Would you like another slap to the face?

As I’m sitting here typing this I think to myself I should be writing my brother a letter. I remember how it was when I was in prison…you really looked forward to getting a letter from someone on the outside. It’s just that every time I sit down to write him, I go blank, and all I can think about is how we were treated when growing up. TEARS. From the very beginning when we were first born, we never had a chance from day one. Breathe.
I somehow thought in the back of my mind that writing about my life story and finally getting it all out of my system that I would finally magically be healed. So for the past two years that’s what I’ve done, I put it on paper…I should say all on the computer. I hand wrote most of it, but there was a lot that I did on the computer that I don’t have wrote down anywhere. And now….I’ve fucking lost it all!!! I believe AOL caused my computer to crash, and now it won’t load. I'm using my a older comupter that is slow as hell, but at least it works for now.

Would you like another slap to the face?
I feel that’s what God is saying to me. My hope was to find someone who could help me edit my story, and then to publish it for the world to see. Then maybe they would understand why I feel like a psycho every day, every moment of my life. Once everyone knew, then somehow that was to make me feel better. But now I’ll never know. I can’t start from the beginning and write about things so horrible it makes the mind shake. I feel I gave it my one shot, and it didn’t happen so I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. I’m not a writer and I never will be. I just don't know what I'm going to do now to get the money that I need. Money is the key, without it you become lost.

Waxing Joke

All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax.

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: "Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet."So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those "cold wax" kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.(YA THINK!!)So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them t together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees.("Cold wax," yeah...right)! I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works! OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I apply the was strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!! I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning , I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP!!
Everything is swirly and spotted. I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy -- a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. CRAP! I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet? I know I need to do some thing. So I put my foot down.
DAMN!!!!! I hear the slamming of a cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut!.... Butt?? ...Sealed shut!I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off!" What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right??? *WRONG!!!!!!!*I get in the tub -- the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter - - - - "So, my butt and who-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!"There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, "Are we talking cheeks or hole or who-ha?" She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night. While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It's sooo painful, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!! It works!!" I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair.... THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.Next week I'm going to try hair color......

May 22, 2006

Later today I go to see yet another Psychiatrist and a therapist. I haven’t been to sleep yet, because I’m thinking about suicide again. I’m so sick of going to see doctors, and other people just to try and get my life straight. It sometimes becomes more than what I want to deal with, and I think suicide will take me away from it all. But I’m still a fucking chicken, so until I get up enough nerve to confront an officer into pulling the trigger, I’m stuck living this miserable life.
I’m still trying to visit as many different sites that I can so it will keep me distracted long enough for the really bad days to pass. Yesterday and today were miserable. All day long I was angry, and it really was for no reason at all. I have days like that. I become so angry at everything and everybody that I feel like I want to just choke the fuck out of everybody I see. It’s like this rage that I have deep inside of me and I don’t know what to do with it all. Some days I feel like I can’t take it anymore and I’m going to explode in a violent frenzy and go on a killing spree. Taking as many victims as I can with me.

I just want my chest to stop hurting, my hands to stop sweating, to stop feeling like I want to throw up........I want to feel real.

Arrest record and police encounters.

(All names have been changed for privacy reasons. On some I just put my age, others I put the date of the encounter or the approximate date. This is a list from all the paperwork that I still have. There are a few arrest and encounters that I do not have the paperwork on, or I’ve just forgotten about. I’m not posting this because I’m bragging, I’m just trying to find a pattern to my madness, and hopefully by posting it all, I can get it all out of my system.)


Age 10 Questioned by the police about what happened when my older brother Richard was shot by an arrow in his right lung by my half brother Wally who is now in prison for murder.

Age 11 Questioned by the police about what happened when Richard shot my younger brother Dustin, in the chest with a 22 rifle.

Age 13 Questioned by the police about a purse being stolen. No proof. Secret Smile.

Age 18
November 1984 dated Robbie, LEO
December 1984…Dated and then raped by Highway patrolman Mike.
January 1985 suicide attempt, cut wrist
January 1985 Police came to my house and arrested Tammy for public intoxication. Two days later my half-brother Wally was arrested for public intoxication.
January 1985 Stopped after letting a boyfriend drive my car without license.
January 1985 stopped by officer. All beer confiscated. Let go.

February 1985 My first arrest…public intoxication, resisting arrest, assault and battery on a police officer.
2/85 Suicide attempt
2/21/85 EDO (emergency detention order) taken to Eastern State Hospital Suicide attempt…overdose
3/6/85 Larceny of merchandise from retailer, Jailed.
3/27/85 Larceny of merchandise from retailer, resisting arrest, assault an battery on a police officer, unlawful possession of a controlled drug (valium). Jailed.
Probation.
4/85 speeding ticket
4/85 speeding ticket
4/1/85 Larceny of merchandise, burglary second degree, jailed.
4/6/85 speeding 55 in 25, defective vehicle, assault and battery on a police officer, resisting arrest. Jailed.
4/8/85 speeding ticket
4/85 passing on right ticket
4/85 obstructing alleyway ticket
4/85 speeding 38 in 25 ticket
4/21/85 speeding 39 in 25, disobeyed traffic sign
4/23/85 Driving while impaired, public intoxication, possession of dangerous and controlled substance, possession of drug paraphernalia, defective vehicle (tires and brakes), possession of 3.2 beer by a minor…jailed.
4/25/85 defective vehicle
5/85 EDO ESH suicide attempt
5/15/85 operating a defective vehicle
5/85 public intoxication, jailed
5/85 public intoxication, jailed
6/17/85 obstructing an officer, burglary of Auto second degree, resisting arrest, assault on a police officer.
6/85 EDO ESH uncontrollable behavior
6/85 arrested…failure to pay
7/85 Worked at the police department to work off fines.
7/85 assault and battery (got into fight with someone)
8/85 failure to pay all cost. Jailed
8/85 public intoxication, resisting arrest, assault and battery on police officer.
9/85 sent to prison.
A few of the reports against me while in prison: Class B institutional misconduct report for disobedience to order on November 6, 10, and 29 of 1985. Class A misconduct report for battery on November 9, 1985. In addition the staff had to use force to restrain her on November 20, 26, and December 10, 1985. Refuses to attend Impulse control class.
8/86 released from prison
Parole and probation.
9/86 Dated several LEO's
10/86 public intoxication, possession of controlled substance
12/86 became a missing person
1/87 SWAT takedown
1/87 EDO overdose
2/87 possession of marijuana, and heroin (charges dropped)
10/88 house searched
4/12/90 No license on person
5/91 speeding ticket
6/91 Larceny of merchandise, Grand Larceny
8/02/96 speeding 84 in 65, reckless driving.
10/06/97 attempting to elude a police officer, driving while suspended.
11/13/97 reckless driving, jailed
97 Grand Larceny
98 probation Officer Nunnelee
12/28/98 failure to obey traffic control device, failure to use seatbelt.
3/15/99 Improper parking.
2000 no inspection sticker
2/18/00 speeding 80 in 55
6/30/00 Bench warrant application to revoke suspension of sentence
11/10/00 failure to maintain compulsory liability insurance, following at unsafe distance
5/01/01 speeding 52 in 40
8/17/01 speeding 57 in 40
9/21/01 no seatbelt
9/26/01 reckless driving
1/12/02 speeding 55 in 35, driving under suspension Jailed
4/04/02 possession of drug paraphernalia, failure to stop at stop sign, possession of marijuana.
2003 possession of marijuana, stopped and searched at the park.
2003 searched…couldn’t find anything.
2003 speeding
2004 speeding
9/24/04 no seatbelt
10/26/04 misdemeanor drug possession, arrested for posting McDeath online,
6/01/05 DWI, marijuana possession

This is not all my encounters or arrest, but it is all I can think of for now. How fucking sad when you look at like this.

I'm trying to do the right thing.

I can’t believe it’s been one whole year since I stole anything. I know that might not mean much to other people but for me it has been one hell of leap forward. I feel if I can beat my first addiction, why not the rest?

I’ve become a member of several different sites, using different names just to see how people react to my different personalities. It’s something that I’ve found that I enjoy, and it keeps my hands and mind busy. Its funny how people react to a name, some never bother to find out about the person, they just see a screen name, decide they don’t like it and ban that person. I’ve gotten my kicks that way a few times. I’ve signed up calling myself a troll, only to be banned the second I printed a word.

I used the name Thief at several police sites, just to see what the reaction of the officers would be. It was funny…some officers just flat out hated me, while others wanted to know all about me and what made me become a thief. Hehe…and some were turned on so much by thief that they wanted to meet her. Maybe they seriously wanted to put the fuzzy cuffs on me that they were always talking about.

I have a couple of serious names that I use, and go to the same sites just to see how people react to that personality. It just amazes me how different people can be fooled into believing things that are not true. Playing the serious role is just not as much fun as playing the bad guy.
I have to say Ms Psycho has turned out to be as much fun as playing thief. Once again I have gone to police sites, just to see how the others will react. So far I’m playing along, and playing nice. One night when I get bored maybe I’ll tell everyone who I really am…hell who knows maybe they’ve already figured it out.

All I’m trying to do is not go through with my plans. The plans hang there over my head, like a bloody corpse that has been laying in the sun for days. I want it all to go away, but it won’t, so I do what I have to do to make it go away.

Seeking help.

So I finally went to see a psychiatrist about getting on some medicine to help with some of the more unusual thoughts that I’ve been having. I lie to the person who brings me, telling them its only a part of my regular yearly check up that people with disabilities have to have done. I don’t want to admit to the person closest to me that on a daily basis I think about suicide or have homicidal thoughts. But when the voices start to become louder than my own voice I know its time to get some help again.

Last time I spoke with a few officers online which helped me from committing suicide. I was close and went as far as going to a town where I knew I could easily provoke an officer into doing what I’m apparently to chicken to do. Just the act of following through with my plan up until the last possible moment was enough to bring me back to reality for a little while. It gave me enough of an adrenaline boost to decide I really didn’t want to die at that moment, it could wait until another time. Now once again I am faced with those feelings, and the only way I feel I can get past this moment, is to do something …. I don’t want to say crazy… but something that will help me stay in reality without using some sort of drug.

I arrive at the office on time, matter of fact I was early, but I wanted to come early just in case I couldn’t find the place, or the weather might slow us down getting there. It was pouring down rain, and I almost wanted to cancel the appointment, but I felt if I didn’t go, one of my many voices would later talk me out of going back. I keep hearing all the voices of the officers I had talked to online saying, “Get some help. Find some support. Get on some medication.” So there I was drenched from head to toe when I walked into the small middle office building, and immediately the first thing I noticed everywhere there were religious posting from the bible. Every inch of the walls, the front part of a desk, book shelves behind the desk, and any where there was an open space hung something to do with religion. My first thought was to get up and run right back to the car through the pouring rain.

Out stepped an elderly lady, who I later found out was the doctor wife, took my information, and told me the doctor went to get some copies and some coffee. Another bad sign that I should have ran. As I sat down in a waiting chair I could see down the hall way into the doctors office, where there were large bibles placed around the room. But the worst of all, the finally factor that made me decide that no matter what I will not return to see him ever again was the cleanliness of the office. Paper, boxing material, old packages, etc., basic garbage, was sitting around everywhere possible.

After waiting 45 minutes for the doctor to return, because he had got caught in traffic during the rain, he finally showed up and led me to his chamber of horror. I could barely sit down in the chair, because it basically grossed me out. It was dirty, and like I said the room was so overly packed with papers and other debris that you could not see his desk, or anywhere on the floor. Yuck!!!! Yes I have OCD….but you might too after seeing his office.

Still I tried and talked about why I was there, and how I hadn’t been sleeping very well. I didn’t get too far into the details, but enough that he wanted to continue talking to me even after his next patient had arrived. Mostly it was about religion, and I told him if there was a God, God forgot about me a long time ago. He said I should go on to become a minister….inside I wanted to laugh my ass off at such a crazy suggestion, but I just left him believing that it sounded like a great idea. Almost 2 hours later I’m finally leaving with a script for insomnia. The doctor wants me to come back in a few days to see about putting me on more medication, but I won’t be going back. Help will have to come from somewhere else.

What the fuck am I doing?

I have moments of clarity in my life and it is then that I have to ask myself, ‘What the fuck am I doing?” I think I know what I want from life, but I feel I have no way to achieve that goal. I can’t do it alone, and I hate asking for help from others, but what other choice do I have? I try to maintain and be as normal as possible; again it’s just not easy. Sometimes I want to listen to the voices in my head, but there are so many that it makes it hard to know which one I should listen too.

The more I think about suicide the more the voices from my past come slamming forth like someone hitting me in the head with a sledge hammer. They remind me of how Tommy couldn’t handle life either and took his own life with a gun to the head. He had been at my house just he day before, telling me how things were just not going good for him, and he felt like giving up. He said he was still going to work everyday, but at every chance he got he smoked weed, and drank until he passed out. And on his days off he would become so intoxicated that he barely remembered the next day what he had done the night before.

I told him he couldn’t give up, and some how when he wasn’t looking things would get better. That’s what I should have fucking said, BUT I DIDN’T. Instead, I told him people either get off of drugs or they eventually die from drugs. I wasn’t using at the time and thought I had beat drugs, so I figured I had the right to say what I did. His fear was that he would forever go through life being drunk and high, and inside he didn’t want to live that way. Inside, he just wanted to feel normal.

Is that such a terrible thing for a God is who is all powerful, to be able to do? Just give us strength to feel normal long enough to get our life together. Is that really so much to ask? That’s why I don’t believe God is alive today. If He is up there listening and watching, when I die I want to go up to Him and ask Him what the fuck his problem is. Hope He has enjoyed the show. But alas, I believe we are nothing but worm bait when we die and nothing more.

Is smoking weed worth the price you have to pay?

Post for Price of Weed posted here: http://whathappenedtoprotectandserve.blogspot.com/2008/02/price-of-weed.html

______________________________


I go to court this week for a review on my last charges. I can’t believe it’s been almost a year since I was stopped and charged for the marijuana possession. I found out the other day when I paid some that I still owe close to $1000.00 dollars in fines. ALL FOR A PIECE OF WEED THIS ___ BIG!!!!! I’ve paid as much as I can each month, but I don’t think the Judge is going to like how much I’ve paid. But I had to pay 175.00 for the drug and alcohol assessment, and pay Tulsa County their money each month. And I still have to come up with almost a thousand dollars to get my license back along with taking intensive outpatient treatment and therapy. I don’t know how much that is going to cost. Again… ALL FOR A PIECE OF WEED THIS ___ BIG!!!!!

I know it was more than just the weed he found; he was trying to show me that he’s the one in control, and not me. That he follows the law, no matter what. Or maybe he believes somehow that he is going to save my life by making me get off of drugs. Could be that he’s just an asshole who goes on power trips and likes to fuck up peoples lives that he doesn’t like. ALL FOR A PIECE OF WEED THIS ___ BIG!!!!! It’s no wonder our court systems are so full now days, and prisons are overflowing.

So should I get off completely free? After all I did break a law. I was in possession of a piece of weed, even though there wasn’t enough to even weigh. It wasn’t something that I was selling. He knew it was for personal use only. Still, it was wrong. So give me a 100 dollar fine, not a 1500 dollar fine that only causes future problems with the family because you don’t have the money to get the things you need. Then put me on probation and maybe order me to drug treatment. I damn straight don’t need to lose my license because of this. How do they expect me to take my kids the places they need to go? Their father damn straight won’t. So I feel like my kids are being punished. Again yes it is my fault that I tend to self medicate just to make to the next day. But I’ve never hurt anyone other than myself. You can’t say I shouldn’t be driving, because I’ve never had a wreck in my entire life. Not even a close call when driving while I’m high.

Now I go to court and wonder if I’m going to go to jail or not. Each time I have to show back up I fear this. It causes me to have panic attacks, for which I have to take something to help me relax before going, or I would probably throw up right there on the floor in front of everybody. I've given up smoking weed for now, because I know when I do appear in court the Judge is going to want me to take a UA. Which I know how to pass, even if I wasn’t clean. The places they have you go, don’t watch you well enough.

Another thing I finally did was go see a psychiatrist. What a fucking weirdo!!! I swear to God some of these psyches are worst than me. His office made me want to shower for a week!!! It was so nasty, and things were piled everywhere looking like it had never been cleaned. I couldn’t handle it, so I doubt I will ever go back to him. I’ll post another time what happened. At least I got a few good drugs out of him....damn I’m a junkie. But I'm still trying.


Price of Weed....Post located here...

http://whathappenedtoprotectandserve.blogspot.com/2008/02/price-of-weed.html