The days following
our recovery were a time of
limbo
for all of us. I
really didn’t want a therapist. I
felt I had come
to terms with what happened to me and I just didn’t want to
relive it. Boy,
was I
wrong. Once I sat down and
talked to
the therapist they brought in, I realized I
did want someone
to talk to.
I responded to her authentic and down-to-earth
personality. Neither she nor her colleague treated me like I
was special or
damaged in some way.
I wasn’t the main
focus of the group or singled out in an odd way.
Reunification was
unique in the
fact that it
focused on
getting my feet
on the ground, and during the reunification
work we focused on reconnecting me to different facets of
my family and dealt with the everyday practical things that
I
had not been accustomed to such as getting the kids their
shots and overall
checkups, which we
never had the
opportunity to do
before. The girls had
never been to a
doctor before. We also went
to see a dentist and got our
teeth checked out.
All of our
teeth were in
pretty good
shape. The only
potential problems the
girls had were
some pits where cavities could possibly develop, but other
than that they had good strong teeth. I think one of the main
reasons for that
is, Phillip instilled
the good habit
of
chewing sugar-free gum from a very early age in them. He
was very proud of
himself for reading
that in a magazine
about health and
knew that he wasn’t
going to be
taking
them to the dentist, so he thought of a way to make it work
for himself. My teeth are in pretty good shape, too. I had a
lot of dentist chair time when I was little and I still have my
original fillings.
They have lasted a really
long time, and it
really surprised me to find that out because I thought fillings
only lasted a
few years, but
these have lasted me more
than eighteen! I have
never been very fond of the dentist—I
can’t say it’s something I ever missed—but the dentist that
they took us to was very nice, and her office was open and
not closed in like I
remember my old dentist’s office being.
The girls had
no trouble either.
So their first
trip to the
dentist was a success.
I really wanted
stability. Not just for the girls but me, too. I t
took me a while
to figure out that
the choice to stay in the
area that we had been relocated to or go back down south,
where my mom, sister, and aunt currently lived, was mine to
make. I had
never really had
that choice before
and the
concept was new to
me. My aunt went back to where she
and my mom
lived to make
preparations for my
return.
During the time she was away, I made up my mind that I did
not want to return to the
Los Angeles
area. I
had come to
love the beautiful
place in which I
was temporarily living.
Even with the generous donations we had been receiving in
the mail, we still did not have enough money to buy a home
or even rent one. National
Center for Missing and
Exploited
Children (NCMEC) stepped in, and a house was found in a
secluded part of the town in which I wanted to stay. I t was a
beautiful old white farmhouse. I t was private and there was
plenty of room to play or walk outside without the neighbors
getting curious, unlike
the first house
they housed us in
when the FBI and El Dorado County first brought us to the
area. The only rental they could get was right in the middle
of town and not very private. Rentals were hard to come by
because it was Labor
Day weekend. The house was also
full to the
brim with FBI and
victim advocates. When we
moved into the new
farmhouse, it was much quieter.
Only
one FBI agent came
with us. We had come to really enjoy
her company and now that she has been reassigned, we all
miss her very much. She made us feel safe and protected.
Living together in the farmhouse, we started to learn how to
be a family. We
had to get used to each other’s different
habits and ways of doing things. I t took time and work with
the
reunification team. During
that time I
was presented
with the
opportunity to sell a photo to People magazine. I
was leery at first.
I was still unsure about how I
felt about
anything. The only things that were clear to me were that my
mom loved me and the girls and that I really wanted to stay
where we were. I wanted
to find some
permanence. The
media was a constant
threat. I was
told that if
I didn’t give
them a picture,
then they would find a way
to just take
it. I
was free yet not free. For the time being, nobody except for
the girls and
other people with whom we had
come into
contact knew
what I
looked like. I t
felt like I had
a ticking
time bomb on my head just waiting to go off. I wanted to do
things with the
girls, but I
couldn’t. The authorities
were
worried I would
be recognized somehow.
I was told I
needed a lawyer to be a go-between with the media. They
were hounding for
a photo and
would not give
up. After
many sleepless nights
I decided to
sign with People
magazine. I would
give them one photo and a statement.
The day before
the shoot, I
had second thoughts
and
decided I did
not want to
do the photo
shoot or give a
photo. I was
scared. I talked
to my lawyer, and
he said I
could not back out now, that my name would be mud in the
media’s eyes, and I
needed to do the photo shoot. He said
that everything
would be
fine. I said I have
not signed a
contract, and he said one was being drawn up and I ’d have
it soon. I
realize now that I
could have just not shown up.
However, in a way,
I wanted to
be seen finally.
I wanted
everyone to know
how happy I was and
grateful for their
support. The day of the shoot, everything seemed to go by
in a flash.
Security was hired and
also used to
take the
photos of my mom, sister, and me together. My
therapist
has a little dog that goes to work with her frequently. When
the security men showed up with my lawyer to do the shoot,
they walked into the backyard and Stella promptly walked
over to the one with the camera, lifted her leg, and peed on
his shoe. I don’t
even think he noticed. But Rebecca and I
did. The sweet
little therapy dog
had never or
has never
done that to
another person. That
should have been
the
clue to us to pack up and go. We stuck it out, though, and
the cameraman did
his best to make me
and my mom
smile. So many things were happening and in reality, I was
happy; I just wasn’t
happy about the way the whole People
magazine thing was
going. At one point we were down in
the corral with the two horses, Velcro and Freesia. Freesia,
the brown Hanoverian, kept getting in
front of me and the
cameraman. She kept pushing me back with her body. One
shot shows me ducking underneath her just so I can see the
cameraman. Then, out of the blue, I was asked if I wanted
to take a photo with the girls. I replied that wasn’t part of the
deal. But then I
didn’t want rumors to start about how I
am
trying to hide the girls, so we posed for one
together with
our backs to the camera. The whole day was strange, and I
was glad when it was over. When the magazine came out I
was so happy with all
the genuine support from everyone
and in the end I was
glad I did it. After that, I hired a public
relations person and tried to stay out of the media’s prying
eyes. That has not been easy for me because I love being
able to do
things with the
girls and that
is not always
possible.
The
reunification specialist ended
up becoming my
personal therapist. And my recovery is an ongoing process
that we take
one day at
a time. The
day I came
to
Rebecca’s office to meet her horses, I was hooked.
One of the first
things she had us do was brush Velcro
and Freesia. But it didn’t turn out to be that easy because
there was a catch; we
had to catch
them first. Rebecca
loaded us up with
their halters and sent us
into the pen to
go halter them. My
daughters were naturals and soon had
Velcro haltered and were on their way back before I could
even catch up to
Freesia, who had it in her mind
that she
didn’t particularly
feel like being led around by a bunch of
humans that day. The faster I went, the faster she went. So I
had to change my
thinking. I decided
to ignore her
and
pretend I wasn’t
really interested. Well,
that got her
attention, and soon enough she was actually walking up to
me. I felt a real
victory. My tummy made a flip when I
felt her
nudge my hand. I
thought to myself, Now’s my chance.
I
turned to her and
scratched her long sleek nose, and with
the halter in my other hand, I slowly brought it up to where I
thought it was supposed to be. I had never haltered a horse
before and being a
tad short I found
it a bit difficult to say
the least. With
me on my
tiptoes and Freesia
just about
done with me, I tried
and tried but couldn’t figure out how to
put the halter on
correctly. Rebecca came over to me and
asked what was going on. At first, I didn’t want to give up. I
wanted to do
it myself and
have that sense
of
accomplishment.
I knew my
window of opportunity
was
running out, so I
asked myself, Do I give in and
ask for help
or let the horse get away? I
learned that day that I can be a
very stubborn person.
Freesia had pulled
away from me
and was on her merry way before I had made up my mind
to ask for
help. I turned
to Rebecca and
she, in turn,
suggested I ask one
of my family members for help. Since
my daughters did so well with haltering their horse, I asked
if they would help me with Freesia. This time, Freesia was
grazing on some grass and was not paying us humans any
mind. Even when I
walked over with the
girls, she didn’t
seem to mind the
interruption. She just calmly
stood there
and let the
girls pull the
halter over her
and then they
handed me the lead rope and off we went together into the
arena to begin something that had already begun.
That session ended up being one of many that brought
about several
revelations about me and how
I viewed the
world for so
many years. During
my time of
captivity I
couldn’t imagine a
day I wouldn’t
be there in
that place,
doing the same things over and over again. I never thought
about asking for help. I
wonder why that is? It’s hard for me
to understand myself.
One particularly eye-opening session was when I created
an obstacle in
the arena, which
happened to be
a box
made of logs,
and the goal
was to get
the horse in the
obstacle using no hands or words. At first Velcro would not
go into the box, and I
felt this was a metaphor for how I
was
feeling, not wanting
to return to
my box/backyard. After
about an hour
of trying just
because I had
a task to
accomplish and I didn’t want
to quit, I finally decided that I
really didn’t want
the horse in
the box after
all and
announced I was satisfied with the
results of the exercise.
We went back
to the office
and processed what
the
exercise felt like for me. Later when it was time to leave,
it
was quite a surprise
to see Velcro—that horse that would
not go into
the box—happily sunning
herself right in the
middle of it! Earlier as we processed the horse exercise, I
did mention to
Rebecca how much
easier everything
seemed and less
complicated in the
“backyard.” I was
feeling a lot of pressure to make decisions, and I just wasn’t
used to the complications of life. Even though I didn’t want
my old situation back,
the reality was the
“backyard” was
less complicated for me
in many ways. And I needed
to
learn to step out gradually.
In another therapy
session, Rebecca brought
in a big
horse ball and
told me that we’re having
a day of
play. I
couldn’t remember the last time I played just for pleasure. In
fact, I couldn’t
remember a day
I did something
just for
myself. Up until
recently life was about making
Phillip and
Nancy
happy and making sure the girls had everything they
needed. Rebecca told me to take the ball and just play with
the horses, so
with the big
purple ball clutched
in my
outstretched hands, I
entered the arena and tried to get one
of the horses to play with me. I spent a good hour standing
in front of Velcro,
the docile black-and-white paint, slowly
rolling the ball to
find that all she did was stand there and
look bored. The ball would bounce off her legs and return to
me but the “play” was mostly one-sided. During that
time,
some of my rolls
to Velcro would miss
her legs and go
sailing past her. During one of those times, Rebecca’s dog,
Skye, would come barreling
into the arena and run
to the
ball that I was
running after, and she stopped it and started
rolling it back to me. I
thought this was more fun than rolling
it to a horse that clearly was having none of my antics. So
I
started playing with Skye,
the black Labrador. She was a
great ballplayer and
we soon had
a real game
of me
throwing the ball up to her and her using her nose to send
it
flying back to me. During
this time Freesia,
the beautiful
brown Hanoverian, started
to become intrigued
with the
concept of Skye playing with the big round thing and started
very slowly to drift
our way. Nonchalantly at first, and then
later going up
to the ball
herself when it would get
away
from either me or Skye. By
the end, Freesia was actually
nudging the ball
herself to return
it to Skye.
I t was an
amazing sight to
see the dog
and horse playing
ball
together. But I
realized something, too:
at first I was
uncomfortable
doing something just
for me, and Freesia
translated that and
was very standoffish, but then as I got
more and more out of myself and in the moment, I began to
see how
important it was for me
to take moments just
for
myself and enjoy the simple pleasures of simply playing.
One horse exercise
involving my family was
early in
the
reunification process. I t was a time of great confusion and
just plain not knowing what was really going
to happen to
us. The paparazzi were a constant threat, and I had no idea
how to handle
any of it.
Rebecca came up
with this
exercise to give
us a real glimpse
of what we
were up
against. My daughters wanted to stop hiding and just live a
normal life. They had
had enough of hiding and just didn’t
understand how relentless the media could be.
The horse exercise
started out with all
of us receiving
buckets. Rebecca warned us
that the horses are used to
the buckets containing
grain, so to
be careful because
once the horses see the buckets they are going to go after
them even if there isn’t any grain. In this way, they were
like
the media. Once the media sees you have information or a
story, they come after you even if you don’t want to share
or
even if you really don’t have any grain/info. So we all go
into
the arena with our bright yellow buckets. My sister and my
mom went in first, followed by the girls and then me. I was
very reluctant because Rebecca pulled me aside and said
she was going to fill my bucket with grain. I didn’t want the
grain/story. I wanted
to pass it to somebody else. But who?
I couldn’t pawn it off on my
family. So I entered
the arena
with the bucket
filled with grain/info. At first
I tried hiding
behind my sister with my bucket and it worked.
I was left
alone. The horses
were busy sniffing
in all the
other
buckets, they didn’t
notice me. I
thought this very
appropriate because
I don’t get noticed anyway. Then
my
sister stepped aside
because the horses
were really
starting to crowd
us and I
was spotted and
the frenzy
began. They knew
I was the one with
the story/grain. They
came at me like they had never seen grain before, and in
that moment everyone got to see the sheer force the media
could be and
we knew we
needed to find
some help.
Rebecca suggested
I share and spread the grain/info out
among my other family members and
then try to
keep it
away from the
horses as long
as possible. T o me
the
metaphor was, how long can you keep your info to yourself
before the National Enquirer comes around and wants it at
all costs? I t
was hard to
keep it away
from them. I am
something they want
very badly. My daughter felt like she
could handle the media, and Rebecca told her to come with
her. They walked a little ways away from the group and she
whispered something
in her ear; later I
found out she was
preparing her and
telling her what
she had planned
and
how to do it safely. She put more grain in G’s bucket and
told her to run away with
the info/grain. Well, she did and
those horses went
thundering after her. I
t happened too
quickly for me to panic, but I had a firsthand glance of just
how dangerous running
away with the story can be. Later
we went back to the office
to discuss what had happened
and how we could
better deal with the
situation. Contact
was made with
public relations representative and
manager Nancy Seltzer and,
thanks to her, we have much
better dealings with the media.
Another component to the Reunification process is food.
Food can be a real comfort, and I must admit I
have used it
as a crutch many times in the past. Mint Chocolate is one of
my favorite treats. Rebecca’s team includes a professional
chef, Charles. In
one of the
tabloid magazines they
speculated on
what I
fed the girls
for dinner. TV
dinners
became their guess. Boy, did they get it wrong. We, in fact,
were enjoying some delicious and nutritious meals. I feel it
is super
important to sit down as a family every night and
have dinner together.
This is not something we got to do
before in the “backyard.” Now I feel it is doubly important to
instill family
dinnertime in the girls while they are still living
at home. Hopefully, one day they will pass this new
tradition
of ours to their own families.
Besides Chef Charles, my mom is an excellent cook as
well and makes most of our meals at home.
One of my favorite dishes my mom and grandma used to
make me when I was
little was tomato dumplings. Now that
I am home she is able
to make them for me once again. I t’s
a very simple recipe, but one that brings back such happy
memories for me.
Tomato Dumplings
1 large can (32 oz.) tomatoes
1 small can (16 oz.) diced tomatoes
2 or 3 cans of biscuits
Heat the big
can and the
smaller can of
tomato
juice (you have to cut up the tomatoes in the large can
into pieces) and bring to a boil. Pinch the raw biscuits
into thirds and drop them into the boiling tomatoes and
cook until the
biscuits puff up … maybe 5 minutes or
so. That’s it!! So easy, but oh so delicious. I ’m hoping
my mom will write
a cookbook to
pass the recipes
along.
My favorite thing to do in the kitchen is bake. My aunt has
taught me the secret of making scrumptious chocolate chip
cookies. It’s
basically the recipe on
the back of chocolate
chips with a few tweaks, such as adding a pinch of nutmeg
and cinnamon to the dry
ingredients. The real secret is to
mix them by hand and not with a mixer. Also don’t over-mix.
The cookies end up coming out of the oven softer.
The first days reunited with my family were a blur. I do
remember distinctly encountering some strange food in the
refrigerator. In particular,
some awful peanut
butter in the
refrigerator and it didn’t occur to me to ask where it came
from. Later I found
it had been stocked by the Transitioning
Families chef. The
chef told me later
how difficult it had
been to stock a kitchen with food that would be comforting
to a family he didn’t
know. We had lived primarily on fast
food, which was a challenge
for my vegetarian child. The
healthy food we ate was inconsistently provided.
During the reunification
process the chef
began to
provide us with
a new definition
of comfort food.
In
particular I remember
a satisfying morsel of chocolate filled
with lemon. In the past comfort food meant half a chocolate
cake and the agony that followed. Each day when we went
to reunification therapy, we were greeted with fresh scones,
cucumber water, and incredible indescribable oatmeal. We
began to suspect
we were being
nurtured through this
healthy food.
Often after some stressful therapy sessions, we would all
sit down to
a delicious home-cooked
meal. This time
allowed us the
space to connect
together and the
opportunity to regroup.
Throughout the process,
eating
meals together was
when we really
began to feel
like a
family. The food
often gave us
something neutral to
talk
about. Vegetables we had never heard of were presented
with regularity. Foods
like fennel, Jerusalem artichokes,
golden polenta, and Comté cheese became not only new
words in our vocabulary but staples
in our diet. The food
distracted and entertained
us, allowing us
to leave
ourselves for a bit. Later I
heard that the food receipts were
being commented on
from Eldorado to Washington, DC.
They all wanted to know what was for lunch.
During some of the
sessions, Chef Charles would take
the kids into the kitchen for baking and prepping for lunch.
The kids were finding it difficult to figure out where they
fit in
as my mom,
sister, and I
were reconnecting. That
step
needed to occur
before we could really figure out how we
all fit in
together. The kids relished
having a place where
they could be useful and learn something at the same time.
The kids and I had
already spent a good deal of time
in
family equine therapy, and I
felt it was only right they had a
break. Chef Charles
recently mentioned that
on one
particular day the girls helped him take down an old corral
fence. He innocently mentioned how much they enjoyed that
activity. I can’t
help but wonder
about the symbolism
of
taking down a
fence for them.
I t is refreshing that
the chef
never speculated.
My growth has
not been an
overnight phenomenon.
Nonetheless, it has
slowly but surely
come about. In the
beginning, everything I
had been led to believe from Phillip
was about protecting him and his plans. I thought he loved
me and the
girls. I
have come to see his love as not
real
and only based in his reality when it suited him to love us.
But love is not part-time and it’s not conditional. I
learned
this from Mom.
Phillip is narcissistic
and only does
things that benefit
him, and I’ve
come to realize
this has been
the case all
along. I learned when
I could and couldn’t push. For
every
argument we had—whether it be about the angels or God,
or Nancy or the
girls, whatever it might be—I was always
the one to give up
and hand in the
towel. I remember one
time I was working
on pruning my roses
around my tent,
and he comes
to the back
to announce that one
of our
Printing for
Less clients was going to set
him up with an
attorney to get
parole off his
back. This was not the
first
time he said something and then nothing happened, so my
reaction was less than what he felt like it should be and he
asked why I wasn’t
jumping up and down. Wasn’t
I happy
that finally we could get going? Well, yes, I would have been
if I thought
he was really going
to follow through,
but this
was in 2006, and up until then he had several ideas and not
one he followed through on. So inside I was not impressed
with his declaration. He became very angry and said that
there was nothing he could do for me if I wasn’t going to be
happy. The rest of
the day was awful. He moped around
mostly sleeping. He told the girls, “Allissa was responsible
for my mood, she was letting the angels control her”—that’s
all part of
the way I
was manipulated. I f
I didn’t do
something right, it was my entire fault for how the rest of
the
day went. I didn’t
let those days happen very often, at least
not on purpose, but I
never really knew what could set him
off. Sometimes he would shut
the business down for days
and wouldn’t let me touch the printers or get any jobs done.
Even when it
would look like
I had won a battle, he would
act disappointed in me or just shut down for days. I t
taught
me that most days
were not worth fighting over. Some of
the topics of “discussion” were centered around his belief
that the angels existed and controlled our minds. Every bad
thing that humans
do is due
to the angels
infecting our
minds. When I would
ask for him to clarify, it would turn into
a long speech about how the angels are men and that they
live under the
earth and one
day he would work with the
governments to uncover
them. He said
they gave him
terrible dreams of men raping him in prison and him driving
off cliffs. I thought
maybe that was his conscience speaking.
I always felt with
him that there was no other answer but his.
He would say we could ask him anything. But can you really
ask anything to someone who believes that
they have an
answer for everything and that that answer is the right one?
When it came to the
Bible, he would say there is not
just
one answer but that he could take one answer and make it
into something entirely
new. Sometimes I
know my
daughters don’t understand why I didn’t stand up for myself.
I t frustrates them,
I know. That
is something that
I am
working on in therapy. My assertiveness. Sometimes I feel
if I disagree
with someone, then
I need to
have a good
reason for doing so and I
need to have reasons to back me
up. I learned
in therapy the
word “No” is
a complete
sentence. I love
that! I never thought of that before. I
’m the
type of person that when something new comes up, I like to
think it through and, yes, sometimes I hope the problem will
just disappear or solve
itself. But given enough
time, I will
work up the
courage inside to
deal with whatever
new
needs attention. I
can come up with a solution that works for
me and usually works
for everyone. I t’s hard to know what
will be a mistake and what will not. With Phillip it was
easier
to know because
I had learned his moods throughout
the
many years of
knowing him. I
learned to avoid
certain
situations that I
knew would cause a problem. I
notice now
that I have to deal
with things on my own that I avoid
making
certain decisions or find the easy way out. In some ways I
learned to rely on Phillip and Nancy for so many things that
now that it
is time to do
things for myself, I
find it not so
easy. In my therapy the horses gave me another example.
Sometimes it is my
job to catch and halter a horse. This
particular horse
is sometimes mean and nasty.
She’s the
dominant female of the herd for sure and she knows it, so
when she senses
that I am
not a dominant
female, her
instinct is to challenge or more likely not give a flying
leap
what I want. So on my
first try, I walk out into her stall,
and
she immediately rushes
away from me.
I have the
idea
maybe if she doesn’t see the halter, I will have better luck. I
put the halter
behind my back
and she actually
lets me
approach her. Her ears are
flat down and she moves her
head like to say I ’m going to bite you! My goal is to learn
to
control my fears and
not show any fear. In a contradictory
way I ’m afraid,
but then again
I ’m not afraid.
I confuse
myself
sometimes. I know
this horse and
I know she is
bluffing. At least I
hope so. I try to put the halter
on, but she
just puts her butt to me and walks away. I have used grain
before, so I
go get some
grain. That does
the trick; she
comes walking to
me for
the grain at which time I
slip the
lead rope around her
neck and wait until she finishes the
grain to put the halter on. I slip on the halter and at first don’t
understand why I can’t get
the clip on. I think
I must have
gotten the wrong halter, but I don’t want to get the other one
because now I have
her I can’t let go or I will have to catch
her again. I yell
for some help. Something I wouldn’t have
done before. Luckily,
Rebecca is nearby
and brings me
another halter. I
slip the new lead rope around her neck and
drop the other in
the feeder. I
get the halter on and go to
buckle it only to find this one does not fit either. Darn!
This
must not be the right one either. But I think that couldn’t be
right because Rebecca gave me the halter and surely she
knows which one
to use. After
several tries of
unsuccessfully trying to get the buckle on, I ask a stable boy
for help. He is at first confused, too, and takes the halter
off
to inspect it, exactly what I should have done. He discovers
that it is inside out. He right-side-ins it and slips it
back on
and does the
buckle up. Rebecca
asks what made
me
think I couldn’t have
figured it out myself. I t got me to think
what I would have done if
there was nobody there to ask.
Would I have
figured that out
for myself? I ’m so
used to
having someone do it for me that I don’t know the answer to
that. All I can do is
do better next time. Going out by myself
is getting easier. I
still prefer company but have learned that
when forced to do something or go somewhere by myself, I
do fine and feel good about myself for going.
Part of my
therapy includes learning
as much about
Phillip and Nancy
and the control they had over me as I
can
stand. This helps me to come to terms about how confusing
life was in the backyard. The more knowledge I
gain, the
more like an adult I
feel. I never got the chance to
become
an adult. Thanks to
Phillip, I missed out on some parts of
normal human development and
I feel I am
making up for
lost time.
Experiencing things for
the first time,
like going
out shopping by myself. Or even just filling up a tank of
gas
alone was
intimidating at first. I was so afraid
I would do
something wrong and then get into trouble. But since I ’m
not
in Phillip’s environment anymore I
have the confidence
to
tell myself, it’s okay to make a mistake or, yes, you can do
this. I even
find myself not realizing
that I can
even do a
certain thing, like go to a concert with a friend or walk
into a
place by myself;
sometimes I still
feel like I
have to have
someone with me.
Those feelings are
slowly fading now
and I ’m doing more and more for myself.
One of my favorite things about therapy is the long walks
that I go on with
Rebecca. I find myself talking more in
those
two-hour hikes than
ever I
would in an office. I ’m not sure
why this is. One theory I
have is that I was cooped up for so
many years that
I relish the
thought of walking
for long
periods of time and just being outside. I love being outside,
whether it’s for a
run or just sitting and watching my cats
play, it’s where I
prefer to be. My least favorite thing to do is
sit in the office and talk, but my therapist has found a way
to
make it interesting
for me. I love metaphors and she has
come up with the idea of lighting candles to symbolize my
past, present, and future. My past and present were the two
candles we started with; she would ask me what I would like
to start with or deal
with today. I
would light up either my
past or present depending on my answer. During the
last
few sessions we’ve used the candles I’ve noticed my past
melting more and more and becoming duller and duller in
light. T o me,
a lover of
imagery, this is
my past slowly
extinguishing
itself becoming something
that’s been
melted. Shifting and
changing into something
completely
different than the
way I saw
it when it was first
lit.
Remarkably, my present
candle has stayed
pretty much
exactly the way it was when we first lighted it, which to
me,
symbolizes
continuity. My future candle
is a special
one.
Rebecca gave it to me for my thirtieth birthday. I t is the
face
of a horse and her baby. From the first time I lit it to this day,
it has burned
brighter than the
other two put
together. I
haven’t really
thought about what that means
entirely other
than the
obvious; that my future
is bright and can contain
anything I can
possibly imagine.
When I imagine that
future, I see myself helping families
heal after traumatic
situations. Families are
like
snowflakes: they come
in many shapes and sizes and no
two are the
same. And like
a snowflake, they
are very
delicate and must be protected and guarded from elements
that threaten to destroy their precarious balance. When two
or more snowflakes merge,
they strengthen their chances
of surviving in an ever-changing
world. Unlike snowflakes,
given the right tools, families can survive through the
worst
conditions.
What Phillip and
Nancy forced us
to pretend in the
backyard was not
a family. Yet
by some remarkable
fortune, the girls and I
do have a bond that kept us together
despite our challenging situation. Now that bond
is free to
grow in an environment of better conditions.
Sometimes I look at
my life and what I have and think I
don’t deserve it. Look at all I have when there are so many
struggling just to get by and
feed their families. The JAYC
Foundation evolved from a deep need to give back all that I
was given. A pinecone was my last grip on freedom, so to
me they represent what was stolen away from me. Now that
I am free,
they symbolize life
and freedom. They
are the
seeds of new life and that is exactly what I have: “new life.”
The pinecone is
my reminder that
life can always
be
restarted. But I know
I can’t heal the world. T o me the best
place to at least start the healing process is within our
own
families. Given the right tools, even a family that has been
torn apart by unimaginable circumstances can learn to build
a new path together. The JAYC Foundation will be set up to
support families willing
to come together
in a variety
of
situations and diverse
circumstances. My hope
is to
provide counseling and housing for families and victims of
abductions and exploitations during the crucial early days
of reconnection. I
will work to provide the same type of safe
environment my family
and I
experienced during the early
days. I t was the simple, real approach that helped us heal
and return to
each other. Transitioning
Families worked
with my family in the crucial beginning months reuniting us
after eighteen very long years apart. My goal is to help one
family at a time,
providing the tools and
time they need to
thrive. Animal rescue
has always been
a dream of mine.
And I find it ironic
that I landed in a place that embodies
so
many of my
dreams. I ’m hoping
to rescue many
needy
families and animals
in the years
to come. I
hope to
encourage others to reach out and help other families and
animals, too. It’s the simple things that count.
Just Ask Yourself to Care (JAYC).
- The End -
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