Freedom

by Jaycee Dugard

  Beauty is all around us. To redefine beauty in ourselves and our families is not an easy thing. I fear we are all lost in a way, and although we try to remember what’s truly beautiful in the world, we all at one time lose sight of it. We all get caught up in the seeing aspect of what’s beautiful. The trick is to feel the beautiful as well as see it and find the balance in between.

  Where does our definition of beauty come from? One of the biggest fears I have is that society dictates our sense of beauty, and for those who have no moral compass, their sense of beauty is askew and warped, and they will never truly see or feel what true beauty is. I’m still learning what that means for me, so I can’t tell you any words of wisdom. All I know is that every day I am alive and free is beautiful, and when I look in the mirror now, I don’t see that ugly broken child I was and who Phillip tried his best to create because he thought that was beautiful. No, I don’t see her. I just simply see the beauty in me.

  This got me thinking of how animals define beauty versus us humans and how drastically different these opinions are. Animals don’t see beauty or judge us based on it. If a cat is comfortable with you and trusts you, it does not care what you look like. You could have a missing eye or two missing eyes or a freakish pimple on your face, and the horse you are riding or brushing will not care one bit. Animals teach us the meaning of beautiful every day. Do you take the time to listen?

  Me and Jessie playing dress-up.

  In Plain Sight

  * * *

  The roaring of the crowd at a basketball game is deafening! My first basketball game was the Warriors versus the Kings. Little did I know that this game would herald the end of a losing streak for my team. Perhaps I am lucky after all! Just kidding. I think the faith and hope of their fans is what brought them out of the slump. Kind of like the hope my mom had for me and her never giving up hope that I would one day come back to her. That kind of hope can move mountains.

  I had never been to a basketball game before, even when I was little. This was a first. We had gotten courtside tickets, and I was very excited to see my first game. I didn’t realize the cameras would be so close, though. I was still paranoid about being recognized and felt on the hot seat as I sat there and watched the game.

  What is it with me and being recognized? I just wanted to enjoy the game. Over the years I have been to a football game with my aunt (“Go Chargers!”), and a Lady Gaga, a Beyoncé, and a Garth Brooks concert. These concerts were all very unique and different in their own ways, but I enjoyed them all. Lady Gaga, while on the strange side, is a person I admire for being herself in all things. Garth Brooks is an amazing performer, and he gives everything he has to every performance. I love the way he is so into his wife. I would love to have a man love me the way Garth loves Trisha.

  You are probably wondering if I think I can even have a relationship with a man. Good question. Although hard to answer because I can’t see the future. HAHA. I’m not actively seeking love, and I refuse to do dating sites. I do feel like I’m totally capable of having a relationship one day. I don’t feel so damaged that I am totally put off by the idea. I just don’t know. I see my daughters having relationships, and I feel like one day when the time is right I will meet the right person for me. I like romance and fairy-tale junk, so my expectations are pretty high nowadays. So unless you ride a beautiful white stallion, can stand with me to slay all our dragons, and make me a princess, you are pretty much out of luck.

  I have never even been on a date before! The only boy ever to ask me out was ten, and I was nine. My mom and I were living in an apartment complex, and he lived with his dad. They had the cutest Chow Chow dog with a curly tail. I loved his dog and the boy—I think his name was Tony—was really fun to play tag with. We would run around the apartment complex for hours as he chased me and Jessie, who also lived in the same complex.

  One day as I was playing in my room, he came in and asked if I wanted to go out on a date with him. I remember laughing and thinking, That’s so funny. Why did he want to take me on a date? He couldn’t even drive! Back then I was painfully shy and wasn’t thinking about boys in a romantic way. To me, he was just a friend. I was nine and probably a very young nine. I didn’t really know what to say and so I turned him down. I kind of regret that now, but who knew that would be my only opportunity.

  That day at my first basketball game, I was in plain sight of the multitude of cameras practically the whole time. But nobody noticed, which I was glad for because I was just there to enjoy the game.

  But that day got me to thinking how “in plain sight” I was during my years in captivity and nobody noticed me. Phillip had a number of parole agents throughout the years, but none of them just went a little deeper into their job and noticed us. It felt like nobody cared enough to look deeper into a convicted sex offender’s life. Or maybe they just didn’t want to offend him or, heaven forbid, offend his wife and his mother.

  The truth of the matter is my whole life was impacted with this one heinous crime that affected not only my entire family but others in the world as well. In my case, the effects are on the inside and outside. Although therapy started practically on day one for me, it is not until now, years later, that I am coming to terms with just how terrified I really was and how I couldn’t let myself feel that terror when I was kidnapped and throughout my captivity. My instincts, intuition, internal thought process, whatever it was, kept my real terror at bay so I could function and survive.

  In 2013, I made the decision to sue the federal government for its role in my kidnapping. It was not an easy decision to make. The whole process—the depositions, the psychological testing—had the side effect of bringing all the hidden terrors to the surface of my mind.

  After I was deposed, I had some terrible nightmares about Phillip. In one I call the “shadow dream,” Phillip was a shadow, and I was running through a maze with mirrors around every corner. There would be this dark, very tall and skinny shadow in my peripheral vision. Always looming and coming closer as I tried to run away.

  I also have waking terrors. I am awake and doing something like working in my garden and for a split second I feel like I am in a dream and any minute I will wake and my now life will be taken from me and I will wake to my backyard prison that consumed more than half my life.

  Being deposed was hard, with some very weird lines of questioning that I could not have predicted. Like “Did you ever plant flowers on the Garrido residence besides around your tent?” What kind of question is that, I thought to myself. Or my favorite one: “Do you prefer the agressive animals or the more calm, docile animals?” Or the one about my book: “You say ‘I never really have nightmares. Only once in a while.’ Did you have a lot of nightmares when you were at the Garrido residence?” Nice having your words thrown in your face like that, but I looked her in the eyes and said, “At the time of writing this, I lied to myself quite a bit and I wouldn’t admit to myself that just because I wasn’t waking up from nightmares doesn’t mean that I constantly didn’t think about what he had done.” I don’t know exactly what she was trying to get at with these questions. Did she think a day goes by in my life that my captivity does not affect me? Doesn’t she realize that when I wrote my book that it was a power statement I made, and power statements help move us toward our goals but to achieve these goals takes time and a lot of hard work has to be done, and that doesn’t happen overnight? So, yes, the nightmares are fading, and I live a good life, but scars are scars and can be healed but never go away completely. My scars are not visible, but I can feel them. They are reminders every day to live life to the fullest because you never know what can happen. You can use them and they can become a symbol.

  At one point the attorney even called me “Miss Garrido.” Maybe this was a genuine mistake on her part or maybe she was trying to rile me or throw me off. For what purpose, though? It’s not like I was on trial. I wasn’t the one that committed a crime, as I feel my government did, and my feelings and thoughts were clea
r as to why I was there and putting myself in this chair of endless questions and arduous process. So was that just a slip or something more sinister that I was not prepared for? The result of her calling me that vile name was nothing but a correction from me and an apology from her. In the end, the depo lasted seven long hours.

  It was hard to involve my daughters in this daunting process. But we all felt strongly about justice being served. The deposition of my oldest daughter was even worse, with questions as bizarre as whether she was a member of the gay and straight alliance and if that meant she was gay. What? What business is that of yours, and what does that have to do with anything about this case?

  I understand the prosecutor had a job to do. And, hopefully, that’s all she was thinking—that this was her job. And nothing she said was personal. I just feel she missed seeing us as human beings and did only see us as a job. To her, we were just another case to win, and maybe I’m naïve and this is all we are to the government. What if our government doesn’t see us as people, as individuals? What if we are all just cases to be won or lost? Well, if there is one thing I’d like to change it’s that we are seen for the people we are, not just as words on a page.

  Disgusted

  * * *

  In the spring of 2013, I was in Washington at a dinner with family and friends when I learned the story of the Cleveland girls, as they were dubbed in the media, who were kidnapped by Ariel Castro. Yet again the media putting out what sounds flashy instead of what would be appropriate. These were three grown women who I’m sure didn’t want to be called “girls.”

  The next night I would receive the Hope Award from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children (NCMEC). Nanny Goat received the news first and filled us in on the details as she knew them. I was stunned and amazed. Others like me and Elizabeth Smart! I was happy but at the same time deeply saddened that history repeated itself in a way again. In my acceptance speech, I said, “What an amazing time to be talking about hope!” It was a hopeful event, but the occasion also marked the beginning of new lives in the world, those of Michelle, Gina, and Amanda and her daughter. I felt a kinship toward Amanda because she too had a daughter, and I had had two. I knew, though, that their lives were very different from mine, and I didn’t dare speculate on what she went through.

  This was just the beginning of them making their own decisions, I knew all too well. Right away with their first appearances on TV, they all struck me as being hopeful for their futures and all that life had to offer. That evil man took their decisions away from them, and now they had that ability again. What would they do with it? I asked myself that night. Phillip took my decision making away from me, too. Would they feel like I did at times? Unsure of themselves, but with time things would get a bit easier. It makes me so mad to think of predators out in the world, preying on other people and ruining their lives for their own benefit. I feel like what gives these fuckers any right to our lives? What makes these bastards of the world feel they can control anyone but themselves? Maybe that’s the problem: these assholes can’t even control themselves and therefore feel the need to control others. What creates this type of person? What circumstances, events, or mental process creates the Garridos and Castros of the world? This is a question that affects us all, and I believe it needs an answer. But how do you find an answer to this question so that history will stop repeating itself?

  I think the interview Michelle did on the Dr. Phil show was what she needed to do for herself to move on from her trauma. She’s taking back her life. The next thing is deciding if that decision is truly the one in your heart or if it’s what others want you to do. My hope for her is that she is doing what’s right for her and her son. Moving forward after so long in captivity is not easy. Everybody wants to be your friend, and that can make matters complicated to figure out who is truly with you for the right and honest reasons. Some days will seem easier than others, and the days will not always be sunny. But even on your cloudiest rainy day, there is hope that you are alive and you can do something good to help others because of the fact of your survival. The simple fact that you survived a horrible situation gives people hope that they can survive their own situations. It is also a lesson to be thankful for what you have and those you love because it could be so much worse. I had the opportunity to meet Gina and Amanda at a recent NCMEC Hope Award ceremony. They had just released their own book entitled Hope. I was glad to have the time to get to know them a little, and although we had different experiences, the trauma is much the same and takes time to heal. I hope they find what they need in their lives. We also met Senator John McCain, and he said to us, “I know a little something about being alone, too.” Wow! What a totally amazing moment in my life to connect on such a level with not only one fellow survivor but three! It taught me to remember to enjoy my life and take comfort that we have all been through shit, but the important thing is we survived, and not only that, we have rewarding and enriching lives to lead and inspire others with. Maybe if we all started throwing happiness in the air instead of violence, the world would be a much better place to live in, and deranged, psycho men like Ariel Castro, the man who kidnapped Gina, Amanda, and Michelle, and the Phillip Garridos of the world would not even be a thought.

  Barbies Are Good for the Soul

  * * *

  Even after six years of freedom, I admit I still get nervous about being recognized in public. Even though I know people are just people and want to say the right thing, it still goes through my mind not to be seen. That mantra was so much a part of my life that it is sometimes still hard to overrule it with common sense. My biggest fear was that somehow Phillip would find a way to take my kids from me if I broke the rules in any way. I don’t have that fear to hold me back anymore. I have new ones, but those seem simple in comparison.

  However, over the years of freedom, many people have helped to put my fear of being seen into perspective. Like the time I went through airport security and the male security guard that checks your license and plane ticket looked at me funny. I thought to myself, Oh man, he recognizes my name, because really, who doesn’t? Or so I thought at the time. He shocked me and threw me for a loop when he said, “Oh, wow you’re from that Big family.” At first it took me a second to get what he meant, and then it dawned on me: he thinks I’m from the Duggar family and one of eighteen siblings! Again, he speaks up and says, “I thought you would be taller.” I was M-O-R-T-I-F-I-E-D! I wanted to shout at him, “How rude!” but refrained from making a scene. Instead, I laughed it off and proceeded with my life—all five feet of me! I realized it’s not so bad being recognized . . . not.

  Another moment I got a little too into myself was one time when my mom and I took a trip to explore the city. As we perused the streets, a couple came up to us a little sheepishly, and I thought, Oh here we go. I have been recognized for sure! I told myself to act cool and casually, like this happens all the time. The young woman says, Hello. Mom and I both say hi. The lady then asks in a strong accent if I would take a picture. Of course, I reply. So I go over to the couple and put my arm around the young lady’s neck as the gentleman looks at me funny. They both turn to me and say, We mean can you take a picture of us? Oh no! I thought they wanted a picture with me. How embarrassing. As my face turns red, I try to recover my composure, and my mom takes the shot of the happy couple and off they go, probably baffled as to my strange behavior. Lesson learned: Don’t ever assume!

  There are times in life you realize that you are not the center of the universe and that the person with you might be. Especially when that person is also tall, blond, and rail thin. That’s right, folks, I have a friend who looks like Barbie! Literally, she does, and I mean that in a nice way. My friend is one of the smartest women I know, but she also is built like a blond bombshell Barbie!

  The first time I flew in a plane with her was the first time I realized that strangers actually do put your luggage in the top bin for you. Well, I thought to myself, they do if they are male and
see her. I thought at first it was an all-male thing, but we were in a restaurant and the female maître d’said there were no tables available for us. As disappointment set in, we decided to hang at the bar and wait to see if something became available. All of a sudden “Barbie” comes around the corner and says, “They have our table ready.” What? Really? How does she do that? we were all thinking.

  She’s really amazing at getting what she wants. She has some amazing invisible superpower. She’s always seen without even trying to be seen. I think that is a cool quality. She has taught me that even if it looks, feels, and seems unattainable, it never hurts to ask again. Also to always act with confidence in yourself, no matter the situation you are in, and the people around you will respond to it. Some days it’s harder than others to live by this.

  There are days I look in the mirror and see a pretty person. I also see some things I’d like to change. I have learned that I need to accept the good and the bad. I see a semifit person that would like to get stronger. I see bags under my eyes reminding me to get more sleep. I see lackluster skin that tells me to drink more water. I see all these things and wonder, How did I survive all those years and come out on the other side still seeing the rainbow? I have tried to instill in my daughters good self-esteem in themselves even though I don’t always have it in myself. I believe strongly that self-esteem comes from within ourselves, but outside influences can play a major role, too. So although it has not always been easy, I think they have both grown into strong, confident women.