Released: Conversations on the Eve of Freedom

by Gypsy-Rose Blanchard

I don’t know if any of you keep a diary. But if you do, and you’ve ever read back entries from a while ago, you’ll know that sometimes reading back your thoughts, especially from a younger age, can be cringey. But it’s that cringe that gets you to the good. I feel like if you recognize it as cringe, it’s a pretty strong indication you are healing or growing or both.

So much of her grooming happened when my brain was still developing, when you have nothing but an unconditional trust of your parents.

You just can’t struggle or succeed alone. We are wired not to.

I had learned that people out there—especially when they have nothing to lose—can screw with you just out of spite or jealousy or for their own self-interest.

I learned that friendship isn’t about just leaning on people when you’re down, but having someone equally as happy for you as you are for yourself, maybe even more so.

I lost my faith. By the time the murder happened, I didn’t have God in my life at all. I didn’t believe in anything or anyone.

Something was telling me, “Hey, girl, you need to stop wandering on your own and start believing.”

Prayer places a protective barrier over my soul, which has been very helpful with controlling my anxiety and shame.

As I achieved a calmness in me, I realized I couldn’t find the solutions to my problem or assuage my fears by reading tarot cards or pulling a hair from my head and reading a love spell. I am not that big and powerful. Only God is.

Faith is having a feeling that you are safe. And that what is making you safe has the power to see you through anything. It’s kind of like you are in the palm of God’s hand. You can go through a hurricane, you can go through a tornado—any kind of storm—but God has you in the palm of his hand and he won’t let anything happen to you. You are safe. That is faith to me.

I just remember seeing Joey glammed out on the red carpet, the stark contrast of our lives casting a dark shadow over me. Here I was in my prison cell wearing my prison uniform, eating my disgusting prison food, while Hollywood celebrated itself.

Being a people-pleaser requires you to submit a part of yourself to the person you aim to please. You give up your own needs and desires, and put the person’s interests in front of your own. In return you expect a payment in the form of validation and acceptance. This kind of currency is dangerous because the cost is you.

After a while, you begin to be able to predict what people want to hear, so you begin to say things you don’t mean.

I believe people are who they are because of what they’ve been through, but really because of what they’ve survived.

That short window of time represented both my lowest point and my greatest growth.