My Reprimands – Part 3

**Disclaimer: Goodness gracious, it’s been a while.  Naturally, I want to give you a detailed explanation why I haven’t posted for so long but there have been quite a few changes inside this mind of mine and I’ve decided that I don’t have to explain shit.  So let’s just dive back in to the reprimands and get it over with because I have way more cool stuff to write about.**

Reprimand for Misdemeanor #2 – 2012:  My sentencing required a lot from me over the course of the next 18 months and, as previously mentioned, one of those things was spending 2 weekends on lock down. I find it hard to hold back telling you everything about this experience so here’s a sub-list of the moments that stood out as particularly memorable:

  • The seasoned inmate who called me “ma” as she consoled me in the depths of my emotional breakdown after waiting HOURS to be assigned a bunk and my name not being called. Fun little fact: “ma” was a nickname I shared with a couple besties in high school and it stemmed from a mean-spirited joke about someone else. Oh the irony.
  • The two other “weekenders” whom I befriended and at one point shared my hopes to get (or already be) pregnant. I became FB friends with one of them and I still am to this day. Coincidentally enough, I saw her 3 years later and locked eyes with her as I led a meeting telling my story. I was also pregnant with A2 at that time and she had gotten her 3rd DUI. Now THAT’S a trip!
  • Being solicited to smuggle drugs back in when I returned for weekend #2. I asked her, “do I look like someone who would know how to score hard drugs?” Where those balls came from, I have no idea and the fact that I escaped a lunch room beat down from challenging a broad like that is beyond my comprehension. Another bullet dodged.
  • My bunkmate the same weekend.  My first impression of her gave me no reason to feel intimidated or think she was in for anything other than drugs, like the majority of inmates.  That is until she nonchalantly tells me she had just done heroin for the first time the day before and later threatens to kick the ass of the person who had just farted in her general vicinity. Confession: it was me and I remained unscathed. (so many bullets!!)
  • The one and ONLY email I received from a loved one those two miserable weekends.  Yes, I still have it and no, you can’t read it. But you CAN read excerpts from it right here:

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Thank you, beloved friend. You know WTF you are.

  • The wasted woman puking up blood in the drunk tank as I waited to be released.  I was far from accepting my alcoholism but I felt compelled to give her the hard word and told her if she didn’t stop drinking NOW, she was going to die. She proceeded to tell me she was already dying from esophageal cancer. Several months later, I saw the same woman at a rehab facility where I attended a handful of “after care meetings.” In that moment, I wanted to run up to her and tell her how happy I was to see her alive and getting help to improve the quality of her life for as long she had left. But I didn’t because I knew there was no way she’d remember me.

As the ex who traveled with me to the aforementioned foreign country where I EASILY could have become a cold case victim would say: fun times…fun times.

Speaking of which, I dodged a bullet with that one too. I hesitate to write about him on the DUDs page because I also used HIM at the very end. While he treated me well (compared to everyone who came before him,) he was emotionally unavailable and by the time he was, I had already moved on to D1. 

As for the third lucky bastard who got the best of me financially, SD3, he deserves a firm scolding for the way I allowed him to treat me and the only place I can freely do that is here. Like I said before, this series has been mostly for me; it serves as a “purging” if you will, much like what I talked about in my very first blog post.  

However, I’ve beat myself up long enough for my choices when it comes to the opposite sex and I think enough time has passed that I’m ready to be fully free from all of that negativity. God keeps doing for me what I could not do for myself and has relieved me of the desire to publicly shame these lost and damaged souls, therefore, I have removed the DUDS page from my menu.

I don’t know what I’ll do with it in the future, if anything.

But God does.

#morewillberevealed

My Reprimands – Part 1

Reprimand(s) #1 – February, 2005: The Drunk Tank and Community Service

Highlights from my arrest, “the tank” and community service:

  • Cuffed and chatting* with the young officer en route to jail, I BRIEFLY considered offering him sexual favors if he’d just let me go.** I said brief, people. It was like “I wonder if…” and then a half-second later I heard my ROD’s voice say in my head “don’t be an idiot, Pixie” and that was the end of that. 
  • Shared the drunk tank with a tweeker who kept banging her head on the concrete wall, biting her tongue till it bled and who I graciously allowed to braid my hair to pass the time.
  • Sought refuge in a corner as two women came close to brawling over the barely private toilet stall.
  • Upon my release, being the sentimental person that I am, I asked if I could keep my inmate tags they cut off my wrist.  The woman behind the glass window gave me disapproving eyes and I sheepishly bid her farewell, never thinking I’d find myself there again. You know what happened next. Just a mere couple hours later, I drank, got behind the wheel again, got pulled over and drove away with a warning. Un-fucking-believable.

Speaking of being sentimental, if you recall, I’m co-planning my 20 year high school reunion. Of course I have all of my yearbooks and of course I busted my senior one out. It was fun flipping through it and looking at pictures and notes that people wrote. I had forgotten about one in particular – an “implication” with no name – and it definitely gave me pause.

I knew exactly who wrote it. I went on to allow him to use various methods to achieve SD status over the next 8 years, bruising my ego and taking what he wanted and leaving the rest.  As he once stated as I cried in the back of his car:

“You bring this onto yourself, Pixie.”

He’s right. I did.

But you know what I didn’t bring on to myself?

Body image issues and low self-worth.

That’s largely on him.

He did.

#morewillberevealed

P.S. Oh yeah, I mentioned community service. This experience was pretty uneventful. The only memory worth mentioning from my time in the orange vest was the small exchange I had with the supervising officer on day 1 and it went a little something like this:

Officer: Alright ya’ll, grab your gloves and let’s get to work.

Me: Shoot, I need gloves?  I didn’t bring any.

Officer: You came to community service with no gloves? How many days you got?

Me: um, 2?

Officer: That’s all? Hey everybody! White girl here only has 2 days.

Me: (in my head) oh no, now I have a target on my back.

(Eye roll) So dramatic. That’s some judgmental bullshit right there. All of it.  On MY part. I mean, wow.