Then and now.

I have decided, after much trepidation, to face my past one entry at a time. I kept a journal every day I was in prison. I am going to pull out select excerpts from the writings. I will post and then reflect on my life now compared to that time frame a year ago. Here goes.


8/25/07. Day 118, Saturday, 10:30AM
Bitterness. What a word. Full of it now. Bitter at myself. My life. My family.
My GOD!
So full of anger. Rage. Incessant, futile energy burning up my soul. Tired of monotony. Tired of people here. Tired of same shit, different day. I know it is a test. A test of my strength. A test of my mental acumen. A test to see if I will absolutely reach out and scream! My head is about to explode-yet-I remain calm…..
Calm and collected. Sane and reasonable. When the only thing I wish to do is throw something. HARD! I have never been a fighter, with my fists. Perhaps I miss that chromosomal impulse that is integrated into men. Perhaps I will find it within the next three to six months. I am finding that I am more like the male species than I cared to imagine. Albeit, a man with manners in prison. A man with some dignity and grace. A man that can put together more than six words to form a sentence. I know that sounds pompous but I would really like to talk to someone with any sort of education above the ninth grade! Am I crazy? Elitist? Or just lonely?
I’m voting for the last one. I miss the phone. Ringing crazily every evening or morning. Anxious people wanting to discuss trivial matters of no concern. Some wanting to dissect conversations from the day before. And, mostly, like me, wanting to feel as if they are important enough to warrant pushing their observations and opinions down someone else’s throat. The weird thing, the loneliness in here is not that much different than on the outside. Just not as many distractions.
On the outside, the loneliness was hidden very well with a few well placed laughs, social appearances, and the illusion of happiness. I don’t think there is one person in my little “group” that doesn’t feel that way. They would never admit. ( A few would.) All everyone wants is to be loved. Needed is a better word.


Wow! Fucked up or what? That was Labor Day weekend, 2007.
I was to get a visit from someone that weekend, it didn't happen. Many factors were in play. My family had sent back every letter I had written to them. My boyfriend was beginning a relationship with his current man, and was denying the fact that it was occurring.

You must remember, everything in prison is intensified. Every emotion is hightened. I was, at this time, in Bonne Terre Correctional Center. This place is literally 25 minutes from my childhood home. 25 minutes from my family. All of which would have nothing to do with me....

In a years time, not much on my family front has changed. I have spoken with my brothers and sisters once since my release. (Unless you count my little brother calling for money.) I have given up on preconceived notions and familial obligations. I have a new family now. A family that loves me. A family that forgives me for my past indescretions and faults.

I am still bitter. Not bitter at life. Bitter at myself. Bitter at the wasted years. Bitter at the wasted money. Bitter about my "fake" emotions.

I have taken HUGE steps to overcome my past. I embrace my life. Each and every second. I love my life. It is unreal to go to bed without a major worry over my head. My biggest headache now is trying to schedule everything I wish to do in 24 hours time!

Trust me when I say this. The journal entries will be getting juicier and more intense. The excerpt above is just a few paragraphs from that Saturday. Some things are just not ready for the public eye! YET!

Peace, love and bacon grease!