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Psychotic Break Number ?

October 13th, 2026

Tuesday

1:10pm

The 0101 angel number (or 01:01 on a clock) is a spiritual sign representing fresh starts, inner alignment, and a prompt to trust your intuition.

Core Numerological Meanings

• Number 1: Symbolizes new beginnings, self-leadership, willpower, and creation.

• Number 0: Amplifies adjacent energies, representing infinite potential, the divine source, and spiritual flow.

• Combined Energy (0101): Functions as a celestial “green light” or wake-up call to step out of your comfort zone and take action on your personal growth.

Key Spiritual Themes

• New Beginnings: According to wikiHow, it signals a positive, optimistic shift or a clean slate in your life’s path.

• Heightened Intuition: It encourages you to lean on your inner guidance and higher self rather than relying solely on outside opinions.

• Personal Development in Love: In relationships, it highlights the need for self-love, emotional clarity, and a positive mindset before building or renewing a connection

Balance and Duality: The alternating sequence points to the harmony between inner reflection (0) and outer action.

1:25pm

So, I didn’t save the world again.

I did, however, manage to forgive my mother, which had a startlingly lightening effect, like a literal lifting of a burden off of my shoulders, it felt like.

Like I could even breathe easier.

She apologized.

For the way she treated me when I was little.

So, I forgave her.

This, in a dark, cold hospital room, after the police brought me in–me in blue paper “clothing”– handcuffed and bleeding from the knees, bruises on my arms where they twisted them behind my back to be arrested for “Disorderly Conduct.”

I forgave her.

For she was just a child herself.

Maybe, in another world, in a different age, I would have been a rotten mother too, to a set of unwanted and ashamedly born twins. 

She asked if she could hug me.

I said yes.

She reminds me of Sassypants, my cellmate, who murdered her two, or was it three (?), children. 

Not a motherly bone in her body.

Never for me, anyway.

Does things because she “should.”

Adheres strictly to sets of rules.

She said when she came in, “I came because you said last time nobody even showed up.”

I said, with my face already puffy from sobbing, now with new tears welling up,

“Yeah.”

“That’s how people show that they care, Mom (which came out “bob,” because my nose was so stuffed up).

“They show up.”

She then shocked the living hell out of me by coming over to me and hugging me fiercely, while whispering in my ear, “We CARE about you, Jessica.”

Which made me cry harder.

Why do I never feel that?

3pm

Angel number 0300 blends the amplification of zero with the creative and spiritual vibrations of three, serving as a divine reminder to trust your intuition and focus on personal growth despite any lack of clarity. In numerology, this sequence carries specific symbolic meanings broken down by its digits.

Core Meanings of 0300

• The Number 0: Represents eternity, wholeness, potential, and the beginning of a spiritual journey. Doubled as ’00’, it magnifies the universal energies and God-force surrounding you.

• The Number 3: Symbolizes creativity, self-expression, optimism, and the presence of ascended masters guiding your path.

• Combined Energy (300): Acts as a conscious nudge to let go of doubts, listen to your gut feelings, and appreciate the support of the universe and people who helped you succeed.

Key Themes

• Clarity: Do not let uncertainty paralyze your next steps; focus on what brings fulfillment right now.

• Intuition: Pay close attention to your inner voice and gut feelings.

•  Pay close attention to your inner voice and gut feelings.

• Gratitude: Acknowledge the divine support and meaningful relationships in your life.

I told Motorcycle that I release him. He can be free from forever looking after me, and being my keeper.

It must be a relief, to him.

I hope it is, anyhow.

I’m not good for his mental health, and I know this about myself.

The episodes are closer and closer together now, making the roller coaster ride unbearable.

It is too much for one man to bear, and it isn’t fair of me to ask him to.

I release you.

Be free.

3:22pm

Angel number 0303 symbolizes creativity, communication, self-expression, and divine guidance for fresh opportunities in your life.

Core Numerology Breakdown

• The Number 3: Represents imagination, inspiration, social connection, communication, and creative expression.

• The Number 0: Amplifies the numbers around it and represents infinite potential, divine energy, and spiritual alignment.

• The Sum (0 + 3 + 0 + 3 = 6): Reduces to the number 6, which vibrates with themes of home, harmony, responsibility, and love for those closest to you.

• Guidance and Signs: Combinations of 3 and 0 are a sign from the universe to listen to your inner voice and trust divine timing.

So, that’s the gist of it.

I stood in the road.

I said I was Jesus.

The police came and tackled me.

Motorcycle 302’d me, however, since I didn’t hurt anyone or say I was going to hurt myself, they couldn’t hold me legally. 

Eventually came in and just said there was a “snafu” with the 302 and they couldn’t legally hold me.

So, I sat in a paper gown and cried for 12 hours, and had to ask for basic necessities like food and water, and soap, and toothpaste.

That’s how UPMC treats mental health patients.

Like animals.

Like inmates, in fact.

I would know.

I must have heard the word “policy” over 100 times in that 12 hours, because I kept asking questions about why they were treating me so very poorly.

They wouldn’t give me any of my personal belongings, lest I kill myself with them.

Motorcycle brought my computer, which I begged and begged for, so that I could write, and do something therapeutic, at least, in this wasteland that they deem a “hospital,” where unwell people are apparently supposed to be able to heal of their own accord, without any help at all from the staff of the “hospital.” 

But I might have strangled myself with the cords, a man mentioned.

So there’s that.

They give you nothing.

Not even a pen and paper, or a book or something. They just sit and stare at you, and type in their computer anything that you say.

That is how psychotic, or suicidal, patients are treated, I guess, at this “non-profit” “hospital” they call UPMC Cole, here in Coudersport, Pennsylvania. 

Apparently there is something therapeutic about blue paper suits.

Maybe the people wearing “suits” who make the “policies” about how human beings are treated when they have a mental breakdown should have to be degraded into getting stripped naked of all of their personal clothes and belongings, including any jewelry–like wedding rings–that they have on, and be placed into a blue paper suit, and then be put into a room with nothing, except only another person staring at you, writing down what you say, while they are making their “policies.”

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Pickle Suits and Breaking Zuko’s Heart…

MUNCY STATE PRISON

March 10th, 2025

Monday

5pm

So, I spent the weekend in the POC, whatever that stands for. Generally, it’s for people who are a danger to themselves or others.

I was having a manic episode.

Psychiatric Observation Cell is what the CO just told me.

What a fucking nightmare.

No soap, no toothbrush or toothpaste, get naked and be put in a “pickle suit (basically a blanket that you wear),” no books, no TV.

For three days, until someone from Psych came in.

Thank God for Ativan.

My blood pressure was 150/111, Heart Rate: 127 resting.

I never thought I’d be so happy to see BB Unit at SCI-Muncy.

I hurt Zuko badly while I was manic.

Here is a note she gave me today:

From Zuko’s Journal:

“I’m just sitting there completely shocked, heartbroken + crushed, crying and snotting all over myself, thinking, ‘I’m missing the City match for this.’ 

You HURT me. I’ve been crying for hours, stopping long enough to slog through my job + get pizza.

I have no idea how I can be a better partner for you. I always think about you + wanna make sure you’re OK. If you’re hungry, I cook for you. If you’re cold, I give you everything I have to keep warm. If you’re sad, I try to cheer you up. If you’re tired, I let you sleep. I pay attention to the important stuff in your life. I try to make it clear every day that I love you; not just telling you, but showing you. 

But for some reason, you don’t trust me or believe me.

You doubt me and you think you’re wasting your time with me.

That HURTS.

Why do you think I’m still in love with Tyson??

Cuz I tell you about wtf she’s doing?

I promised I would tell you anything that happens involving her so that nothing is hidden + I’m being upfront + honest about everything. She goes out of her way to be an asshole and talk to my friends. I NEVER seek her out. So am I supposed to tell you everything or not? 

Cuz I’m confused.

At no point were you + I together when her and I were together. There was a solid month in between. I never accuse you of not loving me, + YOU were in a relationship with someone else at the same time we were together. Telling him you love him and whatever TF else you’d say. You go out of your way to talk to him, + your other fuck buddy, + I just deal with it.

No, I don’t like it at all, but I don’t tell you not to do anything, or say you don’t love me.

They are part of the reason you’re locked up and don’t have your kids, of course I don’t like them.

How would you feel if my X was still alive, telling me she loves me + she’s sorry she’s the reason I’m locked up + will never see my dogs again, but we’re gonna get back together? And I take time away from you so I can be with her…how would you feel? 

It’s not fair to me.

But I don’t try to control your life, + I don’t accuse you of not loving me.

You think I’m an asshole cuz I get annoyed about stupid shit.

I warned you and apologized ahead of time that I get irrationally annoyed about shit on my period.

I’m aware it happens, but I can’t stop it.

I would get super annoyed at my dogs for looking at me, + I love them so much I’m doing 20-40 + facing eternal damnation for them.

Of course the people/things that usually get on my nerves are gonna be extra annoying when I’m getting my period. 

I’ll just keep to myself from now on.

I told you about my friend getting killed cuz it was very traumatic for me. And I DID explain how that song and that bitch are related, but I guess you weren’t listening. She loved that song + insisted it be played at our Middle School Dance so she and her cheerleader friends could do some dance they made up. 

I’m trying to share my life with you; the good + the bad.

Do you want me to stop?

Cuz I’ll keep all my hurt + pain to myself + sit there quietly when I’m upset, + you’ll never know who I really am.

I don’t know what you want from me.

I’m doing my best, but you don’t think it’s good enough.

I’m honestly just baffled, + once again, I was happily going about my life loving you, thinking things are going great with us, only to find out you think I’m some hateful asshole that’s still in love with my X, + you think our relationship is a waste of time.

But as much as this hurts, at least you were honest and told me how you feel, so thanks.

*sigh*

Apparently you POC’d yourself.

Martha told me she took you down to Medical.

Why her?

Fuck this whole fucking weekend.

CO Dickey Do refuses to tell me anything, but she somehow is getting all the info/updates about you, so I’m forced to talk to her FAB self. Everyone keeps asking me wtf happened, but I have no idea.

And you know the fucked up part?

As much as you fuckin tore my heart up, I’m still worried about you, hoping you’re OK and warm enough. I’ve been crying off + on for around 36 hours cuz of you, + I STILL love you.

Cuz that’s the type of stupid fucking person I am.

What even happened?

You weren’t back from your visit when I got back from lunch, + I looked for you before I was gonna nap + you were in your bunk sleeping, like we talked about. I have no idea when or if you’re coming back. 

I’m so fucking hurt right now, cuz of you, but I just wanna hug you. 

Cuz I love you, ya fuckin jerk.

Stop hurting me.

I don’t deserve it.

Obsidian did some scouting for me + said you’d be back this afternoon or tom. A.m., + then Officer Colostomy Bag just said, “Your friend is coming back,” outta nowhere while I was getting water.

So you’ll be back when they resume movement.

I’m giving this to you so you know how I feel.

The lyrics and drawing too.

If you think this is a waste of time, fine, then let’s stop wasting time.

And if you wanna be with me, OK, but stop treating me like shit. 

I don’t deserve it + I’m not gonna put up with it.

I do nothing but love you, + if that’s not enough, so be it.”

My reply:

“It’s a hell of a thing to not be able to trust your own brain. 

If you don’t trust me, I completely understand.

I don’t trust me.

I have learned the hard way that I am at times irrational and even delusional when I seem completely normal. 

I feel like I don’t deserve you. 

I have a lot of flaws–one of which is that I’m more broken than I’d like to admit.

I know in my heart that you are doing the best that you can.

I don’t know how to say I’m sorry so that you will believe me.

There’s nothing I can do about my expressionless face.

That’s just my face.

I wish I could kiss and hug you.

I love you so much.

I don’t know what else to say.

I’m sorry.

My brain lies to me sometimes. 

Other times it tries to kill me.

I can’t help it.

If I knew what caused it, I would prevent it.

It helps me if people near me tell me when I’m being irrational, because I don’t know. 

If you can’t do this, I completely understand.

I don’t want to be the one abusing you.

I love you.”

Here’s a Fiona Apple song that Zuko included called “Oh Well.”

“What you did to me made me see

Myself something different

Though I try to talk sense to myself,

But I just won’t listen.

Won’t you go away, turn yourself in, you’re no good at confession.

Before the image that you burn me in

Tries to teach you a lesson.

What you did to me made me see

Myself something awful.

A voice of stentorian (loud, powerful) is now again

Meek and muffled.

It took me such a long time to get back up

The first time you did it.

Spent all I had to get it back + now it seems 

I’ve been outbidded.

My peace and quiet was stolen from me,

When I was looking with calm affection, 

You were searching out my imperfections.

What wasted unconditional love

On somebody who doesn’t believe in the stuff.

You came upon me like a hypnic jerk

When I was just about settled.

When it counts, you recoil with a cryptic word,

And leave love belittled.

On what a cold + common old way to go

When I was feeding the need for you to 

Know me.

Devastated at the rate you fell

Below me.

What wasted unconditional love,

On somebody who doesn’t believe in the stuff.

Oh well.”


Then she drew a drawing that had two emoji’s–one smiley-faced one with hearts for eyes that is her and saying, “You’re beautiful and I love you so much!” with a cloud bubble above her head thinking, “I love holding her hand, I gotta do it the special way, so I don’t accidentally hurt her.” 

And then there’s me, with a nothing expression on my face–mouth in a straight line–thinking, “She’s such an asshole.”

March 12th, 2025

Wednesday

8:25am

I have a mandatory PRT mental health appointment at 9am. They’re probably going to ask me why I said I was fine the other day when I saw them and then had a mental break.

Oh well.

Things between me and Zuko seem better. 

That was really rough.

I was afraid she was going to break up with me.

She almost did.

I have to learn how to communicate better. 

She needs more from me than I’m giving her.

9:51am

PRT went fine. The people basically just wanted to know what happened, so I told them.

I have to clean the bathroom in a few minutes.

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Lies By Omission, Breakups, and Audre Lorde

February 19th, 2025

Wednesday

Muncy State Prison

8:42pm

So, Zuko and I are sitting downstairs a little bit ago, and Cricket comes up to us and starts talking about how she tried to give the note Zuko wrote to Tyson to her, but she wouldn’t take it. 

WHAT??!!

WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING TALKING ABOUT?!

She’s writing her?

This, coming from the woman who wants a monogamous fucking relationship with me??

So I’m silent after Cricket leaves, and Zuko makes some stupid comment about the movie we’re watching.

Silence.

She says, “Are we fighting?” and then starts talking about how people have been coming up to her saying that Tyson looks like shit, and she was supposed to have some surgery, and she was just checking to see if Tyson was okay.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

All that’s running through my head is:

“THIS IS WHY I DON’T DO MONOGAMY. THIS IS WHY I DON’T DO MONOGAMY.”

It’s the sneaky, lie-by-omission, underhanded, back-door, super-secret-BULLSHIT that I ALWAYS try to AVOID!!

I say, “You should have told me first. If you don’t want to be in a relationship, then let’s not be in a relationship.”

She splutters and says she does want to be in a relationship, but everyone told her not to be so honest, and she’s sorry, and bla, bla.

I say it’s fine, but she’s the one keeping this relationship with Tyson going, not Tyson, like she said.

Is she addicted to drama or something?

Chaos?

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Who knows.

This is a note she handed to me earlier:

Hey there, Beautiful, 

I don’t have a lot of time to write you, cuz I’ve been busy doing awesome Zuko shit all day. 🙂 But I wanted you to know that I’m always thinkin’ of you + I love you. 

A lot.

I love how much fun we have together + that we can have intelligent conversations together, + fuck you’re so fuckin’ sexy. It’s hard to keep my hands and lips off you, cuz they’d be all over you all of the time if it was possible. 

I loved what you wrote.

Please continue. 🙂 I’d love to have you on me, you’re sexy AF Babe. I wanna be as close as fucking possible to you. You’re so fuckin’ hot + I definitely want you on top of me. 🙂

We’re gonna have Earth shattering sex when I get outta here. And then we can get married for the 4,729th time. 🙂 

I choose you every day, Sprout.

Thanks for choosing me too.

I’m all yours, as long as you’ll have me. 

I gotta go!

I don’t wanna be late and keep you waiting. 

I love you.

♥️

All of that rings kind of hollow now. I mean, she did jump out of the relationship with Tyson and into one with me really fast.

We should have taken a break first.. 

Maybe we should take one now.

February 20th, 2025

Thursday

8:53am 

Book:

“Abolition for the People”

Edited by Colin Kaepernick

P. 122

“According to the World Health Organization, incarceration is detrimental to mental health due to ‘ various forms of violence,’ enforced solitude, or, conversely, lack of privacy, lack of meaningful activity, isolation from social networks, insecurity about future prospects (work, relationships, etc.) and inadequate mental health services..’”

P. 123

“For the master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change. And this fact is only threatening to those women who still define the master’s house as their only source of support,”

—Audre Lorde

P. 151-152

“Roughly a quarter of all bailiff’s, correctional officers, and jailers are Black yet there’s no indication that diversifying the staff of a racist institution results in less violence and death for those who are held within it. That’s because the institution continues to operate as designed. It is not ‘broken,’ as reformists are fond of saying. The fallacy is in believing the function of police and prisons is to mete out punishment and justice in an equitable manner and not to first and foremost serve as a means of maintaining the race, gender, and class hierarchy of an oppressive society.

Believing that the system is ‘broken’ rather than functioning exactly as intended requires a certain adherence to White supremacist and anti-Black beliefs. One has to ignore the rampant amount of violence, fraud, and theft being committed by some of the most powerful figures in society with little to no legal consequences while massive amounts of resources are devoted to the hyper-policing of the poor for infractions as minor as trespassing, shoplifting, and turnstile jumping at subway stations,”

Zuko wrote me:

 
Good morning Love.

IDK when you’ll be awake + I’ll get to give this to you, but I wanted to write you anyway. If I mess shit up, I want to to be because I made the wrong choice, not cuz  I listened to other people. 

Like right now.

I’m gonna ignore Wolfy telling me that I over-explain things + to just let shit go. I wanna make sure you know how I feel + where I’m coming from, so that there’s no assuming + so I’m being open + honest with you. 

(Yup, I’m learning from you + the book you’re reading. 🙂)

You’re right: not everyone is gonna like me, + I need to be OK with that. And I need to stop worrying (catastrophizing?) about the future or stressing about the past. I want to learn every day and grow every day so I can be the best version of myself.

The gamer in me calls it “Leveling Up.” 🙂

I was taking advice from others (inmates) cuz I haven’t been successful in my relationships. 

So, logically, I need to look at myself to figure out what I’m doing wrong. Maybe those people (xgfs) were just assholes + they didn’t love me. And I have an addiction to alcohol, which fucked things up too.

Basically, I have to look at myself, and evaluate things. I signed up for the Healthy Relationships group months ago, so hopefully I get in that group + it’s helpful. I wanna be a better person, for myself + for you. 🙂

I know we talked about this last night, but I wanna make sure I get this all out clearly. 

I do not ever want to get back with her, and I honestly don’t even see us being friends. But I don’t want her as an enemy either, cuz I want her to leave you, me + my friends alone. It’s really hard for me to be an asshole on purpose, so I need to learn how to balance things better. It’s not my responsibility to make sure she’s OK, especially since she hates me.

I do not want to be with anyone besides  you. I love you + everything about you. 🙂I’m a one woman kind of woman. You + only you, get all of my love and affection. Life has been great since we decided to let our friendship evolve. 🙂 You make my heart happy too. You said something like, “This just feels right, + I have to trust that.”

I agree.

Fuk all that dumb advice people have given me. I like being honest about everything + that’s what I’m sticking with. Thank you for not quitting on me + all this monogamous gay shit you’re doing with me. ♥️I love you. Thank you for letting me learn + grow with you. Thank you for loving me. 🙂

I think that was everything I wanted to say. 

I’ve gotten interrupted by girthy banana dicks, school, Bundo on her knees “waiting for Daddy to cum” … * insert disgusted face.*

This is why it takes me so long to focus + write you, I’m sorry. 

Plus, I get distracted daydreaming about you 🙂. Holding your hand (carefully), kissing you, touching you, that one time on Vday 🙂, laughing and joking with you, listening to you talk when you’re passionate about something, looking into your beautiful eyes, seeing your pretty smile, I love you.

I’m sorry again that I wasn’t honest with you, + I’m sorry for hurting you.

Okay, I’m done now. Sorry for apologizing so much 😝 I love you, Thank you for sharing how you were feeling with me. 

I had so much fun on our date (after we got past the whole break thing + your phone call. You’re a heartbreaker.). Jimmy Timmy Smith-Jones will never be a triangle!! 

Lmao I love you so much. 🙂 I have the best time with you.

Your awesome level + my awesome level = fucking amazing. 🙂

OK. Food. See you soon.

I love you Sprout.

♥️

Me

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The Rumor Mill and TIger’s Birthday

MUNCY STATE PRISON

December 23rd, 2024

Monday

9pm

I had Paul look up Lolita on the internet. She may not have died by suicide. [2025 update–she did] It’s under investigation. But that’s what they always say when someone here dies. A lot of rumors are swirling around. People are saying that she fell and hit her head, and then nobody checked on her. She was dead at 6:15am, but they didn’t come to get her until 9:30am. 

I wonder why.

Zuko says she would feel a little better if it wasn’t on purpose, if her last moments weren’t filled with hopelessness and despair.

I don’t know.

Is neglect better than suicide?

Is a preventable death better than on purpose?

We got a new cellie today. She gossips a lot, and imitates the Vietnamese lady down the tier.

Hm.

She says she leaves in three weeks.

December 28th, 2024

Saturday

Tiger’s birthday. 

Neither she nor the boys answered the phone.

Daisy thanked me for being her friend today.

We did 80s makeup.

I’ll take it.

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Lolita…

December 20th, 2024

Friday

12:04am

I can’t sleep. I’ve been basically sleeping for a week, so Daisy made me (I was willing) drink a bunch of coffee to get out of my funk, which worked, but now I can’t sleep. Commissary tomorrow, so I’ll have my own coffee and I won’t be forced to share it with Swiper, because she left. Thank God for that, but now we have to worry about who we’ll get to replace her. At least I have a lock now, for my locker. Ironically, Swiper gave me hers, so I couldn’t use it while she was here because, obviously, she knew the combination. 

I’m glad she’s gone and I hope she doesn’t come back.

I wonder if I’ll sleep at all tonight. I told Stryder that I was going to write Sassypants a letter and send it to him so he could send it to her. I have a virtual visit with him tomorrow afternoon.

Boy, there are farts galore this time of night. At least Swiper’s not here to announce every single one.

People fart, lady.

Get over it.

I wonder if she’ll keep stealing things, which is what got her in prison four times. My feeling is yes. I’ve been really depressed about another Christmas in jail. And next Christmas too. I still can’t believe my stupid lawyer said he didn’t know what I was talking about when I mentioned petitioning the court for a shorter stay at the Women’s Center.

Asshole.

No word on Cool. I take it he’s in a permanently psychotic state these days. Paranoid schizophrenic, they say. 

I can’t say I’m surprised.

Sad, but not surprised.

The new lady next door, Sondra, calls me Pearl, for reasons unknown. She says it’s off some 70s TV show. She’s still up too, watching TV. I wish I had a TV, but it’s too expensive to ask anyone for. Nobody has an extra $230 laying around, except maybe my parents, and they’re too stingy with money to ask.

I’m afraid this place, this system, is breaking my spirit. I think about the writing I did in 2007-08, when I wrote Kidowed during and after Kaylee’s death, and I still had a sense of humor. I don’t anymore, it seems. I used to be funny, seemingly effortlessly, even during those dark times, as if I still had hope that things would be better in the future if I just could get through this part. But it didn’t. Not for the next 17 years it didn’t.

How much can one person take?

I don’t have any hope for the future anymore. I don’t even believe that I have the smallest iota of control over my life anymore. I used to believe I was in charge of my life, and that I made the good things in my life happen. 

Now, that idea seems monumentally stupid.

Now, life seems very random and luck-based. Self-determination seems like an oxymoron. In this Short Reads class I’m going to on Tuesdays, there is this teacher who says she doesn’t believe in God. My problem is that I believe in God, but I don’t like Him or trust Him, because he has treated me like he hates me. Why does nothing good ever happen to me? My life is just misery following misery. I wonder if people who commit suicide don’t believe in Hell, or they believe in it, but figure that it must be better than this shithole life? Eternal burning in hellfire sounds better than life on Earth? 

I can believe it these days.

December 21st, 2024

Saturday

7:02pm

Cool came home to my parent’s house. Apparently he’s staying in the apartment most of the time. Seems weird to me that he came home to not be alone, and is now isolating himself. I had hoped things would become more normal if he was around family. He brought his dog, who he renamed Falcore from Sunshine.

Hm.

I’d be interested to see what he’s posting on social media now that he’s home. I hope he doesn’t act like a crazy wacko in front of the kids.

December 22nd, 2024

Sunday

11:55am

It is rumored that Lolita came back to prison after only being gone for four days, and that she may have killed herself today. There was a weird lockdown and everything was running late, and Zuko just told me in the bathroom. I heard that he was back with new charges a couple of days ago, and that she was “freaking out” in the Infirmary, but then I didn’t hear anything after that.

She gave me her eyeshadow when she left.

I’m wearing it today.

4:08pm

It’s true.

Lolita killed herself.

Zuko cried. 

I hugged her for a long time.

I’m incredibly sad.

After all that she had survived, she died all alone in a cinderblock cell…Zuko kept saying, “I wish somebody would have helped her…there’s no help here…(sob).”

This place will crush your soul…although it sounded more like it blasted hers to smithereens. There’s rumors of screaming and blood and a broken window…I wonder if the shattering of a soul makes the same noise as a window spider-webbing into a million pieces…

It’s inconceivable that such small buildings can house so much pain…you’d think they’d just burst apart with the weight of it.

But instead, people’s brains crack in half, and their spirits snap too. 

I wonder how such a monumental happening could not make a noise?

I wonder if she cried, 

Or if there was a steely resolve, 

When she decided to die, 

Instead of living

In this brick and mortar cage.

When she took her last breath, 

Was she relieved?

Was she finally free?

Sometimes I wonder

How the Earth doesn’t shift on its axis

Every time a soul gives up

They talk about strength, resilience, 

And the indomitable human spirit. 

But I know a place that can dominate

A human spirit, 

Conquer it, 

And smash it, 

Stomp it, 

Until it loses all hope.

And the despair takes over 

Like a creeping black mist, 

And the spirit starts thinking about Heaven, 

Instead of this Hell on Earth

That is Muncy State Prison

In Pennsylvania, 

America.

Land of the free?

Is she finally free?

Did it make a noise?

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Life Uncategorized

Commissary, Vicodin, and Nightmares

MUNCY STATE PRISON

December 3rd, 2024

Tuesday

9:30pm

We finally got Commissary today, after going without it for a week and a half. I drank too much coffee, pooped three times, and talked a lot. Previous to today, I had slept for a week, so I had some excess energy, which is new for me here. Usually, I feel like I’m slogging through every day, waiting for the next time I can lie down.

I’m wondering if I should write Mr. Big a letter apologizing for my last email to him, and telling him that I was manic and talking crazy. Probably I should. 

(I didn’t.)

I tried to call my lawyer today, but no answer. I called Gem, Motorcycle, Stryder (twice), and Paul. Paul didn’t answer and he had said that we have a video visit tomorrow, but it’s not on the schedule, so I asked Stryder to message him and ask what’s up.

Everything is so difficult here.

There are almost 100 people on this Unit, and over 1100 on the “campus” now. I don’t know why they call it a campus, it’s much more like a hostile military compound. 

I got another interview for Thursday. 

Daisy made a giant peanut butter/chocolate cookie roll today. She called it “Death by Chocolate” and Swiper said that’s the best way to die. My hips are killing me. I can’t even sit cross-legged anymore. I’m wondering how I’m ever going to have sex. Something’s gotta give. I need better pain control than Mobic, but the pills I was taking apparently make me an insane crazy person, and nobody prescribes narcotics anymore. Sometimes weed makes me think I’m Jesus and fall down a lot.

No.

Vicodin seems like the answer, but you can’t get it anywhere now, which is bullshit. I don’t ever want to be addicted to it again, but that takes a lot of effort. You don’t get addicted by taking one or two tablets a day. I wonder if my rheumatologist would prescribe it. I guess I’ll find out in a year. I can probably reestablish a relationship with him while I’m at the Women’s Center, but he probably would never prescribe them with my history of addiction.

It’s no wonder people use heroin.

It’s cheaper and easier to get than Vicodin.

Bullshit.

Also bullshit? Momma Bear chairing the AA/NA meetings on the Unit and then telling someone during a fight this morning to go get high. She’s supposed to be a role model, not someone who digs to the bottom of the garbage dumpster for insults about addicts.

I got new mascara today and Lolita gave me some Pink Oil, so I did my hair and face pretty. 

It made me feel better.

Lolita is leaving in 11 days. I wonder if she’d do an interview. Her story is crazy. She was kidnapped and held in a trap house basement for days and raped and beaten several times. Then a man was sent downstairs, presumably to rape her, and he felt sorry for her, so he came back the next day with a sawed-off shotgun to rescue her, but was killed by her captors.

Then they made her clean up the mess.

She was charged with something ridiculous like abuse of a corpse and accessory to homicide and served seven years in prison. She’s back on a technical parole violation for drinking alcohol.

Ridiculous.

December 4th, 2024

Wednesday

3:15am

Nightmares.

The kind where you wonder how your brain is so very imaginative.

Horrifying.

Stryder was in it.

In the nightmare I was was having nightmares, and he was the only one who cared enough to ask me to describe it to him.

But then he seemed evil too.

Do dreams really mean anything?

Last night when we were talking on the phone, he said he didn’t know if he wanted to set up a video visit, because when he saw me it would be hard not to fall in love with me again. 

In the dream, I got the distinct feeling that he was toying with me, the way a cat will torture a small animal to death before he devours it.

Is that what he’s doing?

Or does it mean nothing?

I’m tired, but I don’t want to go back to sleep. 

In another nightmare, I thought I woke up, and stood up to go over to some man I was with and cuddle him and tell him about my nightmare, but some laughing, evil spirit-lady was trying to invade my body. She kept laughing and giggling and saying that I couldn’t keep her out of me, no matter how hard I tried. I had the distinct feeling that she was my mental illness.

Bipolar disorder in a cackling, sinister apparition. 

Then I woke up again, or thought I did, and actually saw the wall I sleep next to, but I wasn’t awake at all.

I see prison walls in my nightmares.

When I realized I wasn’t really awake, and it was a trick, I summoned all of my strength to open my eyes. 

Who would’ve thought I’d be so glad to see a prison wall?

Same wall. 

I prayed to God twice today to get me out of here, but it’s no use. I’m just going to another prison. A much nicer prison, but still a prison. 2025 isn’t even here, and it’s already gone. This one-to-three year sentence turned into four. 

That’s how the “justice” system works.

I don’t want to go back to sleep.

I have to push Ms. Grumpy Crabass all over creation tomorrow (today) in my new, surprisingly painful boots. I should’ve kept my old boots with holes in them. 

That’s the thing about prison–just when you think something better is going to happen, something much worse happens.

Prison Rule #1: Things can always get worse.

Like having the first decent day in a long time and then having nightmares all night following it.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

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.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Judgment, Discrimination, and Grief

Women’s Center

August 30, 2017

Wednesday

Day 57

My sleep study came back, and I’m waiting on the results. Now we’re doing a drug and alcohol class.

12pm

That was fun. Not. Self-esteem stuff. Now it’s time to go mulch. More fun.

The lady who had a baby a month ago is crying on the phone with CYS an they’re making Chantilly mulch even though she had an allergic reaction to the dye they gave her at the hospital with her MRI/CT scan, so they gave her a bunch of Benadryl. She looks half dead. She says Mr. Big needs to choke and die. And Tori’s the opposite today, because she had a sex dream about Mr. Big last night, so she’s following him around drooling like a dog in heat. 

Drama, drama, drama.

Jesus God. People are being so mean to ChoMo. I’m so sick of hearing that word that I’m going to have to change her name–it’s slang for Child Molester. I thought it was funny at first, but now the bullying is so bad that it is definitely NOT funny anymore. I feel like it’s taken on the viciousness of the N-word, which I do not say. I guess I’ll name her…Elaine. Pubescent volatility–that’s what I’ll call what’s going on here. I feel like she’s a new version of Chantilly–child-like, compulsive liar, multiple personalities. I feel like no matter what she did, she deserves to be treated like a human. People are nice to Old Toothless, for God’s sake, and she burned her house down with her husband in it.

I’m reading my book again. This is some more stuff I can relate to: “…bad advice increases the sense of being crazy and out of control. It adds to the burden of feeling they are mourning all wrong, that they are violating the customs of this alien land without knowing how to do it right and certainly not having the power to do it differently.

Stages of Mourning

THE HOUR OF LEAD

This is the hour of lead

Remembered if outlived

As freezing persons

Recollect

The snow–

First chill, then stupor, then

The letting go.

–Emily Dickinson

“Books and groups of other bereaved parents provide an anchor. It is reassuring to see that others are indeed experiencing the same violent, chaotic emotions. A few souls wander this barren desert together.”

7pm

NA meeting: Easy does it, but do it. Honesty, Openmindedness, and Willingness. 

Freedom from Ourselves

One of the NA members’ kids is doing cartwheels outside. I feel bad for her. Her mother is a monster to her, which is hard to find in NA. Most are completely reformed people in every way–good people.

“Practicing a better way of life by living according to Spiritual principles will eventually have an effect on our thinking.”

“We sometimes encounter remarkable coincidences in our lives that have no rational explanation.”

“Religion is for people who are scared to go to Hell. Spirituality is for people who have been to Hell.

  1. I can’t
  2. He can
  3. I think I’ll let him

“The longer we stay clean, the more evident it becomes that our addiction runs much deeper than drugs.”

Real life truly is excruciating. That’s all I have to say about that.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

War, Choices, and Toxic Shock Syndrome

Muncy State Prison

April 25th, 2024

Thursday

9pm

Modified lockdown today, so that the entire compound can watch the PREA (Prison Rape Elimination Act) video (again). The rumor is that we’re getting like four Chef Boyardee raviolis for lunch. 

Oh good.

My video conference for today was cancelled because I waived the preliminary hearing. I hate waiving hearings. I always feel like it gives them the upper hand even more so than they already do.

Daisy and I were talking about county jails yesterday, and she said that Fayette County Jail is known as “Fayette’nam” because it’s so horrible. Tampons are $0.40/apiece and you can only order 10 per week, so you have to stock up or make your own tampons out of pads. Sounds like a recipe for Toxic Shock Syndrome to me. Imagine having 10 tampons for a whole period–five to seven days long–when you usually use six or eight per day. SO a box of 40 tampons would be $16.00 in Fayette’nam. 

Jesus Christ.

4pm Lockdown finally lifted.

8:09pm I sent Paul the two blogs I wrote and told him that I missed him. I don’t really know what else to say. I don’t think there is anything else to say. I asked him to please respond. I’m reading this book, “The Seat of the Soul” by Gary Zukov. It’s about the evolution of the human soul  and light and intentions and the Universe. I don’t really understand it, but it’s another one of those books that says that you create your own reality. I can never seem to wrap my head around that. 

I would never create this for myself.

Never.
I would never have chosen for my children to die and the others to be taken away. I would have never chosen prison for 10 years of my life or an abusive, horrible mother. I would have never chosen to go through so much pain, suffering, and horror that I became suicidal.

No.

I did not choose this for myself.

What about casualties of war? What about the Jews in the Holocaust? Do you think they chose that life? That death?

Why?

That doesn’t make any sense. 

Talk about vibrations and frequencies and light all you want, but I didn’t choose this.

Categories
Life

Fuck My Life

4/4/24

Thursday

10am

I talked to my mother. Apparently Paul wasn’t the one who called the police. He did call her though, to find out what was going on with me. My mother says the people feeding me information are wrong. She asked Paul not to contact Stryder, and he said that he wouldn’t. My mother says that Stryder loves drama.

Of course he does.

She says I had visitation with the boys on the day I got arrested the second time, and talked to the CYS worker, none of which I remember. I hope I didn’t say anything crazy to the boys.

Fuck. 

This is scary. It’s scary because it’s not like I can stop doing something (like drugs) or start doing something (like meds or therapy) and the crazy will stop. 

I wrote my mother:

Mom, 

I just talked to you. I’m wondering many things. Things like why did you call the police on me instead of CRISIS or an ambulance? Why didn’t you come get me and take me to the hospital? Especially if you were worried about my safety?

The police hate me. 

You know the police hate me.

My hand is still swollen, why wrist is damaged, and I have road rash marks on me still from where they dragged me to the car by the handcuffs. This is after beating on me and tasing me twice. 

Police lead to jail, prison, or death. 

That’s it.

They aren’t going to help me. Why do you not seem to know this?

All you’ve ever done is use my mental illness against me to make my life even worse than it already is. Why don’t you ever help me? I cannot control this, and it’s getting more scary as I age. It’s not like I can stop doing something (like drugs) or start doing something (like meds or therapy) and the crazy will stop. Please stop acting like it’s some sort of behavior problem I can control if I try hard enough. Stop punishing me for it. You’ve been punishing me for over 40 years. 

When does it stop?

I’m doing the best I can. I go to all of my appointments. I see a psychiatrist monthly and a therapist weekly. I take my medication. I don’t use drugs. I work. What more do you want from me? Stop using my mental illness against me. Stop calling the police on me. I don’t know what else to say to you. 

If you cared about me at all, or if you were “on my side,” you would do this.

–Justine

Paul, 

I don’t know what to say to you. I talked to my mother today and she says she’s the one who called the police. I’m trying to piece this story together, because I don’t remember any of it. I want to know why nobody called CRISIS or an ambulance? Why don’t people help me instead of calling the police? The police came and tased me, dragged me, and beat me up. 

Next time, they’ll probably just shoot me. 

This is scary. It’s scary because it’s not like I can just stop doing something (like drugs) or start doing something (like meds or therapy) and the crazy will stop. I had a visit with my boys on Wednesday that I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything until the 29th, when I came to in Clarion Psych.

I want to know what happened. I’m going to have to explain this to a judge and the Parole Board.

Please write back by letter or kiosk (connectnetwork.com) and let me know if I can call you.

–Justine

8:23pm

I talked to Superman. King was sleeping at 7pm. I hope he’s okay. Burgundy finally told me that she thought I was “prejudiced” because I was talking about interviewing more “people of color.” She doesn’t seem to understand that that’s the term people use when they’re NOT racist.

*sigh*

I’m sure she told everyone on the Block too. It’s no wonder people hate me. I apologized for her perception of me and said I wasn’t meaning to come off that way. Things seem okay now.

She reminds me more and more of Sassypants, who told me I act like I think I’m better than everyone else. Like–why am I responsible for your perceptions? Can people really blame me for being miserable? I hear “Fix your face,” all day long. I tend to think to myself, “Of course I’m miserable!! Why the fuck are you so fucking HAPPY?! We’re in GODDAMN PRISON STUPID!!”

Burgundy says I need to find a positive reason for being here. I said I can’t . She says I could have gotten hit by a car or burned down my house if I wasn’t here. This reminds me of the “it could be worse” people when Ethan and Kaylee died. I remember writing in my journal something like, “Is it supposed to make me feel better to imagine somebody who has it WORSE than me??! How does THAT work?”

Fuck my life. 

At least I have a radio and Pink is singing to me. 

There’s my fucking gratitude. 

Are you happy now??

Can you leave me the fuck alone now??!