16. Just One of Those Days …

I try not to get too hung up on “the world isn’t fair”, but this has just been one of those days. Gus died. He was the only foal I’ve known from birth – horses are magical and he was far too young. I certainly didn’t know him anywhere near as well as Ashley (his owner, with whom I have a great friendship), but I feel him in my heart; and my heart is broken today. In all their strength and power, horses are fragile; and because they are majestic and wild, earning their trust feels incredibly sacred. Losing Gus is unfair because he embodied such joy, was only 5 and gave so much to anyone who met him; he is missed. The world feels so desperately unfair today because I grieve alone. Yes, I could easily go bother friends or commiserate with family – but that wouldn’t truly alleviate my loneliness. It’s times like these when I hate how unfair the world is … but it’s also times like these that remind me to be grateful for joy.
PS – I thought I would share a picture of a wonderful memory with Gus


Learning How to Live Again

I keep thinking that this has to be a joke. That it’s not real, it can’t be this easy. Prison can’t be this easy. It’s more like a Mental Hospital mixed with an Orphanage, although there are large cement plaques (that look like grave markers) at the front of this prison that say “School for the Deaf Dumb and Blind” and “Orphanage” so it makes sense that it would feel this way.

When you hear about prison it’s supposed to be a scary place, somewhere you’re afraid to go. I wasn’t too afraid. I figured any place that had a lot of drugs and hustling couldn’t be that bad. That’s what’s called a cognitive distortion, a skewed point of view that encourages anti social behavior. Since I’ve gotten into my program (Helping Women Recover) I’ve been assessed, diagnosed and been given a treatment plan. Assessment: Problems with Criminal Power Orientation, PTSD and Drug Addiction.

Diagnosis: Narcissistic & Anti-Social Personality (Basically a self absorbed Sociopath)

Treatment Plan: Pro-Social Behavior Modification, Anger Management & Relapse Prevention.

It’s all going very well, my behavior modification … before incarceration I needed constant stimulation to stop me from feeling. I needed dope, hustling, violence, control to stop me from remembering that I was out of control. I’m white trash and I’m in trouble … but I’m learning how to live again, I’m learning how to read faces and body language instead of forcing my will on people because I know they’ll take it. Because there’s no punking in prison, the weak aren’t afraid of the strong, at least not to my knowledge. That’s why it can’t be this easy … I am starting to feel some guilt though, all the people I screwed over before prison; I am making a moral and fearless inventory and I’m documenting my life in prison. Being in a drug induced coma always shows people in a hospital unable to move and dead to the world. I was in a drug induced coma and I was in South Side OKC, moving constantly and ineffectively, but also dead to the world. I feel like I’m still coming out of it, feeling smarter every day, except for the days that I’m not.

❤ Trap Girl


It’s Yayo. Man I have been so emotional here lately. I’m not sure why but the other day I cried watching the news. Anyone who knows me knows I don’t just break out crying for no reason at all. I was like oh no, I have to go lay down. This being around females 24/7 is messing me up. Lol! Maybe it’s just because of the holidays but man everything is getting under my skin. It’s also getting closer to the time I get to sign up for my program. I am so nervous I won’t get in so I am gonna give it to God. Please pray for me because Helping Women Recover is an amazing 4 month program and after I finish it I get to go home!!! I’m ready to hold my babies and never let go. I want to work this program for everything its worth so I can use those skills to stay sober. Even thinking about going home gets me. I am going to restart my 12 steps here soon. You can never work them too many times. Maybe they’ll help me get over this emotional state I’m in. Maybe I’ll just overcome it on my own. I can almost see my goal and I just cannot wait. I miss my family. Please pray for me that I will get into this HWR class that’s coming up because then I’ll go home in late April or early May and my Birthday is May 28th. Until later guys.


Man oh man! There are so many dang lines in prison. A line to eat, a line to take your pills, a line for microwaves and showers too. Especially the showers – 90 women, 6 showers, 4 ½ hours … Mayhem. Pandemonium. Chaos. You know how crazy we women are. You can only imagine how backed up it gets. One thing I miss the most is baths and someone not coming in and asking, “After you?” I just hate that or can I poop in peace? I miss those little luxuries in here. These females are ready to scratch out your eyes and pull some hair over them showers. I can’t wait to get home and soak and use a 5 or 6 blade razor. Ugh … that sounds AMAZING. You can just imagine. – Yayo


Holiday Boxes! It’s where our families can order us items that we normally can’t get on canteen. I hope my sister can swing it. I can’t wait. I’m on the second book of the Mortal Series, it’s an amazing read, I recommend to anyone who likes book about Apocalypse. Not zombies really. It’s by Ted Dekker and Tosca Lee, the 1st book is Forbidden, then Mortal, then Sovereign. During my count time I like to read. I like mystical, scence fiction and horror. I love to read about mind control, cults, Hitler, mass murderers … so on, because human behavior interests me. I want to major in psychology when I go to college, and when I’m released I want to be a drug and alcohol counselor. I mean, who better to help an addict recover than one who has already recovered, right? That’s my theory anyway. We’ll see if that’s a realistic goal when I get out and go back to school.

And – by no means am I saying I support Hitler or any mass murderer or cult, but the psychology behind it is what sparks my interest. I’ve been told even with my drug charges that I can be a drug counselor so I’m gonna look into it and hopefully pursue that goal. I know all about that life and the dangers of it along with the abuse that can come from that lifestyle as well. I want to give back to my community and my peers by helping them overcome their addiction, hopefully before prison. I just want to show them there is a life outside of drugs and that someone does care about them and their well being. Nobody showed me that. I wish they would have. Any amount of care goes a long way. I’m not here to judge anyone because I’ve been there, I don’t want to go back. I always felt judged because I was strung out. I feel like nobody wanted to help me, they looked at me with disappointment and disgust. I also want to get into physical/sexual abuse classes because I’ve been there and I want to help. It happens to men and women, old and young. No one deserves that. Luckily I have my CDIB (Certificate Degree of Indian Blood) so they’ll help send me back to school thank God, or my dreams would only be dreams. 



Tuesday’s gone, it’s hump day “I messed up, I’ll do better next time.” What kind of statement is that? I am not 5 nor am I beneath a single person here, inmate or employee. There are days I feel caged and poked at. Maybe I stick out like a sore thumb, because I don’t belong in this gray. All I can say is, “I messed up, I’ll do better next time.”

Today is D-Day. Pearl Harbor was bombed and 12 years ago today a baby boy, K.C.J., was born @ 5 lb 10 oz. It’s one of those things you pray about and tell yourself “Out of sight, Out of mind.” Thank you for this being the last birthday away.

Are we the world’s trash or His precious Jewels? As I learn tools, I battle with … is this easy or could I become complacent. My food is cooked and served 3 times a day. My laundry is cleaned and hand delivered. My messes are cleaned, if I choose to walk away from them.

I humbly ask to be changed and molded into the best me I can be. I follow your orders and continue to submit. All the time my inner man screams “Let me out! Let me out!” Grateful for the present, for sobriety, for wool blankets and hot showers. Today I’m grateful for a healthy mind and being refined.

Butterflies are free, can’t keep me.

Jesus Loves Outlaws

15. From Facilitating the Sale to Facilitating the Person

My it’s been awhile … there are several developments. Two of our bloggers are on the outside, congrats to them both! And Trap Girl has finished her Helping Women Recover (HWR) program and begun her new job as Clerk and Facilitator. We wish her well. As her mom, I am very proud of these accomplishments and cannot begin to express my thanks to all who have prayed and sent positive energy to her – it has finally paid off. May all the women continue to improve! I have received good news as well, I will be attending the volunteer class in February and will finally start my prison ministry. Now all I need is to acquire 501(c) status for the charity, fill out paperwork, write the bylaws, apply for some government grants … and learn to fly. Because, after all, I am the luckiest girl in the world!
Two from Trap Girl: one old and one new …

O-I-C     OCI

Trap Girl has been fighting the Villains of Cleveland County for almost 2 decades and although they will always be her arch nemesis, another nemesis Super Villain has emerged, OCI … Trap Girl is still trying to learn about this elusive nemesis but this is what she’s dug up so far.  

Inside Petty Eddies there is a Telemarketing Call Center that deals with outbound political polling and the residents of Petty Eddies earn 50 cents an hour working 9 – 12 hours a day. This is a highly sought after job as the other jobs on the compound will earn you $8 to $12 per month. To apply for this job you fill out an application through your case manager, it is called PROCOM and it’s through OCI … NOW the clothing issued in this dystopian science-nonfiction community is a very dull gray, all shades of it though … but thick itchy scrub like bottoms and tops and if you’re so lucky you can acquire a button up cholo collared top and floss all day long. But good luck finding a size on the tag, everything has washed off except of course the company that makes the clothing, and that is OCI …

Many of the other jobs on the compound (or dorm) are cleaning jobs in which case you have to check out caustics (meaning sign out cleaning products to scrub floors, bathrooms, dust, microwaves, sinks, etc.) Since these chemicals are different colors and there is a color chart hung up in order to tell you what the different colors are for and how much to use and at the top of the cleaning guide it says products by OCI …

Now call me crazy (I am taking lithium for my anger, so it’s not a stretch) but this sounds like an umbrella company and I’m sure this is the tip of the iceberg of the slave labor iceberg. You’re right America, who needs to regulate capitalism, it’ll all buff out. Go back to sleep America, American Gladiators is back on Primetime.

Goodnight and Have a Wonderful Eddie Warrior’s Day!  ❤ Trap Girl


From Facilitating the Sale to Facilitating the Person and How I Learned to Love the Female

It is now official; I am the HWR Clerk & Facilitator the moment this cohort is over on December 29th! I’m incredibly excited but I keep thinking back to what me before this experience would think of me now and this has me doing a moral inventory of my past actions and wanting to make amends to people who I have mind fucked inside prison as well as outside prison. I’ve always found it really easy to get people to buy into me, but what I’m usually selling is a life of servitude and undying loyalty, good deal right? Umm, well I wouldn’t personally like it if someone did it to me and it seems like it boils down to whether or not I hold myself accountable because others don’t seem to give a shit about tricking their lives off to me for a friendship bump.

I realize its miles away from when I was buying souls in county but it’s the exact same thing because it all boils down to submission and expecting that of any one is a violation of every human’s inherent right to free will. I am not a higher power and what am I inconvenienced by, a little laundry?!?! Put your big girl panties on Trap Girl and turn your own laundry in!

❤ Trap Girl


(FYI: RTP is the Regimented Training Program group, GP is the General Population)

So the day I started working in pots and pans in the kitchen, one of the line girls comes over and asks Q if she rinsed out the drink containers. She said yes, well then the line girl says, “Well apparently there’s gnats in one and it’s also now full of milk and Mrs. M says we can’t waste the milk! But it’s OK cuz RTP’s gonna have it all drank before GP comes in!” Then one day all of us Kitchen Workers are eating and the beans for lunch are cooking in a big pressure cooker and we hear something blow, well it was the valve on the beans and apparently it blows out this stuff kind of like what comes out of a fire extinguisher except its sort of sweet tasting, but not for human consumption … still, and there was no lids on the pots but Mrs. J said there was no way we were throwing all that food away! And then the other day we were preparing for lunch and they were frying bologna and when Spring went to grab a piece out of the pan she dumped the whole thing in the floor! So she and Lange picked it all up and went in the office and told Mrs. J and Mr. G what had happened and they told them to rinse it off and fry it! So I was cleaning the baseboards the other day and I took my hot water, bleach mixture and poured it in and around this loose piece of tile and when I did hundreds of roaches came pouring out! I am completely appalled at the conditions in which our food is prepared and not to mention what they’re feeding us! I just thought the by-product was bad!         ~ Myra


It’s Yayo. I got to call home and I just can’t wait to call home again. I miss my family so very much I am glad that they are supporting me getting better. I know it’s not always easy out there or even all that great out there. I know I’m not the only one suffering. The point that they take care of my children while I’m in here even thought they have their own children and obligations, man am I humble. I have learned a lot through my incarceration. I am still learning … My sister is 13 years older than me and has 6 children of her own and still loves me and still makes time for me, even just 20 minutes means everything to me. She’s cleaning my room out tonight even though I have 5 months left. I just cannot wait! I was hoping for some money on my books but my mother-in-law just couldn’t this month. That kinda sucks but oh well. The portions are small here but I’m still blessed, it’s more than starving children get, less than elementary cafeteria gives … it’s something. I’m blessed. You don’t realize how far $30 gets you a month until it doesn’t show. Still, my children are cared for, what more can I ask? I get to call home once a week and that’s more than most get. God is teaching me valuable lessons of humility, humbleness and peace within myself. A little bit of contact from home goes a long way, gives you some glimmer of hope. Lets me know that EVERYONE hasn’t forgotten me; sometimes it feels like that. Gives me the chance to talk to my 3 kiddos, gives me a chance to recoup and get better. Just more reasons to keep on trying.


The Potter and the Clay

You are the Potter and I am

the Clay. Mold me, make me,

Lord have your way.


You are the Potter and I am the

Clay. Catch me. Save me, I’m

starting to Sway.


The devil has taken his toll. Each

payment he takes from my heart,

flesh and soul. Lord help me,

save me, I have nothing left.


You are the Potter and I am the

Clay. Take my fears and catch

my tears, these strongholds make

me weary and leave me numb

to the fight and ready to take



My wings so beaten and bruised,

tattered and torn they can’t even

lift me off the ground.


You are the Potter and I am

the Clay. Lord unchain me and

free me. Fix me and renew me.

I’m tired of running, Lord I’m

ready to fly.


You are the Potter and I am the

Clay. Lord I turn and walk

your way. I see freedom and

light. Peace from an endless

night. Safe in your arms I fly

from the fight, never

will I return to that broken life.


You are the Potter and I am the

Clay. Mold me, make me, no

longer do I sway. Train me and

use me, to do only your will.

For Your Great Son has paid

my bill.

     by Bertha  11/20/16



Away from a world where only lies and dreary lives dwell.

Away from where my history dispels any chance of a true future.

Away from a jaded presence that not even the jewel itself can buy back.

Away from chains, bars, wires, and fences.

Away from myself, my greatest of enemies.

I run away as mind, body, and soul commit treason, both slowly and without warning or reason. I run away from the voice that sounds like me. The voice plots, whispers, and fills my drive to leave.

I run away from the past that never fades, a future that is so uncertain, and a present so twisted and jaded with fear, paranoia, anxiety, and stress produced by demons deep within.

The harder I fight, the stronger the hold. The voice that sounds like me soothes and comforts as she lulls me back into a sense of security.

The Pills take hold and I feel myself sinking deeper into oblivion.

This is not what I wanted, I needed to run away. Escape the things I feel, but now I feel nothing at all. I’m numb and alone. The whispers in my head are quiet and when she is awake, so complacent. I wait for the pills to leave me. I welcome the familiar voice. Now fully awake. She is pissed off! Angry, fully aware and hell bent on making me pay for pacifying her. I pour myself a drink, two, three, and maybe one more. It drowns out the screaming in my head, which is now so loud I can’t hear anything else! I run away as fast as I can. Leave my body and make sure I don’t return until her violent temper is gone. I run away saying, it’s only for a day, but when I return it’s been too long and much has changed. Like a child scared and alone. I listen for the voice that sounds like mine. Once again she is kind and sweet. I take the pills to keep her confined.

So once again I’ve numbed the pain and so the cycle goes…

Pain … Pill … Fear … Drink … Violence … Run Away … Return … Repeat.

One can only wonder how long will it be before oblivion claims me forever? Or will I be cursed to live in this vicious cycle I call my life?!

  Bertha  11/20/16