Tag: Trauma

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Muncy State Prison, Lucifer, and God

MUNCY STATE PRISON

December 30th, 2018

Drama, drama, drama–on the way to breakfast someone took somebody else’s cigarette, and of all the bad luck, I got seated with the slighted person, who was throwing a fit for the entire breakfast. Her friend was trying to calm her down, but she was all yelling and threatening to beat people up–how dumb. Her friend pointed out that she would only get kicked out of SIP if she did, but it didn’t help. I wanted to say if that’s the worst thing that happens to her today, she’s doing pretty good, but I didn’t want to get punched in the face. NA is pretty soon, which I am looking forward to. “The Word Among Us” is about taking care of our parents when they are old.

Hm.

I sincerely doubt that my parents are going to want ME taking care of them, but I don’t think my siblings would ever do it.

I guess we’ll see.

“Beside th Still Waters” likens humans to a clock that God winds up. “Productivity in Christ’s kingdom will be higher if we spend less time on repairs and more time on maintaining our connection to the Source of Life.” –Mike Weirich –Halsey, OR

I guess I’ll read “Lucifer Exposed” by Derek Prince.

“If we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin. (1 John 1:7)

“For the message of the Cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” – 1 Corinthians 1:18

This book says that drugs are a form of sorcery.

Hm.

“For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Phil. 3:20)

“For sin shall not have dominion over you, for you are not under law but under grace.” (Romans 6:14)

11/01/2026 7:36pm (When I am transcribing this into Google Docs) I asked God out loud– “Am I even supposed to be doing this?” and got this answer: Angel number 320 is a spiritual message of harmony, faith, creative self-expression, and divine guidance.

Core Breakdown by Digit

• Number 3: Resonates with creativity, communication, joy, growth, and the presence of the Ascended Masters.

• Number 2: Brings energies of balance, trust, cooperation, service, and your life’s soul mission.

• Number 0: Amplifies spiritual development, infinity, universal energy, and the “God force”.

Key Meanings and Interpretations

• Trust and Divine Timing: According to numerology breakdowns on platforms like Sacred Scribes Angel Numbers, 320 appears when you need to maintain faith and trust that your life is moving in the right direction, even during periods of confusion.

• Creative Expression: The number encourages you to express your thoughts and feelings openly through art, writing, or communication, helping you feel free and inspired.

Moving on:

“Owe no one anything except to love one another for he who loves another has fulfilled the Law.” (Romans 13:8 – 10)

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.”  (Galatians 2:20)

I guess there’s no NA today, they never called it.

Darn.

“The great dragon…that serpent of old…the Devil and Satan, who deceives the whole world. (Rev. 12:9)

“So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded. You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what He has promised. For in just a very little while, ‘He who is coming will come, and will not delay. But my righteous one will live by faith. And if he shrinks back, I will not be pleased with him.’ But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.” (Hebrews 10:35 – 39 NIV)

Last sentences of the book:

Will you commit yourself to do what Jesus said? Deny yourself. Take up your cross. Follow Him!”

Onto “Imaginations: More Than You Think,” by James P. Gills M.D.

The three “foundational principles” of this book are:

[1.] “We are what we think; therefore, our thoughts determine our actions.”

[2.] “Our present thoughts affect how we will spend eternity. When our thoughts are faithfully focused on God, we will be rewarded with an eternal mind-set in this life. We will have a glimpse of the blessings of eternity now, and will be richly rewarded, as well, when we experience His presence in heaven.”

[3.] “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him. Our greatest joy is surrendering our thoughts and our lives to God.”

“Be careful what you think because your thoughts run your life.” –Proverbs 4:23, NCV

“Albert Einstein said, ‘Imagination is more important than knowledge.’”

Hm.

That’s a little heavy for me right now.

I think I’ll check out “Care of the Soul” by Thomas Moore.

“‘Soul’ is not a thing, but a quality or dimension of experiencing life and ourselves. It has to do with depth, value, relatedness, heart, and personal substance.”

This is interesting, and seems to fly in the face of modern medicine: “What the great sixteenth-century physician, Paracelsus, said about healing applies to care of the soul: ‘The physician is only the servant of nature, not her master. Therefore, it behooves medicine to follow the will of nature.’”

Interesting.

“Storytelling is an excellent way of caring for the soul. It helps us see the themes that circle in our lives, the deep themes that th=ell the myths we live.”

“The ultimate cure, as many ancient and modern psychologies of depth have asserted, comes from love and not from logic.”
The sun is shining brightly today, and it’s very pretty. Ellen has been in bed all day. We were supposed to go to Yard and walk the track for an hour today, but she wouldn’t get out of bed.

There is currently a hot debate outside my cell about the difference between the phrases, “Ima beat her ass,” and “Ima smack a bitch.”

There’s a lot of hostility in here today.

*sigh*

I wish this part of my life was over. I’m fed up with it. Of course, I have more than a month left of living here. I need a shower. I thought I would be able to take one after breakfast, but the CO wouldn’t let me. I’m gross and sick of myself today.

Back to my book.

“…there is evil in the world and in the human heart. If we don’t recognize this, we have a naive attitude that can get us into trouble.”

“The Greeks told the story of the minotaur, the bull-headed flesh-eating man who lived at the center of the labyrinth. He was a threatening beast, and yet his name was Asterion–Star. I often think of this paradox as I sit with someone with tears in her eyes, searching for some way to deal with a death, a divorce, or a depression. It is a beast, this thing that stirs in the core of her being, but it is also the star of her innermost nature. We have to care for this suffering with extreme reverence so that, in our fear and anger at the beast, we do not overlook the star.”

Wow.

I like that.

This is interesting.

“If we were to observe the soul in the family by honoring its stories and by not running away from its shadow, then we might not feel so inescapably determined by family influences.

When I was growing up, I swore I would never be anything like my Mother, because she always made me feel like an outcast, an unwanted nuisance.

Now, all three of my children are being raised by others, and, to my horror, one of those people is the very mother who always (and still does) rejected me.

Oh, the guilt.

Ellen is up, and singing at the top of her lungs, which renders reading almost impossible.

Almost dinnertime.

I guess I’ll write my kids’ letters a day early.

There–I wrote them that I loved them and that I hope they had a wonderful Christmas and birthday (Tiger). I also told Tiger that some of the best memories of my life are making cakes with her and telling stories with her before bedtime about unicorns and other animals getting through the woods to go home.

I didn’t really have much else today, other than I wanted them to write me and tell me what they got.

*sigh*

Now the conversation in the hallway is about whether Black or White adolescents have oral sex first, age-wise.

Yuck.

I don’t want to think about it, personally.

After dinner–on the way back from dinner a CO saw a transaction between a brown and a blue–trading coffee for tobacco–and flipped out and called us all a bunch of names–dumb and stupid, mostly.

Then, half the line got searched, myself included.

Fun times.

Back to my book, “Care of the Soul.”

This book is very abstract. I’m finding myself skimming paragraphs and not really absorbing them, so it’s time to read something else.

How about, “Moments with the Saviour: A Devotional Like (?) of Christ” by Ken Gine

Let us see what this has to offer.

Ellen is singing and dancing to “Superfreak.”

“…God’s purposes are not thwarted by our humanity, however weak and wayward it may be. That he works in us and through us, and more often than not, in spite of us. That he works with us, as a gardener works with his garden.:

Oh my.

Ellen just found a big hairball in her pants.

Funny.

Bed.

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Court, Bindi, and Blood Sports

October 29th, 2026

Thursday

2:24pm

So, we had our day in court.

Of course it was kind of a shit show.

Then again, it was kind of a miracle, there in the end.

Of course my mother brought her handy-dandy little notebook, the one she keeps with all of the dates and times that Justine fucks up in there.

Ya gotta keep track of that shit, ya know?

I think the Judge is finally starting to get a clearer picture of just how the Bonczars treat me when it comes to me being involved in my boys’ lives.

I said, “I have not, in the past year, been allowed, or invited, to go to ONE–doctor’s appointment, parent-teacher conference, special sporting event or practice (like last night–there was a soccer banquet), family event, vacation, or anything else that I can think of.

My mother’s excuse:

“She can find that stuff online.”

Mmmmmmmmmmm….no “she” can’t, Bindi.

They change the practice times all of the time, and I wasn’t told about all of the games, and so I missed some of them. I only was able to go to the ones that the boys remembered to tell me about.

The soccer banquet wasn’t online, parent-teacher conferences and doctor’s appointments aren’t online–what are you even talking about??

So, the Judge did say that he would make it EVEN MORE clear that “shared legal custody” means that I am supposed to be apprised of these things well BEFORE they happen, and not AFTER THE FACT, like they have been doing for the boys’ entire lives.

They said that I had made the boys uncomfortable with my “Uncomfortable Mom Talks.”

I said, “Yeah, that’s why they’re called ‘Uncomfortable Mom Talks,’ and every boy has to have them with every Mom, and I stand by my decisions!”

Hey, okay–when the 12-year old in the next town over tragically and shockingly and horrifically kills himself, and the school in this town is radio-silent about it for the first several days, but all of the students are buzzing about it–I’m sorry but I’mmmmmmmmmmmmmm NOT SORRY, because IT’S TIME for an Uncomfortable Mom Talk!

But guess what that is??

That’s me being like, “Hey, guys, Um….come over here, because I want to hug and kiss on you a lot and tell you that if you ever, like ever feel hopeless to the point that you feel like you want to die, please, please, PLEASEpleasepleaseplease remember how very loved and cherished you are by this family and me and Motorcycle and Jake and Pixie and Tiger and the other Tiger, and on and on and on, like, okay, please??

You know?

And, like, yeah, that might be uncomfortable for a 12-year old boy to absorb, that a boy his age felt that way and did that thing, but I NEED him to know how VERY, VERY much he is LOVED, and CHERISHED, and NEEDED, and WANTED, in this FAMILY that we are, like I never was.

Because I DO know what that feels like–to not belong to your own family.

I have felt that way since I was born, and my Mother reinforces it every single day, just like she did today.

When I asked her, on the stand, if she could remember if ever, in the last 10 years, in the last DECADE, she had CALLED ME to SEE HOW I WAS, ONCE she said, “I don’t know.”

I know.

No, you haven’t.

Not once.

You call other people.

You would rather write down everything I do wrong, and report it to a judge, than tell me what I am actually doing wrong, so that I can fix it.

You would rather disparage me to the entire family, and then have them be surprised and shocked when I show up looking fantastic and fine at family events, like the recent funeral of my Grandfather.

Everyone was shocked to see me.

I know that because they told me that.

“Oh, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

That’s what I heard over and over and over.

Why?

Well, because they EXPECT me to be sticking needles in my arms in a back alley somewhere, probably while doing some disgusting sexual thing they made up in their heads that I never did (I say that because my sister actually told this to me, that I gave men oral sex–which she said in a much more filthy, disgusting way–for drugs, which was news to me, because that has never happened in my lifetime, but that’s what she likes to say about me), and NOT attending my beloved Grandfather’s funeral.

No one was shocked to see my sister, though, who is the ACTUAL alcoholic, who showed up looking bleary-eyed, bloated, and hung-over, at the funeral, which is what alcoholics usually look like.

You know why people WEREN’T surprised to see her?

Because I usually DON’T spend my time making up stories about my family and spreading them around like wildfire, because I think it’s fun to tear people’s lives apart, and lie under oath, in a courtroom, and then laugh about it later, and call it a “bloodbath,” when they’re children get ripped out of their families, because of what I said.

For fun.

For sport.

In my family, it’s a blood sport.

Well, I’ll just continue to tell the fucking truth, and maybe someday it’ll do me some fucking good.

How about that?

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Fucking Potter County. Some Things Never Change

Here’s an ongoing conversation with a formerly local woman who just won an award for treating people with dignity, who has always treated me like shit, so I pointed that out to her:

“I saw your accomplishments at Keuka College, and the way you’ve been recently honored.

Congratulations.

I want you to know that from the time we were in high school until now, I’ve always admired you.

Since you were a drum major, you had a magnetic energy that made people want to be around you.

And I don’t know why, but you’ve always gone out of your way to treat me like absolute shit.

So, I thought it was funny that you are getting honored specifically for “treating every human with dignity,” because, Trolly, right up until this past year, in the Dollar General, you have gone out of your way to single me out, and treat me like shit in public, so I just want to point that out to you, that maybe, when you are receiving your awards for being so great at being wonderful to other people, you might extend that to people who are not your students.

Just a thought, because I never did a fucking thing to you.”

She responded:

“I’m surprised by your message, as I genuinely don’t recall an interaction at Dollar General or intentionally treating you or anyone else with disrespect.

I take treating people with dignity seriously, both personally and professionally, and I would never intentionally single you or anyone else out or humiliate you or anyone else.

I have been this way since high school and I’m not going to move home and suddenly change my character.

If you would like to be more specific, I am happy to hear you out.

I recall talking to you [at] the protests.”

I responded:

For sure, yes, I would love to enlighten you.

In high school, I was 12, and in a brand new state, and in a brand new town, and in a brand new school, and didn’t know a single fucking person.

I walked by a group of you and your friends, talking and laughing, and you called me over.

I, terrified, knowing nothing about you except that you were much older and bigger than me and were surrounded by a lot of people who didn’t look very nice, kept walking, keeping my head down.

I turned out to be right, because you called out, “Oh yeah? Stick your nose a little higher in the air!!”

That was my introduction to Coudersport, Pennsylvania.

At the Dollar General last year, I had just, that day, gotten put on a new psychiatric medication that was making my head very foggy and fuzzy, and I wasn’t thinking straight.

I had two items in my hands, and I went to a register that wasn’t even open.

There was a long line at the other register.

One of the workers came over and opened the register where I had set down my stuff, and you made some nasty comment about how I just “snatched and ran” or something, and the whole line of people laughed.

I, later, realizing what had happened, put up a public apology on Facebook for rudely jumping in line ahead of everyone unintentionally.

And, yeah, at the protest, I walked up to you and politely asked you if I could ask you a couple of questions, and you fairly shouted, “NOPE!” and turned around, while I turned, startled, to interview the person next to you.

I don’t have any idea what about me rubs you so much the wrong way, Trolly, but you have ALWAYS gone out of your way to treat me like I was less than nothing, and you should be ashamed of yourself for accepting any award that rewards you for treating people with inherent value, dignity, and respect, because you have always treated me like human garbage, and that can never be undone.

I guess we’ll see what she has to say next.

(She didn’t respond.)

7:04pm

Angel number 0700 (and 700) is a spiritual message from the universe signaling divine approval, spiritual awakening, and encouragement for the path you are currently on.

Core Meanings

• Divine Validation: Seeing 0700 means your guardian angels or the universe are happy with your recent choices, intentions, and hard work.

• Spiritual Awakening: The number 7 represents inner wisdom, intuition, and spiritual growth, urging you to trust your higher self.

• Infinite Potential: The double zeros (00) amplify energy, representing endless life cycles, divine connection, and new beginnings.

• Rewards & Opportunities: Your positive actions are aligning to bring upcoming blessings, good news, or a new life adventure.

Key Themes to Focus On

• Trust Your Intuition: Lean on your inner compass rather than seeking external validation.

• Let Go of the Past: Release old habits, regrets, or stagnant energy to make room for fresh chapters.

• Embrace Authenticity: Clear out dishonesty or hidden stress in your personal and professional life.

October 27th, 2026

Monday

4:11pm

Well, the day started off good enough, with my Father picking me up for a round trip of me getting a much-needed paycheck (Yay!) from the awesome non-profit that serves disabled veterans, the LEEK Foundation (if you want to know more, visit my Monarch Media web page or click this link:  https://monarchmedia100.com/2026/10/25/beyond-the-uniform-finding-connection-through-the-leek-foundation/

To DONATE, SCAN THIS QR CODE:

THEN, I went to DG and got some various things like cupcakes (yum!) and coffee, and stuff to tame my wild hair that is made from plants and won’t harm me or the Earth either.

And I forgot cat litter.

Again.

Fuck.

I offered the lady next to me a cupcake, but she said, “I’m good.”

The lady on the other side of me, seeing me opening my cupcakes, with my basket and purse on the floor, as there was nowhere else to put them while standing in a very long line at the Dollar General, snorted, and fairly shouted, “ARE YOU IN LINE!”

“YEP!” I shouted back. “JUST HAD TO MAKE A PIT-STOP FOR A CUPCAKE!!”

I did not offer shouty-McGee a cupcake, but I should have, and will, in one day, because that’s what Jesus would freakin’ do.

I looked at her behind me, and she rolled her eyes and then glared at the woman up front, who, apparently from out of town, was having problems dropping off her Fed Ex package at this supposed Fed Ex package drop-off site.

Anyway, I survived that shit-show, complimented the teenager behind the counter on her multi-colored hair, and went on to Tractor Supply, where I got flea and ear mite meds for the various cats that I care for–my parent’s, my neighbor’s, and mine, currently, which adds up to five felines to de-flea-infestate. I’m sure Grammarly is going to flag that one.

‘Tis the season for parasites, though.

Fleas love dark, cool spaces–like–under beds, under drapes, curtains, couches, dressers, other various furniture that doesn’t get vacuumed under…I hate fleas. The good thing is that Advantage II now claims to treat fleas AND ticks, which is amazing and good, because the ticks are crazy here in smack in the middle of the Northern-most Pennsylvania Wilds.

Anyway, I get home, do a short live-stream life-hack about how you can treat several cats for the price of one, and then treat my Pixie and the neighbor cats and bla-de-bla-my day is going fine.

Then Motorcycle calls me, somewhat out of the blue, and says he’s got some more mail for me from the District Magistrate Court here in Good Ole’ Boy Town, Potter County.

Now–this is strange, because, I just heart from them, and the one and only charge I had from them–disorderly conduct–engaging in fighting–was just a fine, and was dropped–BY THEM.

Sooooooooooo….curious, I tell Motorcycle to open it.

So, it turns out that the Magistrate Judge in this town, Bryan D. Phelps, musta changed his mind preeeeeeeeeetty Goddamn good, because all of a sudden, and out of the clear blue sky, I now have THREE CRIMINAL CHARGES, with the Disorderly Conduct tacked back on there, and two MORE charges, which include Resisting Arrest and Walking Along or On a Highway…

Huh.

And I even went in there the other day to personally thank the man for dropping the Disorderly Conduct in the first place, with tears in my eyes and everything.

He wasn’t there, so I left him a grateful message.

Huh.

Guess he changed his motherfuckin’ mind.

Didn’t know THAT was a thing.

But here in Potter County, they just fucking do whatever the fucking fuck they want, don’t they?

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Parents and Pumpkin Seed Wars

October 24th, 2026

Today I went to the Post Office with my Mother, Father, and my boys to get their passport paperwork signed, so that they can go to Alaska without me next July. There was some problem with how the printer had formatted the paperwork, and so it could not be processed anyway.

We have court on Thursday.

I, of course, am terrified, that they will just rip apart my life, piece by piece, like they always do, and weaponize my mental illness and past drug use as a forever-illness that can never be absolved, no matter how many programs, and probations, and jails, and prisons, and house arrests, that I complete.

I asked the boys today if they wanted to talk to the Judge, now that they are old enough to, to answer questions about whether or not they want to see me more or less often.

King was on the fence, and said that he had “already answered that question to the lawyer a hundred times.”

Superman said yes.

Motorcycle is sleeping peacefully next to me, with Jake the Beagle between us, having decided that he still can tolerate me, even though I am clearly a crazy person who cannot be trusted with one’s heart.

I did not have to go into the Speakeasy tonight, thank the Blessed Heavens above, because Jessica Rabbit went to another bar’s Halloween Costume Party.

The boys and I had a great day today carving pumpkins.

It was nice.

At one point, they both had a seed between their pointer finger and thumb, and looked at each other, implicitly understood something that didn’t need to be stated out loud, both nodded, and then turned to me, and–

Pew-pew!!

Pumpkin seeds!!

Fired at close range!

I sprung from my seat, and chased them upstairs, with them giggling wildly like toddlers all the way.

It was wonderful fun.

Of course it ended in tickle fights and kiss attacks, with them both escaping under their respective beds, and me moping downstairs, announcing a ceasefire, having been soundly walloped in this pumpkin-seed war by two pre-teen twins, who are much more nimble and spry than myself; my pride and joy, my Grand Finale, who I love so hard that it hurts.

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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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Writing Exercises, Manic Episodes, and “You Don’t Kiss Me Like You’re Straight.”

MUNCY STATE PRISON

March 14th, 2025

Friday

11:32am

Exercise: Write in the third person as if someone else is describing you:

Everything about her was average except for her piercing pale blue eyes. She was of average height and weight, and her wavy long hair was an unassuming darker brown shade. Her face was pretty in an asymmetrical, plain sort of way.

She seemed to have a permanent, ethereal air of sadness about her, as if her entire existence had been an exercise in bone-deep grief.

She sat cross-legged on the top bunk in Cell 14 of the Bravo-Bravo Block of SCI Muncy State Prison for women, pensively writing in a black and white composition notebook, looking around every once in a while for inspiration.

Her clothes were state-issued brown, like her hair color.

On the outside, she was usually a blonde or a redhead, or some combination of both.

Her entire existence was muted in this place–this soul-sucking, vacuum-like hellhole–also, much like her hair color.

On the outside, she was not average.

On the inside, she was just another state number dressed all in brown.

Exercise:

Create a character study by writing a list of everything that reminds you of that character:

She was shorter, with a slight, athletic build and short, steel-grey hair cropped close to her head.

Her face looked early thirties, but her hair belied her age–in fact, early forties.

All of her features were small, from her hands and feet down to her diminutive but perfectly placed teeth. 

She was an immaculately hygienic germophobe, and prided herself on her cleanliness.

She loved everything soccer, and had been semi-pro in a past life, before a tragic car crash and incarceration had robbed her of her dreams and of her freedom.

Her face, although young-looking, betrayed a chronically worried attitude, as if her entire life had been pock-marked by traumatic events. Her big doe-eyes were greenish-brown, and always looked mildly afraid, as if she was constantly on guard against being hurt emotionally or physically.

Seemingly the only time her eyes softened was just before she kissed me, when she would smile a half-smile and tilt her face slightly upward, as I was taller than she by two inches.

It was in those few, fleeting, mere moments that she trusted me, if only for a fraction of a second. 

I cherished those moments.

The rest of the time, it seemed to me, she would return to low-level hypervigilance, waiting for the next blow to land where it might, even though I had never intentionally injured her, physically or otherwise…

(ZUKO)

She was taller, with beautiful, wavy, auburn hair tied up thoughtfully in a bun. She sat on the metal bunk, meticulously sorting through piles and piles of coloring pages, always searching for the perfect one for someone else, never for herself.

She had stunning, piercing, pale blue eyes that would look through you when she spoke to you, always honestly and exceedingly frank was her demeanor.

She had a flat, dry sense of humor, and would say things with a completely straight face and then watch, bemused, at the ensuing hilarity she had caused. 

She never really slept, only dozed off briefly when her body demanded it.

There was a sadness about her that only accompanies a bereaved mother, a black grief cloud that seemed to envelope her. I got the impression that her whole life had been hard, as if she had passed her nearly fifty years by climbing, scratching, clawing her way out of one pit just to fall head-first into another, already bloody and broken.

She managed to smile anyway though, her blue eyes shining sometimes.

I could never be sure if her happiness was sincere or if there were tears behind it, like diamonds unearthed from her battered soul.

(PAULA)

Note: Paula died in 2026 of cancer in prison.

Zuko said to me today, “You don’t kiss me like you’re straight.”

I supposed I was wondering what she thinks of me, if she perceives me as an authentic sort of person or not. She thinks I was waiting for her my whole life, which struck me as very brave of her to say.

She might be right.

11:12pm

Holy fuck.

I am so turned on I can’t sleep.

The way Zuko kisses me…I can feel it in my toes.

She gives me butterflies in my stomach, something I haven’t felt in MANY years from somebody kissing me.

I always want more…

God, I hope there’s more.

On the radio–

“We fell in love in a hopeless place…”

March 15th, 2025

Saturday

12:56pm

Paula did a description of me because I did one of her:

“So, I’m sure this will not be exactly what you were wanting but fuck it!! 🙂

Here goes!
WARNING: Will contain swear words, expect spelling errors lol and back and forth from cursive to printing.

First I think it’s important to let you know I truly honestly go out of my way NOT to speak to any persons named Jessica, Jessie, or Jess that identify themselves as women/girls…WTF ever!

But I am absolutely glad I met and talked to you. I’m sure your mother didn’t have it planned to name you Jess. I’m thinking Jess was just a quick name you got stuck with.

You are like no other Jessica I ever met! 

So moving on!

When I first met you when you lived with Daisy I thought you were going to be like her since you lived with her for so long. I seen you laughing, dancing, doing funny stupid things, which I thought at the time I could never live up there with you guys.

Too much going on all the time.

But now I see that maybe you really needed those dance-off funny times to keep you out of your head. To keep you present.

Since you moved downstairs I have gotten to know you…a little.

Not completely haha.

I think moving down here wasn’t good for you. It’s like you’re so very depressed down here. We don’t have fun. We don’t laugh much. We DEF don’t have dance parties but holy shit would I fucking laugh at Melanie if you all did. I wouldn’t participate just know that. I’m too embarrassed for that.

Hmmmmmmmmm…maybe Melanie is the bigger person cause she’s so stupid she doesn’t care how people see her like I do. (sidetracked I apologize)

When I look at you I see this beautiful woman who has the prettiest curls, (omg I was going to say the bluest eyes but all the sudden I’m not so sure they’re blue now.) 

I’m such a loser. 🙁

But my point is I always thought I bet this girl doesn’t know how pretty she is. She fixes her hair and does her makeup to feel beautiful when she’s already beautiful. But if it makes her feel better then I’m glad for her.

Stupidly enough (you’re going to laugh) I tend to think about how people look in a bathing suit or what kind of bathing suit they may wear because of their personality. But in that craziness (if that makes any sense at all) I’ll bet you rock a bikini with that awesome body you have especially after 5 yes 5 kids wow!!

I’m ever so jealous haha.

You always are writing + everything you write is so fucking PERFECT. But like me and my coloring we criticize everything + think it’s not good enough. So next time you think something you write isn’t good enough think about how great you really are because you are truly great Jess!!

As mean as I am (or try to be to Melanie) you are still good to her. You have a bigger heart than I can have for her in our situation.

So…I am still not saying what I need to say or what you asked me (or I offered to write about).

Ugh…you’re beautiful with amazing curls, you have a nice body, you’re very intelligent, your words touch ppl (not in the nono places) HA HA, you have this sadness about you too that I still see through your smiles (real or fake) and even when you’re laughing.

You worry about your kids a lot which tells me you’re a good mom. Your life seems to have not been so good to you through all the medical stuff + the 3 husbands.

You try so very fucking hard for Zuko but it will never be enough. 🙁”

I guess that was the end of her assessment of me.

Here’s a note I gave to Zuko a couple of days ago: 

“You want to know how I feel? Okay–there’s this scene in the movie Hitch where Will Smith is trying to teach Kevin James how to kiss the woman of his dreams, and Will Smith says, “You lean in and go 90% of the way, and she comes the other 10%.”

So they decide to practice on each other, and Will is the woman. So Kevin James puckers up and leans into Will Smith’s face and Will looks the other say, bats his eyes, shakes his head, and says, “No…I’m just not…I’m just not feelin’ it, Albert.”

So after a minute or two of this, which feels like an eternity, Kevin goes the whole way and kisses Will, and Will explodes– “YOU DON’T GO THE WHOLE HUNDRED!! MY MOUTH WAS OPEN, ALBERT!! PFLEGCH!!”

And angrily walks away.”

March 16th, 2025

Sunday

10:39am

“Writers are people who have cultivated an honest inner life.”

–Sarah Shourd

Prompt:

Write as if you were a tear from an eye–what is your journey?

A single tear formed in the corner of her crystal-blue eye and threatened to spill over and track down her face. She was broken, ragged by this point, staring at her moribund baby son lying on the apathetic couch. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in seven months, not since the baby was born, and the past two weeks has been especially hard with the hospital stay, the subsequent hard-won fight to get him out of the hospital, and his seemingly unrelenting and agonizingly slow march toward death’s greedily awaiting arms. 

The baby was ragged too, tattered and torn, what with the genetic skin condition ravaging his tiny body.

“Epidermolysis Bullosa!” the pediatric dermatologist had proudly pronounced when he was born, as if it were some majestic and grand regal title, and not a death sentence, like she now knew it was.

Perched on the arm of the couch was a hospice nurse named Dan, who was quietly and gently, persistently explaining to the mother, Jess, that babies are “programmed to live,” and that this was why the baby, Ethan Tyler, hadn’t died yet.

Jess couldn’t understand for the life of her why Ethan was still alive. So much was wrong with him.

A vet tech by trade, Jess had seen many animals die from much less destruction, but Ethan just kept living, the death rattle in his chest notwithstanding.

Jess had been fighting to keep him alive since the second he was born with this insidious and profoundly rare genetic condition, aptly referred to in knowing circles as “The Worst Disease You’ve Never Heard Of.”

Through all of the specialists and the bandages and the blood transfusions, she had hoped against hope that Ethan would somehow survive, but now, finally, she was done hoping and she had given up.

Now at the end of this brutal and bloody journey, all her hopes centered on an end to his suffering, a white flag begrudgingly raised to end this torturous war.

She finally snapped, and shrieked, “I just can’t take this anymore!” at the unsuspecting Dan, who seemed startled by her outburst.

The tear finally spilled down her face, and landed on her helpless and useless hands, hands that had done their very best to keep her first-born, her one and only child, alive.

She was admitting defeat, and Ethan seemed to hear her final admission–the last thing she would ever say to him–and so took a last serrated breath.

His chest never rose again, and she immediately experienced a bittersweet relief that his suffering was finally over. She leaned down and kissed his mottled face, as beautiful as ever, even in death, and her tears bathed his war-torn skin, like diamonds from deep within her battered soul.

3pm

Zuko in response to me talking about Dubya and our bedroom problems:

“Well, my dick is always hard for you, baby.”

Funny.

Zuko shared some of her journal entry from today:

“I went to wake her up for work + gently touched her head + said “Good morning, Sweetheart.” She rolled over and smiled + said, “I missed you.”

♥️She’s adorable. 🙂 I made us dinner cuz it was pouring out. She’s warm + dry + fed. I do my best to take care of my wife. ♥️♥️I love her so much. 🙂”

I love her.

March 18th, 2025

Tuesday

4:45pm

I went to a mental health appointment today and the lady asked me if I’m on the same meds at home. I said no, usually I’m on Wellbutrin. She said nonchalantly, “Oh, yeah, you’re more likely to have manic episodes on Prozac than Wellbutrin,” like it was no big deal.

WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK???!!

Then she said it “wouldn’t make sense” to put me back on Wellbutrin, since I’m leaving soon. Lady, I’m not fucking leaving for THREE MONTHS!! What if this keeps happening? That was terrifying!

THAT’S!

WHY!
I’M!

HERE!!

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Letters from Coach, and God Stuff

MUNCY STATE PRISON

December 26th, 2018

Wednesday

Oh no.

Ellen is heartbroken.

She came back from Commissary and Tom the CO thought she was smuggling in something, so he told her to unbutton her jacket. She did, and he said, “Oh, it’s just your stomach.”

What!!!!

She almost cried, poor girl.

She’s reliving it over and over. Time for us to diet! Too bad I got donut sticks. After those, we’ll diet.

She says her pride got flushed down the toilet.

Later–I don’t feel good today–I slept a lot. I got Commissary–yay!

“The Word Among Us” is about the prophet Stephen. “So turn to the [Holy] Spirit in prayer today. Ask him to help you, as he helped Stephen, to ive the life of joy, peace, and conviction that Stephen lived.”

“Beside the Still Waters” says, “Grace, dear Lord, grace Dear Lord, to sweetly obey Thy will; May self be slain, Thy will remain, O help me Thy law Fulfill.” 

–Ross Minkler

The final thought of “God With Us” says, “…faith is not something you wait for like a letter in the mail. Rather, faith is something you step out on, like a bridge over a raging river.”

So, Ellen just heard this on the radio: This NASA engineer was tired of people stealing his Amazon packages, so he rigged fake packages with glitter and fart bombs.

Funny.

Now I’m reading, “Unmask the Predators: The Battle to Protect Your Child. It’s about a family whose daughter is victimized by somebody from their church, and a “story of triumph over tragedy.”

Hm.

Ellen and I are talking about how much we miss being touched. Even hugs and stuff. I’m terribly lonely. 

“In America today an estimated 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys will be sexually abused by the age of 18.”

That is horrifying.

“The enemy pursues me, he crushes me to the ground; he makes me dwell in the darkness like those long dead.”

–Psalm 143:3

Bedtime–Ellen and I have been talking for an hour about our pasts, God, the devil, and our future plans. She wants to be a motivational speaker and a drug and alcohol counselor!

I think that’s awesome.

December 27th, 2018

Thursday

We got eight new people on H Unit today. Ellen’s bonding with the new one across the hall–she’s Southern. Tiger’s birthday is tomorrow.

“The Word Among Us” is about how Jesus loves us like he loved the disciple John.

“Beside the Still Waters” is about knowing when to talk and knowing when to keep silent.

“Would men know you’ve been with Jesus? Can they feel His presence near? As with them you joy and labor, As with them you journey here?”

–Ernest Sellers

I’m going to read, “Autobiography of a Face” by Lucy Grealy. It’s about a woman who overcame cancer at a young age, but then had to have half of her jaw removed, and her life afterward.

Later–

Coach wrote me!!

Justine!!!

What a great gift you gave me for Christmas! I’m sorry I’m writing to you in prison, but I’m so blessed to hear from you and I know you are doing okay. You have been on a crazy road!

I remember finding you on Youtube–I think it was from Canada and hearing and feeling your words and your pain. I have not read Kidowed yet. I gave away my Kindle and haven’t gotten another yet. I was hoping to get a hard copy of it–and have you sign it! It sounds like I may have more opportunities for that. I love the title, “Putting the Shovel Down,” and I can’t wait to read it. You have a heartbreaking story, but an amazing gift. When you put them together, and put GOD first, you have a story that can change lives–you have a story that inspires–you have a story that shows Romans 8:28 in action– “And we know that in all things GOD works for the good for those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

I also love the 50:20 rule. It refers to Genesis 50 verse 20. A long time ago, when Joseph was young, his brothers were going to kill him, but sold him to Egyptians. Through many twists and turns, Joseph ended up being the second man in Egypt. Time passed but he ended up being face to face with his brothers, and in Genesis 50:20 Joseph said, “You intended to harm me, but GOD intended it for good to accomplish what is being done, and the saving of many lives.”

Doesn’t that sound like you?

The enemy intended to harm you–to destroy you, but GOD is going to use all of it to save others. 

Perhaps I should get wristbands that say 50:20 Rule, what do you think?

Are you okay now?

Do you have support–friends, family, money?

What can I do to help you through this?

Please ask and I’ll help if I can. We’re in this life together–plus, you’re amazing!

I’m not sure if you’ve run into any girls from Blair County Prison, but they may know me. Natalie comes to mind. Actually, she referred a girl to me from Potter County who wants to get out and help people with this addiction problem. She indicated the lack of help in her area–Potter County–Austin, PA–isn’t that where you are from? Do I remember the town Coudersport coming from your mouth?

The girl’s name is June and I just wrote to her a couple days ago. I sent her some info on Potter County and places to help.

I think so many agencies give good lip service to help, but I think it’s up to all of us to make a difference.

In talking about defeating the enemy, Revelation 12:11 says, “They overcame him (the enemy) by the blood of the Lamb (Jesus) and by the word of their testimony.

Our testimony is our story and we can all use our overcoming stories to defeat the evil in this world.

Do you notice I still talk too much?

All is well with me. Tess and I go to Cove [Forge] with women on Monday and I go on Wednesday with guys. I go to prison and Adephoi Village and wherever else the LORD leads. I don’t know whether I help or make a difference. I just want to get people to the LORD–He’s the one who can change hearts.

All I know is that I am so blessed to meet so many amazing people–like you!

I included a copy of my Bible Study notes from last week. Read through them and the Scriptures–see if you can figure it out!

I also hope you can read my writing!

A special thanks to Paul, who messaged me. Feel free to write or call anytime.

I’ve got to go for now. I talk a couple places tomorrow and need to get my head together.

Listen, you are a great blessing! I am so happy to hear from you. Again, let me know if I can help. I’ll walk with you as long as you want me to.

I’m sorry you’re in jail for Christmas, but Merry Christmas anyhow! It’s a time for new hope. Do you know that a new beginning always starts with a dead end?

Justine–believe!

We’re collecting socks for those in shelters so we put up a tree and decorated it with lights and socks.

Seems like the right thing.

I will be praying for you for sure.

God Bless your days!

LOVE ALWAYS!

Coach

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! New Beginnings!!!

My return letter:

12/27/18

Coach!

I have had an amazing day today–first you wrote me, and second–God put a woman in my life today that needed me and I helped her!

Her name is Laticia, and by God’s grace, we ended up sitting together at dinner tonight–she just got on H Unit, and is a couple cells down from me.

Her story is that she lost a baby in January of 2018 to pneumonia, and she is currently pregnant again. Her cellmate had told her to talk to me because she is having a very hard time with her grief, but she didn’t know who I was, and then we ended up sitting together out of 100 people in this Unit!

I was amazed.

We talked and talked, and we both cried and she felt better afterward. I told her about Kidowed and suggested that she journal her feelings.

Anyway, it turns out that she has no one to send her money, so I thought I would ask you–we have to pay for EVERYTHING here–even for basic necessities.

I even have to pay for my lupus meds.

Anyway, if you feel so inclined, can you help her with money? Her name is Laticia, and her number is #. If you want, you can send money to me too, but I have the basics right now.

Thank you!

Anyway, I am doing reasonably well, considering, and attending church and NA meetings regularly.

Thank you for including your Bible Study notes–I’ll be sure to do my homework!

I’ve read several spiritual books since I’ve been here, even Pope John Paul II’s book! I have a lot of time for reading, writing, meditation, and prayer.

I will probably be here until mid-February, then I get transferred to Quehanna and then rehab–I’m not sure where.

Then I have to do a halfway house, and then finally home.

The SIP program is 24 months long total.

Paul is working on sending Kidowed to publishers for me, so that it can be more widely distributed. Please say a prayer for me that somebody accepts it!

Thank you so much for your very uplifting letter–it made my day 🙂. 

I think 50:20 Rule wristbands are a great idea. 

I have some support–my mother and father have written and sent pictures of my kids, and Paul writes me. My ex-brother-in-law, Stryder, who called the police on me, has also written a couple times.

He said he was sorry, but I am having a hard time forgiving him.

It’s just so hard being away from my kids for so long for something so stupid.

Any advice?

My cellmate, Ellen, is smart and funny, and we get along great, thankfully.

I am from Coudersport, yes!

However, I do not know either of the women you were talking about.

I do know of several great meetings in Potter County, though–maybe I’ll look her up on FB when I get out.

And no, you don’t talk too much and yes (!!), you do make a difference!

You are a very moving speaker.

Thank you for watching my Youtube video–that was in 2012. 

I don’t have money for the phone, but I’ll certainly write you! It takes about two weeks for your letters to reach me, because they have to go through Florida first.

I loved your sock tree idea, and the picture you drew–it made me laugh.

And I hope you had a wonderful Christmas–mine was good–there was a very nice Catholic Mass here with singing and bells and a good sermon.

I do believe that this is my new beginning–I have resolved to let the old depressed, self-pitying me go and start anew with a better outlook on life.

Certainly, meeting Laticia today was a sign from God, an opportunity to help someone. I talked to her a little bit about God, but she said that she doesn’t believe, although she did talk about her baby being in Heaven.

That made me sad, and I didn’t really know what to say.

Do you have any advice?

I want to help her in any way that I can, and her grief is about to be compounded, because this new baby is due in April, and she will have to give him to her mother. She got into drugs when her previous son died, and that kept her from grieving, so now she doesn’t know what to do with her feelings.

I told her talking about it is the first step, even if it is upsetting and makes her cry–it’s necessary to move through grief.

I’m going to try to get her to go to church with me, and the NA meetings offered here.

Let me know what you think!

Thank you, thank you, thank you for writing me, and for your prayers.

God Bless you!

Love, 

Justine

Bible Study–Week of 12/10/18

Psalm 37:1-8

Of David

Fret not yourself because of evildoers;

Be not envious of wrongdoers!

For they will soon fade like the grass and wither like the green herb.

Trust in the LORD and do good;

Dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness.

Delight yourself in the LORD,

And he will give you the desires of your heart.

Commit your way to the LORD;

Trust in him, and he will act.

He will bring forth your righteousness as the light,

And your justice as the noonday.

Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for Him;

Fret not yourself over the one who prospers in his way, 

Over the man who carries out evil devices!

Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath!

Fret not yourself, it tends only to evil.

For the evildoers shall be cut off,

But those who wait for the LORD shall inherit the land.”

See notes: 

Do not’s: fret, worry, be angry

→ Trust in the LORD–God can handle it.

→ Do good –life is about choices.

→ Delight yourself–quiet time every day

→ Be still–wait patiently–do all you can do to relax

→ Bombarded with noise–news, blogs, social media–go to the Bible

Categories
Life Uncategorized

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.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Christmas Love Letters, Smut Stories, and Jesus Christ Almighty

December 25th, 2018

CHRISTMAS DAY

Notebook begins on the latter half of a letter from Paul:

“ –sand down a new surface where the chip was and paint it gloss black.

Today’s 30 Days of Fishmas post was a picture of this nutcracker in mid-drilling. A giant drill bit brace sticking out of its head with the caption, ‘I swear to God that there is a good reason for drilling into its head.’

Seriously, how often do you see that??!?!

I typed your letter to Coach and sent it to him just now. I included your proper mailing address for letters in the letter and told him who I was, where you were, and how to get ahold of you.

You did a very nice job writing your letter to him.

I will, of course, support you in whatever you choose to do with your life, and will do my best to help out. After calculating costs over time, I decided that it’s still actually cheaper for me to outsource copies and printing elsewhere for cheaper. 

I apologize I haven’t gotten around yet to sending out Kidowed to the second publisher on your list. My plan of action is to head to the library, print out the 30 pages from the first two chapters that I sent to the last publisher, and keep those with the master hard copy of the manuscript that you left here with me. Any additional copies of the manuscript, I discovered, I can take to KOS (office supply store locally) and have them make copies at $0.10 per page, which is cheaper than the copy machine at the Post Office ($0.15/page), and cheaper than the library ($0.25/page).

I just have to gather the time to do this.

I apologize again.

Don’t lose hope if things are going slowly where you are and here as well I’ll continue to do my best and work in your best interest as long as you trust me. 🙂

Debbie [woman who drinks next door and lives with her parents–she’s in her 50’s–that Paul has been pining for since Jesus was a baby] is doing well, for what it’s worth. She made a good friend with the new bartender at the Crittendin. Debbie’s mom has good days and bad days. Debbie herself is trying to handle drama where she works at the Millstream Inn.

Bitchy coworkers and catty assholes.

My job at the bank is kind of the same, but MUCH MORE MELLOW, which is good for me. We are having our office Christmas party next Monday at Mosch’s Tavern, which is where we had it last year.

Our boss insists on having these parties at our customer’s place of business, which is understandable, except I don’t really care for their food or atmosphere. I may skip out this year, or feign ignorance (i.e., “Omg, I fucking forgot about the party, idk what I was thinking….awwwww…..shit)/

Occasionally, I’ll see Din at the bank, who asks about you. I eventually told him you were in prison, which at that point he became a broken record of his own thoughts.

He said the smokes he got for you he went ahead and smoked.

I told him that it was good he didn’t let them go to waste. So he asked about you at least. I didn’t tell him anything else other than where you were. He said he keeps trying to call your parents’ house to say hi to your kids cause he misses them, but they won’t answer.

All this month, a group of gamers that I watch on the Internet are doing a charity livestream event for Christmas. From Dec. 1st to the 31st, they will be broadcasting and asking for donations for different charities. I donated a small amount of money to one of the charities, The Mental Health Foundation. This is one of eight charities they recommend, but there are many others to choose from.

So far, their total donations as of the writing of this letter are $2,659,817.55.

The entertainment they provide is a welcome escape from all of the BS that life throws at me during Christmas. I wish you could be here to experience some of the crazy shit I come up with. 😛

It’s coming up on 6pm as I’m writing this last sentence. I miss you and love you! I’m glad you entrusted me with the duty of writing a letter to Coach and to get your manuscript to publishers.

And I’m assuming that you got the $50 in your Commissary from the check you got in the mail. I’ll send you more soon when my next paycheck comes in. Do let me know if there is anything else I can do for you.

I MISS YOU AND LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!

WRITE ME A STORY TO READ!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn’t get a chance to write part two of the story I sent you. I hope it wasn’t too inappropriate for you while you are still there, I figured something different and erotic might be enjoyed by you. I’ll get Part Two to you soon!

Love you and miss you!

I normally would say Merry Christmas (I just did), but I know being there is not the ideal environment. 

I’ll be thinking of you!

LOVE YOU!

Paul

My return letter:

12/24/2018

Paul, 

I got your letter today, and thank you so much for writing! I got no mail last week, so I was very glad you wrote. I’m sorry you’re so busy. I’ll be the nutcrackers at the bank are a sight to see.

I love it when you’re all dressed up like an Englishman, you always look so distinguished. 

I hope your mother feels better soon, and I know what you mean about not be used to interacting with her that much. It’s a lot that you’re doing right now!

Thank you SO much for all of the help with publishing Kidowed, I appreciate it more than I can express. 

My cellie is currently pretending she wants to lick my foot. 

She’s all wound up. 

Now she’s twerking.

Christmas twerking, she says.

And farting.

She’s probably the most gassy person I’ve ever met. Now she’s yelling out the window to a CO–she’s about to be in trouble.

*sigh*

I’m staying out of it.

There’s what looks like a full moon tonight and it’s pretty.

What did you do for Christmas?

Please send the money from the check from the Artisan Center to my JPay account–thank you!

I think it’s funny you had to drill a hole in the nutcracker’s head to fix him.

Thank you also for sending the note to Coach–he’s a really good guy.

I asked my parents if they had an extra printer for you, but they said no. Thank you for supporting me, it means the world to me, and of course I trust you!

Please don’t apologize for anything, I appreciate everything you do for me.

Tell Debbie to hang in there, there’s drama at every workplace.

About Din, there’s not much to say about him. My parents are never going to answer the phone for him, but he’ll probably keep calling until the end of time.

About the publishing–the requirements for each company are different–you will probably have to go on their websites and check to see what they want–some of them might take digital copies.

Did you go to the Christmas party for your work?

Congratulations on donating to charity!

You’re so good. I wish I was there to experience the crazy shit you come up with too.

Ellen, my cellie, is calling the CO a garden gnome and a Chihuahua.

Oh my.

Time for bed.

I’ll write more tomorrow.

12/25/2018

Merry Christmas!

I hope you have a very good day. Last night Ellen couldn’t sleep, so she kept me up talking for a while–she had the worst gas! 

Then she started singing, “You’re Gonna Miss Me When I’m Gone,”  except she changed the words to, “You’re gonna miss me by my gas, you’re gonna miss me by my ass, yeah, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone…”

It was funny.

There’s a CO here she calls “Little GI Joe” who uses big words for ordinary things, like he’ll say, “Why is your illuminating device on after 2100 hours?” which means, “Why is your light on after 9pm?”

Or, “Why are there clothes on your climbing apparatus?” (ladder)

We make fun of him endlessly.

We joke about what he would sound like if he were talking dirty: “Oh, yeah, climb up on my apparatus, baby.”

Ha ha.

Here’s my story for you:

He took her in his arms, and she shivered with desire. She raised her hand to his face and he caught it midair and placed a kiss tenderly in her palm. Her mouth hungrily sought his, and he kissed her deeply, roughly.

She reached down to feel his engorged shaft, and he growled into her mouth. Her body was begging for passion, driving him crazy.

He slid her silken gown from her body and took one of her nipples into his hot, greedy mouth, sucking gently.

“Oh, please…” she breathed into his ear.

“Tell me what pleases you, and I will give it all to you,” he responded.

She swallowed hard.

Gathering her courage, she purred, “Just touch me.”

He rumbled with soft laughter, and the promise of infinite passion. 

“Oh, I’m gonna touch you, baby,” he said, running his tongue up her neck…

To Be Continued!

BAM! How do you like them apples? 🙂

I hope to hear from you soon!

I miss you!

I love you!

Love, 

Justine

P.S. Please tell Jackson [first real boyfriend in college, still good friends] where I am and give him my address. 

Thanks!

Can you tell I just finished reading a romance novel? 

Ha ha, we’ll see how he likes THAT story.

Church in one hour–I think I’ll lay down. For Christmas Lunch we had a slice of cardboard roast beef, stuffing, watery mashed potatoes, green beans, and apple pie.

Wowzers.

I’m glad I went.

Time for Catholic Mass.

Back from church–it was a very nice service. The sermon was very moving–about how God made Christmas, not us.

I guess I’ll read, “Abba’s Child:”

“The Christian commitment is not an abstraction. It is a concrete, visible, courageous, and formidable way of being in the world and forged by daily choices consistent with inner truth.”

“The one who talks, especially if he talks to God, can affect a great deal, but the one who acts really means business and has more claims on our attention. If you want to know what a person really believes, don’t just listen to what he says, watch what he does.”

–James Mackey, the author of Jesus: The Man and the Myth

“Servanthood is not an emotion or mood or feeling; it is a decision to live like Jesus. It has nothing to do with what we feel; it has everything to do with what we DO–humble service.”

“The call to the servant lifestyle is both a warning not to be seduced by the secular standard of human greatness and also a summons to courageous faith.”

“If you want to know what God is like, look at Me. If you want to learn that your God does not come to rule but serve, watch Me. If you want assurance that you did not invent the story of God’s love, listen to my heartbeat.”

–Jesus

“We are to act justly, to love tenderly, and to walk humbly with our God (Micah 6:8). We are to claim our belovedness each day and live as servants in the awareness of present risenness.”

“What matters is how your life looks when you hold it up to the light of the gospel of the God whose nature is to love all of humankind.”

–Edward Schillebeeckx, For the Sake of the Gospel.

After dinner–

Dinner was hot dogs. 

Gross.

Gaylord (CO Big Words) wouldn’t let Ellen go to Common Room tonight because she was on the toilet when he called it–stupid.

Where’s the Christmas spirit, dude?

She gets a cigarette from somebody at 7:15pm, so she’s happy.

I mailed Paul’s letter, so that’s good.

I wonder if Coach will write me.

 I hope he does.

Back to my book:

“When I’m conscious of my belovedness and when I am alert to the present risenness of Jesus, I can face death courageously.”

“The love of God is not a mild benevolence but a consuming fire.”

–Bede Griffiths

“The engaged mind, illuminated by truth, awakens awareness; the engaged heart, affected by love, awakens passion…The integration of mind and heart shapes a unified personality living in a state of PASSIONATE AWARENESS.”

“According to Viktor Frankl [Holocaust survivor], a person finds identity only to the extent that ‘he commits himself to something beyond himself, to a cause greater than himself.’”

“Humility, recovering alcoholics like to say, is stark raving honesty.”

“The Cross reveals that Jesus has conquered sin and death and that nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, can separate us from the love of Christ.”

“The release from chronic egocentricity starts with letting Christ love them where they are.”

“When Jesus told us to love our enemies, He knew that His love operation in us could melt the hardened heart and make the enemy our friend. This applies supremely, H.A. Williams writes, to the enemy within. For our own worst enemy is always ourselves.”

I must go to bed.

Categories
Life Uncategorized

Zuko Love, Dead Babies, and Fucking Bipolar Disorder

MUNCY STATE PRISON

February 28th, 2025

Friday

10:54am

Commissary day. Yay for coffee and ecigs. Tomorrow is Kaylee’s 17th death anniversary.

5:49pm

Everyone has Steve Wilkos on their TVs. Some story about a woman who’s here who killed a baby, hid the body, and only got 15 years. 

She’s here, of course.

Of course she’s here.

People are outraged that they got the same amount of time for drug offenses and shit. Everyone’s talking about dead babies today. A few years ago this would have been traumatic for me. Today it’s merely noteworthy.

On the radio:

“I’m at the deep end

Watch as I dive in

I’ll never leave the ground

Crash through the surface

Where they can’t hurt us

We’re far from the shallow now…”

Maybe I finally graduated to the deep end. Never could swim. But I can bury two babies and survive it.

The other day the mental health lady said to me, “After all you’ve been through, prison isn’t going to keep you down. Nothing’s going to keep you down.” 

She teared up when she said it, like she really meant it.

Maybe she’s right.

9:23pm

They switched my detail to the downstairs bathroom and my days off.

Fuck.

Now I’ll never be alone with Zuko. She thinks we should sign a contract and live together on a closed unit, but that seems extreme to me. And I really don’t want to take a shit in front of her.

Fuck.

This just keeps getting worse.

March 1st, 2025

Saturday

Kaylee’s Death Anniversary

7:51am

Zuko and I went to breakfast this morning. She made me a picture of a woman with black hair and blue eyes kneeling in a white dress with yellow butterfly wings.

She’s so sweet.

Book:

Gandhi: An Autobiography–The Story of My Experiments With Truth

P. 19

“And he who would be friends with God must remain alone, or make the whole world his friend.”

March 2nd, 2025

Sunday

11:21am

“Strawberry Wine” is playing on the radio. Makes me miss Kimberly. I wonder how she is.

This book by Gandhi is 500 pages long.

Zuko let me listen to the rest of “Sprout’s Mixed Tape” last night. She told me about a book called “Survivor” whose main character is her great-grandfather who was trapped at sea for nine days. Two other men trapped with him died, but he survived.

Zuko is unbelievably sweet and thoughtful. 

She says she’s going to worry about me cheating on her when I get out of here. I don’t know how I feel about that. I guess if I was in her position, I would feel the same way. She said not to take it personally. Sounds personal to me.

Tomorrow we’ll have been together for a month. She keeps track of these things. She thinks something bad is going to happen tomorrow when the Unit Manager, Mr. Reibsome, comes back. She might be right.

A few days ago, when Ms. Grumpy Crabass was slowly approaching our table, Zuko started to do the “Jaws” music–like, “Duh-Nuh…Duh-Nuh…” faster and faster the closer she got.

It was funny.

Paula, my new cellie (along with Melanie Gibson) says that Zuko has a reputation for “being an asshole.”

Hm. 

March 3rd, 2025

Monday

11:29am

I wrote Zuko:

Sweetheart, 

Happy one monthiversary 🙂. I love you. This has been the happiest month I ever spent incarcerated. Who knew you could be happy in prison? I didn’t. You’re so funny and smart and thoughtful and sweet. I love these things about you. I miss you when we’re apart. You’re very important to me. You make me happy. I want to say all the things lol.

I love how you touch me and I love how you kiss me and I love how it feels to hug you. I love your frumpy face and your “I love you” signal and the way we think the same things are funny. I think about you all of the time. I love how you cook for me and draw pretty pictures and pay attention to the things that are important to me. I love how we plan for our future together and how you believe in me. 

I love you like crazy,

I have to write Tabby and Stryder. Stryder keeps messaging me about being in an open relationship when I get out of here even though I’ve told him several times to date other people and that I’m not his person. And Tabby–well, I haven’t heard from her in a couple of months, and I’m afraid her sister died.

I wrote the judge:

To the Honorable Judge Stephen Minor, 

When I got sentenced to six months in the Women’s Recovery Center for misdemeanor Resisting Arrest and Disorderly Conduct, you seemed to think that because I wasn’t given jail time, the Parole Board wouldn’t give me much or any time in prison.

On the contrary, they gave me one year in Muncy State Prison for “early failure on parole.” I will be here one year in March 2025, when I will see parole again. I will max out June 26, 2025, whether I get paroled or not.

I talked to Walter Stenhach, my attorney, about petitioning the court for less time at PCWRC, seeing that I just spent a year in State Prison, but when I called him to discuss this in December, he said that my sentence is final and that there’s “no such thing” as petitioning the court for a shorter sentence. I don’t know if this is true or not, but the purpose of this letter is to ask for relief in the form of a shorter sentence at the Women’s Center. 

I have now served nearly three years for mental health episodes that I have no control over and have worked mightily to prevent. I am medication compliant, see a therapist weekly on the outside, and see a psychiatrist monthly. I try to avoid the stress and profound depression that seem to precede my psychotic episodes.

I am currently mentally stable and I haven’t seen my three children in a year.

I am humbly requesting less than six months at the Potter County Women’s Recovery Center in light of my one-year parole hit.

Thank you for your time and consideration in this matter.

Respectfully Submitted,

Jessica Kenley #PE6201

9:04pm

Zuko cried today.

She wanted to tell me to tell her if this gets too hard and I want out of our relationship. I will tell her. I love her enough to tell her. I’m not into hurting people on purpose. That’s not my style. And she’s certainly had enough pain in her life for a lifetime. I would never want to be one of the people adding to it. She loves really hard. But so do I . But I am in love with her. I keep telling her she’s my silver lining.

Silver is one of her favorite colors.

She says she wants to marry me.

I wonder if that’s true. (It is! –Zuko)

I feel like I gave up on true love a long time ago, so I just settled for sort-of love and sex as a substitute. But Zuko seems to love me the way that I am.

I didn’t think that was possible.

Who knew?

The song keeps running through my head that goes, “We fell in love in a hopeless place…”

Is this possible to sustain?

I don’t know.

But I’m willing to find out.

With my whole heart this time.

March 7th, 2025

Friday

Book: 

“Gandhi: An Autobiography–The Story of My Experiments With Truth”

P. 89

“For one gets the Guru that one deserves. Infinite striving after perfection is one’s right. It is its own reward. The rest is in the hands of God.”

10:07pm

I have a visit with Stryder tomorrow. Zuko isn’t happy about it, of course. I’m not either. He sent me this message the other day about “thank you for encouraging me to date other people, but I’m happy with you.”

Good Lord, as Zuko would say.

She didn’t feel good today.

Her period is coming and the anniversary of her Pap’s death is on Monday.

“He was my guy,” she says.

Grief is hard. I’m glad I have finally seemed to come out the other side of it. Zuko makes it a point to always remember all of the dates that are important to me. Birthdays and death anniversaries. How to spell Jaxon’s name. I meant to show her pictures of my kids today, but then I forgot. We went to the Library today and she checked out two books–one on living with a chronic illness and one specifically on lupus. She seems to want to learn everything about me. I hope the books don’t scare her. Most people with lupus die from it. Zuko just saw me and made an “I love you” sign and blew me a kiss. She’s so sweet. To me. But then so was Motorcycle. Turns out he was a whole asshole in real life. Weirdly trivial things seem to piss Zuko off. I don’t know if that’s a maturity thing or a “my whole life has pretty much sucked” thing. She told me today that her Dad used to beat the shit out of her. Somehow we got onto the subject of child abuse. But she’s been abused her entire life. She says she’s going to love the lupus out of me. 

I wonder if I can love the hate out of her.

In other news, Paula, one of my new cellies, is sleeping sitting up again. She has cancer, and lost a son to suicide. She only sleeps for like four minutes at a time, and so is always tired. Sometimes I wonder if, like psychosis being caused by a broken spirit, if cancer can be caused by too many horrible things happening in your life.

And how do you fix that?

Can you go to a doctor and ask for medication to mend your fractured spirit?

How do you measure how much you can handle in life?

Is there a blood test for that?

Paula was holding the door for someone today and stole an e-cigarette out of her pocket. I’m not sure why she told me that. I hope she doesn’t steal from me. She, of course, knew it was wrong, and said something about karma “getting” her, but she didn’t return it.

We had an AA (or “self-help”) meeting today, and Emily was there talking about karma and how she wants to get revenge on her (ex?) husband by suing him in court. Zuko nodded and said something about “taking accountability,” but it just seemed like it was about vengeance to me. Can you really make somebody take accountability for their actions?? 

Hurt people hurt people, I guess.

I tried to say stuff about forgiveness and how it’s for you and not the person who wronged you, but I don’t know if I made the point very well.

I think forgiveness might be the antidote for hate.

Maybe the doctors can prescribe that, ha ha.

See look–I just cured cancer.

I’m a genius lol.

But what if I’m right?

They’ve linked stress to heart disease and all kinds of things. I understand carcinogens and environmental pollutants and all of that, but why do people exposed to the same exact things not all get the same exact diseases?? There has to be other factors. 

If chronic anger can cause a heart attack, then I think hate and unforgiveness can cause cancer.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

Now I’m just ranting.

But for real–my identical twin sister doesn’t have lupus, and we grew up in the same environment.

However–my mother loved her and hated me, which made me hate myself. Genetic predisposition+ self-hate = lupus

Every single woman with lupus that I’ve talked to said that she hated herself around the time she was diagnosed, which is usually around the teenage years.

Nobel Prize, please.

Anyway, Zuko said to me today, “I love you period,” and I replied, that that is a song, and then she suddenly launched into a tirade about how she hates this girl from high school. She was driving a car that Zuko’s friend was riding in, and the car crashed, and Zuko’s friend was thrown from the car and subsequently died. 

That song reminds Zuko of the girl, inexplicably, so she therefore hates that song.

Ugh.

She didn’t really explain that part, but I was forbidden to sing the song.

I wonder how many other hate-triggers she has. I didn’t get to tell her what that song reminded me of, which is this great teacher who taught Special Ed at Fillmore while my mother was pregnant with Cool and teaching at the same school.

During my mother’s maternity leave, this teacher drove my sister and I to school, which was 45 minutes away, and would blast rock music the whole way and smoke cigarettes.

She was also very funny and nice.

I always got a kick out of that song, so she would turn the radio all the way up whenever it came on–”I love you, period…Do you love me question mark…Please, please exclamation point…I wanna hold you in parentheses!”

I thought it was the funniest song.

I wonder how many things I won’t be allowed to talk about because Zuko hates them.

Which brings me to Stryder.

I have to tell him tomorrow that we’re not ever going to be in a relationship again. I just don’t want to, for many reasons. 

But the biggest one is that I don’t trust him.

I mean, that’s why I broke up with Motorcycle.

If prison has taught me anything, it’s that you have a fuck of a lot of time to sit and think. And even if you forgive someone, that doesn’t mean that you have to keep letting them in your life.

He’s done enough damage.

And the bad outweighs the good.

Pretty soon I won’t have anyone sending me money in here.

I called Motorcycle today, and he bitched about his upstairs neighbors for the entire phone call. True to form, he didn’t bother to ask me how I am.

Just bitched and bitched, and then I got off the phone.

Whatever.

As long as he doesn’t throw out all my stuff, I’m fine. 

Who the fuck is going to pick me up from prison if I get rid of Stryder too?

The Women’s Center, I guess.

Paul doesn’t drive long distances. I’m not tired because I drank too much coffee today. Zuko wants me to go to breakfast. I guess I’ll read.

Nope.

Still thinking.
Zuko thinks about (and cares about) Tyson a lot. It must be difficult to be locked in a fishbowl with your ex, but please. They weren’t even really together. They never had sex–they lived on different Units, for Chrissakes.

I mean–how much of a relationship could they have possibly had?

I feel like Zuko and I did more in the way of being intimate in the first two weeks than they did in nine months.

But she brings her up every day.

If not with me, then with other people.

And there was that note she sent her and didn’t tell me about. And I’m cutting people out of my life because I can’t trust them. Tyson sat next to us at lunch today and made a big show of laughing hysterically the whole time.

It bothered Zuko too much.

The note still bothers me.

That was 2/19/25, five days AFTER shower sex and risking going to the Hole for her, because I believed that she wanted to be with me and only me…I wonder if she told Tyson that she wanted to marry her too? Planned a future together?

That note was also AFTER I broke up with Motorcycle.

Because I believed in Zuko.

I believed all that stuff she was saying was true. I want to believe her. But if Cricket hadn’t walked up to us that day, I would have never known about the note. 

Zuko sure wasn’t going to tell me about it.

And then yesterday I overheard Zuko talking to Daisy, who was saying, “Oh, no, I’ve never heard her say anything bad about you…” and I walked away. I can only assume that was about Tyson. She seems to think that Tyson is SO hung up on her and is doing things to fuck with her, but it seems like she’s got that the wrong way around. It boggles my mind that she cares about Tyson at all–the bitch KILLED A CHILD ON PURPOSE.

She is obviously not a good person.

I can’t make it make sense.

Tyson literally has every red flag (and some glaring, flashing, neon signs) for being an abuser WHICH IS THE WHOLE REASON ZUKO’S IN PRISON, and she “dated” her anyway.

It’s no wonder Zuko thinks I’m a “ten.” 

Compared to Tyson, most of humanity is a “ten.”

Alanis Morrisette is on the radio singing:

“You’ve already won me over,

In spite of me,

And don’t be alarmed if I fall,

Head over feet, 

And don’t be surprised if I love you, 

For all that you are, 

I couldn’t help it, 

It’s all your fault…”

Maybe I’m just an idiot who falls in love with assholes. Maybe I’m just overcaffeinated and overtired.

But what if I’m right?

Can you love the hate out of someone?

Can you trust someone who does untrustworthy things?

Maya Angelou said:

“When people show you who they are–believe them.”

Can I fix what I didn’t break?

What would I do if I was being my bravest, truest self?

I would love her through this.

The good outweighs the bad.

“And I don’t want the world

To see me

‘Cuz I don’t think that they’d understand

When everything’s made to be broken

I just want you to know 

Who I am…”

“Oh it’s a trust fall baby

I’m not going without you

You’re not going alone

Cuz you know what you know when you know

It’s a trust fall baby

What if we just fall?”

–Pink

9:06am

I made the mistake of showing Zuko what I wrote. 

She cried.

A lot.

It turns out that I’m the asshole.

And of course this is very public crying in the Common Room with everybody watching. 

I apologized profusely, but it didn’t seem to help. She doesn’t trust me because I do this. Namely dump all of my invalid feelings on her when she’s clearly doing the best she can.

It turns out that I’m unnecessarily vicious with my words when I’m talking to myself.

This is why I’m so quiet in life.

I’ve learned that I’m an asshole if I open my mouth too fast.

She finally just said, “I don’t want to sit here like this anymore,” and got up and left.

I don’t blame her.

I feel terrible that I made her feel terrible. 

I asked her to forgive me, mostly out of desperation, and she nodded, but this is bad. I’m scared I fucked this up too badly to do anything about it.

Fuck my life.

Is this even worth doing?

Of course it’s worth doing.

Love is always worth doing.

But is that what I’m doing?

Loving her?

Because it doesn’t feel that way.

It feels like I’m being hypercritical and projecting all of my bullshit onto her.

Fuck.

I have a visit soon and I have to write her.

I wrote Zuko:

I am extremely sorry that I was hypercritical of you and projected all of my bullshit onto you. I go crazy in my head sometimes. Especially when I can’t sleep. You are clearly doing the best you can. If I’m being completely honest, I love you so much I’m terrified. I’m sabotaging this relationship.

I’m sorry.

I’ll stop.

Please forgive me.

I need you to forgive me.

I’m so sorry.

I’m unnecessarily vicious with my words when I’m talking to myself. This is why I’m so quiet in life. It turns out that I’m an asshole when I open my mouth too fast. I have learned this about myself. I’m so sorry. I want you to be able to trust me. I love you. I believe that you love me. The is a me problem. Please forgive me. I am an imperfect person and I make mistakes.

Big ones.

2pm

This is mania. This is what a Bipolar I manic phase looks like. I don’t sleep. I get mean. I don’t eat or eat very little. Stryder saw me and knew immediately. I’m not myself. I can’t help this. My entire body is shaking. My heart rate is fast and my blood pressure is high. I can feel the panic in my chest. I need to be squeezed. I am going to take a shower.

I hate Bipolar Disorder.

I think Zuko is sleeping.

I don’t know what to do.