*Please note names have been changed.
Many years ago, I had the opportunity to step inside the Tennessee State Penitentiary in Nashville after it was permanently closed. The creepy, majestic, gothic structure was being used to film a movie, which was how I got my foot in the door. What I saw that day was forever burned into my memory.
The metal catwalks around and around the large center space went up several floors and endless tiny cells lined the walls with nasty toilets exposed. But what struck me the most was the hand-painted mural art in each cell. Apparently, the prisoners were allowed to paint the walls of their cells however they liked, which implied there was little turnover. Or did a new prisoner have to live with the art of another inmate whether he liked it or not? Surely they didn’t pull out an assortment of paint every time someone moved in.
At first glance it was an amazing collection of primitive folk art, and the drastic differences from cell to cell were striking. I remember two in particular that were side by side. One had a warm living room scene with a fireplace on the far wall. A pretend window showcased a beautiful yard with flowers. The colors were soft and pleasant, and I don’t even remember seeing the toilet that was successfully camouflaged.
The cell next door, however, was a stark contrast to this comforting scene. Red, orange, and black were the only colors used to illustrate angry flames of fire surrounding the artist’s grotesque rendition of the devil himself. Every inch of the cell was encased in darkness, causing it to look like a hellish cave.
I’m sure, all those years ago, I immediately assumed the comfy living room scene belonged to a man who saw the glass as half full and probably read his Bible a lot. The man next door was undoubtedly a nasty, vulgar creature who terrorized anyone who crossed his path. I could only imagine who disliked his neighbor more.
But after twenty years of observing, studying, and loving hundreds of women at Blue Monarch, I don’t believe I would draw the same conclusions today. I could easily place a number of women in either cell, but let’s take two who immediately come to mind.
Kaitlyn loved to come across very angry, aggressive, and cold. I could easily see her in the “hell” cell. She even had red hair, which would have fit in perfectly with the theme. Kaitlyn was proud of her “badness,” which had protected her for many years. No one messed with her in jail, and she could part a crowd with only a look whenever she entered a room. Her very presence commanded a certain, yet unhealthy, respect. But Kaitlyn was covering up what was truly in her heart. Behind that rough exterior was a very broken child.
She grieved the loss of a childhood she would never have, and she experienced so much horrific trauma from people she should have been able to trust, she secretly feared everyone in her path. She was convinced every last person had nefarious intentions, no matter how many times they assured her otherwise. Kaitlyn had lived through so much hell, it was probably all she knew - or thought she deserved.
But let’s look at Alexandra. She was the woman everyone wanted to follow from the minute she walked through our door. She was beautiful and presented a picture of perfection. To the others, it was puzzling why she would find herself in a program like ours. She was creative and gifted beyond her years and had grown up with opportunities and benefits the others could only imagine, which immediately gave her a certain level of honor and credibility. There was something magically intoxicating about Alexandra that naturally drew others to her, and everyone secretly hoped to be her favorite. Her influence was evident because it eventually caused some of our residents to compromise their own convictions just because Alexandra put them under some kind of unseen pressure to do so. It was a curious thing to observe.
Even though Alexandra looked entirely “put together” and had the qualities of a natural leader, her heart was extremely dark, and she only cared about herself. Even her own child moved up and down the totem pole, depending on the benefits for Alexandra in that moment. You had to pay close attention to notice. The picture of perfection was a facade, and she knew it. She used her charisma to lure others down a path that looked fluffy on the outside but was ultimately destructive in the end. In fact, once caught in Alexandra’s grip, it was difficult to pry her loose. She managed to collect damaging information about her friends after coercing them to break the rules, which gave her powerful leverage and control whenever she decided to cash in. What this did to others’ recovery was of no concern to her.
So, how do you think the two of them turned out?
Kaitlyn eventually, over a long period of time, learned to trust our staff and see that we were there to help, not hurt her. With great difficulty, she finally opened up and revealed the horrific things she experienced as a child and discovered how the pain inflicted on her at such a young age affected the choices she made as an adult. With tremendous grief, she gave up the hope that she could somehow recapture her childhood and get a do-over with loving parents, and she shifted her focus to her own children who longed for the same thing from her. Kaitlyn developed a sweet relationship with God and replaced the darkness in her “cell” with light, hope, and even joy that was evident on her face and the faces of her children.
Alexandra, on the other hand, left early over something minor when she didn’t get her way and ran to her usual enablers who immediately picked up where they left off, once again preventing her from having to make any changes. She relapsed shortly after, overdosed more than once, landed herself in jail a couple of times, and yet always painted the happy, comfy scene on social media as if her life was perfect. Her posts were just as fake as the window showcasing the imaginary flowers in that cell. Sadly, this pattern will most likely repeat itself until Alexandra can be honest about what is truly in her heart.
Once Alexandra left Blue Monarch, the ones she had manipulated were able to see that her magic was destructive and the whole community felt healthier and happier with her out of the picture. The longer she was gone, the more they realized she had stolen from them; joy, relationships with others, quality time with their children, and growth in their recovery. They thrived in her absence and learned some discernment that will be valuable in the future. In fact, they will be able to pass that wisdom along to their children as well.
In many ways, posts on social media are no different than the hand painted cells in that prison. What you see may not be what you get. We should hesitate to assume the art on the wall truly reflects what is in the heart. Underneath all that paint may be a desperate cry for help and we will miss it if we aren’t listening.
