My Story, Part Three

AVADIJ

2 Timothy 1:8-10 (New International Version)
So do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or ashamed of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God, who has saved us and called us to a holy life—not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.

Warning - This is another difficult read and is at least as hard for me to type as it might be for you to read, but I feel like there are women out there who need to know there is hope and recovery after sexual abuse.

As this is Part Three, you may want to start with Part One.

After I posted Part Two yesterday, I realized something I'd said and I think I should re-word part of it. I said at the end of the post that the "good girl" decided to just be the "bad girl". I'm not sure that's true. I don't think I ever meant to be the "bad girl" at all. I think I was just dealing with what I had been through in the best way I knew how, though people looking at me during that time period probably did see me as the "bad girl".

It's just still so confusing to me why a girl who has been sexually abused will typically act out in a sexual way. I have never quite figured that one out and believe me, I've searched for an answer. If you have any insight about that, I'd love for you to share it with me.

As I said before, I don't think I ever intentionally went into the kind of behavior that I engaged in during my teen years. I tried for many years to hold on to some semblance of purity for myself and for the man I would eventually marry. But then I never considered the fact that someone else would come and rip that away from me.

On July 4th of 1980, about a month and a half after I turned 15 I was raped. The man who did it was a complete stranger my parents had brought home from a drunken party. I didn't tell my parents because I felt like it was my fault. I tried to tell a few friends (if that is what you would call them) including my recent ex-boyfriend, but got no support at all. In fact, the ex-boyfriend insinuated that I deserved what I got. I didn't know what else to do, so I just tried to forget.

After that incident I lost my hope and began to act out in the way I had been taught, as a sexual thing. I don't think I felt valued in any other way, to be honest. Plus, I felt that I had lost everything worth saving anyway.

Through everything that had happened to me, I had prayed for God to make it stop. He never did and I wondered if he was even there. Around this time in my life, I memorized the Psalm 23 and found comfort in that somehow. I didn't understand it, but I tried.

Thankfully, soon after I found a steady boyfriend and dated him for a year and a half. It wasn't a great relationship at all, but when I was dating someone I was only with him, no one else. So even though it wasn't the best thing, it was probably better for me than what might've happened were I not with him.

Toward the end of my relationship with that steady boyfriend I met my best friend in high school, Dana. Dana was a freshman and I was a junior and we met in the school choir. She was the complete opposite of me in every way. She was so totally the goodie goodie type and would never think of doing the things I was doing in my life (which now included a large amount of alcohol and a little bit of drugs). We also looked funny walking around together too as she was almost 6 foot tall while I was a tiny 4 feet 11 inches. We were Mutt and Jeff with two totally different outlooks on life.

Dana had experienced some difficulties in her life too and maybe that's what drew us to each other. She was from a broken home and didn't have a whole lot of Christian guidance. Still, Dana was a strong Christian who prayed all the time, mostly for me I think..lol. She went to church and read her bible and encouraged me to do the same. She even gave me a bible with the verse Job 42:10 written in it (that would come to mean so much to me many years later).

I had accepted Christ and been baptized when I was 8 yrs. old, but since then I hadn't had much other contact with the church since my mother called herself an agnostic at the time and my dad was an atheist. Dana went to a couple of different churches while I knew her and I went to church with her. Then I ended up in situations that just made me question God more and made me feel lesser.

There was one time when I decided to re-dedicate myself to the Lord (or maybe to be "re-saved"...I'm not sure). Then I was told by someone in that church that if you didn't speak in tongues, then you weren't saved. I wanted so badly to begin speaking in tongues at that moment, but I wasn't going to start fake babbling as I suspected some were doing in that large room full of people. I felt totally defeated and thought that maybe God didn't want me.

Dana and I later tried another "church" that was a little strange. A group of people met in each other's homes and one of the odd things they would say was that my worrying was going to cause bad things to actually happen. I believed them and that made me worry even more. They also tried to get us to come up with money to give them. Neither of us had any money at all, nor did our families and the group became less interested with us. Around that time, Dana's mom figured out that we were involved in some type of cult. Dana didn't want to believe it and was totally heartbroken. I on the other hand, wasn't totally shocked that there were bad people in the world.

There were several times over my teen and young adult years that I was lured by different so called "christian churches" and I am thankful that the Lord spoke to me in a small quiet voice that said..that's not it...that's not what you're looking for... I am also thankful that the Lord sent Dana to pray for me and for my family. I know she prayed for my mom and dad too, even though she must've known they thought she was just one of those weird christians (my dad would mockingly call her "the virgin mary" behind her back).

Once I graduated high school and got married Dana and I stopped hanging out together, but I truly believe that her prayers for me then helped me to get to the place I am today.

More to come later.... :)

My Story, Part Two

AVADIJ

Psalm 4:4 (New International Version) In your anger do not sin; when you are on your beds, search your hearts and be silent. Selah

WARNING -- This may be difficult for some to read.

To start with Part 1 of the Story, Click here.

I picked the verse of the day today because it was an eye opening experience for me a few years ago when I realized that anger is not a sin. The result of what you do with your anger may be a sin, but the anger itself is not. That's not what I was taught by my mother who grew up reading and studying her bible intently. She even had a five year pin for not missing sunday school a single time during a period of her teen years. So she thought she knew her bible pretty well. And after the way she reacted when I called and asked her if she knew that anger isn't a sin, I'm pretty sure she still thinks she's right.

I actually went to biblegateway.com to search for another verse, Ephesians 4:26 which says "In your anger do not sin": Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry.., but then the verse I did pick popped up in the search and it seemed more fitting to the story because of the part that talks about being in bed, searching your heart. That's something that is very familiar to me because so much of what was done to me as a child was done in my own bed.

The part of the verse that is not as familiar is the part about being angry at all. That's because for years I felt no anger. I didn't allow myself to feel anger. I believed that anger was a sin and I was trying so hard to be a good little girl. I also wanted to be like my mother, who I thought was near perfect at the time. So I wasn't angry about any of the things that happened to me, not until I was well into adulthood.

I know now that I had plenty of reason to be angry, but it took me many years to come to grips with that. I was violated and things were taken from me that I believed could never be restored. The part of me that should have been saved for my future husband was made unclean.

I remember lying in my bed at night, holding my breath in an attempt to make my father believe I was asleep so that maybe he would leave me alone. Of course that never worked and he would do what he wanted to do, while I begged him not to. That being said, he had a way of making me believe that I was actually consenting by telling me he needed this and if I loved him, I would do it. At the time, I rationalized that this must be a normal part of growing up and that this must happen to all little girls. Why else would my father do this?

Later in my life I struggled to understand why I was who I was and why I felt things that I felt. My father's manipulation led to the misunderstanding on my part later, that since I had not physically fought him off, I had been guilty of allowing the acts perpetrated against me. As a result and in a way I still don't completely understand, the "good girl" decided to just be the "bad girl". After all, that's what men wanted from me anyway.

I really don't want to stop here, but I really need a break from this. So I must continue later. Just know that there really is a victory coming...

Click Here for Part Three

The Joy Fairy a.k.a My Story

***WARNING***

This post has some things in it that may be hard for some to read.

I work with special ed. at a middle school and one of the sweet kids I work with told me the other day that she thinks I should be called the "joy fairy". I absolutely love that! How awesome it is to me that the joy of the Lord within me is evident to a child! When I stop and consider what I’ve been through in my life, it’s hard for even me to imagine how I could be filled with such joy. It wasn’t always like that for me…

Usually, when I tell my story I rattle it off like a laundry list. I think I do that as a way of disassociating from all of it. I also am seldom able to remember the whole list at once and my memories can be sketchy. I’m sure that is because it’s all a little overwhelming. Anyway, so here is the laundry list…

At around 5 years old my grandfather called me and my sister (she was about 3) into the restroom at his house and proceeded to expose himself to us.

At close to the same age, I watched as a 13 yr. old boy molested my sister. He was the son of the woman who ran our daycare center.

My own father began molesting me at around the age of 8 (at least that’s the age I first remember anything happening…I have a strong feeling there are a lot of things I don’t remember where that is concerned).

When I was 12 I ran away from home, the police found me and I told them about what my dad had done; from what I understand, there wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute so within a couple of weeks things were status quo…this is actually one of the most traumatic of my life experiences because it made me feel like they didn’t believe me.

When I was 15 I was raped and over the next three years (until I was married) I found myself in several other situations where I was sexually assaulted; some would argue that I put myself into those situations.

When I was 17 my ex-boyfriend committed suicide on homecoming night of our senior year.

Also when I was 17 I was in a convenience store when a man walked in, pulled out a gun and told the checker and me to go lie face down on the floor in the back of the store; he then robbed the store and walked out (I’d heard before of a story where something similar had happened, only the robber shot those people in the back of the head).

I know there are several other things that could be added to the list since I don’t ever remember all of it at once, but I guess you get the point. I’ve seen some tough times in my life. As a result, for a long time fear completely ruled my life. I was always waiting for the next bad thing to happen and always trying to keep the bad things from happening.

In my mid-30s some other things occurred that again shook me and after so many years of trying to carry the load on my own, I finally got to the point where I just couldn’t do it any longer. That’s when I finally let my mind go quiet enough that I started to understand how God wanted me to live. And that’s when things began to change for me… (to be continued…)

You can find Part Two Here, and Part Three Here