Phoenix Story #1: Jess

JESS

So, I’m sitting in my now luke-warm bathtub. Soap suds are layered over my shaky skin as I try to find a way to start to tell stories that have paved my path to becoming the wonderful mother, friend, wife, and lover of life that I am today. Remembering these stories, is almost like thinking back on a once vivid dream, now gone hazy; or reading a book about a character with whom I only vaguely identify. It’s an interesting feeling to lay down the word-bricks that make up my uniquely windy path. One by one, each brick transports me deeper into the past; and though some are worn and trampled, gradually they do piece together; collectively creating a clear road to happiness, light, and truth. Truth is scary, but truth is powerful. Here, is my truth; or more specifically, here are a couple of the more noteworthy bricks on my road to it.

I think back on my younger years; and admittedly, if it were to come up in casual conversation, I would probably say that my high school experience was “decent”. But, if I were to truly delve back, I would have to confront some heartbreaking memories, that rival this initial claim. Though those old wounds have long since healed; my happiness once again restored and blossoming; the healing journey was far from painless. Battle scars remain, but they too signify the birth of invaluable wisdom; the likes of which carry me still. I wish to share these lessons; but I can’t without first revealing the horrors that unleashed them, in all their tragic glory.

As I start to tell these stories, I tell them in hopes that you will find peace, and that you too can overcome. Shame is merely a tactic that people use, as we are all human and all capable of doing disastrous things to make ourselves feel better, feel more capable, more well-liked, and more appreciated. Understanding why one creates intentional chaos in someone’s life, has helped me, and can help you rise through insecurities, old wounds, grudges, and even to a place forgiveness, even if it means forgiving yourself. It has even helped me to understand my own choices, my own mistakes, and why I have hurt people.

I was a liar. I lied about losing my virginity to most people who asked. I actually offered the lie to most people who didn’t ask, as well. I created a persona of this girl who was sexual, fearless, and open. In the most literal sense of the word. I lied because I was ashamed to say that I didn’t actually lose it; it was taken - no, stolen from me. I lied because I didn’t want people to see me as vulnerable and broken. I lied because it was easier to identify and accept someone calling me a slut than be who I really was; someone who was terrified of sex, terrified of my body, and terrified of the truth. I kept up with this lie. I hopped from boyfriend to boyfriend, never staying with anyone long enough to question it. I never intended to hurt people that trusted me, but I also never thought about them. It was about me. It was about protecting myself, protecting my body, and in turn, insulating and exacerbating my fear, and lying so that no one close enough could sniff it out.

This whole plan worked well, until it didn’t. As most compulsive liars come to realize, lies aren’t stable foundations to live your life on, and they crumble, sometimes over time, and sometimes all at once.

It was the end of my senior year of high school. I had gone to a party with some close friends. I ended up ditching them to go home with someone. As I got in his car, I knew everything wrong with what I was going to do. It was my intention to sleep with him. Someone I knew who didn’t care deeply about me. Someone who I knew I could fuck and call it a one night stand. Someone that I could finally give myself to without the emotional baggage that I knew would unload if it had been anyone else. It was one of my best friend’s on-again off-again boyfriend. I knew, well I thought I knew, that this secret would never get out. He assumed I had had intentional sex before. And quite honestly still probably does 10 years later, to my knowledge. He didn’t know that I was using him to finally get past sex, that I was using him to conquer a fear, and that I was using him to keep up my facade of an identity; the one I had created to make myself believe I was who I had told people I was. He didn’t know that aside from my rape, I had never had intercourse. He didn’t know that I had been raped at all.

I did it. I wanted too. It was a choice I consciously made. We made. He was attractive and nice. It was fine. I was fine. I even acted fine when the condom broke and we wound up at CVS at 3am buying Plan B. I was even fine by 4am, when I parked in a nearby neighborhood to sleep because I was scared to go home and blow my cover of having stayed at my friend’s house. I was even fine when thinking of my sweet friend and how much she adored the person I just had slept with.

I was fine. I was fine. I was fine.

Until I wasn’t.

She found out. She hated me. With pretty good reason. I knew she would, and I cared. I did, but I thought that I knew what I needed. I thought that I could continue cruising along this crumbly path and still manage to regain love from the people that I had hurt, the people that I had lied too, and the people that I had pained.

As quickly as my friend found out, everyone else did as well. Apparently secrets weren’t so easily kept in high school. I tried to open up to my group of friends. I tried to untie all my lies and tell them why. I tried to explain to them that it was my first and that I was slowly breaking. I was breaking because of the pain that I had caused her. I was breaking because my lies were catching up with me. I was breaking because I had no one that actually knew me, and because I had just had had sex for the first time and wasn’t okay. I opened up to my group of friends and wanted them to see ME, not this false persona I had painted. But I was too late. No one trusted me. No one wanted to be friends with someone who had made up all of these fake details up to protect this false identity, because for four years I was this false identity. No one wanted to associate with someone that would so easily hurt another girl to keep up with a reputation. No one wanted to hold hands with and console a fraud, regardless of my past trauma.

I was branded a liar, though this was only one facet of my multi-faceted self. I was called manipulative. I was called worthless. And I believed it in totality, rather than as part of a much grander narrative and a more beautiful whole, and complex being.

Time healed the little spores of pain; those that I later came to realize I’d perpetuated myself. I was never angry at anyone for responding the way they did; although it crushed me. It took me years to identify as and own the part of my personality that felt compelled to be a liar. It took me years to understand that pain breeds pain. It took me years to see the truth because my truth was webbed within so many lies. And, it took me years to go to the root and heal from the trauma that started these lies to start with. It took even longer to forgive myself for actions I took when I ignored my own pain. I lied because I didn’t want to face what had happened. But I got there. And although I took the long road, I got to the light, and I bathed in it. I got there and danced. Wildly. Passionately. To the rhythm of the eventual romance, sensuality, self-love, motherhood, friendship, and joyousness that later ensued.

Everyone has their own story. Everyone has their own demons. Understanding your own, will allow you to understand others. Just as pain is able to breed pain, love can breed love, and light can breed light. There exists no room so dark that can’t be lit with even just one tiny match; one tiny spark and all is revealed. There is never a hole so deep that a rope can’t be suspended downward to offer ascent back upwards. Part of this project is to spread the notion that there is hope in forgiveness, and that there is healing in sharing. We are here with a match and a rope to help you get out of your darkest and deepest of holes with healing, sharing, and new friendship, no matter what part of the story you represent.

With love and light,

J ❤️✨