I have always loved books. My first major memory was of a
book called, “Are You My Mother?” It was read to my class at the
public library in Sarasota, Florida. It spoke to my pain like nothing else; I
cried. The teachers didn’t know what to do with me. They all spoke about me
while I sat nearby. Could you imagine? Why not have a conversation with me?
I remember my first major book that I read from front to back in a weekend. It was “Chariots of Fire.” I couldn’t put it down. I was mesmerized
by the parallels to my own life, and yet it saddened me so entirely. Why was no
one committed to me and my dreams?
My favorite author is Charles Dickens. I may not have read
everything by him, but appreciate his character development. Dickens uses the
dirt of the people as the heroes of his stories; you get a sense that they are
the real heroes of our society as well.
I thought I wanted to be a dancer for as long as I could
remember. But if I really place the origination of that dream, I can see that
was my mother’s.
I always wanted her to be proud of me. But now that I know
that she was one of the major sources of my abuse growing up, I can free myself
of that expectation.
I always knew something had happened to me. I even tried
bringing it up with my mother several times, but she never told me anything. I
think she must have thought how convenient that I forgot everything.
I was raped by some friends of my parents whom they gave
their consent. This must sound unfathomable, but when you realize my parents
are addicts the unfathomable becomes more possible.
I was left alone the next day, but fortunately near water so
I could wash my dirtiness off. That’s what I’ve been left to believe for myself
since no one spoke about it. I was left to believe that it must have been my
doing that brought it on. I must have done something wrong.
I do not claim to have it all figured out, but why would a so called "loving" parent cause harm to you? Does this make me broken or even stupid for loving them? I definitely can claim I knew nothing different.
It's just their love is blemished and broken. You cannot truly love someone and hurt them as well, right? I don't understand it.
I reject this kind of love, tainted and poisonous. There is no room in my heart now for your version of love.
This demon will not let me go, I wrestle with it night and day. You have reminded me when it started.
I was about ten years old at a new school. I wanted so badly to have a friend that I was willing to with the girl who was mean to me. She was nice to me when it was just the two of us, but bullied me when around her other friends. I continued to stay her "friend" for the remainder of that school year.
I can look back and see that I was some kind of project for her. She taught me things like manners and how to make an omelet.
I'm not sure why it hurts still, but this is not the kind of friendship that is acceptable now. No one is allowed to make us feel little. No one is allowed to diminish our value. No one is allowed to be a so called friend and take opportunities to make us feel smaller than them.
You don't remember, but I do. He lived in a house with a room full of white sheets. They hung like the walls that could not keep him from touching you. I have such a deep amount of pain because I could not keep him from you. In that moment I gave up all hope.
Saturday, October 5, 2013. What is so special about this
particular date? One of the most significant events of my entire life.
I woke up in the middle of the night scared to death. I
started crying and reached over to my husband for consolation. He tried for a
couple of minutes but rolled back over to go back to sleep; I couldn’t.
I went downstairs and did something I had never done before,
I reached for my bible. I know, hokey. No, but really. I had been heading down
this path for some time and realized what I really needed, God.
Sounds like a strange movie or something; I know and can
relate. My life has been just that since then. I started conversing with God or
the Holy Spirit as some come to understand.
I seem to have more determination than your average person.
I will push through the most harrowing circumstances despite myself.
Right after my nineteenth birthday, I left my family for a
new kind, the military. I went to boot camp and then to Biloxi, Mississippi for
nine months of technical training. I excelled academically and thoroughly
enjoyed the new freedom I had.
I of course found myself drinking too much far too often,
but this was the norm of the culture. I really just went with the flow. But knowing
my parents are addicts would clearly indicate that drinking could be dangerous
Nevertheless, I proceeded to make my own decisions badly for
sure. I made a boyfriend who of course wanted to have sex. So, I asked around
and found a way to sneak into the men’s barracks to make that happen more frequently.
Since I was sixteen I had been on the pill, but now in the
military there hadn’t been time to get a prescription and you can see where
this is going; I was pregnant.
I called home for advice and found that my sister two years
younger than me was pregnant as well. She was being pressured to get rid of
hers, but knew she wouldn’t.
I felt I had to get rid of mine as quickly as possible. I
started talking to all the usual suspects in my chain of command. I made all
the correct inquiries with the base chaplain and knew without a shadow of a
doubt it had to be done.
No one tried to talk me out of it. My commander approved of
the plan to have a female instructor escort me to a center for the procedure and
then gave me some restrictive orders afterwards in order to recover properly.
My barrack mates even pulled my mattress off the bunk to the floor so I could
sleep it off comfortably for two days.
I don’t doubt that God was watching out for me; I was graciously
allowed to make a terrible decision for my own protection. I could not go back
home. I could not get married. I could not leave this road to a better life for
I am being pulled into oblivion way beyond my strength and
comprehension. I am resolved to believe that my God is in charge of everything,
but I somehow still believe in something sinister in the works.
I have experienced so much pain in my life so far that I don’t
know how to reach for more. I don’t believe that I deserve better. I have been
beaten and abused for most of my life and still don’t comprehend that people
can be better. Life has been harsh and I feel so bruised.
I am being forced to reach to my higher power because I have
nothing left. All of my will is gone. I only want what my God wants. That’s it.
I feel like I’m right on the verge of feeling like a
butterfly. I have one last lie to uncover and I just can’t wait to be who I am
meant to be. I feel like all the barriers are coming down. I feel like I am
finally at the heart of who I really am.
I believe the last lie is that I have never felt beautiful.
All the things done to me and all the bad decisions I’ve made have made me feel
dirty to the core. I feel like I was made this way, like nothing can change it.
But this is a lie.
The truth is I am beautiful exactly the way I am. I don’t
have to try to be anyone else but me. I am designed to perfection to be used
for more than I can realize. I have meaning in this life.I have purpose. I have more to offer than
just weeping and self-destruction.
I want to make a difference. I want to change the world. I