without him.

3:15pm

I got legal mail–arraignment and criminal conference June 17th, 2024 at 10:30am.

I’m writing Bambi’s first story for her. It’s as boring as dirt.

 There’s just no good news today. I wrote this to Medical on 5/2/24: 

“On 4/22/24, I was charged for the second time for a refill of Mobic. I should not have been charged either time. This is a medication I was on when I came in, every day. It should not have been prescribed as a prn (as needed) and I shouldn’t have to pay five dollars every month because it’s “expired.”

Response: 

“This is not a chronic medication per State of Pennsylvania. You will be charged five dollars every time it is refilled for a 30 day supply.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Why would I not have to pay for it at Cambridge Springs but have to pay for it here? I’m still in the state of Pennsylvania. I’m over this day. I hate everything. I’m reading “Spare” by Prince Harry. It’s pretty good. I have class and library tomorrow. Not sure why I have library. I just went on Monday. At least I don’t have to get Burgundy some stupid hood book she’s too lazy to go to the library herself. I’m so glad she’s not in this room anymore. But I have a feeling it won’t last–she left a bottom-bunk open, which are a hot commodity around here. 

In other news, Raja is having her period, and she remarked that there’s a serial killer in her underwear. 

Funny.

Periods in prison. Like–isn’t the period bad enough itself without having to get up every couple of hours, make sure you’re dressed correctly to leave your cell, go down and then up a long flight of metal stairs, and ask some man for sanitary napkins and pads–or else pay for them on Commissary yourself??

Anyway, I talked to Motorcycle–he says that he wants to come bunk with me. That would be nice. I told him that he sounded muffled, and he told me that he had my underwear on his head.

He’s so funny. 

We were locked down today for some fucking “Employee Appreciation” day, so the employees could have a fucking barbecue and play cornhole while 1,000 women were locked in their cells all Goddamn day.

This place is hell on Earth.