Give A DAMN

Maybe you’re noticed my cover photo and don’t think twice about it.
Maybe you have and decided you don’t like me and haven’t even met me… Maybe you think my language isn’t *good and proper”
Well, that’s fine and dandy because I really really do GIVE A DAMN!

I give a damn about the small business owner that’s struggling to get clients.

I give a damn about the single mom that is selling her house because she can’t afford to keep it.


I give a damn about the artist that spent hours creating a painting to have the person “change their mind” and not pay for the work they requested.


I give a damn about the teenage boy that asked for a hug with tears rolling down his face because everyone is “social distancing” and he hasn’t had a hug in months.


I give a damn about the waitress that works 3 jobs to pay her bills and cries with surprise when I give a 10$ tip on a 20$ order.


I give a damn about the elderly man that said “I didn’t fight in 2 wars to be told to wear a mask at the grocery store or be told not to have a gun”


I give a damn about my children and grandchildren, and about the other children and grandchildren out there that need someone to give a damn about them.


I give a damn about the deaf and hard of hearing people that feel even more isolated because they can’t see the lips of people.


I give a damn about my business, my passion, my art and craft. My business provides for other families, and when people get massages at my place, we turn around and support other local businesses. It’s a beautiful ripple effect.


I give a damn about my LEO, Firefighters. Veterans and those that love them.


I give a damn about the overworked and stressed out nurses and hospital staff.

I give a damn about the people that have to be isolated for health and safety reasons. I give a damn about the people they are missing and the things they can’t do anymore


I give a damn about the baby that teaches out for me to interact because his daddy is playing a game on his phone and ignoring the best thing ever.


I give a damn about the litter in the parking lots from lazy people that toss masks and trash as they walk to the car.


I give a damn about buying Christmas gifts that mean something special.
I give a damn about good music and good food.
I give a damn about saying what you mean and doing what you say
I’m relentless.
I’m fearless.

I was raised this way


I’m never giving up.
You know why?
Because I give a damn and you should,too!

myownwords #damnstraight #jeannasoul

Red Lips and Real Life

It was late, again
And although she only had
7 miles to go
She knew herself well enough
To know those were the most dangerous miles of all

So she poured a cup of coffee
Black as it could be
Threw her pink bag into the backseat
Switched on Spotify
To find some kick-ass songs
To get her all the way home

She knew it was crazy
But she did it anyway
Rubbed a little red lipstick on
Just to drive home alone

Those were the kind of things
That made all the difference
In a world gone half crazy

Times were tough
But she was tougher
Days were long
But she wouldn’t give up

This was real life
And she was going to fight


Fight to keep doors open
Fight to do what she loves
Fight to keep on providing
All the things she’s known for

Like red lipstick and good tequila
Presents for no particular reason
Cowboy boots and silky lace
Burgers and drinks

All those things that cost money
That she used to do without second guessing

Wondering if people will keep on coming
Finding the place

On the ragged edge
Between what others believe
What they know
What makes sense and what don’t

She had no way of knowing
But this was her way of living

Red lipstick and coffee
Real loud music
Driving down the backroads

Real life living

👣❤️☕ Jeanna’ Mead

7 28 a.m. Dec 9 2020

Older Women

Heard this song

It made me laugh

Too much truth

Just had to shake my head

Older I get

Better I am

At giving instead of getting

When I was young

I was always just a little “too much”

Told to have more control

Not to be some kind of wild thing

And I listened

But that was then

And now, I’m one of those

Older women

I’m much better at knowing

What I want and what I don’t

Carry myself with the air

That I know just what I am

One of those women

That knows and understands

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

11.24.20

Yes, please

Just imagine, if you dared to say “yes” instead of automatically turning down invitations, just allow yourself to experience the dance,the taste,the sip, the chance to do something different.
Everything doesn’t have to be the same and there can be a beautiful order to the chaos, even with Covid and maybe because of Covid, if we are brave enough to whisper, “yes,yes,yes!”

That’s what my intention is for my life .. to say, “yes” more and find reasons instead of excuses.. to live fearlessly and spontaneously…
#musicandmassage #loveyourjournrey #myowmwords #writingmyheartout

Greatest Fear

At 3 32 in the afternoon, I laid my phone on my massage table and went into the tiny toliet closer in my massage room.

I was expecting a client at 345, so I was doing what I always did- using the restroom, washing my hands, preparing for the massage.

I unbuttoned my jeans, sat on the toilet and pulled the door shut.

After doing my business, I stood up, zipped and buttoned my jeans, buckled my belt and then reached for the knob.

It turned, over and over, and wouldn’t open. The bolt was stuck and not turning with the knob.

I reached above me on the top of the door and grabbed the skelton key although I knew in my heart that this wasn’t the issue.

The skelton key turned easily but the door still wouldn’t open.

I lost it. I begin screaming and kicking the door with my cowboy boots, banging my fists over and over on the solid oak door with no avail.

I was so scared. Trembling with panic and fear, I kept turning the knob, pushing against the door, screaming as loud as I could.

It felt like forever. It WAS forever to me.

Then I hear something…. I scream, “Help me, help me, help me!”

I couldn’t hear what was being said or done, and I continued screaming and kicking the door.

Seconds later, I hear another key trying to open the door. I scream that it’s not the skelton part but the knob instead.

Laura pulled and pulled and finally got the door opened. I ran from the toliet closet across the room and fell on the floor against the wall, crying hysterically.

Laura’s instincts had saved me.

When I had stepped into my toliet closet, Laura had began talking to a new client and going over what he wanted for his massage.

Then Laura had done what we always do.

She went into the hall bathroom. She did her business and washed her hands. She also felt vibrations that weren’t usual.

That was the vibrations of my boots against the wood floors and the door.

She walked down to the waiting area right outside my door and asked the man waiting if he had seen me.

He replied that he hadn’t and that he was there for his 345 appointment but that I hadn’t came to get him yet.

Laura knew then that something wasn’t right.

She opened the door to my room and noticed my phone on the massage table.

She felt the vibrations again and rushed to the bathroom where she heard my screams.

When she couldn’t get the door opened at first, she ran back to her room for the keys and tried that.

It took strength to pull the door open, it took intuition to know something was terribly wrong. She had both.

After I had calmed down a little, I asked Laura if Robert, my client,was there. She said he was. I told her to go get him and then to go back to her own client that was waiting for his massage you begin.

It took a minute or two before I could calm down enough to talk to my client, but I felt the strength and calmness from this big, gentle man that I’ve worked on for years.

I asked him to just hold me for a minute and he did. A strong, comforting embrace. Enough to let me ground myself and be centered again.

He asked if he should come again another day and, with tears in my eyes, I asked him to please let me work on him anyway.

I explained that when I massage, I feel powerful and I feel that I can trust myself, trust my instincts, trust my intuition and trust my body. I feel in control when I’m doing what I love and I needed that.

Oh, how I needed to give a massage after losing control of myself in a toliet closet.

He agreed. I stepped out and let him get on the table and when I laid my hands on his back, the rush of emotion hit me fully.

I wasn’t trapped anymore. I wasn’t scared anymore. I was safe. I was strong. I was capable.

I don’t remember much more about the massage itself. I remember wiping tears on my shirt as I worked. I remember his breathing was deep and slow. I remember how I felt calmer and calmer as I moved through each stroke.

What I will never forget is the way Laura’s instincts kicked into place and saved me and how Robert was so understanding and compassionate.

I will also never again shut the door on the toliet closet when I need to do my business. Instead I’ll shut the door to my massage room so that my greatest fear of being trapped won’t happen again.

Jeanna’ Mead
7 29 a.m 11.15.20

New Boyfriend

It wasn’t what she had planned
Never expected it to be this way
But night after night
Of sleeping alone
Tossing and turning
Fighting the past
Without getting rest

She hesitated
Thought about it
Long and hard
Took her sweet time
And finally knew
She would never know
Unless she tried

So she broke down
Let him come in
Wrapped up in his embrace
She felt good and she felt safe

He held her all night long
In ways she had missed
It was the little things
That changed

Now she looks forward to the nights
She knows it’s not for everyone
And that’s alright
She’s not here to change anyone’s mind
She’s here with her new boyfriend tonight

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead
530a.m 11.12,20

Giver

I love this story from Katharine Hepburn’s childhood; in her own words.
“Once when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one other family between us and the ticket counter. This family made a big impression on me.
There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. The way they were dressed, you could tell they didn’t have a lot of money, but their clothes were neat and clean.
The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, animals, and all the acts they would be seeing that night. By their excitement you could sense they had never been to the circus before. It would be a highlight of their lives.
The father and mother were at the head of the pack standing proud as could be. The mother was holding her husband’s hand, looking up at him as if to say, “You’re my knight in shining armor.” He was smiling and enjoying seeing his family happy.
The ticket lady asked the man how many tickets he wanted? He proudly responded, “I’d like to buy eight children’s tickets and two adult tickets, so I can take my family to the circus.” The ticket lady stated the price.
The man’s wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, the man’s lip began to quiver. Then he leaned a little closer and asked, “How much did you say?” The ticket lady again stated the price.
The man didn’t have enough money. How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didn’t have enough money to take them to the circus?
Seeing what was going on, my dad reached into his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill, and then dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!) My father bent down, picked up the $20 bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, “Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket.”
The man understood what was going on. He wasn’t begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking and embarrassing situation.
He looked straight into my dad’s eyes, took my dad’s hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear streaming down his cheek, he replied; “Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family.”
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. The $20 that my dad gave away is what we were going to buy our own tickets with.
Although we didn’t get to see the circus that night, we both felt a joy inside us that was far greater than seeing the circus could ever provide.
That day I learnt the value to Give.
The Giver is bigger than the Receiver. If you want to be large, larger than life, learn to Give. Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get – only with what you are expecting to give – which is everything.
The importance of giving, blessing others can never be over emphasized because there’s always joy in giving. Learn to make someone happy by acts of giving.”
~ Katharine Hepburn

This is such a beautiful story that I had to post it here… To read again.. to ponder… To become.

Out Of Style

I walked into a store
Asked for a simple dress
Lady offered two
A black and a gray
I shook my head and said, “No, thanks, that’s not what I want to wear.”

Shop owner had the nerve to say
“You’re out of style. This is what is in nowadays”

Well, I’ll be damned

If I’m going to change
Wear something unflattering
Just because someone else says

“This is in style”

I don’t wear gray, it’s such a dreary shade.

I like my jeans low and not high on my waist

Like my shirts to fit, not make me look like I’m due anyday

I still wear the cowboy boots
A family friend bought in 1976

I might be out of her style but I damn sure got mine.

👣❤️ Jeanna’ Mead
11.3.20. 4 45 a.m

Restless Nights

She knows she should be sleeping
She knows it’s what she needs
But she’s been tossing and turning
Wrestling with the sheets
Her body aches

From the day
Her mind races
With things she wants

To say and to do

It seems like nighttime
Brings out

All the things

She manages to get through
During the day

👣❤️ Jeanna’ Mead
11.3.20. 4 19 a.m

Losing Mamas

I feel
the same pain
Losing Mema
Changed me
I feel as if
I’m lost
And alone
She knew my soul
Better than anyone
She made sure
I felt loved
Every single day
I have not felt
That way
Since
She went away
To dance
In Glory
Far from me

👣♥️ When my friend, Beth, the Mystic Hillbilly, begin to share her poems.. I felt the door open, an invitation given, to write my own heart with the words she stirred up inside me.

This is word play .. Between artists and writers.

It’s a dance.

October 18 2020 7 01 a.m