In reality, I realize I could be all kinds of crazy. Where does my sense of confidence come from? When did I realize I wanted to be okay? I like myself. I don’t fool myself into thinking I am anywhere near “Barbie” potential, but I think maybe that simple fact that I am willing to pat myself on the back and let myself have down days and sleep to the middle of the day when I need to, allows me to say I’m okay. I made it. I know not everyone that has been in a terrible situation can say the same. I see with my own eyes how bad it can be and how hard life is. No matter how much I want to believe magic exists in the world, I know that magic only works if you believe.
I accept myself for who I am and the limitations I know I have. I could let those limitations be roadblocks in my life, but I know I will want to overcome them in some way. In the end, though, I will always be on my side. I get that lots of things have gone into making me who I am today. Even those eighteen years had a role to play. I accept the bad that has happened to me, and I don’t slap myself down for the “what ifs” in my life. What if I had beaten myself up all those years in the backyard? What kind of person would I be now? Why didn’t I beat myself up?
I think reading had a lot to do with it. I read a lot. Books on every subject I could get my hands on. Phillip had a lot of self-image and self-help books and stuff lying around from his time in prison, and I would read everything I could about positive affirmations and behavior. What we say to ourselves really matters. Much more than I think we even realize. I saw a book recently meant to motivate people to exercise and eat right, but it was so full of rude, mean-spirited comments that I don’t see how anyone could see past it to the real useful information it contained. How does it work to motivate by putting down? It doesn’t in my book. For every negative thing I say to myself or that I hear (yep, I’m not perfect as you all might have thought!), I always try to say something positive instead. Like how could you eat that donut when you know we are trying to be low-carb! I can change that into Okay, we had a donut, let’s stay on track from now till the end of the week. That always makes me feel better. Or I will look at a picture of myself and think, OMG, I have the biggest arms in town: they look like gigantic white ham hocks! I can turn that one into It’s okay, I’m exercising and lifting weights. My arms are strong and full of muscle, girl! Or I could say, Next time I think I will wear a longer-sleeved dress for sure! Honestly, though, on those days I feel my heaviest, I look in the mirror and remember that I am healthy, active, and—best of all—happy to be able to be beautifully flawed and fancy free!
Most Embarrassing Moment
* * *
Horses have been a big part of my recovery and my new life. They have brought many moments of happiness, discovery, laughter, and most of all, they remind me that it’s okay to look stupid sometimes, and though others might judge, a horse never will.
On one such occasion a horse named Velcro thought I needed a lesson in being seen, a little too much for my liking. Freesia and Velcro have been companion horses for years and like to go and do everything with each other. So when a friend was going to enter Freesia in a horse show, she encouraged me to try it out on Velcro.
At first I was reluctant to say yes. I have loved learning how to ride. I love riding for fun. I felt I had some skills in the arena, and my confidence had grown from where I started four years earlier, but the word competition sounded so scary, and one thing I do not like to be is in the spotlight. My friend said it was a very small backyard horse competition, and since this would be my first one, I would be entered with riders of similar abilities. Well, I said yes, obviously, because I’m writing about it now, so we can skip forward a bit.
I practiced on Velcro at least twice a week and learned all that the judges required in a show like this. In my arena, I felt confident and we were working well together. Yes, we had days that Velcro thought I needed to be crushed into the fence a bit. Overall, though, I felt ready. I also watched my friend train. She is such a beautiful, quiet rider. I learn so much from just watching her ride and listening to our trainer instruct. When they are working in sync with each other it is a beautiful thing to behold.
Competition day arrived. I dressed in my horse show clothes. I didn’t even know there was a certain type of shirt and pants one must wear to compete in a horse show, but there is. I had to wear a white polo-looking shirt and tan breeches. I should have had tall riding boots, too, but I could never find any that fit my calves, so I just went with my paddock boots and half chaps. Loading of the horses was our first order of business. Freesia was not a fan of the trailer and would sometimes protest.
It took all of us to convince her to get in the trailer, and by the time she finally went, yes, you guessed it, we were behind schedule. We had planned to get there an hour early to acclimate the horses to the new environment and ride them around a bit. Now, because of the late hour, that was not going to happen and we would be lucky if we made it with enough time to tack the horses up with their saddles and bridles before the show.
The morning was really foggy, and the place we needed to go was way out in the country. The drive seemed to take forever. I was nervous and just wanted to get it over with. My division was up first.
We finally arrived, and I had to go enter my name. I used a fake name for my privacy issues, but now looking back, I’m so glad I did because can you imagine if this embarrassing moment made it on the ABC Channel 7 news! I know what you’re thinking: we don’t yet know what this oh so embarrassing moment is, Jaycee. Yes, so back to the story.
So I put in my name and received my number to be pinned to the back of my shirt. I was number 4 and felt ready for my first competition. As I looked into the arena, the other riders were in the ring already warming up. On closer inspection the riders appeared very young; in fact, they were young! OMG, I thought, my competition is eight-year-olds! How embarrassed I felt! (Wait for it: This is not the most embarrassing moment. This is just embarrassing.)
I was the oldest person in my division competing with kids. Well, I thought to myself, they will probably just think I am one of their kind because I’m short. For today I will be a tall kid!
I saddled up my horse and off we went into the arena. My mom was running late but said she would be there to watch me in time for the competition. I almost didn’t want her to come now and see who I was riding against, but she was already on her way. It was hard to concentrate on what was being said over the loudspeaker. All thought of what I was supposed to be doing left my mind a blank. So I looked at what the others were doing and copied them.
Velcro and I set out on our journey around the edge of the arena past the judges on the other side. I wondered, Do I have my correct diagonal? (It took me a long time to know when I wasn’t on the right diagonal, which means I post up when my horse’s outside leg comes back, which helps both us both stay comfortable and balanced.)
Velcro was looking everywhere at once. Her focus was not on me. She felt like she wanted to run and get ahead of the girl and her pony in front of us. I tried to hold back her power, which I could feel building, and I tried to soothe her with my voice. She started to prance in place and was really speeding up. Oh no, I thought, time to slow down now, girl! She felt really geared up, like she wanted to win the race she thought we were in.
I was sitting the trot, which is not what I was supposed to be doing at all. As we came around another corner, Velcro decided she had had enough and stopped dead in her tracks. I encouraged her with a squeeze to her sides, letting her know that this is not the time for stopping, but she didn’t listen to the cue. Instead, she moved backward right into the tiny rider behind us and her pony! The girl had a pretty pink ribbon in her long braided hair and looked at me with daggers in her eyes! She seemed to be trying to say, Why can’t you control your horse? I was so horrified.
I hear a voice over the loudspeaker. “Will competitor number four please restrain their horse?” “Number four, please leave the arena.” I heard it over and over again from the loudspeak
er. Who’s number 4? I wonder, then it dawns on me: it’s me! They are asking for me to leave the arena. Everyone was looking at me! I wanted to check out and run away, but I couldn’t. I had to get Velcro out of there, too. She refused to move a muscle. I really had to dig deep inside and remember all the advice Rebecca and horse trainer Margie had given me.
At that point, I looked up and saw my trainer entering the arena and walking straight for us. I wanted to exit the arena on my own to save some of my dignity, but I was also so very grateful for the escort. I saw then that my mom had arrived right in time for the brilliant show we had just put on. Brilliant not!
My hopes and dreams of the first-place ribbon were dashed. Then I remembered I entered this competition for fun, not ribbons. At the very least, I gave it a try and learned some valuable lessons. Like kids on their ponies take these shows very seriously and so do their parents. And I also learned that your friends will still love you and say you did a good job even when you do the walk of shame from the arena. I was officially part of the club and could honestly say I had entered my first horse competition.
Walk of shame.
Me on Velcro walking out of the arena with Margie.
First Christmas
* * *
I don’t remember my very first Christmas, but I do still have an ornament that my mom kept that says “Jaycee’s 1st Christmas.” My mom even painted and glazed it herself. I remember when I was little, I used to like to go to the ceramics shop with her, and she would let me pick out a special piece that I could work on. I loved watching her work on the ones she was doing and turning them into magnets for our fridge. My favorite was an Oreo cookie that looked so real I could have eaten it. That magnet is still with us today.
That first Christmas for us in 2009 was really special. The girls did not believe in Santa Claus. For many reasons, it was not even possible to keep up the ruse of some make-believe man that came through the chimney to bring good boys and girls presents. For one thing, none of our tents or buildings had chimneys. Phillip was always so unpredictable that Christmas could always be canceled depending on his mood or whim.
I want to believe that the true meaning of Christmas is not receiving, but it is in the giving. I even tell my girls that. It’s hard to believe in the magic and joy when there is so much filth and destruction on earth and you know that not everyone is having a merry day. Somehow, I still believe that we each hold the key to our own happiness, and you have to grab it where you can in whatever form it might take. It sometimes takes keen vision to spot that magic and, sadly, it goes unnoticed a lot of the time.
I’m not sure when I stopped believing in Santa. I guess maybe it was the year I was kidnapped, and the fact that he didn’t show up with presents might have been my indicator. I’m not sure that I ever really stopped believing completely.
I know some wonder how I can be so happy and optimistic about everything when so much bad has happened. Rebecca and I explored this a lot in therapy. I worked hard in therapy with her to overcome any anger I felt toward Phillip and Nancy because, yes, it was there.
Rebecca always commented about my resiliency and ability to see the bright side of things even when faced with the ugly truth of life. She told me I reminded her of the boy in the story The Polar Express. This book is about a boy who travels to the North Pole to meet Santa Claus. Santa gives him one of the bells from his sleigh. Upon returning home, the boy discovers that he has lost the bell and becomes upset. Christmas morning, he opens a present and is surprised to find the silver bell from Santa inside. He holds it up and hears its musical jingle. His parents look disappointed and say that it’s too bad it doesn’t make a sound. They could not hear the bell, but the boy always could, even when he grew up.
The day Rebecca gave me the gift of the book, in it she wrote: “To the girl who will always hear the bell—regardless of what happens! With much respect and love, Rebecca.” Secretly, I think Rebecca still hears the bell, too, and that’s why she never gives up.
Sometimes I think I must sound like someone I am not. What I mean is I am not always filled with deep thoughts. I know presents are superficial, and there is much more to life, but I just love presents! I love presents any time of the year actually. I get so excited when I get a package from Diane von Fürstenberg with bright pink wrapping paper and her signature lips with a card that tells me she loves me. It makes me feel so special and unforgotten. It also reminds me that if I feel like this about someone sending me something, it’s doubly important for me to try to remember to send the people I love something every year, too.
Chef Charles and I have been sending one of my favorites of his recipes to everyone we know for years now. It’s called a sour cranberry tea cake. It has become part of Christmas. I usually send it out with a package containing homemade jams and cookies my mom and I make together. It is a package filled with extra love. I think that was a hard part about being gone all those years. All the people I loved had no way of knowing how much I missed them. When I returned, my mom, sister, and aunt Tina all taught me and the girls how to make little delicious peanut butter balls and Girl Scout Thin Mints that you make from Ritz crackers and melted peppermint chocolate that firms back up when it dries.
When I was first recovered, every new memory made with family and friends was sacred. That first Christmas we still didn’t have a forever home, but we had each other. It actually kind of snowed, well, more like hailed. We were living in an area where that just is not supposed to happen. It’s funny how I can almost remember everything from that time, like the smells and the sound. What we said to each other did not really stick, but everything else is still as plain as day. I think when I was kidnapped, I closed off my senses like smell. That first Christmas back, my mom gave us all Christmas jammies to wear to bed. Shayna had found a stuffed cow ornament that had been donated to us and it played “Moo-Moo-Moo . . . Mooooo-Mooo-Moo-Moo-Moo” (“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la . . . la-la-la”), and she turned it on Christmas morning as we opened presents. That first year I could not believe all the good wishes and generosity of people. Phillip convinced me that I could never leave because people would reject us and make my kids feel like outsiders to the world. One of the things Nancy and he used to be sure we never left was the fear of rejection and humiliation. They were so wrong in every way! Most people have been more than kind. I have never felt rejected. Sometimes a bit over-celebrated, but never rejected.
That first year I received my first Droid smart phone and a Nook. I was so excited. Having my own phone made me feel so grown-up, and I couldn’t wait to set it all up. Being held captive for so long makes you feel like a child even at the then-ancient age of twenty-nine. Every move I made had to be okayed by Phillip. Getting a phone for Christmas was significant on many levels. It allowed me to communicate with whom I wanted when I wanted, and at any point I could order a pizza. Believe me, at that time that was a really new thing to be able to do. I mean, you could not exactly order pizza when you’re held captive. My smart phone has gone through several upgrades now, and I have switched to an Apple iPhone. Actually, Apple everything. I know there is a lot of controversy out there about which is better, easier, smarter. What I love most about technology is that it allows me to keep in touch with family and friends.
My daughters are much older now; in fact, one is in college, and one is entering college soon. I am very proud of them both. They are both so important to me, and I am so proud of who they are growing up to be. You might wonder why not more of this book is about them since they are such a big part of my life. I have chosen it to be this way for the simple reason that I believe they deserve the right to their own stories. One day if they want to, they can write them their way. I’ve done my best to protect them over the years, just like any other mother would do for her kids.
Making new traditions is fun. For New Year’s Day the past years we have been invited over by Chef Charles and Rebecca to make veggie animals. Yep, that’s right: we ma
ke creatures out of stuff like fingerling potatoes, peppercorns, carrots, kale, broccoli, turnips, dried beans, and anything else that’s left over from the garden. This tradition is so fun and makes you realize the new year is so full of fun and endless possibilities. It’s grown over the years, too. It’s always fun when someone new comes in and is skeptical of this weird project until their first creation, and then they get it. We had an amazing winter squash horse and carriage this year and a veggie man that we called “Papa New Guinea”! Try out having your own veggie party for all your friends and family. It’s a fun way to start off the new year.
I once asked how this tradition started, expecting some deep meaning like the beginnings of the Thanksgiving holiday. Rebecca laughed and told me actually they developed it to give all of us a healthy way to celebrate the new year. She added that when we first came into Transitioning Families, there were times they struggled to come up with ideas to keep us all connecting. Not an easy task for a group who had not been with each other for eighteen years and who all shared different interests. Chef Charles had seen an artist named Alexander Calder who had made tiny circus animals out of wire, and he had thought, What a great idea. That first year I sat at a big table creating a family of vegetable animals with my sister, mother, daughters, and aunt Tina.
Me and Shayna.
First Christmas tree.
Veggie animals.
Our veggie animal creations, 2016.
That Time We Went to See Garth in Ireland
Freedom Page 10
