If anyone asked my story. Here it is…
My name is Jaina Rei Alsandor, a genius, an artist, a lover in more ways than one. One who pours into others in hopes to make them better in any way shape or form. One who cares about others more than herself mostly. Until it hurts. I have been married once, not legally, but by relation. We divorced, and I am still dealing with the aftermath of that today. It is a process. I spend a lot of time focusing on others, how to love, how to be my best, because they deserved. I never really took the time to digest what I deserve. I was fixated on my love, and how it made me feel...complete and carefree...that I was lost when it left me. Sleepless nights, nights up crying, wake up crying. For months. A dark place, I never want to experience again. A place, I wish I could forget. Everyday I convinced myself that there has to be better than what I knew of as the best, especially since it didn’t work. There has to be another light in the tunnel for me. There most definitely have to be another level of happy. Oh my, I was super happy, and was happy doing what made it happy. I put a lot on the line. Now that I look back. I can’t believe my capability to love like that. But what I really can’t believe is how I actually want it again. I actually have the capacity to love like that again. I want that happy. Am I scared? YOU DAMN RIGHT. But am I willing? yes, for the right person. Am I open? maybe not. Its always “hit or miss.” I am willing and very much able, I’m working on it. Still capable of loving...in the wildest, most carefree of ways, but only for those whom are here to protect it. Who values. Who secures. Who deserves such a love. I am the girl that still believes, even still. Whew. That’s crazy, taking into account my story.
I fell in love with a good guy. A guy that would give me the world. Soul tied. I held him down in every way I knew how. In ways he himself didn’t know he needed. I put my love life, outside of him, on halt. People didn’t understand it. Every other Saturday morning, 7am, I was happily on my way to Winnsboro. I sang the whole ride. I had to see him, but most importantly, I knew he had to see me. If i could grant him an escape from his cell...I was gon do that. Whatever escapes, he got that. Visits every other week, on the phone multiple times a day. Four dollar 15-minute phone calls, that usually ended in “I’m bout to call you right back.” “yeah, call me right back.” for about 3 or 4 calls straight. Calls I was walking out of class for. Letters. Ohmy, so many letters. 2 page letters, 6 page letters, 12 page letters...and some longer than that. I kept his mind busy. But maybe not busy enough. Sent pictures. I was in the post office just about every day. Postal lady hated me. All this over a year and a half. Seems short, but felt long. Everyday was long. All while being a full-time student, working in the financial aid office, and working as a server at the only Fine Dining restaurant there was in Ruston. 8 am class, to work, back to class, quick lunch, to work, to other job, home, bathe, write, sleep and repeat. I made it work. I was a super woman, and he knew it. He knew how great I was, and he knew how great he had it. Even the people around me knew. “Excuse me? Can I have your number?” “do you have a ol’man?” “Oh, tell him he’s a lucky dude.” But I never mentioned it. I never mentioned my now “boyfriend” being in jail, nor did I think too much about it. We were close, had become closer than ever. I knew he would be home sooner than later to me, his girl. Right on time. The same time we were counting down the days to his release, I was counting the days down to my graduation day. I was graduating with a bachelors in Science, Business management, concentration in Entrepreneurship and a minor in marketing. What a degree, right!? My only wish was that he was released just in time to attend one of the “biggest” days of my life. Even though it seemed bigger to me that he would be able to be there. With about a week to spare, he was released. I went to pick him up, and right on time. I pulled up into the parking lot about 11:55pm. A little after midnight, here he comes, super cute guy, holding all of his belongings in a garbage bag. It was surreal, but a very vivid memory. “Yep, baby you did that!” I remember not ceasing that moment like I should have. I wish I had. I wish I would have embraced him for a moment, and really took that moment in. Slowed down, and not have been so anxious. He was released!, that was a big deal. But all I wanted was to take him home. “Let’s go, can we get off these people’s premises.” I rushed that moment. I absolutely hated being there. Every court date, every visit, I hated being within the system like that. It was a cold place. A place, after that day, I’d never have to go again. We rode back to where I resided, and we danced under the stars, the waltz. They only dance we knew. “Cause honey I’d be loving you til we’re seventy!” Ed Sheeran. I brought him home to his mom the next morning, and back out to Ruston in time for my graduation. I had graduated, He was released. Life was great. Too great. Stuff was moving fast. I was transitioning from school, back home, and he was transitioning back into his groove of life in the real world. Catching up on the latest. Who knew how much could change in a year?
It was a lot for us...even more so for him. The only reason I know, is because he would tell me. We spent a lot of time together, well, I spent a lot of time with him. I slept over, dropped him to work, went to the studio, any place he needed to go, I was riding. Ride or die. Anything to be next to him. Anything to be in his company. We were each other’s favorite people. On multiple occasions, randomly, he would express: “I’m really toe up,” “like really toe up.” I ignored him. Responding with affirmations that everything is alright, and that it would be. You’re great. You’ll be fine. It’s okay. To me, I just wasn’t entertaining the thought. To him, I wasn’t listening. But I was only doing what I knew how; look at the brighter side. Talk to your feelings, motivate, and create your reality. I thought it helped. We began to disconnect. About a month or two after his release it got ugly. We fussed, nothing was the same. The time spent was the reason we spent more. He went on a trip, with waterfalls and trails. Things were off. Sending me pictures with his shirt off. I was angry. Couldn’t believe it. I could feel something happening, and I was stressed about it. He went, and came back with an STD. God is good. Everything done in the dark, comes to the light. He had cheated on me, and the day I found out, I wasn’t angry enough. The energy was waaayyyy off. I knew something was up, I could tell something was on his mind. We were fussing again. He told me he had cheated on me, my first time ever being cheated on. My first time ever writing 12-page love letters and mailing them off to a correctional facility weekly. My first time ever sitting on the other side of a glass with the phone receiver to my ear, looking at him, but can’t touch him. My first time driving 67 miles every other Saturday morning. My actual first time jocing somebody. I had got cheated on, by one of the people dearest to me. I showed no emotion. I wasn’t angry. I don’t know if I was in total shock, or just not shocked at all. I don’t remember feeling anything. But it wasn’t a fuss. I can only remember there being a long loud pause. I had gotten cheated on for the first time by my favorite person for reasons like “well, you weren't giving it to me.” So many ugly moments that were covered up in love. I didn’t care...I loved him. I loved our well-thoughtout idea of us. We promised each other a lifetime via our love letters. I was blinded by what I thought I knew. Any thing went, he could do no wrong in my eyes. But as time went on, we grew further and further apart, the guy I once was able to pour my heart out to, I now didn't know how to communicate with. We were raising our voices. The tones had changed. We couldn’t talk. But how? We literally sat on the phone, phone call after phone call, talking. Pages after pages of writing, of our ins and outs. The love was tainted. The trust had been perverted. It wasn’t good for us. A whole lot of miscommunication. A rollercoaster of emotions everyday. EVERY SINGLE DAY. Plenty I didn’t go to him about, plenty necessary conversations we never had. I had lost a lot of weight. Stressed.
Such ugly days. Goodness. One of the ugliest, he blocked me. And was going out of town the next day. In rage, I told my sister I’d be back. Midnight. He was in Mississippi, and I was on my way. I didn’t know where he was, all I knew, I was headed in the right direction. “Tell me where you at, because I’m on my way!” I remember hollering and crying the whole ride. Ugly face cries. We talked, but nothing was the same. And it wasn’t ever going to be. That was the closest to the end that I remember. After those times, I was devastated. It was over. Woke up crying, everybody worried about me. Days in the dark. Days in the bed. Days I didn’t speak to anyone. “I’m alright.” I was lying, I was dying. So many thoughts each day, so much I regretted. Like, why didn’t I get angry when he told me he had cheated. It was my fault. I didn’t require enough from him. I was the reason it failed. Mind games. Sickening. I never thought it would come to this. I still wanted it. I didn’t see life without it. Unbelievable. It was deep. Same love that blinded me, helped me to see. I had become defensive and unavailable. A broken-hearted girl, chasing a love that once was. It’s tough. Guards up, locked and loaded, with big guns. Kind of healed, doing a lot better, still healing. A few open wounds, not completely over it, but better than ever. I went dancing with reasons to dance, I was doing great. Smiling more. Couldn’t complain. Kind of back in my groove, but still healing. I danced, as he admired my presence...some guy. Some guy who wanted to “get to know” me. “Can we exchange numbers?” My guards called off that night. July 2, 2016; marks the end, and another beginning to yet, another love story.
