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Originally posted on I can explain:

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OK! OK! I know. I know, I haven’t been blogging but I have a really good reason. Honest.

I’m working on my Patreon site instead. I decided that I REALLY needed to finish my book – the one I’ve been working on for 2 years – and working a full-time job and a part-time job doesn’t leave much room for writing.

That’s also not counting the volunteer work I do every week nor a few other projects that I’ve been doing.

Yes, I keep myself busy. It’s the only way I know not to go insane. Well, that and not have another dipshit boyfriend, but I digress…

Here’s the link for it and I’d love for you to check it out. Sponsor, if you can, or check back for a few random free posts:

https://www.patreon.com/SusanLewis?ty=h

I know most of us writers don’t make our living with our writing, but that…

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Got criminals?

Posted: June 22, 2015 in jail
Tags:
STAFF PHOTO BY MICHAEL DEMOCKER Tuesday, February 26, 2008 Marlin Gusman's tour of Orleans Parish Prison An inmate sleeps in his cell in the 10th floor psychiatric section of Orleans Parish Prison.

STAFF PHOTO BY MICHAEL DEMOCKER
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Marlin Gusman’s tour of Orleans Parish Prison
An inmate sleeps in his cell in the 10th floor psychiatric section of Orleans Parish Prison.

As many of you know, I work in rehabilitating inmates. Our program is available to anyone who wants it. But what you may not know is this – I can (and do) work with people BEFORE they get into trouble OR have recently been up before a judge.

In many cases, catching the offender and helping them before they go further can halt that path. Judges, parole/probation officers are often looking for a program to send the offender to.

We do offer that service. Many of my students have successfully completed our course and the documentation was sent to the court. This pleases the judge. This makes them happy and often times, they are more considerate of the sentencing.

If you know of someone that could use my service, or if you need it yourself, please contact me privately about the details. Your information will be held in the strictest of confidence, as always.

So before you give up on them, or yourself, it might be worth your time to talk to me.

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I know this statement to be true from personal experience. The details aren’t important except suffice to say, if you value your life, don’t ever tickle me.

The interesting part of the above statement are the number of people, once learning of my loathing and aversion to being tickled, take it upon themselves to tickle me. I’ve had it happen so many times that I never tell anyone unless they try to tickle me. If they respect my wishes, no harm and no foul.

If they don’t, they usually try it again.

That is usually the last time I talk to them.

One person at work, years ago, came up behind me and poked me in the ribs. I jumped and swung around. He was a friend and was just doing that rather than tap me on the shoulder.

I told him I hated to be tickled and please not to do it ever again. He said he was sorry and that was that until about a week later.

He did it again, but this time, he laughed. Yeah, he thought it was funny and that I was being dramatic. I once again swung around but this time I was angry.

“Don’t do that!” I said. He smiled and apologized again. He said he forgot. Uh huh….

About 3 weeks later, he did it again, but this time when I turned around, I made a fist and used the full power of my arm and torso to slam it into his sternum.

The look on his face was priceless. I watched him try to breathe. I helped him to sit down in a chair and stood there and waited.

Once he could breathe, I leaned over and put my face up close to his and said “I warned you. You decided not to listen. If you ever do that to me again, I will bring you up on assault charges and the next time, you won’t be able to stand back up.”

I then went to HR and reported what had happened.

He quit a few weeks later.

Predators are patient and calculating. They take their time. They move in, slowly and intelligently. They are aware of everything around them and they know exactly what they are doing. I suppose some of them are bold, but maybe not all. I can’t say for sure, but it would not surprise me to learn that it’s true.

It’s not natural for an adult to want to tickle and play with children exclusively. It’s not right that they always want the child around, to sit on their lap, to always be rough housing with them. This is about extremes. This is about just a bit too much interest in your child. Trust me, as a person who doesn’t have children, unless we’re closely related, I don’t want your kid around if we’re hanging out. Shit, I don’t even want my relative’s children around too long. I love kids and I love having them around, but not the entire time.

I was fortunate that my parents didn’t care for this particular adult very much, so my exposure to him was limited but the one time he was alone with me, he pulled that shit. The tickling was torture AND HE KNEW IT. He knew damn well why I started to cry and would…not…stop. The more hysterical I became, the more he tickled. He only stopped when someone walked in.

Years later, his crimes and perversions were found out. I recall hearing of his death and I smiled.

I am far from an alarmist. I don’t go looking for problems where there aren’t any but I do pay attention to those around me. When I see children, I always make sure they are OK and someone is with them. But I always look to make sure. I look at them for a moment.

Of all the women I worked with in jail, the greatest number had been abused/molested as children and young adults. Many got into drugs. I can’t say that the reason is solely the abuse, but I can say that many of them resorted to drugs to escape and ironically, many became prostitutes to earn the money for the drugs and because they were “taught” at a young age that their only value was to sexually please men. That’s a tough one to “let go” and “walk away from.”

No one has the right to touch me unless I tell them they can.

No one has the right to determine what my emotions should be.

No one has the right to decide how I should look, act, or dress.

My point of view is this:

If you violate my physical body, one of two things will happen:

1) I’ll lay you out and you won’t be able to get up.
2) I’ll die in the attempt.

There are no other options.

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Sure, without the pimps, there would be a lot less human trafficking of young girls and boys. I’m in favor of prosecuting the customers and helping the prostitutes. It’s the whole “supply and demand” factor.

But you have to dig much deeper to find out why that child went down the path they did.

What was lacking in their life? How was someone able to grab them and whisk them away?

For each child, there is perhaps a different answer.

I’m often asked “But what can we do? How do we stop this?”

I always answer “What can YOU do in your immediate area?”

Because that’s how this is done. You deal with your block, your neighborhood, your school, your city and start helping individuals.

Don’t expect anyone else to do it. Don’t wait for the government for they are always late on the scene. Laws are being passed, awareness and understanding is increasing, but it’s not enough.

To quote “Truckers Against Trafficking:”

“Imagine if these pimp’s words fell on deaf ears because young people knew they were worth more, knew people loved them, knew they had a future and a hope.

It is very important to be investing in the lives of our own children but also the lives of the youth around us.

Get involved in your community’s outreach programs.

Mentor, tutor, donate much needed supplies to local assistance programs, be kind to the kids in your neighborhood. 

Say hi to the morose teen.

If non-exploitative adults get involved, pimps and exploiters will struggle to get a foothold. Let’s stop allowing this to be so easy for them.” 

Pay attention to your children. Pay attention to the kids around you. Learn the signs. Teach them that they need not look outside themselves for validation. Give them love, too much love. Show them by example, that they are priceless and start with yourself.

Children learn by seeing more than by listening, but they do listen. They watch everything. They miss nothing.

Suicide

Posted: April 10, 2015 in jail
Tags: , ,

Her cuts were strong and deep. No hesitation marks. No second thoughts. Just clean, firm, and deep. The decision was made and she carried it out. Her room was clean and tidy. What few bills she had were paid. Her laundry was done and placed in bags. She didn’t have money for suitcases, but that didn’t matter. Everything was perfect. Her bed was made. She even fluffed the pillows and smoothed out the blankets

A note had been left to give all of her belongings to her daughter, but she didn’t know where she was or if she was even alive. She had given her up for adoption and never looked at her face. Her daughter was the result of rape, but there had been so many, there was no way to know who the sperm donor was, not that it mattered. She left her medical records next to her note, just to make it easier for everyone.

She had started out as a normal and happy child. Just like most of us, but she was snatched away by an insane and drug addicted mother when she was 5. She was often sold to men to pay for her mother’s addiction. Soon that beautiful child was turned into nothing more than a bartering tool. What humanity she had been born with was soon gone.

I remember her dead eyes and slouched shoulders. But that’s all I remember. She wasn’t anyone who stood out, who said anything, or did anything remarkable except one thing:

She learned how to disappear. I don’t know how she was able to do this, but often times, she would be sitting there and yet you never really saw her. You would forget she was taking up space. Your eyes would scan the room and yet you’d never see her.

On her last day of life, I imagine she may have smiled. I like to think she did. I can’t say what she did was right or wrong, though I wish she had stayed. I wish her life had turned around enough to give her hope. I wish she had called, but I’m not surprised she didn’t.

She was made into nothing at an early age.

She had disappeared years before she slit her wrists.

Susan Lewis:

This story is more in line with this blog.

Happy Memorial Day!

Originally posted on I can explain:

Story

Some of you know that I do volunteer work in the field of criminal rehabilitation. For those that don’t, well now you know.

I am currently working with 30 inmates, all via the mail. I do this in the very limited amount of spare time that I have. I’ll usually grade lessons and get caught-up on my correspondence with them during my lunch hour.

I really don’t take a lunch hour. I’m entitled to one, of course, but I always work through it. I’ll grade lessons or write and once in a blue moon, I’ll sit back and get in some additional reading time.

Today I opened a letter from one. Let’s call him Bubba. Generic name and I don’t really know anyone by that name, so I should be fine in using it.

He’s been in prison a very long time and he won’t be getting out soon. I’ve…

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Originally posted on I can explain:

were

And that’s why I never had kids.

It all makes sense now, right?

Oh shit! Is this out of context for you?

Allow me to clarify.

This is what I said to a woman last week who assumed the reason I didn’t have children was because I must have been traumatized or something. Like something horrible must have happened because I hadn’t procreated – and it’s WAY to late for me to even try – and the only reason it could be that way was because something was wrong. Very wrong. Scary wrong with me.

The thought that it had been my own choice never entered her mind.

Nope.

Something was wrong and she was bound and determined to find out what it was.

This amuses me. This is not the first time I had told this story but I was very surprised to see that such a young woman…

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