Read First!

I'm moving this to the front of my journal even though it's actually 2023 that I write this.

Welcome to my decades of journaling! While I've always emphasized that I primarily write for my own personal expression, I do hope that my words may offer help or inspiration to anyone who finds them valuable. Throughout the years, my journaling has chronicled a diverse range of experiences, including moments of joy, sorrow, adventure, and fear.

However, it's important to acknowledge that some of my writings are controversial and, yes, have been perceived as hateful and racist by some. I want to be upfront about this so there are no surprises. If such content is not in alignment with your preferences, I encourage you to feel free to leave. Nobody is obligated to read my writings, and if certain aspects trouble you, please don’t torture yourself by reading.

Many years ago, I was victimized by individuals of different racial backgrounds who used their connections to law enforcement to target me in the name of revenge. This unfortunate experience, understandably, led me to express sentiments that some might consider racist. Much like how a woman who has suffered abuse may develop distrust or prejudice against men, my writings during that time were driven more by their behavior than by race or color. At times, I may have used racially charged language as a form of venting and provocation, knowing that it would upset them. But really, it was never about race or color. It was about them. But like any human being, I occasionally said and wrote things in the heat of the moment that some may find offensive. I firmly believe that while we can't make people like or love us, we certainly can make people harbor animosity if we mistreat them.

I also acknowledge that the younger, more naive me may stated things as facts that I honestly believed at the time were facts, yet may not have been. Not just regarding the welfare bums but things in general.

During this period, I shared excerpts from my journal with the individuals involved, which they later termed as stalking, despite the fact that I was only documenting information as advised by the police for potential legal recourse in the future. Nonetheless, I sent them copies as a way of venting when we moved (they lived next to us). Well, instead of doing the grown-up thing by not reading what they didn't like, they used it against me and I was manipulated into pleading guilty for something I didn't know I was pleading guilty for. I thought I was being charged with sending the journals but instead, it was supposedly a threatening letter. I did send a less-than-kind letter to these sickos but that was many years prior which led me to believe that someone else they pissed off sent the letter and they assumed it was me. Either that or their cop friend wrote it up and thrust it into my hands during interrogation to get my fingerprints on it when showing me “evidence” that was clearly falsified. 

The point is that I lost half a year of freedom and thousands of dollars due to these people's vindictiveness when all I did was express myself. It may not have been in the way they agreed with and wanted to hear but they harassed me for years and I reacted. It was that simple. I make no apologies for anything I ever said to these people be it with my voice or in print.

And yes, I sometimes, in a fit of anger, said something to the effect of wanting to strangle, throttle, beat, kick, slap, or punch various people here and there. Like one sometimes mutters these things under their breath when pissed at someone, I vented in print. However, none of these threats, if you could even call them threats, are meant to be taken literally. It's easy to say we'll do this, this, and that to someone who's crossed us but unless someone's literally trying to harm me, my husband, pets, or property, I'm as harmless as a butterfly. This is a journal. Not a manifesto.

Whether it's common or not, I've had moments in life where I contemplated suicide or at least had thoughts of it, and that too has been expressed in these journals at times and is also not meant to be taken seriously in any way.

My journal is free to anyone who wants to read it but is not open to debate. In other words, I'm not going to argue about some stupid thing I may have written 20 years ago or something I shouldn't have said or done 30 years ago. We all make mistakes, and it's part of my life story.

I also wish to address the unkind things I said about my husband, Tom, in the 90s when we were contemplating having a child. In retrospect, we are glad that we never had children, as it would have placed a tremendous burden on both of us, involving substantial expenses and considerable work while limiting our freedom. My perspective at the time, based on my limited knowledge, was that Tom might have been intentionally avoiding climaxing during our intimate moments to prevent pregnancy. Subsequently, I came to understand that he might have been dealing with low testosterone, but he felt too embarrassed and shy to admit it or seek help.

In hindsight, I'm glad we didn't have children but wish I hadn’t gone through the depression and frustration I experienced during our attempts at starting a family. My earlier belief that medication was the answer has also changed, as I now realize the complexities and potential side effects of hormonal treatments.

Lastly, I want to clear up the thing about God and “Robin.” I was a very emotional person in my younger days and things were a much bigger deal to me than they ever would be today if I was in similar situations. I don't know if there is a God or not but as you'll read, I spent many years rambling about how God hated me and insisted he was controlling and cursing me and my life, and hey, maybe he or something else was at times. I don't know for sure but I do feel a little embarrassed when I read back on those times, LOL, even though we all do and say silly things at times. I just wanted to believe so badly that there really was a God that would listen to me and that cared and that would grant me any reasonable rational prayer I made. But most of my prayers have gone unanswered and I don't know if it’s by design or happenstance. I don't think any of us can really ever know. 

Robin was an entity I believed - or at least wanted to believe - was supposedly like a guardian angel, on my side, there to help, to inspire and encourage me, blah blah blah. I don't think I can go so far as to say that Robin was a figment of my imagination and wishful thinking but I don't know that I really ever had this protective spirit hovering over me, especially since quite often things didn't go my way.

I never use real last names unless it's someone famous or infamous. However, I realize that some people may happen to actually have some of the names I've randomly drawn. If this bothers you in any way, don't hesitate to reach out to me (nicely) and let me know. Any threats or ultimatums will be completely ignored.

In summary, my journal spans a wide range of experiences, emotions, and beliefs, and I offer this context to better understand the evolution of my thoughts and feelings over the years as well as what life was like for future generations that may read my life story.