Still feeling depressed, humiliated, frustrated, anguished, stressed, and even a bit fearful. The hardest thing is knowing these people will never do a day’s time or pay a nickel for their part in this. The people who wronged me way more than I ever wronged them are going to get away with it. Meanwhile, I’m losing track of how much money these people are costing us. And time. They still control and affect my life. It’s just in different ways now. They took my peace and soon they’ll have my freedom as well. And my muscles, too. I’ll lose all the muscle I built up over the last 5 months and I’ll have to start all over again. They take my peace, my money, my freedom, my strength, but who takes from them? Why is it always me who has to pay for her wrongdoings? Can’t anyone else ever pay for theirs? Especially when it’s against me? It’s like God doesn’t want anyone who’s wronged me in particular to pay for it. Just today’s entry alone should explain why I have no faith in God. The amount of stress I’ve been through up till now and the amount of money and freedom I’ve lost up till now are more than enough of a punishment for my part in this, so if there was a good, fair God up there, he’d let me drop it and get on with my life, and make them pay up for their part, but that’s just not going to happen. God’s a mean, cruel, unfair, heartless asshole, and I’ll say it any church, any house, any business, anywhere!

Then I jump back to blaming myself for it all – If only I had just been more tolerant and not complained to them or anyone! If only I hadn’t sent the letters or made the calls! What did I think it would change or accomplish, aside from maybe easing a bit of my anger? They never read more than two words of my letters and they’ll never know that what they did to me was wrong. They don’t think they were in the wrong in any way by blasting us out, trashing our yard, making the calls preaching racial harmony to us, and slipping the sexual notes in our mailbox slot. It’s a felony to put notes in mailboxes like the blacks did, but will they pay for it? Never. Only my felonies are punishable when it comes to me and these sick shits, and I know I’m going to end up in jail for a year or so. I don’t care what anybody says, I’m still a woman and women are still treated differently than men. People are harder on women, and what’s acceptable for a man is not acceptable for a woman. More is expected of a woman. It’s a primitive thing that goes way back to the beginning of time and society. If a man sleeps with a lot of women, he’s a “womanizer” or a “lady’s man.” If a woman sleeps with a lot of men, she’s a slut. A downright dirty whore. When a man speaks his mind, he’s stating his opinion. When a woman speaks her mind, she’s a bitch, crazy, on the rag, having PMS. Cocks can get acquitted of murder, but no woman can get out of what I’m charged with. Even if I don’t lose more freedom, I’m still forced to lose some of it for the next 3 fucking years checking in with probation officers and going for counseling. Not to mention that the freeloaders and courts will be tapping into our wallets for the next few years, too. So, either way, I lose, and regardless of what I did that was wrong or right, I still feel humiliated, victimized and controlled by these people who instigated shit with me in the first place. There never would’ve been any problems if they had just kept their noise out of my house. Although I’m the one who picked up the phone and who sent the letters, at the same time, I feel that they made me do it. What else could I do but just sit and take it? (although you can bet your ass I will just sit and take it when the bass-thumping freeloaders get out here) Shoot them? Torch their place? Bomb the city offices? What else could I do? How else could I react to the abuse I was receiving? I felt I had to say or do something, even though I knew it would never change what they did to me, nor would it change how they treated other neighbors they were to have in the future. I’m sorry, but when you antagonize and provoke people, you should be prepared to deal with the possible consequences it could bring, and that’s exactly how I feel – like I was provoked into reacting. It may be wrong of the rapist or mugger to rape or mug someone that’s out walking the streets alone at night in a dangerous area, but if you’re gonna be fool enough to dangle yourself in front of the lion’s mouth by walking alone at night, it just may get you. That’s what I feel they did to me; they pushed, challenged and provoked me.

Later...

Just thought I’d sit and bitch about life some more. Doing all the venting I can now before I lose the chance for a year or so. I might lose the chance as soon as tonight. It looks like tonight we’ll get a real storm. Last night all we had was a little wind and some lightning and thunder. No rain that I know of.

Another thing these blacks and Mexicans are dictating to me is when I sleep. Yes, they’re still controlling my sleep, and again, just differently. Instead of waking me up or going to bed fearing I’ll be woken up, they’ve got me set on a schedule for the next 1-3 years, like it or not. If I get into jail I couldn’t sleep whenever I wanted to, and if I get probation/counseling I couldn’t do a rollover if I wanted to. I’d have to stay on schedule cuz I’d have to see the probation officer/counselor at least once a week. Tom says it may diminish over time, but even once a month is enough.

Tom called our insurance provider today, cuz we figured we might as well try to beat the courts to it, so to speak, on seeking a counselor. Tom says it may reflect well on me, but I still don’t think it matters what I say or do, cuz I still think I’m gonna end up in jail. If I end up in jail, it’ll probably be for a year and when I’m done, there probably won’t be any probation or counseling required. But just in case I get lucky enough to skip out on the jail part of it, I’ll still have to see someone. So, Tom called and found out our insurance covers it, but there’s a $25 co-pay. A $25 co-pay! I was like, you mean we gotta pay $25 a week for the next 3 years on account of these people (despite my anger management problem/sending letters/making calls)! He tried to console me, saying $25 is nothing, I don’t know money, he pays more than that on gas, he thought it’d be $150 a week, etc., but that isn’t much consolation to me. Again, when and what do they pay for their part in all this? Why do I have to take responsibility for both mine and their actions?

Anyway, I called and got a few referrals. The first one was a male in Chandler, so that was out of the question. Then there was a Stacey in Gilbert, but all the Staceys I’ve ever known have been bad news, so that leaves Marjorie or Helen in Tempe. I picked Helen, cuz hers was the easiest name and number to remember, but she was closed for the day. I assumed Marge would be too, so I’ll call Helen again on Monday.

I still can’t imagine any counselor being able to help me with my anger. Even if they’re perfectly competent therapists, I’ve had therapy before and look where it got me. Tom suggests I may not have been ready to be helped back then, just like I wasn’t ready to quit smoking until I did, but I don’t know. Being the skeptic I am, I gotta say I just don’t see how they can be of any use to me. If they can – great – more power to them. I wish it could be Cassandra! The one I saw in Deerfield. She was so nice. Best therapist I ever saw, aside from Trisha when I was in my early 20s.

As for Paul, I left him a message letting him know I’ll plea bargain. Hopefully, I won’t have to talk with him again till I see him in a couple of weeks.

Is it my vibes or paranoia telling me I’ll probably have to go to jail? Both. And my logic, too. I think Tom feels it too, more so than he’ll let on, and as for Paul, I don’t trust a damn thing any lawyer or cop has to say to me. Of course he’s going to tell me he doubts I’ll have to go to jail. Unless it was an open and shut case of murder, he’s going to tell me the best-case scenario and not risk mentioning jail too much and scaring a client into running. I wish I could run, but where could I run to? I could run, but I could never hide, and running would only bring God’s wrath down on me harder than it already is.

One of the things that worries me, although there’s nothing I can do about it, is the contents of the tape I stupidly left when I called the black bitch. Most of the things Paul read to me I remember saying, but then there are things I don’t remember saying, and things I know I said that weren’t mentioned. Things like what the freeloaders did wrong to me, and I wonder if Mr. Lying Bias conveniently left that out or altered the tape in any way. Authority figures can do that. They have the means, the technology and the ability to do it without getting caught. Or at least not getting in trouble for getting caught. When Paul read me the contents of the tape, the part about my mentioning the bitch’s tizzy fit on my doorstep was made to sound as if it happened on her doorstep. Another thing that struck me as odd was them saying I asked, “Did you get the letters?” on her machine.

Now why would I ask a machine, who couldn’t answer me, if my letters were received? I also wouldn’t word it quite that way. I’d ask, “Did you get my mail?” and that’s exactly what I asked her directly before she realized who I was and ditched me.

Why don’t I remember this and why would I ask this to a machine? Tom says everything he heard I said on the tape sounds exactly like stuff I’d say, knowing how I word things, and mentioned my mentioning the bullshit story about getting a ride from Bill on her machine. But why would I mention that? That wasn’t why I called. Tom says he thinks that subconsciously I wanted to get caught and I wanted her to know I was the one who sent the mail. Not true. I certainly didn’t want to get caught, although I should’ve known better, cuz I agree with Tom when he said that it’s bad to do something wrong and even worse to do something stupid, but no, I didn’t want to get caught. As far as her knowing it was me, I knew she’d know it was me as soon as she read the first sentence. I wasn’t calling to see if she knew who it was that sent the mail. I was calling to see if she got it forwarded to her without any problems. Boy, did she ever! Tom thinks that I get so angry, that I don’t realize the consequences of what I’m doing, nor do I remember what I say when I get so angry, and this is why he thinks therapy can help me, will willingly go to some appointments with me, and has no problem with me saying anything I want. That includes discussing our sex life (what sex life?). He also said he believes I’m telling the truth (yes, I am) about not remembering everything I said, and that people do forget things. I guess that means even me, who normally has a better memory than most people.

I’m all the gladder we never had a kid and that I can’t ever have one. Imagine going through this with a kid to raise. Ugh! And what a shitty mother I’d make with the way I am. I may not be as bad as freeloading assholes like the blacks and Mexicans, but I’m bad enough and I won’t be bitching about his never cumming again (with me) nor am I planning on running to a doctor about my sterility.

I keep forgetting to clear something up. I misunderstood Tom about the subpoena. I thought he said it was sent to our PO Box, but it was sent to this physical address, and since he only went to pick up that mail once a week, that’s why the certified letter, the subpoena, went back and we never got it. So, he forwarded everything to the PO Box. That way I can get my subpoena for the letters/calls to the people back east.

I can’t believe this shit! What a mess my stupidity and these assholes have gotten me into!!! We moved to make our lives better, but instead it’s worse. Mine is, anyway. Quieter, but worse.

I think another reason God’s gonna make sure the courts get me good this time around and basically throw the book at me, is cuz of all I got away with the last time. Compensation is due me, so to speak. I looked it up, and in late 1991, I was ordered to see a probation officer monthly, pay a $10 monthly fee, and see a therapist for a year. Well, I didn’t. Once I moved to Connecticut, I didn’t see a therapist, pay fees, or check in with a probation officer. I simply mailed Sheila those forms with general info. for a few months back in 1993 after moving out here.

Another thing I forgot to mention is that Anne said the whole staff joined Weight Watchers. I told her I lost weight, which she said she could see and asked her if that made a difference with how much Novocain they give you. She said no. With general anesthesia, yes, but not with local anesthesia.