If Ted Bundy asked me out, i'd be dead

—Jackie Faye | Austin, Texas | 09.13.20

I run a small organization that empowers women who are in the greatest need and hold the most potential for change through sports.

But while I empower other women to be strong, am I?

Looking out is easy, looking in, is hard.

With that, here’s a glimpse into my past year and the lies I’ve told my therapist.

It started at a Chili’s on a military base in the dry country of Kuwait over virgin piña coladas. The year that followed was a time of discomfort, mental growth and reconciling with my past for the first time in my life.

From bratwurst and beer to the Feldl’s Teufelsrad and Ferris wheel at the Oktoberfest in Munich to curry, nadec and rose milk in Bahrain.

A visit to the Kuwait Towers and Galata Tower. 

Trick or treating with my all-time favorite family. Parties in D.C. with old friends. A visit to Tampa. A reunion with my Columbia classmates and advisor to catching up with my close friend from college with a bun that has since come out of the oven, and singing Party In The USA with her daughters as loud as we could from a foreign land. 

So many good meals and the world’s most beautiful Starbucks. Markets galore. Red wine, rosé and champagne.

I watched the sun rise over The Great Pyramid of Giza and in between two continents over the Bosporus.

So many historic beauties—from dinner on the Nile to the Hagia Sofia and Blue Mosque to New Town Hall.

I went from blonde to brunette to hide my Americanness for my work with She Can Tri, and I sat in the head of Buddha in Bamiyan and ran the Marathon of Afghanistan with two special women.

In Kabul, I rode a bicycle down the street in the wee morning hours, swam in a local pool, and even took a shower in a bath house. My driver filled my head with so much knowledge through his broken English and we drove all over the city.

Dinner at Chinar and Sufi. Spa days at the Serena Hotel.

I watched history being made in Dubai as I put the medal around the neck of the first Afghan woman to finish an IRONMAN event.

And then, the world stopped. A virus swept across the globe, and I was forced to slow down.

I knew 35 was approaching, and yes, I’ve heard the warnings for years—that is when your fertility starts to decline—but why couldn’t I seem to find a suitable partner? I know what I want, but what I want is not who I end up dating. Why did I attract the worst men? Or was it me that was attracted to them?

I have done a ton of research on the dynamics between men and women and work-life balance—it was the focus of my Master’s thesis. Over and over I’ve read how the environment women grew up with impacts their choices later in life. Women who were abused as children end up dating abusers as adults.

Well that’s not me. I don’t lack confidence, I’m highly educated, I have a successful career, I’m an athlete and I’m pretty. Not to mention everyone who meets me tells me I’m the strongest woman they have ever met—strangers, women I grew up with, the women I mentor. They are all looking up to me to lead. But, what if there was a dark secret behind my big laugh and smile?

Never once while I was doing my research did I come to grips with the fact that I was reading about myself.

Denial: a choice to reject reality as a way to avoid a psychologically uncomfortable truth.

Alone with my thoughts, and with the help of a ton of literature, I came to realize, in my work as an activist, I was the little girl I was fighting for—the one who was brainwashed under the guise of being protected, the one who was punished when she did nothing wrong, the one with no advocate. I was the little girl who was abused.

It took me 35 years to even start to unpack how my childhood affected me. In helping others, I was burying my own pain.

For me, my predictable pattern is something I learned a long time ago. It is really hard to leave familiarity, even if what is familiar is not healthy, but in my case, who I would date was counter to my values. I knew I needed to create new patterns of thought.

This year, more than anything, I am thankful that I started to realize how my childhood experiences unconsciously impact my behavior. It is hard to get rid of a problem unless you know you have it. 

I will always know my own self-worth—I refuse to stand next to a man who is abusive toward me or others.

I encourage everyone to face the hard truths so they, too, can be on the path to grow and find happiness.