Every time I write one of these things, I think my life will get better.

By using words I purge my brain of all the thoughts and emotions it’s too overwhelmed to process. Then I release those words into the internet ether, I think this will heal or cleanse me.

Boy, am I full of shit.

And forewarning…. this blog is going to have a strong “Charlie Brown” tone to it. So, if you’re in a good mood, you should probably stop reading.

Truth be told, I’m miserable and I have no idea how to change it. I know how I got here, and a lot of it, not all of it, is my own fault.

I thought starting over again would make me happy, give me a clean slate, but that’s just not true.

Starting over is stressful and exhausting, I don’t want to do it, but I’ve thrown a tantrum to the point where now, I have no choice. I must move forward, I can’t give up because I have already given up and quit in so many other areas, I can’t quit this too.

Giving up….

That’s been a constant theme lately. I have had to pull up my adult britches and have a stern talk with myself about areas where I should just face facts and concede to the universe.

Unconditional love.

It is something that I don’t think I am capable of giving to another person. I’m too suspicious, too paranoid, too….me.

I’m not sure I really know what love is or if I’ve ever truly felt it. I know people love me, but in the way where I’m supposed to know it, as a fact. Am I making sense?

I’m not super smart, but I’m not Forest Gump either. I don’t know what love is, Jen-ny.

Unconditional love leads me right into what is currently, and will probably forever be, my biggest regret,

Having a child.

For the majority of my life, I have never had the desire to have children. It’s never been a priority, and after prison, I really didn’t see it ever happening. However, the short times I was pregnant, I was so happy, nothing felt more perfect than the idea of having a baby. Even now, when I see pregnant women, sonograms or birth announcements, my entire being heaves with sadness. I am absolutely heartbroken I will never have a child. It’s a wish I feel that I have to give up on, sooner rather than later and it is shattering my soul.

Being a well adjusted, even tempered adult.

Yep, I’m starting to give up on that idea as well.

Lately, I’ve been so angry and frustrated, that it’s eating at me. I have never, ever, felt the kind of anger that I have recently. It’s not the kind of anger that makes you want to punch that woman who waited to look at the Starbucks menu once she got to the FRONT of the line, I have a patented eye roll and sarcastic comment for that one. It’s the kind of anger that makes you want to break everything and then just crawl into a corner and give up. This anger is all encompassing and seeps in whenever it can.

I threw fucking peanuts today because of it, PEANUTS! It’s childish and immature and it makes me feel stupid, like I’m failing at everything.

Maybe I am, or maybe…

I’m getting exactly what I deserve.

It hasn’t escaped my attention that this all could be some form of karma. The universe getting its pound of flesh for my past. Maybe, all this talk of second chances, this self branding I’ve done, maybe it is all bullshit.

I thought prison was my karma, my punishment, but everyone suffers in prison. I have never met one person who didn’t suffer loss from incarceration. For some, that is their pound of flesh for the universe, but lately I’ve been thinking, maybe that’s not true for everyone.

When I first started over, I was ready, the world was an adventure and I had a fresh start. I have always tried to set myself up for success. I work hard, I learn where I can, I’m nice to people, I try to be, as Fred Rogers said, one of the “helpers,” but it’s just not enough.

In the last six months or so, I have made poor personal choices, lost yet another job, lost more “friends,” and growth opportunities, to the extent that now I have to completely start over, yet again.

It has made me seriously consider what exactly is my “pound of flesh” and if I have truly given it yet. It sounds self pitying, I know, but it’s not, for me, it’s a valid question.

When I see my friends and other formerly incarcerated people move on through this world with ease and/or confidence, it makes me wonder if it really is my time or if I need to wait until my debt has been paid in full, however that works.

I just don’t know.