Hindsight 2020

By Jessie Jericho

Hindsight 2020 includes stories about abuse, suicide, struggles with self-image and self-esteem, infidelity, betrayal, and despair. It also includes stories of perseverance, overcoming challenges, recognizing our own divine spark, recovery and testing new strength and skills, benefits of therapy, and being a warrior. Included are the topics of depression, stress, conflict, worry, death, law of attraction, empowerment, passion, support and encouragement, and the dichotomy of humanity. Throughout the book you will find suggestions and insight for making changes and taking care of yourself.

Hindsight 2020 is the proclamation that your relationship with yourself is key to having healthy relationships in all other aspects of your life. Being conscientiously selfish ultimately results in a better life – not just for you, but for everyone around you. 2020 was a year of reflection for many; having 20/20 focus on the past makes a successful, happy future more attainable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jun 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781982269463

Jessie Jericho

Over the past dozen years, Jessie Jericho recovered from being an abused wife who attempted suicide to being an award-winning leader and speaker in her field. Being a survivor of trauma gives her true empathy for those seeking advice for their own struggles. Her path from waking up in the ER that eventually rose to positions of leadership demonstrates the adage: “When you hit rock bottom, there’s only one direction to go. Up.” Jessie is a survivor of domestic violence and suicide, daughter of a depressed mother, mom who feels inadequate, and wife of a combat veteran who struggles with PTS. She is a winner of leadership and public speaking awards, volunteer, blood donor, mentor, foodie, whiskey aficionado, Ford Mustang and motorcycle enthusiast, and a patriot. Find Jessie Jericho on Instagram at @jessiejerichoauthor www.jessiejericho.com

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Copyright © 2021 Jessie Jericho.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Names, places, and other personally identifying details have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty

Cover Art by D’Nese Davis

Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. All rights reserved worldwide. Used by permission. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION® and NIV® are registered trademarks of Biblica, Inc. Use of either trademark for the offering of goods or services requires the prior written consent of Biblica US, Inc.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-6945-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-6946-3 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 07/30/2021

CONTENTS

Introduction

Chapter 1 Rock Bottom

Chapter 2 Ex-Husband #2 – Paul.

Chapter 3 Steve 2.0

Chapter 4 Why Are We Here?

Chapter 5 Relationships and Communication

Chapter 6 Conflict and Stress

Chapter 7 Depression and Connections

Chapter 8 Choices, Destiny, Death

Chapter 9 Wrapping It Up

Acknowledgements

Resources

Endnote

About the Author

INTRODUCTION

You may be asking yourself – who the heck is this Jessie Jericho, and why should I read her self-help book? That’s absolutely a valid question. I am someone who has been through what I consider to be a lot of drama, tragedy, violence, heartbreak, redemption, awakening, and success. My journey was not one that started at rock bottom, but I did end up there some years ago. I didn’t have a particularly hard childhood to overcome. My childhood experiences shaped many decisions (which were not the greatest), but I could say my journey was more like a rollercoaster…I had joy in between sorrows and successes as bookends for heartbreak.

I’ll start off Hindsight at rock bottom, then go back and tell you a little about my history. It is important for you to know where I came from to set the context for how I fell so far and then managed to inch my way back to the surface. After all, would you read a self-help book written by someone who hasn’t gone through at least some sort of tragedy or challenge? I think it’s important for you to know that I have slogged through the trenches of despair and violence and neglect so you will know I am empathetic to your experiences. Even if our experiences are different, we can share a camaraderie knowing my life has not been sunshine and daisies. I did crawl up from rock bottom, and if I can do it, anyone can.

I’ve always wanted to write a book, and in the process of writing this one, I discovered that while this is a personal goal, the focus is much more public. I really want to help as many people as possible discover the most important relationship they can ever have is with themselves.

Many years ago, I actually did write a book, when I was in my twenties – all about my life to that point. It was good practice, but nobody but me would ever want to read it and to be quite honest, I had not learned a dang thing yet. I had no concept at the time of having a relationship with myself, even though I recognize now I was just recovering from being quite self-centered.

In the years between then and 2020, when I would get an idea for a book, I would write…I guess an essay. I would write maybe a couple thousand words and then the book fairy dust would wear off and that was it. I would run across the new book when I was searching for another document. I would read what I had written (which obviously did not take long), think to myself meh, and then delete it. My first piece of advice: if you ever start writing anything – don’t delete it. I sure do wish I had all those starts back. If anything, it would be interesting to see how my perception has changed since the first one.

One day, I woke up and decided it was time. After all of the changes I have made, it finally clicked for me that once I started taking care of myself first, taking care of others would just fall into place. I mentioned to someone one day, I wish I could go back in time to my 13-year-old self, sit her down, and tell her everything she needs to know. Since time travel isn’t possible, the next best thing is to try to share these experiences with other young women (and men). I never had any concept of self-help growing up. Self-help books were available in the 70s and 80s, but as a young woman, I had no idea about them. Most of the time, I didn’t even know I was in pain, so how would I have known to seek help?

Wanting to help others learn from my pain, I knew I needed to share this with as many people as possible. I started writing and the fairy dust started falling. I would wake up with thoughts about the book. I would write just before going to bed, because it was all I could think about. When I woke up the third day in a row and all I could think about was writing, that’s when I began to think this one might take. Like years of in-cogno fertilization, finally, my mind was pregnant with enough words to complete a gestation period to produce the literary baby you now hold in your hands. Treat her gently, please; she’s new.

The theory of collective consciousness suggests I am not putting forth any unique ideas. The experiences and thoughts I describe are mine or what I have personally witnessed, but I believe we all have access to this greater intelligence and so there is hope for all of us to realize whatever the general truth is as well as our own personal truth. I also hope I will be able to download the thought energy (that is available to all humanity) into words arranged in such a way as to seem unique enough to generate new grooves in your brain, dear Reader, in order to bring some benefit to your life experience.

I recently read a review giving the book I was researching a single star, and simply said (I’m paraphrasing), If you are at all familiar with this topic, then the author is presenting nothing new. I didn’t think the assessment was fair, because I propose that unless you are Albert Einstein, Steven Hawking, or Elon Musk– there are no new topics left to present. The topic is not ground-breaking; it is the presentation of the words, how they are combined, and the timing of the reader deciding to pick up the book and read it – obviously, none of these coalesced for the negative reviewer.

Have you ever found yourself in a situation, such as a classroom environment, where the material being presented was just 100% unclear? Here is an example: When I was in eighth grade, I had to take algebra for the first time. My teacher, who shall remain nameless, was a flat-out terrible teacher. The fact that he had a very thick foreign accent helped matters not a bit. By the time students arrived in class, he would have a sample algebra problem already written on the chalkboard. When the bell rang, he would yell at us to get in our seats – he would literally yell at us – open our books to whatever page the sample problem was on, go through it like crap through a goose, and then tell us to work independently (and silently). We were not allowed to ask questions. If we did, we were directed to the book. Well, sonuvagun, if all I need is a book to teach me algebra, then what the heck are either one of us doing here?

I failed his class. I never failed another class in my entire school career, before or after.

So, the next semester, I had to go back to basic math. I was embarrassed. I was frustrated both with myself for not being able to understand the material and with him for refusing to teach me.

When I entered high school, and took algebra again my freshman year, I had a completely different experience. This experience included a wonderful teacher. She would explain the same problem to me five different ways if I needed until I understood it. That is a bit of an exaggeration – it’s algebra, for Pete’s sake, there’s only so many ways it can be explained! But regardless, she gave whatever time I needed, she cared about me as a student, her job as a teacher, and the result was important to both of us. So, I come back to my original thought relating to the presentation of the material. The topic did not change, even the words did not really change, but the presentation of the material and the specific combination of the words by a different person with a different perspective, attitude, and aptitude, made a world of difference to me (I got an A in her class).

I’ll ask you to dig a little deeper with me: although I received a failing grade in the class taught by the poor teacher, the experience itself wasn’t a total failure. There was a silver lining. First of all, I learned what failure feels like. I had never failed anything academic in my life until then. I had failed athletically…there was a heart-rending experience of not making the cheerleading team earlier in the summer and always being picked last for any type of team sport at recess. I always considered the cheerleading experience to be a popularity contest and I was a bit of a loner, but it still hurt when I wasn’t selected.

I wore humongous glasses, had frizzy red hair, freckles, I was short, and there was my funny last name – Jericho, in the bible belt? Looking back, having only taken about two months of gymnastics classes when I was four years old meant I simply wasn’t as skilled as the other girls who made the team. Ultimately, I was ok with the cheerleading failure because I truly wasn’t qualified. But with academics? I was devastated. I was a nerd for Pete’s sake – when being a nerd wasn’t cool (Your Honor, I would like to submit the thick, humongous glasses as Exhibit A). How could I possibly fail at anything academic? I never had to study, so this was an eye opener for me. While I was devastated, I realized …you know what? I didn’t die. It turns out hurt feelings and embarrassment are not lethal. Plus, I gained an inordinate amount of appreciation for being a smart girl (except for algebra). I began to realize how good I had it – not having to study like some of my friends did. Maybe I didn’t have the brain for math, but English, science, music, and the rest of my classes? Piece of cake. So, out of this experience of failure came the acknowledgement of what I was good at (appreciation), the burning desire to learn algebra so I could overcome my failure at math (perseverance), failure is not fatal (survival), plus the realization that some people really should not be teachers (the importance of occupational aptitude). Seriously, how did this guy ever get a teaching job? His career counselor should be ashamed! And yet, because of his tremendous effect on my young life, he has now been immortalized here – albeit anonymously.

My point in telling you this seemingly random story about 8th grade algebra (and maybe to try to avoid some future reader leaving me a negative review for not writing something new): None of what I have to write about is a new topic. But honestly, if it was, you might not be reading this book. I assume you are looking for new insight into whatever’s going on in your life. My hope is for something here to resonate with you and create a wide-open highway of aha moments to help you to find a happier path in your own life.

As parents, we try to guide our children away from pain and suffering: don’t stick the knife in the electrical socket, don’t chase your ball into the street, don’t hang out with gang members. It is our parental instinct to protect our progeny from the pain that comes from experience. However, if you are reading this book, you are probably (like me) a post-graduate student in the School of Hard Knocks, and you know the best way to learn is through experience. I’m not suggesting we should teach our children specifically to search out pain, but we must realize it is only through experience – good and bad – that any growth occurs. What we perceive as a bad experience may actually end up creating a good result, as you will see through some of my shared experiences. What I am presenting are some of my own experiences, and how I chose to deal with the painful ones. Sometimes, I was enlightened and took the high road. Sometimes, well, let’s just say the high road wasn’t even on the map. My point being, you can take your experiences, and my experiences, and know you are not alone.

My goal of sharing my experiences is for you to identify the hero in yourself. I am not anyone special, I have not ministered to the wretched masses like Jesus, or Mother Teresa, or Gandhi…I am just a normal person like you. What I have come to realize over the years is that normal is relative. I mean, I have a day job and a family and volunteer responsibilities, and I struggle with body image and imposter syndrome and even after all I have accomplished, sometimes still wonder whether I am worthy. Whenever self-doubt starts to creep in, I remember what I have been through and I know I am worthy of whatever it is I am doubting about myself. I want you to have the same attitude. Don’t ever let anyone be around you who asks you, who do you think you are? I love the meme that says, Fate whispered to the Warrior, ‘You cannot withstand the storm.’ The Warrior whispered back, ‘I am the storm." Be the storm of your life and the sunshine of your life. Don’t ever let your attitude, your happiness, or your strength be controlled by anyone else. I hope you will find something within these pages that opens your eyes to the fact that you are the star of your life. The spotlight is yours!

Your relationship with yourself is the most important one you will ever have. I wish someone had told me this when I was growing up. I must admit having learned it on my own has been an incredibly powerful lesson, but I feel like I could have done so much more and lived a vastly different life if I discovered this as a teenager instead of in my 40s.

What does this mean – relationship with self? Just like a relationship with anyone else, it means the way you behave toward and talk to yourself. Do you treat your body well, or do you pollute it with poisons, toxins, and harmful but tasty substances like trans-fat? Do you over-caffeinate, over-sweeten, over-salt or over-imbibe? Do you take opportunities to exercise, get the blood moving, get out in the fresh air, do something other than sitting on the couch? Your body needs movement to be healthy. Do you speak kind words to yourself, or are you mean or hurtful with your thoughts about and words to yourself? Would you speak to your best friend, your spouse, or your children using the words you say to you? Being kind to yourself is important for a healthy psychology. Many of us use self-deprecation as a defense mechanism or as an attempt to endear ourselves to others. We think if we belittle ourselves in front of others, even if it’s just making small jokes at our own expense, others will like us more. I see comedians do this all the time. They will use a personal physical aspect as the focus of their comic routine. People laugh because the comedian does make it funny.

I sometimes think humans are hardwired to want to make fun of those who are different – even if the different one is our own self. Every one of us is different, which many seem to focus on as a problem, but our differences make up the beauty and diversity of humanity. Our differences also seem to be our biggest challenge for loving those around us. We have to be able to love ourselves first. I struggled with this for years, and when I finally realized my relationship with Me matters more than anything else, I began writing this book. The concept of a relationship with myself was completely foreign to me because I never had anyone suggest it was important before.

This lack of personal relationship started in my childhood. I did not have a bad childhood; certainly, nowhere near as bad as many people whom I have met. But I did not have the steady influence of a positive role model, and without having someone specific to emulate, I ended up somewhat of a blank slate by the time I left home at sixteen years old. Not a good time to be a blank slate – I was open to any and all influence, and much of which was negative. I was willing to believe anyone and everyone, regardless of what they said, because I didn’t have anything better to compare it to.

Consider all of your relationships. How do the others around you treat you, and how does that compare to how you treat yourself? Do you stand up for yourself when someone says something nasty to you, or do you internalize it and think maybe they are right? Do you stand up for yourself when you say something nasty to you? You need to start. How you treat yourself is how you are teaching others to treat you, so be sure to be kind and loving to yourself, always.

Matthew 22:39 says to love your neighbor as yourself. I believe the communication issues with our world today could be corrected with this advice. In the bible, Jesus said loving your neighbor is the second greatest commandment of the Law. The scripture tells us to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. Self-love must come first. If we don’t love ourselves, how can we love anyone else, or expect anyone else to love us? In other words, we are loving our neighbors the way we love ourselves, which is to say in general, poorly.

How many times have you been complimented on something, only to deny its importance or the part you played? Why is it so easy for us to believe negative things about ourselves, and others for that matter, instead of positive?

The way you think about yourself, the words you say to yourself and how you project yourself sets the benchmark for how you expect others to behave toward you. If you talk down to yourself, why should anyone else treat you any better?

I’m sure you have accomplished incredible things in your life. I bet you have done all kinds of things to help others, are a good parent, child, spouse, friend, sibling, employee, or volunteer. When you make a mistake – no matter what it is – don’t beat yourself up over it. Acknowledge what went wrong, take steps to try not to repeat it, and then move on. Mistakes are how we learn.

Never treat anyone badly, but most especially yourself. You never know who they, or you, might become as a result of your words. You never know what seemingly insignificant occurrence will have a deep and lasting effect on someone’s development – especially a child. I’ll share some stories with you about how my emotionally neutral childhood led to a significant problem with my self-esteem. Even after everything I have learned, I sometimes have that little bug worm its way into my thoughts on occasion. Now with the 20/20 vision I developed during 2020, I am aware of the bug and can squash it as soon as I notice it. Awareness is the first step to correction. I invite you to walk the path with me with open eyes on your own journey to awareness.

CHAPTER 1

Rock Bottom

On a blustery winter afternoon over a decade ago, I attempted to take my own life. How much of an attempt could it have been, you ask, if I am writing this now? Clearly (and thankfully), I failed. I do remember at the time very much having had enough of this life and absolutely wanting to die. Those who have not been cursed by depression or have not endured extreme trauma or tragedy could not possibly understand the depths of despair one feels when making the decision to end one’s life. When people talk about rock bottom – that’s rock bottom. And that’s where I was – broken, bleeding, and all out of tears. Life had crushed me.

I was in the process of divorcing an abusive ex-husband. I had allowed myself to be rescued by the police from my home in Oklahoma and had flown to Phoenix, where I had the expectation of a soft spot on which to land. An old boyfriend had contacted me a few years before, and through a long-distance virtual relationship, he had convinced me we were destined to be together. After landing in Phoenix scared to death but proud of myself for escaping a monster, full of hope and so many other emotions I can’t even name, my digital boyfriend made it clear his airport was closed.

My knight in shining armor had fallen in love with someone else and no longer wanted me. I had just within the past ten days been forced to leave my job because my boss decided he didn’t want me (there’s another story I’ll share with you shortly). I didn’t feel like my 15-year-old son was interested in a relationship with me. My relationship with my father was loving, but distant. He never knew how to handle my particular brand of defiance and tenacity. Could I say he didn’t want me? If I’m honest, and I really am trying to be, no, I can’t say that today, but it felt like it then. My mother…don’t get me started. Mom died not quite nine years earlier and she hadn’t wanted me from the time I could breathe on my own. I had no siblings. What friends I used to have before marrying an abuser had drifted away during my marriage – can’t say I blame them, but when I was considering who in the world would care if I died, the list was extremely short. When I left my job, none of my co-workers reached out to see how I was – only one of them had a clue about my abusive husband, and God bless her, she had her own issues. I prayed for years for God to parole me from the prison of this marriage. I felt like I left the abuser as a result of my own actions, so I felt like even God Himself didn’t want me. The only person in the world who did want me was a man who liked to use me as a punching bag, and to beat the hell out of me emotionally and mentally when bruising my skin grew boring. For what single possible reason should I stay on this planet?

I. Was. Done.

Then, I woke up in the hospital. As long as I live, I’ll never forget that day. When I regained consciousness, I became aware of the sounds around me first. I think unless someone actually throws a bucket of cold water in your face, regaining consciousness must be a slow awakening sense by sense. Where I was in the ER was somewhat noisy, but not bright lights and sirens noisy. Not a room with a door, but there was a curtain across the opening to the rest of the ward. The lights were out. I slowly became aware of the sounds of voices and beeps, sometimes clanking or clattering, moaning. I was on my left side and as I listened to my surroundings, I began to become aware of what had happened. The despair I felt just hours before paled in comparison to this awakening. I decided to open my eyes. When I did, I saw my left arm with a catheter in the vein inside my elbow. Reality crashed in on me.

I have no recollection of passing out. I remember what I was doing prior to losing consciousness, but this hit me like a hay truck. The first time I donated blood, I passed out; I remember getting sweaty and lightheaded and then waking up less than a minute later, staring at the ceiling, with someone fanning me and telling me I’m fine. With this experience, though…zero. Prior to waking up, I remember I was packing clothes, writing a letter, looking for car keys, tossing down a bottle of prescription antidepressants, stashing a razor blade safely in my purse (didn’t want to accidentally cut myself before I did it intentionally), feeling enraged and at the same time despondent. Haughty and yet completely destroyed. Defiant but shattered. Looking back, I believe I was literally out of my mind.

And then, I woke up. No sweatiness, no oh-my-god-I’m-gonna-pass-out, no thinking maybe this was a bad idea, and I should just take a nap and sleep it off. One minute, the worst feeling of my life (and that’s saying something!) and the next…Damnit.

I regained consciousness, aware of my failure before I even opened my eyes. I woke to reality, not with relief, but with the immediate thought of how fast can I get out of here so I can fix this mess and finish what I started?

Not good.

Although this was literally the stupidest thing I have ever done, I was still smart enough to understand that me getting out of here might not actually occur as quickly as I wanted. When one attempts suicide, fails, and ends up in the ER, one is not just let out to go on her not-so-merry way. Doctors have sworn oaths, which include not letting stupid people back out in the world so they can fortify the foundation on which to successfully murder themselves.

I considered my circumstances. Ok, I’ve attempted suicide. My plan was to start with a handful of pills and follow it up with opening my wrists. I didn’t think the pills would work so fast and knock my stupid self out, so I never got to the razor blade.

This is good.

Laying in the ER bed, I was not restrained. The catheter was just secured with normal medical tape, so I removed it. Fun fact – when you pull a catheter out of a vein, your body will spurt blood back out as it is removed. Since I am now a regular blood and platelet donor, I understand why they put pressure on the injection spot when they remove the needle. I wrapped my elbow with the bed sheet (sorry, ER laundry service, but I’m sure it’s not the worst you’ve seen) and then rolled onto my back, paused to take a breath as just this movement was significantly taxing, then finally over to my right side. I discovered I was alone. So, nothing’s changed there. Great.

Within minutes, however, Ellie arrived. Apparently, she had been at the hospital for a while. Ellie had been engaged to