My Story

Hello everyone!

My name is Jade Malkemus - I go by literally anything you want to call me, but more common are: Sam/Sammy, Grace (used sarcastically mainly,) and Hades (long story short: autocorrect).

I am 18 as of 2015 and have had a strong passion for horses ever since I was a wee lass. I grew up ping-ponging between Ohio and Kentucky ever since my parents got divorced when I was 3, and was raised by my sister who was 6 at the time of my birth because of the divorce, and my mum worked a full-time job while going to college to support us. My sister, Deana, is the best friend I've ever had - sister or not. Not only has she been there for me through everything, but she's helped me with my depression and understands me when no one else does. Now, I'm not being Emo here, I literally mean it.

In 8th grade I was officially diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. I had been going through therapy since I was in second grade, because my mum noticed a behavioural change - I had changed from my normal happy pony drawings to drawing things more macabre and horror, and started talking less - but they held off on officially diagnosing me in fear that I would be bullied.

Most people find this syndrome a burden. They feel alienated, and often have hard times making friends. While that is sometimes true, I feel it is more of a gift. Most people with Asperger's find their niche and they excel greatly at it. Most famous scientists had/have Asperger's. Bones, or Temperance Brennan from the TV show, Bones, has Asperger's, and so does the girl from The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. 

Anyway, while some people with my syndrome find their interests in science and math, I've found mine split between horses/animals and art - and because of this, I've found ways to combine them - through model horses and painting.

When I was eight, I got my first Breyer model horse. It was the Medicine Hat mustang that came with the wolf. I had that up until my sixth grade year, when I did my first finished custom and gave it to my mamaw to use in a western-themed set on a shelf above the bathroom. I realized that I liked customizing, but my customs were nowhere as neat and realistic as FreeMare's or any other well-known youtube artist. Instead of being intimidated by this gap between skills, I took the metaphorical bull by the horns and wrestled with it. I'll always be wrestling with it, but I'll also be able to look at how much I've learned about that bull in the coming and past years.

After my last custom in 2011, I dropped the hobby almost completely. It wasn't a permanent drop - I intended to pick it back up someday, but at the time I didn't have any models to paint and couldn't afford to buy more. Over the years, I gained a few models through gifts, and decided to part with some old customs that were too gaudy and unrefined for my taste - and this year, I've decided to come back for good.

To understand why, though, I have to go off subject and talk about the other half of my life.

As I mentioned previously, my parents got divorced when I was at a young age. My mum got full custody with visitation rights with my father, meaning I had to live with her. This was okay, up until I turned eight. My dad had long since moved back home to Kentucky, and got himself a house and had some spare money left over. Well, ever since I could remember, I would cry whenever I saw a horse, because I wanted one so badly. I had been taking lessons for over a year, and we figured I was ready for a horse. Take notice I said "horse" and not a foal. Unfortunately, that's what we got. We caught wind of a rescued colt that needed a home, so with some puppy eyes and pouty lips, my sister and I convinced Dad to let us get him. And we did.

Deana managed to talk Mum into letting her stay with Dad to train the colt, but I had to go home. I didn't want to. I mean, who would want to leave from having a cute little ornery foal, to live in a small town house in one of the most boring towns in America? That's not even the half of it though.

My mum had fallen in love with a man she met at the bar our family owns. Never a good idea, especially since he was one of the reputable drunkards. I literally still remember his smell as though he were standing next to me - cologne and beer.

"Drunkard" should tell you his story right there, but let me continue for you, to paint a better picture.

This man was abusive. There's a fine line between corrections and abuse and he crossed it many times. He beat my mum, he beat my sister, he beat me, he beat my dog. If he felt it was vulnerable, it deserved bruises. I'd witnessed many times him choking my mum, or slapping her, or punching her, or throwing her against the walls or to the floor. Almost every day they were shouting and cursing at each other, and now I didn't even have my sister to turn to.

At one point - I think this was once my sister came home and we'd moved the horse to a boarding stables nearby - I had knocked on my mum's door for something. This man's patience was nonexistent that day, because he kicked the door literally off its hinges, and it came crashing down on me. I was trapped - at eight years old, I physically couldn't push the door off of myself. I'd started panicking and crying and he yelled at me to suck it up and get out from under there. Mum tried arguing that I couldn't, but there wasn't much she could do with him looming over her.

This was when my depression started. I was so tired of the abuse, and I missed my dad terribly. Everything was so much happier there. It was a place I knew I would be safe from harm. At eight years old, that's never something a little girl should have to worry about. Still, I wanted out. I cried, and argued with Mum to let me move in with Dad, but she'd said "no." Every time, she'd said no. And to this day, if I wasn't old enough to move out on my own, she'd still say "No."

She left that man after she had my brother. He was three I think. He'd been abusive to my brother and she'd finally had enough of it and kicked him to the streets. Two years later she fell in love with one of the deputies at the Jail. (She worked as a drug counselor for the inmates during this time. She'd go over trials and deem inmates unstable or insane and would send them to the right facilities and made sure they were given the right medicine.) After the literal hell I'd endured the past three or so years, this man was a godsend. She married him. And to this day he remains my stepdad and I couldn't be happier. Referring to him as "dad" to other people is as easy as it is to call my own father that. My stepdad and I are so much alike, we joke about whether or not I'm his biological daughter.

Hearing about a marine and deputy all in one, you'd get this image of this burly man - almost like a drill sergeant in a cop's uniform, but he's quite the opposite. I mean, don't get me wrong, if you piss him off he's going to take you down with a finger, but he's so family-oriented you could sometimes swear he's one of the kids. He plays with any thing he's intrigued by at the store, he has nerf wars with my brother and I (at one point everyone in the house was armed with a nerf gun and camped outside my brother's room waiting for him to come out so we could pummel him with the foam bullets) and he's an all-around cool guy.

So anyway, after my mum married him, we moved to the house he'd bought which was closer to the schools my brother and I were going to at the time, and he found a boarding stables closer than the one my horse was at - which was good, because the place he was at had just lost 8 horses to disease and we wanted out of there.

My horse had finished his training at the new place, and was sold so I could get a show horse. This new horse was a belgian cross, and the best horse I've had yet. Unfortunately, I became busy and my parents had worked full-time and I had no way to get out to work on him, so I had to sell him, too. This was in January.

I'm still horseless, but have saved up every penny my Dad had sent for child support for the board of the horse (he agreed to let me do that to get a new horse) and am continuing to save my money until I can afford a new companion.

My plans this year are a huge step for me.

I am versatile in my art. If you throw something artistic in my face and tell me to do it, I will. Even if I don't know how, I will figure it out and do it to my best ability. Of course, this means that I have multiple branches of art that I like to do at a time - the main three being writing (I'm working on four novels right now), painting/drawing, and model horse customization. There are other things, too, like leatherwork and 3D modelling and game design/development.

Because of this, I have limitations. When I lived with my Mum, I did all of my work in my room. This means that my room was my living quarters, my studio, and study all in one. You can imagine how messy that would make it. Not to mention disorganized. This also meant I had to drive thirty minutes to the next town over to board a horse, and the board there was rather expensive.

I hated the location, and as each day passed, I grew more and more sick of the town. I couldn't get work done, the house was grossly over-crowded for my liking and I couldn't own a horse due to the distance.

So, I finally moved in with my dad.

This year I will have a studio and study in separate rooms, and since we live on six acres of land I can keep my own horse at my own house. My dad has agreed (he offered, even,) to supply my art supplies if I become active in the hobby again - and boy do I plan to be!

We live in a small town outside of Pineville, Kentucky. Just an hour and a half south of Lexington - putting me closer to the horse park than where my mum is located. Not only that, but the exact location that we live is surrounded by nets of ATV trails that I can ride my horse on, and because it's out of the way of town, I can work in peace at my own pace - which is what I need to be productive.

I also have a very sharp creative edge when I'm here, since there are so many places to explore to fuel the adventurous mind. My aunt takes me down the easiest trails the truck can drive, and I take multiple pictures (You can see some in my gallery ) which gives me ideas for locations in my novels, and overall refuels my mind.

This move is beneficial to me, and I hope to come back better than ever, and I don't plan on leaving!

Thank you so much if you've made it through all of this. Now go check out my blog!