It's a DuBarr Thing

Since January 1, 2024, my boyfriend has been in prison, and in July he transitioned from county jail to a state facility. Since that time, I have occasionally received notifications from the state indicating that his messages were not delivered due to policy violations. During our recent phone conversations, he expressed his curiosity about why I never replied to his messages where he voiced his concerns about the medical staff, policies, and procedures. Regardless of the specifics, I don't see any reason why those emails should have been blocked. Although I haven't seen the contents, I find it hard to believe that allowing those emails would pose any risk to the department. The emails were simply expressions of non-threatening medical concerns, without any corruption or conspiracy. Also on March 5 he called me to tell me he was in the box and that he doesn't remember what happened.  He said that he was in the box and the last thing that he remembers is going to bed.  The r...

 Lately I've been really trying to follow Mel with her Let Them Theory.  I'm going to buy that book. I already get the idea of it but I still like to read into the way others think of and tell a story. I'm aware that I look for aspects of myself in others and critique them. What confuses me is that it's me in the past I seek and then bitch about. There are so many parts of my past that I truly wish I could go back and change.  It makes me wonder if that's the reason I can't move on to a better phase. Personally I keep saying that my life will be less chaotic once I have a vehicle on the road.  Maybe it won't though.  There are internal feelings that vary in favor of buying a car or not.  I really need a vehicle in case of emergencies with one of my children. It's been 4 years that I've struggled getting them places they needed to be and it's the worst feeling in the world knowing your child needs something like the doctor or dentist though having...

Sometimes my heart bleeds over my good judgement causing me to continuously make decisions similar to all the others, always leaving me at square one.  I've been keeping a journal since I was 14 years old and when I go back in them to read I get to wondering about myself, and if I'll ever make the jump or if I'm going to continue hanging off the edge.  Something about the edge is spontaneous and fun but it only lasts for a minute per day.  The thing that seems to set me back is the view. From the edge the view is always familiar which is more than most people can handle. There is fear behind the jump because there's no telling where I'll land.  I know that I don't want to sit on a ledge waiting, wondering, and worrying.  Even if jumping doesn't land me right where I want to be, it's probably where I need to be to get where I'm meant to be.