Categories
Daily Prompt Gifts Make Love Uncategorized

Time to Tell The Rest Of The Story

Two years ago I wrote a poem, Torn, Tattered Hearts, and now it’s time to tell about it.

I was the kid that didn’t have any friends, the one that ate alone, that was bullied and shunned, and made fun of at every chance.

My hearing impairment made me easy pickings and my glasses earned me the name, “Four Eyes”.

Kids would gang up on me and grab my glasses and toss them back and forth while I would try to catch them. I never could.

Both lunch and recess were like a living nightmare that I dreaded with every fiber of my being.

I finally learned a way to escape… When the bell rang for lunch and all the other kids got in line for lunch, I would slip out the back door, walk as fast as I could outside and climb up the tree which allowed me to watch everyone when they finished eating and came outside to play.

I would perch my sack lunch on the branches and eat as quickly as possible, drinking the colas that Mema always wrapped in foil. I was safe in the trees and when the bell rang for classes to resume, I would scurry down and go in the back door and beat my classmates back to our room.

I was always on guard, yet a part of me was still hopeful that I would some day have friends.

Then one day, I was asked by my teacher to take the attendance cards to the office.

While I was gone, the 6th grade teacher told the class to stop being mean to me because I ‘couldn’t “help” being hard of “hearing , and that they should “feel sorry” for me and be nicer. She also told them to be sure to include me in the upcoming Valentine card exchange, because it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get any cards.

When I returned, I noticed the vibe in the class seemed different and it made me nervous.

When the bell rang for lunch, one of the popular girls came up to me and asked me to sit at her table with her and her friends. I said, “No,” and started to walk towards the back door when my teacher stopped me and told me that I couldn’t go out that way and to give the girls a chance because they all wanted to get to know me.

Something just didn’t feel right, but I went ahead and followed them to the table.

It was a few days before Valentine’s and the girls were talking about which boys they thought were cute, and which boys liked who… Some girls were “going steady” and they nudged me and said, “maybe a boy would like you if you didn’t wear glasses…. or if you could hear”

After a couple of days of having lunch with everyone, I began to think I finally had broke through and made some friends, so I was excited to tell my Mema that I wanted to buy Valentine cards and candy for all my new friends in my 6th grade class.

We went to the drug store and bought candy bars and cards and I carefully wrote the names of each classmate and taped the candy to the cards, signing my name with a flourish.

Valentine’s day came and the class party was to take the place of the last period.

There was cupcakes and colas for everyone on the table in front of the classroom. Each desk had a shoe box that we had decorated with construction paper and stickers during art class.

The teacher had everyone stand in a line and walk by each desk, placing cards into the slot in the boxes. I was so tickled when I saw that almost every one of my classmates stopped by my desk and placed cards in there. They were smiling and laughing and glancing at me and I felt a rush of emotions overwhelming me.

I had FRIENDS! I was getting Valentine’s cards! I was part of the group!

Finally, all the cards were passed out and we each sat at our desk and the teacher told us that we could open our shoe boxes and read the cards and eat our candy and cupcakes.

I could feel everyone’s eyes on me as I took the lid off my box.

I smiled at them and opened it, happily grabbing a card out of the pile.

My heart sank as I read the words, tears filled my eyes and I bit down hard on the inside of my mouth to keep from sobbing.

On each and every card, in black Mark-So-Lot markers, my classmates had scrawled hurtful, ugly words.

“NOBODY LIKES YOU!”

“YOU’RE SO UGLY!”

“NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE!”

“I HATE YOU! ”

“DEAF AND DUMB! ”

” YOU’RE SO STUPID! ”

Every candy bar was broken, the candy hearts were crushed into crumbs in the box, the lollipops were smashed.

In just seconds that felt like forever, I realized what had happened. I had been played the fool the whole time.

I quickly put the lid back on the box, slide it underneath my desk, and got out a notebook and begin writing. I kept my eyes on my paper, trying with all my might to control the tears that threatened to roll down my cheeks.

I held myself together, determined that they would not win this battle, too. I vowed that I would never again trust anyone, never again let down my guard and never again allow myself to be a victim.

When the bell rang, everyone rushed out and I saw one of the boys mouth to me,”I’m sorry, Jeanna,I had to do it.”

I shook my head and carried my Valentine’s box close to my chest, walked over to the trashcan and smashed it down, underneath the coke cans and cupcake wrappers and papers.

My teacher was busy picking up the decorations and didn’t notice what I had just done, but she smiled at me and said,”See, Jeanna’, you got Valentine’s just like everyone else… Happy Valentine’s day!”

I ducked out of the room and started to run to my Mema’s car.

Mema! My heart just sank … How could I tell her?! Mema had been so excited for me, buying full size candy bars for my new friends. She was smiling at me as I walked to the car and I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her what happened.

“Did you get Valentine’s?”

“Where is your box? ”

“What kind of candy did your friends give you?”

The mask came on, I am answered her, with a smile pasted on my face.

“I ate it in the classroom, it was so good… Lots of chocolate Hershey bars!”

“I was having so much fun that I spilled my coke on the box, but that’s okay because I had already read all the cards!”

” It was the best Valentine’s ever, Mema!”

As soon as we got home, I pretended to have an upset stomach from eating too much candy.

I went into my room, turned on my record player, put the earphones on and laid down on my bed and cried my heart out.

That Valentine’s was the one that left deep scars across my heart. It was one more deep, dark secret to keep, one more reason to wear a mask, another thing to be ashamed of, and one more reason to pretend I was not who I really was.

That’s the rest of the story of the torn and tattered hearts.

It’s taken me decades to finally become friends with anyone. It takes a very long time for me to let my guard down and to trust anyone, especially women.

But, once I do, once I feel known and loved, I will guard that friendship with all my heart. I know full well-too damn well-how much it means to have a real friend and to be one.

It means that you can finally take off the mask, and stop pretending. It means you don’t have to bite your lips to keep from letting your emotions show, it means sitting at a table together and feeling safe.

Torn and tattered hearts can be patched up and made beautiful again, it just takes time.

A lot of time.

I still wrestle with Valentine’s. It’s a day to work, to do for other people as a massage therapist,a friend,a mom, and a Jamma. I run around buying gifts, writing cards, getting candy and everything I need.

But, every now and then, I catch myself and the tears swell up in my eyes and I fight to erase the words that were scrawled across my heart in 6th grade.

♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

1.29.21…7 53 a.m

https://jeannasoul.com/2018/02/12/torntattered-hearts/

Yesterday… February 11.2021 I recieved a Valentine’s card from a long-time family friend, Cindy Kay. I used the card for the updated picture on the story. She has no idea how much her handmade cards mean to me. ❤️

Categories
AVA Daily Prompt Jeanna' Soul

Soul Speak (Opened door again)

S O U L S P E A K

Whispered
Art
Falling
On A World
Of Deaf Ears

Drenched
With
Emotion

Igniting
A
Spark

A
Dying
Language
Always
On The Brink
Of Extinction

Seducing
With
Beauty
That
Conceals
The
Razor
Of
Truth

My
Soul
Speaks
In
Empathy’s
Quiet
Untrembling
Voice

Elusive
And
In-Direct

A
Masochistic
Endeavor
Revealing
The
Gentlest
Form
Of
Human
Courage

Invisible
Footprints
No Mountain
Can Erode

Soothing
Our
Wounds

Making
Our
Scars
More
Beautiful…

-randini-

What can I say

My deaf ears heard

So many things

When the soul would speak

I sat captived

Eyes unwavering

Lips formed words

Pierced my heart

Broke it into a million pieces

Just as I asked

Long ago

Be careful

So I was told

What you ask for

You just might get

I wanted a broken heart

And a soul on fire

Filled to the brim and beyond

With invisible footprints

Left by all those

That walked in

Made themselves at home

Carved their names

Into the walls of me

And filled me with the courage I needed

To see the beauty

In all the scars

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

707 a.m 9.18.19

http://www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
Uncategorized

Just One Cross – 1,000 Are Not Hers

1,000 Crosses

she radiates beauty beyond compare
malachite eyes dancing on delicate features
thick flaming hair accentuating skin so fair
she has built within her own dark lair
where every aching hour is neither here nor there
transfixed on modern technologies to articulate her pain
searching diligently for ways to cut her losses
pain has nailed her to a thousand crosses
like a cask of amontillado she remains walled in
growing moss- lamenting – wailing in her literature
all the times she’s been double-crossed
she lives now in a four-walled cubicle
a home chiseled to create personal comfort
protection from human-demons devoid of true love
the pathetic and sad in endless cycles of utter despair
she feels spurned
rougher, tougher still searching for her elusive lover
trapped in an unreal reality
her unrealized spirituality zaps her vitality
she hopes for better days
& yearns for someone magical to discover her sexuality
she weeps silently and peeks outside her shuttered windows
counting endless stars – glimmering pinpoint beams of light
through eyes that seek their own purity
something to move her out of obscurity
trapped, she reveals nothing
stuffing stories of her pain that fall like rain
upon the mantle of her secure fortress
distressed with stress as her days slowly pass her by
why bother to confess or confide in wounded people
who couldn’t care less?
still, she must find a magical person to listen
to love her – to save her from madness
her tormented broken heart continually cries and wails
seeking an ounce of genuine gladness
prose scribbled on cerebral portals
bring some release from her infinite dark losses
the very fabric of her being implores her to “know thyself”
she prays silently to no one in particular to remove the painful nails
that suspend her on a thousand crosses…

the time has come to become like the albatross and fly
before she dies broken in her loneliness & fear…

-randini-

Randy E Welch

That was then
But not now
She finally had enough
Of all that crab
Those walls she had built herself
To guard her oft-broken,misunderstood heart
Came with a price that she refused to pay any longer

So she took the scissors
Cut off her hair
Let one side fall to the ground
While she stared at herself
In the mirror
As she twisted a handful of curls
In her right hand
And cut off the rest
Leaving a mess on the bathroom floor
In doing so
She opened up
The door to her soul

The less hair she had
The more she smiled
The weight of other people’s expectations
Fell away

She had learned long ago

Not to confide or confess

A cotton picking thing to anyone that just might turn around and use those things

To try to make sense

Make her change

Send her on a guilt trip

Bury her in shame

Make her fit into some cubicle

Take away her natural sensuality

God given spiritually

Inclination for mystery and magic

Just so that they could be satisfied

With what they thought she was

She finally felt as if she had just enough

Of all the right people standing along side

Filling up her cup

With all she wanted

Much of what she needed

She had prayed

Night and day

In her own way

And in doing so

She found the courage and the strength

To pack up what she couldn’t live without

Kick the rest to the curb

Lay claim to what is rightfully hers
Walk right inside her very own door

Breathing in the sweet scent of freedom that comes from

Doing what makes her soul dance within

Her well loved, well worn imperfect body
With a single stone cross around her neck

She was not lonely

Never had been afraid

She felt such purpose and peace

As if this was exactly as she had prayed and wished

Way back then

To have now.

👣💙Jeanna’ Mead

8 33 a.m 3-10-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
#love Daily Prompt Make Love

Receive The Gift

A local love coach, Rogue Pence, posted on her Facebook wall that women have a problem receiving and she hit the nail square on the head.

I know it’s true in my life and I know exactly why.

It seems like every thing I receive comes with strings attached.

“I’ll give you this, then you’ll do that.”

“I’ll go there for you, but I expect you to come to this for me.”

“I want to do this, but you need to do that.

I don’t like feeling obligated and I don’t like feeling as if everything is a trade out, with checks and balances and a large negative-positive column.

I pull back.

I retreat.

I build up walls.

I go through the all the motions.

Put on a facade.

Present in the body, absent in the spirit.

I am a master at separating my mind from my body, and my heart too.

I’ve pretended for so long that I have almost fooled myself.

I don’t receive.

I give bits and pieces of myself..until I feel as if I’m torn into pieces, scattered around, tossed by the winds of my emotions.

And it’s my own damn fault.

I know better.

So I decided to take a good,hard look at myself.

Deep down, deep inside, bottom of my heart.

I found clues.

I have a hard time receiving anything when I have given clear clues to what I want and need and those clues are ignored.

Shrugged off.

Overlooked.

Pushed aside.

It’s not just clues. It’s plain and simple instructions.

To know how to give what I’ll receive can be found by reading.

My words.

My body.

My lips.

My vibe.

My gifts.

Unless all those things are read, book marked, underlined, and pondered…taken into account..well, let’s just say…

I won’t be able to receive what’s offered. I have a hard time receiving from anyone that doesn’t read what’s right in front of their eyes, in plain sight.

It’s like I’ve left the door unlocked,slightly ajar and no-one shows up.

An unopened invitation.

Unwrapped gift.

That’s it!

Receiving is a true gift.

It’s an intimate exchange.

A knowing.

An understanding.

A desire to connect and fulfill a need,an expectation, a void.

It’s the little things.

The big things,too.

I’m a giver by nature.

I put a lot of thought into the gifts I give. I write notes and mail to people. I leave little gifts in random places to be found. I see things that make me think of someone I love and I buy it- just because. I don’t wait for “special” occasions.

I touch. I massage. I embrace. I give this, naturally.

That’s part of what I discovered during my deep soul search..

I expect to receive the way I give.

I set the bar high and then I’m bewildered and disappointed.

I shouldn’t be.

Instead I really should consider this a gift that I’m overlooking..that if I’m not receiving, maybe it’s because I’m asking to be given to by people that just aren’t natural givers, or that have no intentions to give.

People that don’t take the time to read.

My words.

My stories.

My body.

My lips

My vibe.

I do have a receiving problem. I admit it.

I can not receive much when I have given gifts that are still waiting unwrapped,unopened, unread.

Read.

Receive.

Read.

Give.

It’s a gift.

The essence of femininity is to be able to receive…and to know your own body,mind,and soul so well that you give yourself permission and grace to give and receive when you and how you want from those that want you to receive as much as you’ve given.

Think about it. I did.

👣💗 Jeanna’ Mead

8 07 a.m 1-21-19

Www.jeannasoul.com

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Uncategorized

Who We Were

5 weeks ago, I started a 6 week challenge at a gym, determined to get my body back in shape.

I sent a text to my cousin. Jeff,telling him what I was doing and explaining that I missed who I was.

I told him that I missed the body I had back in 2013 when I opened my massage studio. I missed the way I looked and felt. I complained to him that I didn’t like what I looked like now.

Jeff texted me back, and his words have stuck in my head since.

“We can’t be who we were, only who we are.”

Then he said, “Do you really want what you had then….you were obsessed with fitness, and now you’re crazy about those kids.”

Obsessed with fitness.

Crazy about those kids.

How true those words are.

Jeff is right. He really is.

I was obsessed with fitness..training every day and watching every thing I ate..and it showed. My body was toned and tight, my muscles were cut,and I walked confidently in high heel wedges and shorts. I spent hours at the gym, money on training and on fitness equipment. I arranged my schedule around my workouts and made sure that I had gym time.

That was who I was.

Things have changed,though.

Back in 2013, I didn’t have what I have now.

I have other reasons to be strong,other reasons to wear shorts,other reasons to have defined muscles.

I have four grandchildren; Riven,Luke, Charli,and Phoenix.

I’m crazy about them. I arrange my schedule to see them, to have play dates with my most favorite people.

This is who I am now.

I’m Jamma.

In 2013, I wasn’t and now, in 2019, six years later, this is who I am.

There’s a few strands of gray in my hair now. There’s more laugh lines around my eyes. I know my body isn’t as toned and tight and my muscles aren’t cut like they used to be.

I wear shorts with tenny shoes so I can run up and down ramps at the park and catch a little boy that jumps off high places, confident that I’ll catch him.

I eat chocolate fudge brownie sundaes on dates with a five year old.

I let a 2 year old pop candy in my mouth.

I lick the icing off spoons, lick yogurt off sticky fingers, kiss glazed sugar lips.

I share french fries,tator tots, and milk shakes.

And it shows.

Not just in my body.

It shows in the way that really matters.

These kids know I’m crazy about them. They know,without a doubt,that they are my priority.

They don’t care about how tight and toned I am. They care about how I tight I hug them.

They don’t notice the defined muscles, they just know I can carry them.

They feel loved. I feel loved.

As I count down the days until my challenge is finished…I find myself reflecting on these truths and the words of my cousin, Jeff.

“We can’t be who we were, only who we are.”

So for the next five days, I’ll arrange my schedule to train hard, to get in extra workouts, and I’ll watch every bite I eat and everything I drink.

I’m going to do my very best and win this challenge to prove to myself that I can still be who I was.

But then, I’m going to be who I am.

I’m going to be obsessed with who and what I am right now in 2019.

I have more now. More reasons to be physically fit, but also more reasons to be obsessed with my life,not just my body.

I have things to do, places to do, dates to the park and to stores, and hot fudge brownie sundaes waiting to be shared.

“We can’t be who we were, only who we are.”

Isn’t that amazing?

We can decide and become who we are right now.

The past- no matter how beautiful or how broken- is over and done with.

The present is now.

The future is to come.

Be who you are, now.

Obsessed and crazy,even.

Be all there for the life you are living now.

Do the very best you can and arrange your schedule so that you can love more.

See yourself through the eyes of those that really matter..not just the reflection in the mirror.

It’s really that simple.

Crazy, isn’t it?

Jeff knows me well…he’s known me long enough to understand my crazy obsessions and call me out on them and sit me straight.

I think we should all have someone that will tell us like it is

“We can’t be who we were,only who we are.”

👣💗 Jeanna’ Mead

9 38 a.m 1.13.19

Www.jeannasoul.com

P.S..I’ll always be Jeff’s cousin…and he’ll always be mine.

Categories
Choose to be love Create A Ripple Effect Daily Prompt Heart to heart Jeanna' Soul kindred spirits Make Love Uncategorized

Ann’s Choice

When I was 16 years old, I had a boyfriend, David, with an incredible mom that made a lifelong impact on me.

One afternoon I was invited to a cookout at the backyard of their house in Dallas, and David’s dad was there as well.

I had never seen a divorced couple on good terms in my life. Here they were, ex-husband and wife, acting respectful and considerate, even laughing and joking around with each other and their sons.

I watched and listened, half expecting it to fall apart and things to get ugly and for David’s parents to start acting like all the other divorced people I knew.

Every other divorced couple I knew held such anger, such disrespect, such intolerance for each other.

I was used to divorced couples that couldn’t even be in the same building without all hell breaking loose much less the same house.

They would hurl accusations and talk about each other in such a way that I couldn’t imagine how they had ever once loved and lived together.

My Mema’s friends would sit at the kitchen table, giving a play-by-play of every wrong ever committed by the ex-husband. I would hear stories that made me almost swear I would never trust love.

There was just so much hated-pure and simple- and vengeance between every divorced couple I knew of.

Until I knew David and his mom,Ann.

After the cookout was over, I told David that I was really surprised at how everything went with his parents. He smiled and said, “You should tell my mom this.”

I walked over to Ann and asked her how it was that they got along so well after the divorce and exactly what made them different from everyone else.

She sat me down at the picnic table, looked straight at me and said, “I made a choice. We made a choice.”

Her words became engraved into my heart that day. Simple,profound, beautiful words.

“I made a choice.”

Ann then explained,talking to me as if I was a woman and not just some silly, nosey 16 year old girl.

“We fell in love years ago, we got married and we had two children together. We chose each other back then. We saw good things in each other and we wanted to be with each other.”

I nodded my head, listening to her, reading her lips, fully aware that this wasn’t an ordinary conversation.

“If I choose to talk bad about David’s dad, then I’m also talking bad about myself….because I chose him. I fell in love with him, married him, had children with him….what does that say about me?”

I’m so stunned by this revelation, by the way she’s talking to me in a gentle,firm voice that I just sit there, giving her my full attention.

“Another thing, these boys are half of me, half of him…if we talk bad about each other..then we are also talking bad about our sons. We chose to have these two sons, and now we need to continue to choose to see the good in each other and in our sons.”

Choosing. Choices. Continue.

“It hasn’t always been easy and we are not perfect by any means but the important thing is that everyday we make the best choices we can and that includes choosing to see the good and the love we once shared and still have for our sons instead of the differences and what went wrong in our marriage.”

Imperfect but important.

Good outweighs bad.

Love can change.

I decided then and there that if I ever decided to get married and if I got divorced, that I would follow Ann’s example and choose to live after a divorce the way she did instead of how I had seen others live.

It just made so much sense to me as a naive 16 year old girl.

Over the years, as my friends married and divorced, I would tell them the story of Ann and encourage them to make choices that showed love and compassion, understanding and respect for what once was and what could now be.

My friends would chide me and say, “Well,that’s easy for you to say when you haven’t been in this situation..it’s different when it’s your choice.”

They had a point. We never really know how we will handle things until we have to walk the line.

Ann’s words hit particularly hard in 2015 when my own marriage began to fall apart. I had to dig deep to make the choice to continue to love, to see the good and be willing to let go with grace and accept changes if it was meant to be.

Choose. Love. Change. Continue.

During those dark days while we danced on the ragged edge of reconciliation and separation, we talked about choosing to still be good to each other for the sake of our children and because it was the right choice to make.

Our marriage survived and that time gave me a greater understanding of the depths of how much Ann had gone through as a woman and a mother to wrestle with her own emotions to use good sense and knowledge to make the best choices for the long run.

Several weeks ago, another friend sent me a text.

“I got served divorce papers this morning.”

When he came by to see me, I told him to about Ann’s choices and he said, “I hope we can do that..I think I can, I would like to anyway.”

Hope. Desire. Choose.

In the midst of pain, in the chaos of change, in the sweet by and by, in each and every moment, we make choices.

We can choose to remember the good, let go of the bad and watch how love changes.

We can choose to sit across from a 16 year old girl and share with her wisdom that she’ll spend a lifetime pondering.

We can choose to reach across the table,across the barriers, across the ragged edge and find a way to bridge the differences, connect on another level and love in different ways.

We can choose to give and to receive compassion, understanding,forgiveness, and grace. We can choose to laugh again.

That was Ann’s choice. It is my choice. It can be yours.

Jeanna’ Mead

8 33 a.m. 11-4-18

Www.jeannasoul.com

👣💗 With much gratitude to

Ann Carns, David’s mom.

Her choices and her words have shaped my life.

Categories
Uncategorized

Whiskey and Wine

Many years have gone by

From one place to another

Small talk every once in a while

Bits and pieces shared here and there

Skimming along the surface

That ragged edge

Where lines cross

And friendship begins

Over whiskey and wine

Takes a long time

Sweet time

For trust to build

From one place to another

Over many years

Time comes to be at a different kind of table

Pouring whiskey and wine

Sharing bits and pieces

Diving below the surface

And seeing that it’ll be alright

To cross that ragged edge

And pour another

Whiskey and wine.

💙👣Jeanna’ Mead

10.18.18. 7:22 a.m

Categories
Uncategorized

Broken Glass

Some things have to stay

Buried in a place

Where it’s safe

Some things break

Scatter like glass

Leaving pieces

Deep inside

It takes too much

Way too much

To take a chance

Open up the past

Shine any light

Find the pieces

That are embedded inside

Some secrets are better kept

Held within

Safely hidden

Protected from the sting

Wounded yet again

By words instead of hands

Sometimes it’s best

To keep things

Just as it is

Beautiful chaos

Made with broken glass

👣💗Jeanna’ Mead

7 01 a.m. 9-29-18

Www.jeannasoul.com

Categories
Uncategorized

Between Poets

Words play
Between
Poets
Kindred spirits
That know
When less is more
And too much is enough
When to hide
And to seek
To string together
One more thing
And to wait
For the other
To fill in the blanks

Jeanna’ Mead
September 9 2016
11 06 p.m
Because the door was opened

👣❤ This was written 2 years ago and came back to me…I had to repost it here because others have been leaving the door open for me to dance with their words.

Words play and dance.

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Uncategorized

These Two Men

These two men sit

Outside with me

Comfortable and at ease

Talking about the past

Things they did

Places they had been

I sit there

Looking at them

Reading their lips

Knowing full well

I’m missing some words

But still

I know enough

These two men

Bring me along

Include me in

We have a past

Present and future

I have no doubt

These two men

Hold me close

Don’t leave me out

Remind me of who I am

And when I wonder

If it’s enough

I think about the way

These two men

Sit and talk

With me

And I feel the love

That comes along

From being known

And knowing well

These two men.

👣❤Jeanna’Mead

8 18 a.m. 8-16-16

Www.jeannasoul.com

For Jim and Benjamin..these two men…..