My Worst Betrayal is why I am alone now…wp_story1618244613330_0

My best friend would have been my boyfriend but he was mostly gay and had complicated feelings for me, as a woman. Our relationship was a series of extremes but I loved him and lived for the day he wouldn’t punish me with the silent treatment after an especially great time (that was his pattern.) He was from Massachusetts and a huge Patriots fan. He came over the Saturday night after the Patriots made the Superbowl. I was thrilled to wake up and find his phone was beside me in bed. That meant he was still there. I had had my doubts bc he was coming off of a bout of the silent treatment towards me during the week. I felt purely happy when I got out of bed to join him in the kitchen. It was in the kitchen that I found his dead body. The autopsy took 4 months to deliver final results bc toxicology and other tests take place thousands of miles away. During the waiting period the people who comforted me were telling others I had killed him. They spoke of our volatile relationship, going so far as to contact police and medical examiner. Why? Bc they had sold him drugs and if those drugs had killed him they could’ve gotten in trouble. The results of the autopsy was death by accident due to mixed drug intoxication. No large amount of something like an overdose but with 7 drugs in his system, no way to know which drug or what combo had been fatal. Also, the artery that is most important for supplying the heart was 75 percent blocked. I did not kill him, no one did, but my “friends* set me up in case a scapegoat was needed. I have been alone since 2017. My friend never got to see the Patriots win that Superbowl.

I never held their whiteness against them

But I also found out that my race was always on their minds and always had been. Of course when you first meet someone you notice their looks but when you get to know them you think of them by name. Not–the tall guy, for example. When it came to me, the person who had introduced me to my best friend referred to me as “that black girl.” She had known me for ten years. When my friend died she became concerned that his family would review his finances and find checks written out to her in handwriting that was not his, and the checks were signed in this unknown person’s handwriting. For her purpose of distracting the family from her fraud she told them the black hooker killed him and had robbed him too. At that time she was out on bail awaiting sentencing for the robbery charge she picked up when she bit the security guard at Macy’s in Windward Mall. She was looking at 10 years. And if the sentencing judge had heard she picked up a new financial fraud felony…a happy ending for her would be unlikely.

Last of all, I felt betrayed by the administration. God let me feel love and snatched it away. So I really know what I am missing.

It is hard to pray with the belief that Someone with my best interests at heart is hearing and rearranging things to benefit me. You can understand my scepticism can’t you?

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The Shocking Truth About The Danger of Getting What You’ve Always Wanted

You should be happy, the way you always imagined. But you do not feel the way you imagine is normal. The Quora link (above) explains the process partially behind the phenomenon of going from elite to the street, from Harvard to Handcuffs. The explanation for Caroleena’s inexplicable story.

Success is an event but also a journey from striving to arriving. This rite of passage is fraught with danger for the uninitiated but you will use these words to prepare for a successful trip that does not go off course into self destruction.

The road not taken is mostly deserted for a reason. Tread it by choice based on these words of wisdom and not bc you stumble blindly upon it and walk without thinking
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What was the most used drug among Honolulu Female Inmates?

The good stuff was out of reach

I was incarcerated in Honolulu for possession of a prescription pill. Addiction fuels the state economy in a variety of ways. Most incarcerated women had been on drugs. Ironically there was no sustained supply of illegal drugs. The women were too eager to tell on each other to curry favor with staff, many if whom were friends and relatives in the islands. Inmates were stuck with pharmaceuticals that doctors give people with addictions. The best you can get is something that will make you sleep. Sleeping is the best way to pass your time. The only drugs that will put an inmate to sleep are in the antipsychotic class. I guess psychosis was not really being treated as much as tamped down. The number 1 choice…drumroll, please…Seroquel. That is one drug with ugly side effects. Fifty pound weight gain in under a month. “Sleep eating” similar to actions caused by a drug unavailable to inmates—Ambien. Inability to concentrate on any reading whatsoever. After a couple of months the med turns on you and keeps you up, especially if you miss the “window” or time of feeling drowsy. If you do not get to fall asleep during that 15 minutes, oh well. But in the beginning the drug can get you 18 solid hours of unconsciousness. It was the drug most likely to be carried back from the med line the way a mama bird carries food in her mouth back to the nest. Women who could not convince the psych they were psychotic by saying “I see voices,” traded commissary items to women with more recognized mental illness in exchange for smuggled bits of that drug. Between the rice, bread and generic psych meds, no wonder women left prison overweight!

The precious pharmaceutical was not easily secreted but women who had no money but were given psych meds found a way to get the pills back to the housing unit. Taking pills that had once been in another person’s mouth was an example for some women of how long cherished values can be tossed aside easily to feed an addiction. A person cannot imagine what she will do before she is in any given situation. It helped release me from the burden of judging people to learn there is an endlessly new person within me who will only emerge in exigent circumstances. Kind if exciting…
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Harvard, Hawaii, and Handcuffs could be a new blog title

Eye catching title

I did not know how important it is to have a fully informative title that draws people into your writing in no more than 3 seconds. If it takes 3 to 5 seconds to engage readers they will not become readers but will remain potentials. To achieve my goal I have experimented with ways of sharing my experiences that began as a student at Harvard and took an unexpected turn into the addicted back streets of Hawaii. Sometimes the road not taken is not taken for good reason! Nevertheless I have stories that will explain my journey from the elite to the street. How is this for a title: Harvard to Hawaii to Handcuffs.

What do you think? I am using it on Quorum where I contribute what I have learned about incarceration and Hawaii Street Life and I got 7500 views in a week! Wow! I am trying to balance this site with Quora. Just so you know what is up.

Biggest Mistake Quora Link

I am now a Quora writer; this is my 1st contribution on anger

Answer to What was the biggest mistake you’ve made when you were mad? by Renee Randee

I used to have problems with what I call destruction of property relapses. When I was enraged I used to destroy my own property. I ripped up my dollar allowance as a 5 year old, destroyed a precious doll at age 7. As a 19 year old in college I destroyed posters a friend had given me as a gift. In my 30’s a hurled several cell phones to the ground, threw dishes that shattered against walls. I destroyed things I valued and always regretted both the clean up and the loss. I have not had a “destruction of property “relapse in years because I have not felt all encompassing rage that I am desperate to stop feeling. “Blowing off steam” only reinforces anger.