As Christians we are called to be a light in dark places. As a follower of Christ I must warn you that the darkest place I have ever known was within myself. My story is of little significance, Still, I'm compelled to share it with you: not for fame, not for pity but for the glory of God's kingdom. Ordinary, middle class, hard working are some of the words that define my existence. When I see my world from the perspective of Francis Chan's, http://crazylovebook.com/ the God of the universe is unfathomably BIG and by comparison: a speck of dust, a mere vapor lasting only a moment, describes how small I am.
No one is immune from the dark place within themselves. It is the place of self doubt, self loathing, worthlessness: alone we are helpless against the fear and torment evil inflicts upon the weak. I was 11 years old when I attempted suicide. What could be so horrible that a 5th grader would want to die? Feeling insignificant, unwanted, unloved, helpless the same reasons most adults want to "check out early." I lived in a nice house with self-absorbed parents, my step father was good on the surface but was a perverted sick man. I was invisible, seen not heard, a possession not a person. I did not respect my parents instead, I lived in fear of them. I was paralyzed with fear when my parents came home from work each day wondering, what fault they would find with me. I was 30 when I moved past the fear of someone knocking at my door. My family did not attend church and referenced God only when swearing. One night I cried out to God after taking a large bottle of prescription drugs; "Lord, if this is all there is, if my life will never be more than this, please take me from here. If you save me from myself, I promise to never test your will again." I would love to say that I went on to have a perfect existence but this is not fiction. To my horror, I woke up in the hospital and told everyone I had taken the pills because I had a migraine. I was sure my mom was going to kill me when I went home, which would have been a more painful way to go, but would still serve my purpose.
My dysfunctional family called it quits when I was 18. But not before my step-father tried repeatedly to rape me, exposed me to pornography, offered me drugs and exposed himself almost every night. Where was my mother when all this was happening? In the next room. She was pretty much always in a bad mood. I was not a perfect child but I don't think I deserved the verbal and psychological abuse she inflicted on me. When my mother references anything about my childhood, she is quick to point out that I was always dressed nice, played sports, had weekly piano lessons, attended summer camps, monthly trips to the orthodontist for five years, a generous allowance, credit cards, a car when I was 16 and beautiful home. What more could any child want?
To be told you are loved, to feel wanted, to feel valued, for home to be a safe place, this is what every child wants the things money can't buy. I just needed to be loved, instead my mother would say to me, "if I had to do it all over again, I would have never had children" ouch! My mother did not marry my father, a fact she disclosed when I was six years old. I grew up knowing I was a mistake and she reaffirmed this quite often as though she did me a favor by keeping me. She seemed to take great pride in pointing out my mistakes over and over and over again. I'm over 40 and she is still reminding me that she is always right and I have wasted my life making bad decisions. I've always wanted to ask her why I needed so much therapy if she was such a perfect mother. I'm not blaming her for my bad decisions, I take full responsibility for every sin I have committed. I have forgiven everything she said or did to me. So, why bother blogging about it? Because her fits of rage instilled fear, the smallest infraction upon her authority would cause her to FOAM at the mouth and grind her teeth. Her cruel words distorted my view of myself and how I related to other people. If you the reader don't understand her you would be missing a huge part me.
I swore, I would not be anything like my mother. I focused the hate I had for my stepfather into graduating from college. Everything I did in my 20's was directly tied to my childhood. I tried everything to feel valued, too love and be loved. This was hopeless because I did not love myself and felt unworthy of being loved. I knew there was a God in my heart, but my intellect rationalized that God/religion was invented to suppress the masses and that God would never let terrible things happen to children therefore, He must not exist. I was a 26 year-old college graduate; I should have been in control of my life. My past was taking over and pulling me back into the darkness. I was unmarried, 7 months pregnant sitting in a cold swimming pool with a razor blade wanting so much to die. Many people have an agenda when they attempt suicide, both times I wanted to die. I was not "crying out for attention," I desperately wanted to stop the pain. The phrase, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" is a lie. Words hold power, they are as solid and more painful than any object my parents used to inflict pain.
I was 15 when I told my mother about what my stepfather was doing to me. Her first response was disbelief, she told my sister and I that she would have to prove that he was abusing us. Mom purchased a small camera and wanted me to take pictures of him masturbating in front of my sister who was 13 at the time. When this failed she got a neighbor to watch him though the living room curtains. She finally decided to separate from him; mom and I moved into a one room efficiency apartment. She had left him so many times before and always went back. I thought this time she can't go back, this time it will finally be over. The nightmare will be over, but after a few months she told me we were moving back. Mom promised to never leave me alone with him. She had made her choice; a life of money, security and fear over her children. I went to counselling at the United Way and told the psychologist, Mary everything that happened. I told adults what was happening to me and no one reported it to the police. The psychologist said, that I was using my hate in positive ways, but warned that at some point the rage would overcome me and I should be prepared to deal with these issues, when I could no longer control the anger in a positive way.
I was in family court, testifying to every awful detail of my childhood abuse trying to save my adopted 7 year-old sister from my Stepfather. His attorney said, that I was to blame for my younger half-sister being abused 10 years earlier because I never reported the abuse to the authorities. It felt like a knife was stabbing my heart. The hate that I had hidden within myself was so painful that for months I could not stop crying, I was locked in a dark fog and my adopted sister, Sherie was returned to my abuser, and there was nothing I could do to save her. My own self-hate combined with the verbal abuse handed down by my mother while I was pregnant suffering with toxemia/high blood pressure was more than enough pain to warrant suicide on the steps of the swimming pool. I can say without hesitation I would not be here today if I had not been pregnant. I was reminded of the promise I made as a child and could not kill myself and murder a fetus.
I went to a local pro-life charity in Dallas and they arranged for Father Carl Babcock, at St. Francis Episcopal Church, to counsel me. I had never known anyone like him. He helped me overcome the darkness of my depression but more than that, he restored my faith in God. It took months to replace the hate with forgiveness. God's grace was there for the asking, but I was afraid to accept it completely. The little girl inside my mind wanted her mother's approval and love so much that I was willing to allow her to control and verbally abuse me even as an adult. Father Babcock taught me that it was okay to distance myself from this very toxic relationship and forgive not only my parents but myself. Forgiveness was not a gift for my abusers; it was a door that allowed the light into the darkness, changing my role of victim into victor. I have gone years at a time, without speaking to my mother because the condemnation she freely exudes causes old wounds to open.
God did not allow my parents to abuse me. He gave me the strength to endure the abuse. The awe inspiring fact is that yes, God is really big and yet his heart broke with every tear I cried. When I denied him, God did not forsake me. I rationalized, that I had survived, to help someone else navigate the darkness. The most important wisdom that I have had the honor to give; is that God can forgive anything! If life was perfect no one would need God. God does not require us to be perfect, if you accept Christ without forgiving yourself and those who hurt you, then your missing the point of his sacrifice. Christ paid for our forgiveness. If God in his greatness can forgive me, then how do I, only a speck of imperfection within the universe, justify denying myself and everyone who ever hurt me the same forgiveness. Letting go of the pain is a process, very few people have ability to completely forgive on the first go-round. Some people don't have the courage to let go of the pain. Courage is having faith when all hope is gone. Have faith give yourself permission to have the courage to let go and let God work through your brokenness.
The gift of time is that it changes your perspective. The disasters of youth will seem a lifetime ago when your 30. Every stage of life gives you the opportunity to have a "do over" a chance to change. Too many people lock themselves within the darkness of grief and depression, never allowing themselves to be hurt. They stop taking risk and insulate themselves from feeling joy or pain. When death feels like the only way out of an overwhelming situation, wait at least one year and I'm certain; either you would have missed out on something wonderful or that another person's disaster will make you grateful for your own mess. Tomorrow just might be the greatest day of your life, if you give into the voice of fear you will have missed a blessing. Every problem can be resolved with Time, Forgiveness and God's love. The secret is in the waiting. Waiting for God to work through your worst moment to inspire others or yourself to greatness is to live Braverly.
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