how dare you.

Do you  know who has had the audacity to break my heart? To make me want to give up on humankind? Who has absolutely deserved a kick in the groin and a slap in the face?

Christians.

And I don't mean the real deals, I mean the ones claiming to be Christians - the ones who actually claim to follow Jesus Christ himself - and who are absolutely positively the most vile, prideful, disrespecting, violent, hurtful human beings on the face of the planet.

You claim to be better than someone else? You say that those people "aren't worthy" because of their background or social circumstance or GOD FORBID their sexual orientation (yep, I said it)?

HOW. DARE. YOU.

If Christ himself would never say those things, or do those things, who are you? Who do you think you are?? Do you really think you're better than he is?

"Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone." - John 8:7

So go ahead, Oh Sinless One, you cast that stone.

You blameless, perfect, wonderful being. CAST IT.

I. DARE. YOU.

Yes, I am a bit angry. Angry enough the throw some card tables maybe. Not that I'm trying to compare myself to Christ, cause God knows I'm a screw up. But at least I admit it. I may not be perfect, or anywhere close, but I do think I know what it means to follow Christ. And it starts with LOVE.

We are to be patient, kind, loving and gentle. PERIOD. Through that love HE will be known, because that is who HE is.

Less of you and more of HIM.

Geez.

And go read Philippians 2 while you're at it.

I'm out.

Love,
Jessi

sometimes I just want a script.

I can literally lay on the couch and watch an entire season of a cheesy teenage drama series and never get bored. Is that bad?

I so easily get sucked into their world. I get attached to the characters; I want to know how their lives end up. I still wonder how Joey and Pacey are doing. And Peyton and Luke. And oh my gosh did Veronica and Logan even end up together?!? (I mean how are you supposed to deal with a series getting cancelled mid-season?!)

I think there's something wrong with me.

Isn't my life supposed to be more interesting than a fictional tv show? When did reality become less interesting than a script? (Well, I guess there is the whole thing where writers deliberately add drama to keep you watching...they do call it "drama" for a reason.) But isn't life full of real drama? Maybe we'd rather be involved with someone else's drama. Maybe it's easier to watch it from "afar." Maybe it's easier to point out what they did wrong or say "Oh, I would have done it this way instead." Maybe it's easier to see how obvious the right thing is and blame the obvious bad guy for doing the wrong thing. Maybe it's also nice to see the good guy do the wrong thing, and then pat ourselves on the back for being "normal."

Whatever the reason, it's distracting. I've been sitting on the couch since 11am watching the entire first season of "Switched At Birth" and wondering if Bay and Emmett are gonna make it through this whole Ty fiasco (and holy crap they better) but simultaneously wondering if maybe my Saturday could have been better spent hanging out with real people with real problems?

Is it ok that I would rather hang out with fictional characters that have their own scripts than with real people I might actually have to converse with?

I'm not so sure.

Sometimes I just want my own script...

Road trips

Sometimes it is nice to see new things.

you think you're alone, but you're not

I've been wanting to write about this for a long time, but it sucks to talk about it. I hate that it sucks to talk about it, so I'm gonna talk about it.

The 17th was 17 years to the day since the worst day of my life. I still think about it, still remember it, and still want more than just justice. I want freedom. Don't get me wrong, I have forgiven and moved forward with my life. I do not live in fear like I used to, but I still live with the sadness of knowing that there are girls like me all over the world who don't have the freedom to talk about it. They are scared and they feel alone. So that's what I'm doing. Talking (or writing, but whatever, you get my point).

So here I am at 11 years old. Perfect hair, perfect teeth, and impeccable fashion tastes (and, yes, that is a unibrow).

I am more than a little naive. I'm 11 for goodness sake. That is how it should be. I know nothing about boys or what they think about. I don't know if they are much different than me, other than the fact that they stink a little more and are kinda annoying sometimes. I'm an A/B student. I live in a small town. My parents aren't rich, but they aren't poor either. I'm average.

April 17th, 1996. I'm in my 6th grade math class, and it's about 20 minutes til the last bell, but I have to pee. I ask Mrs. Osborne for a bathroom pass, and she lets me go. I walk into the empty bathroom and into the second to last stall cause it's the one that closes the best. None of the stalls have locks that work. A few seconds later the lights go out. Very funny. "Hey turn the lights back on. Someone's in here!" Then someone comes into my stall. "Hey someone's in here!" Then someone puts a gun to my head and tells me if I say anything he'll kill me.

This makes no sense. I'm at school. I've used this bathroom hundreds of times. I don't understand what is happening.

He puts duct tape over my mouth and tells me to take my pants off. I still remember it was a Wednesday because I was wearing my green Wednesday panties. He touches me in a place I didn't think he was supposed to. I stand there quietly. I have no idea what is going on. He tries pushing me down onto the toilet. He asks me if I've ever done this before. The duct tape on my mouth prevents me from talking, so he lifts up the corner so he can hear the shaky "No." I begin to understand what is happening. I start crying. I start banging on his chest. I don't want to do whatever he wants me to do. He asks me to lay on the floor. I can't lay on the floor, I don't want to. Is he trying to have sex with me? I've heard of that before, but I thought that you had to be a grown up to do that? I thought that you had to have that period thing first. If I don't have my period yet and he tries to have sex with me will I die? It might kill me. I. have. no. idea.

As he is trying to get me to lay down, the lights came on. I see his face. He is a boy that I go to school with. I didn't know it at the time, but he had been suspended from school. He shouldn't have been able to come on campus. He puts a finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. I don't remember this, but everyone in the classroom next to the bathroom said that they heard a shrill scream, and the girl in the hallway saw the boy run past her.

I stand there, shaking. I have to leave before he comes back. I put my pants back on, but I forgot to put my green Wednesday panties back on so I just stuff them in my pocket. I take off the duct tape. I run.

I run straight into Mrs. Woodburn, my favorite social studies teacher. She holds me until she figures out why I'm crying. "Someone tried to rape me."

The rest of the day was police and questions. My parents were called. That may have been the hardest part. I have only seen my dad cry 3 times, and that was one of them. The principal brought a yearbook and opened it to a specific page. He asked me if the boy who did that was on that page. He was. He knew he was. Later that night, the boy was caught, and a year of trials and court dates ensued. I had to tell that story over and over again in front of a room full of strangers. I remember the defense attorney, who was a heartless bastard, asking me to redraw the gun because I drew it different this time. I must be lying. And I remember the court reporter, who gave me candy and looked at me with the saddest eyes. Long story short, the boy was charged as an adult and sentenced to 20 years in prison on first degree charges of sexual assault and attempted rape with a weapon. Justice is served. (Though it will be a good 5 years before I can use a public restroom by myself).

And here I am 17 years later, still thinking about it. As I said, I did forgive him. Not, of course, because what he did was ok, but because I did not want to live me life in fear and in anger. But honestly I didn't want to tell this story to teach about forgiveness, although I would recommend it to anyone who has been hurt by someone. I am telling it because this happens, and it happens a lot. 

According to the American Medical Association, sexual assault (and rape in particular) is one of the most under-reported crimes in the nation (and I'm sure, the world). It is estimated that 1 in 6 women and 1 in 33 men are victim to attempted or completed rape, and the number is much higher for sexual abuse and other types of sexual assault. Most of these events happen to children between the ages of 12-17. If you also take into account that less than half of cases are typically reported (especially true for boys and men), then those numbers are terrifyingly staggering. And that's just in the U.S. I can't speculate, but I assume that it's even worse in third world countries and places of war.

So, not to play a numbers game, but we are talking at least one out of every four women and one out of every ten men have experienced sexual assault of some kind, and no one ever talks about it. 

I spoke with a group of girls recently at a group home. The "bad" girls who are there for truancy or running away. All of them had been abused. One girl had been raped since she was 3 years old by her stepfather, another had been raped by her brothers with beer bottles. Of course they didn't want to go home. Of course they were doing bad in school. Of course they were stealing food and selling drugs to make money. What else can a 13 year old girl do?

I could go on and on. And I don't expect this blog to change the world or the psychopaths living in it. But at least be aware. Know that this happens, and know that it is ok to talk about it. Know that the girl in your class might have gone through something like this. Or the girl you work with. Or your neighbor. Or your cashier. 

And know that it is terrifying to talk about, but that's ok. You've never felt more vulnerable, weak and alone in all of your life. But it has to stop. We need freedom. And we need it now. 

Feel free to discuss this further in the comments below or share this post with others.

Love,

Jessi

A little get up and go.

I have not stopped giving thanks for you, remembering you in my prayers. I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so that you may know Him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of His glorious inheritance in the saints, and his incomparably great power for us who believe.   - Ephesians 1:16-19

I needed a little get up and go this morning. I have been so tired, so burned out. So many things on my plate, but so much left I want to do. I needed hope, I needed refreshing. There is a purpose in what I am doing, or at least there can be if I choose to believe it. Live each day on purpose and with purpose. Have hope in Him, know Him, and believe Him when he says "You are ready."

Love,
Jessi

there is an ocean out there. and i'm gonna swim in it.

Hi.

Do you ever feel like you're drowning? Cause I do. Drowning in debt, drowning in work, drowning in love...

But I mean I know it's ok. I know it is. I'm not so far gone that I have lost hope in my ability to make it back up to the top. But it makes me wonder, because I know that not everyone has that hope. Not everyone has learned how to swim, how to get back up there, how to breathe. Not to say that I am the greatest swimmer. I mean, have you read my blog? I sink. A lot. And not just because I can't do it. Sometimes I just forget how important breathing is.


What if drowning is normal? Don't things just feel heavy sometimes? Like you could literally drown in your surroundings, in life? And not always in a bad way. Like sometimes I just love things so much I feel like I'm gonna explode. (Of course I may be a rare case. I mean, I cried at the end of Dark Knight Rises. Wept. I mean, come on. Alfred? Sweet old man. Kiss his frickin cheeks off.) And then there are of course the not-so-happy things that make me want to explode. Like being in debt for the last 5 years. Doesn't matter how much I pay, the next month I still owe the same. damn. amount.

Does everyone drown? And what if you can't swim?! Like at all? What happens to those people? Or what if you don't even know that you need to swim. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??


I dunno kids. I don't know about normal. All I know is there is an ocean out there. And it is full of monsters and pressures and beautiful things. And I want to swim in it. I want to explore the depths and face the monsters and feel the pressures - and then swim back up to the top, take in a big long breath, and do it all over again. Stronger this time.

I may need to borrow somebody's floaties for a while though. Hit me up if you have some.

Love,
Jessi

and then it gets better.

Hi friends, been a while, I know. I hope you don't think less of me. I've missed you, I really have. I think about you constantly. I haven't written in a few months, and I don't have a good excuse. I'm lazy. And I'm tired. That's all.

But things are getting better! I got a new job recently, which will hopefully help with the tired part. No more driving 30 minutes to work, and no more 40-50 hours a week at the mall! I am now the Admin Assistant for Chatham Design Group, which may not sound like much, but I love it. I get to help people find their dream home, which is something I am getting more and more interested in myself as I find myself growing up.

I also started dating my best friend, Gus. (Finally, I know.)

I mean, how pretty would our babies be?? GAH. I need a moment...

Ok, so yes, we've been dating for about 3 months now...and so far so good. I will say though, it's a little terrifying to date your best friend. Cause you know if it doesn't work out, you lose one of the most valuable things in your whole life. But then again, not being with him was so unnatural, it felt stupid. Plus, how great is it to be be with someone who actually understands you, who knows those parts of you that you don't even like, but then loves you anyway? Can't beat that. (Not to say we don't get in a few healthy arguments every once in a while...)

I think for pretty much all of last year I was trying really hard not to care. I just wanted to have fun and be free to do whatever I wanted to do, no feelings attached. And so I made some bad choices. None that I really regret though, to be honest, cause I think they taught me a valuable lesson: You are who you choose to be. And I was not choosing well.

This reminds me of my favorite book by John Steinbeck, East of Eden. One of the major themes is based on the word timshel, a hebrew word meaning "thou mayest." In the Old Testament it's used to say "thou mayest conquer sin." Not you can, you may. 

It is always your choice. You can be good, or you can be bad. That's pretty much what is comes down to. And my dear friends, there are already plenty of bad people in the world. Methinks we should try adding a few more to the good side. And not just for the sake of humanity even, but for the sake of He who created us to be better, to do good, to love all...because we are to be a reflection of Him. And I am so tired of us sucking that up. That's not fair. He's not like that, why should we be? Why should we make everyone else believe He is bad because we are acting that way?!

Let's choose to do some good today, because as another favorite author of mine once wrote, "...that has made all the difference."

Love,

Jessi

ok. let's think about what you've done.

Ah, reflection. Sucks doesn't it?


I think it's finally time, kids. Time for the quarter-life crisis. Oh that's supposed to happen when you turn twenty-five you say? Well, my life was awesome at twenty-five.


Life has its ups and downs, yes. Yes it does. But what do I do during the down time? I'm looking back at this last year of my life and there are few things I want to take from it. Few things I am proud of. That's a real first guys. I mean if I look at my first twenty-five years, I can honestly say I was proud overall. Maybe too proud. I mean I was valedictorian, went to college for something I loved and graduated Summa Cum Laude, then got not one but 3 jobs I adored helping people around the world. I went to 7 different countries, lived in one of them for a while, and got to make a difference in the lives of each one. Dudes, I lived in Harlem. Harlem.


Is it ok for me to say that I am terrified that the best years of my life are behind me?


Now surely that is not true. I am twenty-seven. God-willing, I have a good 50 years ahead of me, time to make a home and start a family, do some more good in the world. But right now it doesn't feel like I'm heading in the right direction. I moved back to my tiny hometown and I've spent the last year - 365 days - doing nothing but working a nowhere job at the mall and singing karaoke on Monday nights. Oh, and watching Netflix. So. much. Netflix.


Before last year, there were only two guys I had so much as held hands with. Now I've had dead-end relationships with guys I knew didn't give a shit and a handful of anonymous make-out sessions.


I stopped caring about myself somewhere.


It's like moving back home made me lose my direction. I can't remember my purpose, or if I even have one. I got a non-stressful, non-committal job on purpose. I date guys who don't love me on purpose. Because I am terrified if I do anything good on purpose, it'll be my fault when it fails. And I'm not sure I can handle another good thing failing on me.


There are so many beautiful things I want to do. But I have no idea how to do them.


Here's to hoping this year is better...


Love,
Jessi