Sunday, May 18, 2014

I Love You-- Do You Love You?

Love.
An emotion every child should grow up with, teen should experiment with, adult should live with, and grandparent should die surrounded with.
Love.
A four letter word. A hope filled word. A word inspiring change, direction, and a set assurance of at least one constant in any equation.
Love is something every girl should feel, have, express, know.
Love of God, love of family, love of friends, love of *superfluous* things, and love of that special someone.
Love is an emotion that should be free of charge, free of consequence, free of disappointment. Love should be given and never taken away. Love should be unconditional. Love should be unbreakable. Disney jokes about how love is the greatest force of strength; well, it should be. From yourself, from your family, from your friends.
My life has been FILLED with love. Continuous love. Predictable love. Unchanging love.
From everyone around me. Friends, family, acquaintances, and, let's face it: boys.
In a moment of pure weakness tonight, I decided to trace back every pain, every sadness, every trial, to a moment where I felt a break of love. From someone.

When I was sexually assaulted, I felt isolated and alone in my family. I felt that no one heard me, no one cared for me, and no one would ever treat me with as much "love" or "respect" as my perpetrator.
The evening in the hospital proved to be different. Family and friends everywhere sent love and support, telling me they cared for me or loved me and wished they'd known so they could've helped.
Except for one.

The month that a combination of trials occurred, first with my "boyfriend", then my father, then myself proved to start no different. I felt a lack of love from this man (who is today the best friend I've ever had aside from the Savior himself) in numerous and uncountable ways. At the time he made me feel like complete and utter trash. Then with my father I felt attacked and misunderstood. I didn't understand how someone could treat me in such a horrible manner, and later felt a sense of complete abandonment like id never felt from him. And with my own lack of love drove me to places I'd never been, lows id never felt. I truly thought that no one on earth would ever love me, could ever love me. Once again I was proven to be wrong. The forces of love from unexpected sources came and quite literally carried me to safety.

Time and time again in my life I feel a sense of hatred or disappointment when anyone in my family says something about school, my hair, or my future plans. I have felt unending hatred, shock, betrayal, and deep and unrelenting disappointment from them in ways words could never explain. The feeling of complete self worth is a familiar one, and it often bubbles to the surface with an unintendedly painful statement from someone.

It was after tonight that I felt all of this, all of my trials or feelings of worthlessness were based on lack of love from someone, when I realized I was sorely mistaken. My trials are based on a lack of love, yes. But it's the lack of love I have for myself, and for my savior. I don't have really tough times or endure really painful things when I'm close to the savior and really and truly can look myself in a mirror and see past the wig, the stretch marks, the non-existent thigh gap, the short stature, all of it. When I look at myself and only see flaws, my family can only look at me and see my weaknesses. If I feel confident, and really and truly love myself and love what I have to offer and what I've done and what I'm trying to become, nothing really seems so bad.

The importance of self-love is as important as gas to a car or internet to technology. Without it, you really can't do much, and you'll feel hopeless and alone. When you stay caught up, and you are at a good place in your life with a positive outlook, that's when you'll truly be able to love yourself for who you are. If your loved ones are capable of rallying around and loving you when you're at your worst, why can't you?

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Remember Me

Remember. The number one word that we should remember is ironically, remember.


I remember to wake up in the morning.
I remember to get dressed.
I remember to do my hair, and put on my makeup.
I remember to smile at school.
I remember to put my happy face on.
I remember to breathe.


But sometimes, just for a moment, I forget.

Sometimes I forget why I cry.
Sometimes I forget why I have nightmares.
Sometimes I forget why I share all my secrets.
Sometimes I forget why I'm afraid of adults.
Sometimes, I forget i'm a survivor.


What did I do to deserve the life I have? I've tried to be a good Christian girl. I say my prayers, I go to church, I know my commandments. I try to be strong, but God throws a pile of bricks and says "jump".

I should say, "how high?". But instead i'm saying, "how?".

When faced with adversary, I should be strong. I should sound the bugle.

Today, I forgot to sound the bugle. I forgot to put on my army face. And I got injured.

It felt weird to be weak. It felt weird to chew my lip, to be shaking in public. To be jumpy and nervous. To gawk at the couples, wondering when she'd realize he's lying to her. It didn't feel like me. It felt like I was watching someone else, just awe-struck at their weakness. But I realized, it was me. I realized how easy I am. How easily people use me. How often they take advantage. How often they lie.

People. People lie. I lie. You lie. Everyone lies.
"He who tells an often white lie will soon grow colorblind."

I'm a soldier now. I am a big girl. I am going to free myself from James. I have to.

He happened. Nearly two years ago. I'm not going to let him vandelize every opportunity I have to grow. He needs to stay in the jail cell of my heart. He happened. And he's over and done with. I don't need his face questioning every love I have. I don't need his texts playing in my mind on a date. I don't need his palms to be what I feel when i'm holding hands. I don't need to tense up every time i'm held for safety. I don't need to be afraid! I need to move on. But letting go, is the hardest part.

Friday, November 18, 2011

Sentencing part 2

My experience with the sentencing only went as well as it did because of 4 people. Rick Knowlton, my amazing Stepdad. Cheryl Knowlton, my beautiful and vivacious mama. Aaron Woolley, my personal hero and "uncle". And Judge Terry Christiansen, the judge who is the most amazing, sensitive, smart judge in the entire Justice System.

He was sentenced to a full year in jail, but will only serve for 120 days. (Unless he gets in trouble again.) He has 36 months probabtion, and lost his title in the US Army. There are more details that are teeny, and significant in odd ways.

Basically, his attorney had a few minutes to sing James's praises, bash on me, and end it smoothly. During that time, my uncle Aaron was holding my hand and helping me concentrate on other things, so i wouldn't get too frustrated. After his attorney finished, both of my parents spoke to the Judge, explaining how they felt the situation went on. They both said beautiful and touching things, and i got teary eyed more than once. James's attorney took the mic once again, to defend his client as my parents had so gracefully "tainted his reputation." I could not handle that part of it, and decided to leave.

Little did i know, once i left, that my uncle followed me out. He sat with me, listened to me cry and blab on and on, and helped me relax. I was so grateful to this, and to him .While i was outside, however, James said to the court that he apologized to the victim and her family. The DA, Mark Mathis, came out to see me, and asked me if i wanted to see it. I looked in just in time to see James being led out in handcuffs. It was an odd sensation, knowing that i wouldn't see him again for 120 days. I don't look around me anymore, and i'm not nearly as nervous about going outside alone.

The hard thing about this is, though, is something that his father said to me. When he was leaving the court room, he looked at me with tear filled eyes, and asked me if i was happy. He made it very clear that he felt like i had ruined their family. I felt bad about it, but i don't. Ya know, dog? I have started doing something recently, where i go outside and spend time on my own. I look at the stars, and i think about what happened during the day. After about 10-20 minutes, i state very clearly to myself "It is OVER. It is OUT of my control. I will push forward and make tomorrow better." It makes my dreams NIGHTMARE FREE. I haven't seen James in my dreams since the sentencing. And yeah, it's only been like 3 days but still. I used to see him 3-4 times a NIGHT. This is a huge leap forward, and i'm very excited about it. I used to be nervous about going to sleep, and i'd starve myself from sleep. Now i'm not as scared to sleep. YAY!

Like i usually do, I'd like to add a poem/personalized thought.

In A Girl's Life...
-She meets a boy.
-He's exactly what she "wants."
-She makes him her world.
-He breaks her heart in half.
-He acts like he wants her back.
-He makes her think she's worthless.
-She tries so hard to get him back.
-She makes a fool of herself. And she's miserable.
BUT....
In THIS girl's life...
-I met a boy
-He was what I thought I wanted.
-He used me for himself.
-He became a coward in the face of adversity.
-He tried to trick me into protecting him over myself.
-He tried to take away the best part about me, my COURAGE.
-Now, I stood up for myself. He made a fool of HIMSELF. And I'm the one that's happy.
 
Like i began this entry, I'll end it. Thank you to Judge Terry Christiansen, who sentenced him and made this whole ordeal much easier. Thank you to Rick, for what you said. Thank you Mom, for what you said. And thank you Aaron. Thank you Thank you Thank you. You know i wouldn't have made it through the sentencing SANE had you not been there. Thank you. I LOVE YOU!!

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Forever

Forever
Open, comfortable, relaxing
A girl, a boy
Always talking
Falling in love
Coming closer
And closer
Praying for safety
Always
Only to turn
And see their safety
Turning on them.
The choices they made
The things they said
Will catch
In her throat tonight.
And she’ll be left to wonder
What happened,
To the boy and the girl?
Who were open, comfortable, relaxing,
Falling in love.
Coming closer,
And closer?
They prayed for safety.
And that was granted,
Just in a different way.
And so tonight,
While she lays
In her bed,
Feeling helpless
He’ll laugh to himself,
Roll over,
Carve another notch
In his bed frame,
And think, I got her
To pray
For safety
Forever.
 
This was written for James- Sept 11, 2011

Sentenced to Honesty- part 1

Emotion is confusing. Sentencing is rigorous. Time is relevant. And pain is everything

Emotions run high right now, as i'm THRILLED that this is over, ANGRY that i have to see him again, and SORRY for what he has in store with his life. I know he doesn't like this any more than I do. I know that it hurt him in the begining as much as it hurt me. He thought he had full control over me, and BOY was he wrong. He was shocked, as was I, to see me rebelling against him, and doing things on my own to control my life. He was angry I reported it. He was brutally embarrased, having to explain what happened to his father from a jail cell. And he was tortured, just for a moment, to see me crying. The first thing he said about me, is that he was amazed at how headstrong i was. And I KNOW that it hurt him to see me hurting. But he deserved that smidge of pain, especially since it's a FRAGMENT of what i've dealt with.

Sentencing involves a planned 2 hours, spent with nothing but hearing the details of case after case after case, seeing men and women who have fallen into unworthy, dangerous things. Things that once promised glory or freedom, are now restricting them. And for me to go, 8 or 9 times, to the West Jordan Courthouse, and sit and watch him stand in front of the judge, with no one but his lawyer to talk for him, to make up cleaver little lies is rigorous. I'm learning now, his tricks, and the way he looks or handles things.

Time has gone by, tick by tick, tear by tear, nightmare by nightmare, and pain by pain. It's taken 11 months, 29,030,400 ticks, 1,440 nightmares, and UNCOUNTABLE tears to get to this point. This stage, of healing, freedom, happiness, and nightmare-free dreams. The time has been in my mind, swimming in my thoughts, and frightening my happiness, because it's taken so long. "Persons have a right to a fair and speedy trial." if 29,030,400 seconds, or 483,840 minutes, or even 336 days is considered fair, or speedy, i'll take it. I would rather it take this long, then have it stuck with me for life.

His sentencing is not the end of the pain. I've learned that. But I know something. I know that because he'll be getting his half of the pain now, i won't feel as much. It's odd, how there's an amount of pain for each situation. I've battled with it myself, including the fears that i had betrayed someone i "loved". And while i doubt that this experience has been a happy, strawberry-scent filled picnik for him, i don't think he's felt his half of the pain.

The nights in jail, the days without work, the loss of money because he has to leave UVU, the embarrasment he and his family will feel, that's his pain. That's what hurts him. And I will be able to walk, with my head held high, knowing that God forgave me, the judge took care of it, and i'm freed from the ties to James Reuben Moses for the rest of this life. And that one sentence, in and of itself, is enough to free me.

Monday, August 29, 2011

The Reason I am Who I Am.

A few days ago, my mother asked if she could talk to me. I, of course, had an immediate reaction of, "oh no. what did I do wrong?" and later came to find out she wanted to share a story with me. This story is about an AMAZING example, of strength and beauty. I'm talking about my Aunt, Aunt Erika Gamarra.

She had quite a story growing up, maybe worse than I have. But overall, she has stayed strong and has been an ultimate example to me.

My mother shared that my Aunt E (which is what we call her) had read a post and had found enough courage to stand up to someone that was quite frequently pulling her down. I was honored that she had said my posts had given her courage, but felt intrigued as to explain why I’m doing what I’m doing.

The blog {PrOjEcT sPeAk!} was ultimately created because my aunt created a website, entitled "The Sparrow's Nest" about young children that were being sold off into prostitution. After my trials began to grow more severe, due to the severity of my decisions, I decided I should make an Online Journal, so that maybe, someone could gain strength from what I had to say, or what I was going through.

While Erika is one example of strength to me, she is not the only one. My mom’s dad, Alan Leighton, is a huge example to me. He is a wonderful, faithful, man and the BEST grandpa you’d ever have. My mother is another example. While we may have our, mother/daughter fights, overall my friends often whisper to me “I wish my mom and I got along like you and your mom do.” And that is a huge huge HUGE reminder of how awesome she is. And that is just a few of the examples. Last but NOT LEAST, my Savior. I know what he did for us, he would have done even if it would’ve only benefited for me, or just for Aunt Erika, or just for President Obama. He is my ULTIMATE example, and my current examples remind me every passing day of my Savior.

Let me share this with you. YOU ARE A SURVIVOR. You can do ANYTHING. If I can, you can. I know that may sound cheesy and corny, but I’m serious when I say that when the waves come, and you don’t know if you can hold your ground, you can. I promise you that.

I love you all. I hope my comments may push you to strive to be YOUR best, and to do things for the community that most teens don’t have the courage to do.

Sincerely-

Jeannene Wright.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

I HATE YOU

I want to write you something, about us.
But nothing comes out, i wont make a fuss.
I'll just pretend you never happened, when i think of you.
I'll think of you as a piece of grass, not green but blue.
I'll think of my heart as some shattered glass.
Something i dropped when i forgot my class.
I'm supposed to be prim, proper, and ladylike.
But now i'm stuck on a forever long hike.
Somewhere, sometime ago, i made a wrong turn.
I made a mistake, and now i'll learn.
I want to tell you, what you meant to me.
But i just can't lie, so i'll leave you be.
Sometimes i wonder, sometimes i dream,
do you hear me when i'm trying to scream?
That i want you to go, i want you to leave.
that with this pressure i barely can breathe?
They're mad when i laugh. They're mad when i cry.
They're mad when i even try to explain why.
You were only pretend, you weren't real.
I'll remember that when i'm asked how i feel.
I'm feeling empty, lifeless and young.
That's no new song, for you've already sung.
It's a masterpiece for you, a wreck for me.
Now worth millions for each person to see.
I want to write you something, it's actually nice.
But nothing comes out, so this'll suffice.
I HATE YOU.
Hearts may break, and makeup may smear.
But i've shed for you, my very last tear.

written by me, march 26, 2011 10:10 AM