There was a knock on the side door while I was watching TV the other day. I knew they knew someone was home because I knew they had to have heard the TV. I ignored them till I was able to see two guys in jeans and maroon shirts saying: Pinal County Assessors. At that point, I could see that one had measuring tape strung out, and the other started to persistently pound on the front door, so at this point, I felt it was not cop-related and safe to open the door. They said they’d come to measure the house. Tom later told me it was for tax purposes. I swear we’ve had more people knock on this door than our door in Phoenix, excluding mail people!

I have so much to say and so many thoughts racing through my head. I feel like this bullshit case is getting worse and worse and so are my anxieties. The main thing Helen and I discussed and that she told me was to work on was controlling my thinking, which she understands is often easier said than done and will take time to do. She said don’t let them win by worrying about them and thinking about them. Well, they already have won. They won years ago and they’re still winning. And no, I can’t get them and what they’ve done to me off my mind, either. They made my life a living hell and they continue to do so to this day and probably the rest of the days of my life, too.

After talking with Don yesterday, going to jail or paying thousands of dollars isn’t my biggest concern anymore. Being forced to work is my biggest concern! I was completely blown away to learn that going to work or school is part of probation and that they can order a person to do so. First of all, there’s no way I could get to work or school with bus lines over an hour away and with him needing the car to drive himself to and from work. Secondly, who the hell are they to demand I go to work? Is this God’s punishment to me for bashing freeloaders for not working? Well, it’s not like I’m living off of people’s tax money, wandering the streets all day, or sitting at home staring at the walls all day, either. I have a right to be the homemaker that I am and that is a job. Paul says that those who aren’t home watching children are considered not having anything to do, so they should be working. I know society’s grown more and more against the idea of those being homemakers, but it’s my life, goddamn it! I’m not a murderer and I don’t think I should be forced to change my life over a letter and a phone call! Even the standard $40-a-month probation fee doesn’t fit the crime. That’s outrageous! These fucking freeloaders are gonna end up costing us around 1000 bucks! Maybe more. What they’re asking is unfair, unreasonable and even impossible. They’re asking too much of me! Period. I can see going to a counselor and checking in weekly with a probation officer and even their outrageous fee, but work or school? I don’t think so! I explained to both Don and Paul how difficult it would be for me to work even if transportation wasn’t an issue, because of my phobias and lack of trust concerning being around people (especially in regular jobs that don’t involve stripping). I told them I was on disability cuz of it and will provide documentation of that in court, although I know it’ll be useless.

Fuck these fucking freeloaders for turning my life upside down and ruining it like they have!!! In a sense, they’re making it worse now than when we lived with them. Tom said they can’t force someone to move. But he also said they couldn’t make people work either, yet he was wrong. Being made to work will force me to move. I’d need to see if I could stay with Mary so I could be near bus lines. I told them, though, that if I could do work at home, even if it was stuffing envelopes for free, that’d be fine, but think about it. How many home jobs do they have? They’re very very scarce.

Paul, who I called myself, said they’re not necessarily going to make me work, but in the end, he didn’t make me feel any better about the prospect of it and even left me more convinced that they will order me to work.

I suppose that after they control my life, my body comes next, huh? I wouldn’t put it past them to order me drugged up. I am not taking drugs as a way of coping with my problems and I will go to jail before I let anyone make a guinea pig of me like they did in the past, and then they’ll have to pay (for my food and shit like that). I’m sorry, but there’s only so far you can go with controlling people, and I cannot let these people, even if it’s the courts, seize total control of my life/body. I’ve had very little say in my life/body as it is, and I don’t need them seizing what little control I do have. Fucking mother-fucking freeloaders! Aaaaarrrggghhhh! They control everything. Virtually all aspects of my life revolve around them. They dominate, dictate and control my life as if I were their puppet on a string! I really am never going to be able to live for myself, am I? I really am never going to be able to live life for myself and take charge of my own life and body. My whole life is really going to be about having to do what society says I should do with my life, and probably my body, too. It’s reasonable that society says I shouldn’t murder and that I shouldn’t smoke crack, but how the hell can they have the right to tell me I have to work and maybe even take psycho pills? Why is it that whenever I want to do something in life, someone or something is there to say no, you can’t do that, and there’s never a damn thing I can do about it? What they say always goes when it comes to how I live my life and what I do with my body.

Paul says he’s going to ask for a probation officer who deals with mental health (I guess I’d have to see their doctors too, who’ll be predisposed to believing I’m crazy), but in the end, everything’s up to the judge. Up to this person who doesn’t know me and could never understand why certain things are just too damn hard for me.

Why is God doing this to me? Is there some hidden purpose behind all this shit that I can’t see? Is this more than just a punishment? Is this supposed to lead to something I can’t see? After all, I’ve been saying that due to all the appointments and shit going on, I felt like he was preparing me for something. Something fast-paced that’d keep me on my toes and cause me to have to keep a schedule regularly. Well, I knew all along that thing wouldn’t be a kid, so what the hell’s going on? Is he trying to turn me into a career woman? Well, he should’ve done that back when I was in the city if that’s what he’s aiming at here. Does he want me to fit in with 85% of the female population by working? But I don’t want to “fit in.” I just want to live my life in peace with the right to be a homemaker. Without the freeloaders, courts or cops butting into it.

For the next year, I thank God Tom is the way he is and that I’m sterile. At least he can rest assured that I won’t want us to do a thing about the way we are for at least a year, maybe even a few years. Or maybe even never, cuz there’s no fitting that into our schedule with all life’s bullshit. I mean, I don’t see how we could fit that in in the future any more than we could’ve in the past/present, so pressure or requests to seek help for change is something he’s definitely not going to have to worry about for quite a while.

Don said it wasn’t in his report, the being dragged to the police station in January, told it was over when it wasn’t, the subpoena I never got, being arrested and jailed overnight in July. How convenient. Did they neglect to report that to Don to cover for the fact that they lied to me and infringed upon my rights by not arraigning me within the proper time frame? Probably so. Well, it doesn’t matter in the end what rights or rules the cops or courts fuck up on or break altogether. They can get away with anything and do anything they damn well please.

I get victimized and badgered by these sick fucks for years, send a letter and make a call letting them know just how I feel about it, and now I have to pay an outrageous $40 a month for it, be forced to find a way to work out of the house and give up my job as a homemaker, be forced to see doctors and therapists God knows how many times a week, and be doped up for it, too. Life’s just great! Maybe I was better off listening to their fucking music and ball games. At least it didn’t cost any money and I could keep my life the way it is as far as keeping house goes.

I’m never gonna break free of the freeloaders and their effects on me and my life. Before they owned my right to peace and my mental state, and it was in their hands whether or not I slept. Now they own it all. Everything I do is in their hands. I just can’t hear or see them, that’s all. However, if I’m forced to move into the city so I can work, I’ll be back with the bangers and all the shit that goes with being in the city. When we first moved and were forced to go into the city to the hotels, I felt like the city just wouldn’t quite loosen its grip on me. It was like it was hesitant to let me go. Now I feel like it’s calling me back. Like God’s unhappy with me being a rural person. He wants me back in the city with the freeloaders and courts in control of my life/body.

You don’t know just how bad I’d like to get a hold of that scrawny little black neck and choke the life right out of that sick bitch – ugh! However, at this point, I’d rather just move the fuck on!!! I want them out of my life much more so than to bash their skulls in!!!

My mind’s racing back and forth between just waiting and seeing what they say next Monday, to not even bothering to show up, to not bothering to do a damn thing they say after the 30th if I’m not in jail, to going to jail and letting them pay for everything and saving our money, to killing myself.

Don said that as he tells everyone, “Expect the worst and hope for the best.” Yeah, right! I expect the worst, but how can I hope for the best? There’s no hope for me with this case, trust me.

I also learned that he’s not my probation officer. All he is is a pre-sentencing court reporter who talks to all parties involved and then gives the info to the judge. I’m sure my probation officer will be black or Mexican. Why not assign the “racist” to the people they’re supposed to hate, huh? That’s no doubt what they’re thinking, but hey, as long as they’re fair I don’t care what color or race they are.

Later…

I also left a message for Helen yesterday, asking that she mail to our PO Box the fact that I feel very uncomfortable around people, and therefore, working would be very stressful for me. Me and people just don’t mix. I clash with them and they clash with me. They always have a complaint or problem with me and I can’t deal with their incompetent, contradictory, and sometimes devious ways. I can’t stand evil little people lying to my face and then laughing about it at my expense behind my back. If I were to keep my mouth shut I’d be considered stuck-up, and if I were to talk they’d have a problem with just anything I could say. Anyway, I don’t know what Helen can do or if it’d even help, but we’ll see. Meanwhile, she gave me a log for our appointments.

I wonder if the courts won’t demand things of me they know damn well I couldn’t do, so they can have an excuse to throw me in jail, simply because they just don’t like me.

When I first got up, I wondered how I could possibly even make it through the day cuz I was such a bundle of nerves. Well, not that I’m now this object of tranquility and serenity, but I actually felt my nerves calm a bit after finally breaking down and pleading with God to ease up on me. I can’t ask him to stop the very shit he obviously wanted to start, but I begged him to help me with my nerves. He’s the last person I wanted to lower myself to running to, what with all he’s let happen to me. It must’ve been just a coincidence that I felt calmer, cuz why would he help the very people he hurt? I wonder how I’m gonna manage the sleep aspect of it. I’m getting less and less sleep cuz although I’m getting up a half-hour earlier each day, this does not mean I’m able to go to bed earlier.

Tom said he saw Dennis, who mentioned the clothes I left in the trailer. He said there was a whole drawer full of stuff. Really? I thought I only left 3 pairs of shorts. Anyway, he told Tom that after he goes on a hunting trip, he’ll bring in the stuff. That was honest of him to mention it and to say he’ll bring it in. I don’t have to have the stuff back, but it would be nice.