Saturday, May 29, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Letters from the Inside, Sarah Pender, #34
Dear Kelly,
It's Tuesday night and boy, have I had an AWFUL week. I got one letter from you yesterday dated 30 April, another tonight dated 5 May. Your 40th birthday is Sunday and you have no plans? You'll be doing something interesting, maybe you just don't know it yet.
For my part, just writing this letter is a HUGE accomplishment--I will explain, but just know that it takes a lot of energy and concentration to write. So, I've painted you up a pretty envelope and am sitting down to write you a long one as you requested. I will tell you all my problems this week and perhaps you will feel better about your own. Well, probably not. But out of all the people I know, I know you willa different perspective of all.
I apologize for the tiny-ass writing. It's a side effect---
I enjoyed your food forays. (Foray. Is that the right word? Where's my dictionary?) Yay! I correctly used foray in a sentence, probably for the first time ever. Fun. (In the process of looking that up I saw somjething called a fiddlehead, or a "crosier" which is the "coiled young frong of any of various ferns, some of which are considered a delicacy when cooked." Have you ever eaten one?)
Yeah, so I liked the chicken chronicles. First KFC, then Kyochon. You have the ability to write about anything. And make it interesting. I prefer baked or grilled chicken to fried, but I admit that I did eat A LOT of sweet and sour chicken from various chinese restaurants while out. I also tried many other varieties, but you just cannot fuck up sweet and sour chicken. Batter it. Fry it. Dip it. I've had great SS chix, but NEVER bad.
Yes, I did work while I was out, but living alone sucks. Once you buy all the ingredients there's enough food for sex people. I fixed spaghetti once, and ate it for three meals before I got upset and froze the rest. I got smart and bought a package from Omaha Steaks. I'd always wanted to try mail order food, because I heard it was really good stuff. I wasn't disappointed. Everything is individually wrapped, so I could fix a single chicken breats or single hamburger. I also had stuffed baked potatoes, roasted vegetables, lasagna (I ate that for three days and it was supposed to be for one person.), pork chops, tiramisu cake. It was very handy some days. I tried to do multi-purpose meals--like when my lover visited, I'd get a taco kit (season packet, taco sauce, shells), beans, tortilla chips, ground beef, nacho dip, shredded cheese, lettuce, tomato, olives, sour cream. We'd make tacos. Then the next meal we'd have loaded nachos. THen I'd have a taco salad with the last of it for my work lunch.
I ate a lot of chicken breast sandwiches and salads. I love whole grain breads, and stocked with lettuce, tomatoes, mild cheese and bacon. No mayo. I love it, but it's fattening (I know, I know, I was a fat-ass when I got arrested. That was after my intentional weight gain. I prefer healthy food.)
And I ate out a lot. My lover and I would go grocery shopping together but he always ended up wanting to eat while we were out, or go to a local pub in search of great pizza. I always ended up with a lot more food than I could eat from the grocery store. (That's another story.)
In prison, there is really nothing great. I recently (a month ago) switched to a vegetarian diet, so I get a lot of beans, rice, salad (wilted and drowned in dressing) peas, carrots, corn, green beans, potatoes, bread and butter. Apple or orange for dessert. Never a sweet. I love it when they bake the potato and don't scorch it. A regular baked potato with salt and butter---MMM! Everything else usually tend to be pretty bland. If I could get them to plant a veggie garden, I'd be in heaven. I'd just eat raw vegetables most days. The only down side to beans and greens is the gas. Really unpleasant.
On 30 April you were kissing Amir, refusing to be his PT lover. A week later you are lovesick over him.
Dignity is overrated.
If you want him so badly, why nto have a piece of him? I mean, when you want double chocolate mousse pie, do you order a slice or the whole pie?
You say there is no love, my love
Unless it lasts for aye
But folly, there are episodes
Far better than play
(I think it's Yeats)
I wrote that down and recited it to a girlfriend of mine a few years ago. She was a well-known flirt. Could have any of dozens of women. They slobbered over her. And she slobbered over me. But I rejected her offer of a relationship (for several reasons) even though I really, really liked her. I was afraid of what people would think (I was an all-American girl), and the drama it might bring, blah, blah.
Then I read that.
And enjoyed an emotional/physical relationship with her, with clear boundaries. It worked quite nicely having a part-time lover. You never know, if you got him to yourself, you might not like him. At least as his lover you get a lot of the good w/o a lot of the bad. You have the opportunity to dazzle him, he falls in love and you go full time. or if he sucks it is easy to get rid of a PT lover. Really Kelly, you make this too difficult for yourself.
I was like you--a PT smoker. When I'd drink I"d smoke. Then when I got REAL stressed I smoked. Then after a few weeks I quit. So bad for the lungs. I dont' care for cigarettes but you can get them in her even though they don't allow them in Indiana prisons. I tried to find clove cigarettes while out, but there were no tobacco storesnearby and convenient stores don't sell them.
I have never been able to do a complete inversion in yoga. I weight like 175. I'm afraid I'd break my neck. Once I can get out and walk and job, I'll lose the next 20 lbs easily. For now I stay on the beginner level.
I am seriously empathetic for you in regards to being stuck with your ex in court, alone, him wanting to talk. That's like when I had to go to court to decline testifying against Rick. He was in the adjacent tank. Hearing his voice made me want to vomit. Seeing him was -- weird. Then when I told the judge I wouldn't testify, he winked at me and I was angry and impassioned at once. I hated those incongruous feelings.
Perhaps you are lucky and have no amorous feelings. Then it must have been pure creepiness.
Your heart was in the right place with the chihuahua, but I don't think Mini plays well with others. And you can't just bring a new dog home to a dog-established home. Disaster. Valium, please. Poor little guy--I hope he finds a good home, where people lonve skinny legs and bug eyes. They are not good cuddle dogs.
How did the interview go? I'm sure you'll tell me. Here's what is up with me. First, I'm very tired. Even short, half page letters wear me out so I am on a marathon with this one. So I'll finish it tomorrow. But Happy Birthday---this will be a day late. I hope you did something fun and memorable and took photos to remember it by. And to show me! Second--the next part will be a few pages long, so I'll break here. Maybe I'll have better handwriting tomorrow. Unlikely, though.
Wednesday--
Slept plenty. I'm up and feeling better. Still not near myself. Here's the scoop. You know I have been concerned about the effects of isolation, as have you, my parents, friends, etc. Well, last year, when I went through the staring for long durations, no motivation, depression, I saw the Dr. and was put on Welbutrin. For the most part, I have been myself for hte past year. Then when I began to go over my trial stuff about a month ago, I began experiencing a flood of emotion. Anger, fear, helplessness, betrayal, violation--reliving my trial--feelings very similar to when I was violently raped. My friend said she thought it was PTSD. So did someone else. Then the Dr. said that. I never suggested it. I asked what I should do. It was very stressful.
Just take it a little at a time.
So I took a break, went to something less stressful, but piled on so much work and things I think to make up for something. Anway, I had not even looked at my legal work in 3 days. I tried writing a few letters. Felt distant. So I put it aside. Picked up a fun section of my book to work on. I read it. It didn't really make sense. I read a different section. Still didn't gel. So I was like, fuck it--I'll do something mind numbing.
Sometimes at work, when I'd get bogged down, I'd play a couple games of solitaire by myself. I sat on the floor, spread out a game. I felt weird. I put on my winter hat that I use to cover my eyes at night. It felt safe. On the floor, I get through the game, and can't focus. I begin to zone out. Starving at the wall. Knees up to chest. Feeling weird. Body goes numb.
I said (either loudly in my head or out loud; I don't know) "Something is happening to me." And it was as if my brain/mind was splitting. I stayed stuck, on the floor, all fucked up, emtoinally numb, physically numb, and had very, very simple thoughts. Or none at all.
The officer came to the door and asked me if I was ok. I remember looking at her all intense/big eyed shaking my head "No. No. Something's happening to me. I don't know." She told me "You can't lose it; you've come too far." She couldn't understand me. I was hysterical. She left me alone.
Once I quit heaving sobs, I stayed stuck. I wanted to get a tissue for my nose but couldn't move. I eyeballed the roll. Two feet from me. Just reach up and get it, I thought. Stillness. Lean over and get it, Sarah. Nope.
Ten minutes later, I got it.
I saw the guard walking past my window. I thought to myself, "I know you. I know you. You are Ms. Parker. You talk to me. And you are nice to me. And I know who I am. I am Sarah Pender. I am in prison. I am in lock. And I have been here for a long time. And those are my things. That's my bed." I recalled things/people, but -- get this--felt nothing about them.
I knew who my parents were, but felt nothing about them, for them. I knew I was Sarah Pender, but didn't know what that meant. Who she was, really. I knew I had a girlfriend but felt no love. No attachment to my things. Total detachment/disassociation. Loss of motor functioni (it took me 20 mins to get myself out of bed to pee.) When I looked in the mirror, I was like, "Who? Are you in there? Come back, Please."
I was gone.
The next day I tried to act like it was nothing really. Like I was just tired, but I was in a total fog. When it was time for my visit, I had to think, "Shoes,. Shoes. I need shoes." Pickup shoes. Untie, Foot in shoe. I pulled the laces. All of this was in slow motion. I had to sotp and think about how to tie my shoe. Very slowly. I ate slowly. I had difficulty manipulating things wiht my fingers--coordination. Eating, unwrapping things. I could communicate pretty well, though, but without emotion. I appeared tired.
I stared at the walls all day. Zero thought.
None.
When they were coming to feed me, I'd hear them coming and I'd lay there telling myself, "Get up. Get up, Sarah. They are coming to feed you. Get up and gtet the door." And I'd still be laying in bed. I couldn't control myself.
The officer would appear at the door. "Don't you want to eat?"
I would nod.
"Come get your food."
And I'd get out of bed.
Fucking weird.
And annoying as hell.
It was really awful because as slow and broken as my mind was, I could see it all happening to me. And was helpless.
I'd stare at the wall/floor for long stretches of time. And think nothing. I'd tell myself that I needed to do this or that, and my body ignored me. Over about four days, I started looking around more.
The thing is, that I could talk to people but alone I was in the twilight zone. They moved me to another room. It's the mirror image and has a windwo I can see out of. I see our dog runs and a patch of sky.
I kept working or just relaxing, tring to get past it. I was hoping to go to recreation and paint, but they kept me in my room for four days. I talked to the therapist on that Tuesday. She said it was a psychotic breakdown. I said I didn't care what it was, I just wanted the part of me that leaft--I want it back.
The next day I saw the therapist again. Still emotionally numb, but better focus/concentration, still stare a lot, but not as intensely, and better motor function. Now having thoughs--in fact, they won't shut up.
Had a headache all week from the tension in my neck and shoulders.
Then I got stuff from you on the National Geographic show. Until now, most of the effect were depression, anger, anxiety -- I had not recognized the stupor/delirium. I am in a constant brain fog. The article--Psychiatric Effects of Solitary Confinement totally gets it.
But anyway, the disassociation cuses me not to feel and not to feel belonging to others. Even though I have a stack of 13 letters, I didn't feel the love. I don't feel the connection to mom, dad, girlfriend, friends, etc. And I am so lonely. Now I"m depressed. I have begun to feel. And I feel sad, angry and scared.
It's awful.
So now all of my motor skills are back (except the weird thing with my handwriting. I think it is a lingering effect of the motor shutdown because writing is a fine motor skill. If I try hard, I can write big, but it's jerky, slow and ugly. Then again, so is this tiny shit too.
That's what has been up with me these last ten days. I've been broken and putting myself together. Ain't that fucked up? I'd really like to feel, I'm awfully lonely in my mind. I am not at all animated--not myself. I can fake looking normal when I don't want to explain it to people, but they still notice something is not right.
So we are both needing to "reinvent ourselves" and neither of us know what the next step is. So happy birthday to us, huh?
I"ll wrap this up. Happy Birthday, Kelly.
XO Sarah
It's Tuesday night and boy, have I had an AWFUL week. I got one letter from you yesterday dated 30 April, another tonight dated 5 May. Your 40th birthday is Sunday and you have no plans? You'll be doing something interesting, maybe you just don't know it yet.
For my part, just writing this letter is a HUGE accomplishment--I will explain, but just know that it takes a lot of energy and concentration to write. So, I've painted you up a pretty envelope and am sitting down to write you a long one as you requested. I will tell you all my problems this week and perhaps you will feel better about your own. Well, probably not. But out of all the people I know, I know you willa different perspective of all.
I apologize for the tiny-ass writing. It's a side effect---
I enjoyed your food forays. (Foray. Is that the right word? Where's my dictionary?) Yay! I correctly used foray in a sentence, probably for the first time ever. Fun. (In the process of looking that up I saw somjething called a fiddlehead, or a "crosier" which is the "coiled young frong of any of various ferns, some of which are considered a delicacy when cooked." Have you ever eaten one?)
Yeah, so I liked the chicken chronicles. First KFC, then Kyochon. You have the ability to write about anything. And make it interesting. I prefer baked or grilled chicken to fried, but I admit that I did eat A LOT of sweet and sour chicken from various chinese restaurants while out. I also tried many other varieties, but you just cannot fuck up sweet and sour chicken. Batter it. Fry it. Dip it. I've had great SS chix, but NEVER bad.
Yes, I did work while I was out, but living alone sucks. Once you buy all the ingredients there's enough food for sex people. I fixed spaghetti once, and ate it for three meals before I got upset and froze the rest. I got smart and bought a package from Omaha Steaks. I'd always wanted to try mail order food, because I heard it was really good stuff. I wasn't disappointed. Everything is individually wrapped, so I could fix a single chicken breats or single hamburger. I also had stuffed baked potatoes, roasted vegetables, lasagna (I ate that for three days and it was supposed to be for one person.), pork chops, tiramisu cake. It was very handy some days. I tried to do multi-purpose meals--like when my lover visited, I'd get a taco kit (season packet, taco sauce, shells), beans, tortilla chips, ground beef, nacho dip, shredded cheese, lettuce, tomato, olives, sour cream. We'd make tacos. Then the next meal we'd have loaded nachos. THen I'd have a taco salad with the last of it for my work lunch.
I ate a lot of chicken breast sandwiches and salads. I love whole grain breads, and stocked with lettuce, tomatoes, mild cheese and bacon. No mayo. I love it, but it's fattening (I know, I know, I was a fat-ass when I got arrested. That was after my intentional weight gain. I prefer healthy food.)
And I ate out a lot. My lover and I would go grocery shopping together but he always ended up wanting to eat while we were out, or go to a local pub in search of great pizza. I always ended up with a lot more food than I could eat from the grocery store. (That's another story.)
In prison, there is really nothing great. I recently (a month ago) switched to a vegetarian diet, so I get a lot of beans, rice, salad (wilted and drowned in dressing) peas, carrots, corn, green beans, potatoes, bread and butter. Apple or orange for dessert. Never a sweet. I love it when they bake the potato and don't scorch it. A regular baked potato with salt and butter---MMM! Everything else usually tend to be pretty bland. If I could get them to plant a veggie garden, I'd be in heaven. I'd just eat raw vegetables most days. The only down side to beans and greens is the gas. Really unpleasant.
On 30 April you were kissing Amir, refusing to be his PT lover. A week later you are lovesick over him.
Dignity is overrated.
If you want him so badly, why nto have a piece of him? I mean, when you want double chocolate mousse pie, do you order a slice or the whole pie?
You say there is no love, my love
Unless it lasts for aye
But folly, there are episodes
Far better than play
(I think it's Yeats)
I wrote that down and recited it to a girlfriend of mine a few years ago. She was a well-known flirt. Could have any of dozens of women. They slobbered over her. And she slobbered over me. But I rejected her offer of a relationship (for several reasons) even though I really, really liked her. I was afraid of what people would think (I was an all-American girl), and the drama it might bring, blah, blah.
Then I read that.
And enjoyed an emotional/physical relationship with her, with clear boundaries. It worked quite nicely having a part-time lover. You never know, if you got him to yourself, you might not like him. At least as his lover you get a lot of the good w/o a lot of the bad. You have the opportunity to dazzle him, he falls in love and you go full time. or if he sucks it is easy to get rid of a PT lover. Really Kelly, you make this too difficult for yourself.
I was like you--a PT smoker. When I'd drink I"d smoke. Then when I got REAL stressed I smoked. Then after a few weeks I quit. So bad for the lungs. I dont' care for cigarettes but you can get them in her even though they don't allow them in Indiana prisons. I tried to find clove cigarettes while out, but there were no tobacco storesnearby and convenient stores don't sell them.
I have never been able to do a complete inversion in yoga. I weight like 175. I'm afraid I'd break my neck. Once I can get out and walk and job, I'll lose the next 20 lbs easily. For now I stay on the beginner level.
I am seriously empathetic for you in regards to being stuck with your ex in court, alone, him wanting to talk. That's like when I had to go to court to decline testifying against Rick. He was in the adjacent tank. Hearing his voice made me want to vomit. Seeing him was -- weird. Then when I told the judge I wouldn't testify, he winked at me and I was angry and impassioned at once. I hated those incongruous feelings.
Perhaps you are lucky and have no amorous feelings. Then it must have been pure creepiness.
Your heart was in the right place with the chihuahua, but I don't think Mini plays well with others. And you can't just bring a new dog home to a dog-established home. Disaster. Valium, please. Poor little guy--I hope he finds a good home, where people lonve skinny legs and bug eyes. They are not good cuddle dogs.
How did the interview go? I'm sure you'll tell me. Here's what is up with me. First, I'm very tired. Even short, half page letters wear me out so I am on a marathon with this one. So I'll finish it tomorrow. But Happy Birthday---this will be a day late. I hope you did something fun and memorable and took photos to remember it by. And to show me! Second--the next part will be a few pages long, so I'll break here. Maybe I'll have better handwriting tomorrow. Unlikely, though.
Wednesday--
Slept plenty. I'm up and feeling better. Still not near myself. Here's the scoop. You know I have been concerned about the effects of isolation, as have you, my parents, friends, etc. Well, last year, when I went through the staring for long durations, no motivation, depression, I saw the Dr. and was put on Welbutrin. For the most part, I have been myself for hte past year. Then when I began to go over my trial stuff about a month ago, I began experiencing a flood of emotion. Anger, fear, helplessness, betrayal, violation--reliving my trial--feelings very similar to when I was violently raped. My friend said she thought it was PTSD. So did someone else. Then the Dr. said that. I never suggested it. I asked what I should do. It was very stressful.
Just take it a little at a time.
So I took a break, went to something less stressful, but piled on so much work and things I think to make up for something. Anway, I had not even looked at my legal work in 3 days. I tried writing a few letters. Felt distant. So I put it aside. Picked up a fun section of my book to work on. I read it. It didn't really make sense. I read a different section. Still didn't gel. So I was like, fuck it--I'll do something mind numbing.
Sometimes at work, when I'd get bogged down, I'd play a couple games of solitaire by myself. I sat on the floor, spread out a game. I felt weird. I put on my winter hat that I use to cover my eyes at night. It felt safe. On the floor, I get through the game, and can't focus. I begin to zone out. Starving at the wall. Knees up to chest. Feeling weird. Body goes numb.
I said (either loudly in my head or out loud; I don't know) "Something is happening to me." And it was as if my brain/mind was splitting. I stayed stuck, on the floor, all fucked up, emtoinally numb, physically numb, and had very, very simple thoughts. Or none at all.
The officer came to the door and asked me if I was ok. I remember looking at her all intense/big eyed shaking my head "No. No. Something's happening to me. I don't know." She told me "You can't lose it; you've come too far." She couldn't understand me. I was hysterical. She left me alone.
Once I quit heaving sobs, I stayed stuck. I wanted to get a tissue for my nose but couldn't move. I eyeballed the roll. Two feet from me. Just reach up and get it, I thought. Stillness. Lean over and get it, Sarah. Nope.
Ten minutes later, I got it.
I saw the guard walking past my window. I thought to myself, "I know you. I know you. You are Ms. Parker. You talk to me. And you are nice to me. And I know who I am. I am Sarah Pender. I am in prison. I am in lock. And I have been here for a long time. And those are my things. That's my bed." I recalled things/people, but -- get this--felt nothing about them.
I knew who my parents were, but felt nothing about them, for them. I knew I was Sarah Pender, but didn't know what that meant. Who she was, really. I knew I had a girlfriend but felt no love. No attachment to my things. Total detachment/disassociation. Loss of motor functioni (it took me 20 mins to get myself out of bed to pee.) When I looked in the mirror, I was like, "Who? Are you in there? Come back, Please."
I was gone.
The next day I tried to act like it was nothing really. Like I was just tired, but I was in a total fog. When it was time for my visit, I had to think, "Shoes,. Shoes. I need shoes." Pickup shoes. Untie, Foot in shoe. I pulled the laces. All of this was in slow motion. I had to sotp and think about how to tie my shoe. Very slowly. I ate slowly. I had difficulty manipulating things wiht my fingers--coordination. Eating, unwrapping things. I could communicate pretty well, though, but without emotion. I appeared tired.
I stared at the walls all day. Zero thought.
None.
When they were coming to feed me, I'd hear them coming and I'd lay there telling myself, "Get up. Get up, Sarah. They are coming to feed you. Get up and gtet the door." And I'd still be laying in bed. I couldn't control myself.
The officer would appear at the door. "Don't you want to eat?"
I would nod.
"Come get your food."
And I'd get out of bed.
Fucking weird.
And annoying as hell.
It was really awful because as slow and broken as my mind was, I could see it all happening to me. And was helpless.
I'd stare at the wall/floor for long stretches of time. And think nothing. I'd tell myself that I needed to do this or that, and my body ignored me. Over about four days, I started looking around more.
The thing is, that I could talk to people but alone I was in the twilight zone. They moved me to another room. It's the mirror image and has a windwo I can see out of. I see our dog runs and a patch of sky.
I kept working or just relaxing, tring to get past it. I was hoping to go to recreation and paint, but they kept me in my room for four days. I talked to the therapist on that Tuesday. She said it was a psychotic breakdown. I said I didn't care what it was, I just wanted the part of me that leaft--I want it back.
The next day I saw the therapist again. Still emotionally numb, but better focus/concentration, still stare a lot, but not as intensely, and better motor function. Now having thoughs--in fact, they won't shut up.
Had a headache all week from the tension in my neck and shoulders.
Then I got stuff from you on the National Geographic show. Until now, most of the effect were depression, anger, anxiety -- I had not recognized the stupor/delirium. I am in a constant brain fog. The article--Psychiatric Effects of Solitary Confinement totally gets it.
But anyway, the disassociation cuses me not to feel and not to feel belonging to others. Even though I have a stack of 13 letters, I didn't feel the love. I don't feel the connection to mom, dad, girlfriend, friends, etc. And I am so lonely. Now I"m depressed. I have begun to feel. And I feel sad, angry and scared.
It's awful.
So now all of my motor skills are back (except the weird thing with my handwriting. I think it is a lingering effect of the motor shutdown because writing is a fine motor skill. If I try hard, I can write big, but it's jerky, slow and ugly. Then again, so is this tiny shit too.
That's what has been up with me these last ten days. I've been broken and putting myself together. Ain't that fucked up? I'd really like to feel, I'm awfully lonely in my mind. I am not at all animated--not myself. I can fake looking normal when I don't want to explain it to people, but they still notice something is not right.
So we are both needing to "reinvent ourselves" and neither of us know what the next step is. So happy birthday to us, huh?
I"ll wrap this up. Happy Birthday, Kelly.
XO Sarah
Monday, May 17, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
Letters from the Inside, Michael Swango, #81
In these two letters Swango discusses his displeasure at me not commenting on the things he feels I should be commenting on. In a previous letter I told him I had a dream he was trying to kill me. In one of these, he says he has no desire to do that and should he get to be with me alone in person that would be the furthest thing from what he wanted to do. He then alludes to wanting to bang me. He comments on Lady Gaga's Telephone video because it is about a mass poisoning.
