Nov 202015
 


It had been a long time since I felt safe, too long, maybe even a lifetime, and then I was wrapped up in blankets on a hard mattress being checked every 20 mins through a little window on the door and all I did was sleep. It was a Friday when I went in. A Friday morning and I never felt safer because like the character, Spencer, says on Pretty Little Liars, “I feel safe here. Those bars don’t just keep you from getting out, they keep other people from getting in.”

He wouldn’t be getting in. He wouldn’t be torturing me, raping me. My thoughts were my own and I could do whatever I wanted and what I wanted was to rest. It was the Monday morning when I walked out the doors. I had slept the entire time, other than a few showers. They were worried because I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t eating because I was tired. Oh so very tired.

I never knew how much stress I had been under all of those years until the pressure was alleviated for those brief moments and honestly, I didn’t want to go home and out of my safe cocoon.

Years later and I still struggle to feel safe. I still crave those moments of reprieve that I had experienced. The weight of the world off my shoulder and no one to walk by my window to steal me in the night, no one to kill me like he has promised.

I didn’t know then that I would spiral down into an abyss that I would barely survive, I didn’t know that the god who I had believed was the reason for my abuse was the one who would reach down deep into the pits of my own hell and offer me a saving hand. I didn’t know to not be afraid of the light because the darkness was all that I knew.

Almost 11 years later and I still struggle with feeling safe. With being me. With not panicking at every dog bark or knock in the night. I have come out of hiding and I have placed my trust in the God that saves because this is the only way for me to actually have a life and I try to focus on the Word of God, the Words that tell me to not worry about tomorrow.

So each day when I feel myself falling into worry or panic or stress I have to treat myself like I am a toddler and give it back to God and if I have to do that 1000 times a day I will because if I don’t I am giving evil a foothold on my life and we all know that one step leads to the next and I would rather be making godly steps then allowing Satan to step all over me.

It will be my heel to crush his skull and not him who stomps me down.

27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[a]?
~Matthew 6:27~

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Nov 192015
 

I didn’t just dwell on the past, I lived there, for years and years and even more years and sometimes when I am not careful to be present my mind slips right on back into the black and abusive abyss, haunting my thoughts both day and night.

There is no one way to move forward though, no way to get over the PTSD. I take meds, a LOT of meds. I have actually posted pictures of my meds on Instagram because of how disgusted I am in having to take them, but they are what allows for me to be focused enough on the present and the future that I can actually live with my past. They free me from the phantom chains and release me into the loving arms of God.

For a long time I would dwell on the fact that suicide attempts never worked and “God never wanted me back” or “God won’t even take me, nobody wants me”. Somewhere along the jagged, slippery road I have realized that He is the only One who ALWAYS wants me. ALWAYS loves me. Even at my worst. Even when I have sat there bleeding out and overdosed He breathed life into my lungs and told me it wasn’t my time and He planted seeds of purpose that the meds have allowed to finally grow!

I was raised Catholic. I always had at least a Bible or two around and I had read through it in it’s entirety several times before I was done middle school. Yet, I didn’t dwell on the words or let the Word dwell in me. I didn’t allow God’s love to flow into me even though I had accepted Him as my Lord and Saviour. I knew the words on the pages, and the pages knew me, but we had little connection.

I look back now and I see that hell on earth and I know without a doubt that had I not went through all of that I wouldn’t be where I am spiritually today. I wouldn’t be blessed to be able to say “I understand”. I wouldn’t be able to listen with an emphatic ear or pray from my heart words that bring a world of welled up tears.

I have felt like Job and even used Job 3 as a suicide note. You see how distorted the Bible can become in the mind of someone who is completely undone? Now I feel more like those who were in the lineage of Jesus, right back to Genesis –the Beginning. Where polygamy and sin ultimately led to David and from the stump of Jesse we received Jesus!! I feel like that, like all of my ugly-sin is sending out shoots and new life and growth.

I am not healed, but I am whole.

When I feel like my life is less than, I know that God will use those moments to give me a more than opportunity. Will I go down in some great book centuries old? Not likely, BUT that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t turn life around and be an example to the people I interact with and impact every day.

I will not only dwell in His home forever, but forever He will dwell in me!

Oct 202015
 

Sometimes I wonder why my heart feels shattered but then I read your words and I know
I ask myself what I did wrong hoping that one day I’ll be good enough for my dreams to grow
The birds whistle regardless of whether or not they are free
Envious, I cry to myself thinking why can’t their songs belong to me?
Who am I in this life or the next when I am perplexed by the dangers of this awful hex…
Looking into the souls of those I once loved
I realize I am trapped being pushed and shoved
The chains are still on my ankles and wrists
Even the days where they are nothing more than a phantom mist
I am held firmly stuck in the past always succeeding yet coming in last
Giving more of myself then I knew I had, can giving of yourself turn out bad?
Licking the dryness of my weathered lips reminds me of the hands that scolded me while resting on hips
Smiling because I see her once again I know I am safe from myself yet another time
Playing these games that are supposed to be life, I can’t help but wonder which life is mine
Battered and bruised and down on my knees another day has passed with me unsuccessfully begging please
It doesn’t take a fist to bruise my soul
It doesn’t take dirt to bury me in a shallow hole
Living is pain and I often can’t breathe
No matter how hard I try God won’t let me leave.

Oct 142015
 

Yeah, you put on the white cloak and you sat there at my bedside when the world was completely engulfed in all things dark. You convinced me that I was to suffer and be in pain and feel the sting of the whip crack against my broken flesh because I couldn’t be obedient to Jesus holy name.

Then, one day the truth poked through and I knew it was live or die. I wouldn’t let you win – not this time.

It was a dark and cold February night as I fought for my life in a battle with you, the person who claimed to have the One on your side. You raped me –torn, bloody, raw. To prove that you were a man to be obeyed. You held a knife to me, you choked me, you knocked me out but the real God prevailed and He got me out.

The priest cupped my hands firmly 4 months after that night and her words stuck with me. “Even Satan can read. He is the master manipulator, the father of lies.”


Tears flowed down my cheeks –a release that I had been holding onto, holding in –the pain was killing me. I held the Bible firmly and slept with it under my pillow trying to pray the past away. In search of the true Truth and not the one I was forced to obey.

My notebooks grew thick as I began to study, read and write. It was God in and evil out throughout the day and night. I was on the hunt for the One who protects and does not hurt, the One who saves because He was the sacrifice, the One who forgives those who society won’t redeem, the God who came to earth with skin on to fulfill prophesy of old.

Somewhere along the broken road without even realizing I had done it – I believed, I had accepted Christ into my heart and life was finally looking up, the clouds still lingered and the pain of the past still stung-fresh, but above every dark cloud there was Light and every shadow was cast by the Light and when I realized that there could be no shadow if the Light didn’t exist I knew that I was on the path just right.

And so my notes have grown and my heart has not only found God but it’s a place in which He resides, the weary-drained no longer steals from my soul because the angels with their swords aflame keep the evil one out. When I do see his ugly face my tongue becomes the whip and the lashes that make him flee are scripture on my tongue.

I am saved. I am free. I am redeemed.

In whom we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace;
~Ephesians 1:7 (KJV)~

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Oct 032015
 

The depression weighed heavy on my chest, panic setting in and I wasn’t able to breathe. I held the razor tight in my right hand as it slipped over and over and over across the flesh of my left forearm and wrist. Blood drip-dripping onto the bandage already laid out.

Fog in my brain covering everything, every positive emotion and separating me from God. The words of those who cared bouncing off of me like I had a force field around me that only accepted negativity and bounced away love.

Trapped in my own head. Blaming myself for the miscarriages and a billion other things. Feeling worthless enough to write in my own blood, scrawled across the wall, “God won’t even take me back”. Part of me knew that this suicide attempt wasn’t going to be successful. I knew God wasn’t taking me home. I was enraged at Him. I remember saying “if this is eternal life than I don’t want it!!”


I took rat poison, sleeping pills, medication to prevent nausea and chased it all with a bottle of rye. I meant business. I really wanted to die.

I needed the pain to end and that was the only thing I could focus on. The ONLY THING.

I remember my mom’s words echoing in my head when they found me “am I that bad of a mother…?” No mom, you aren’t…. I am just in that much pain inside and I don’t know how to let it out. I am scared to live, afraid to die and living in a world where the only constant is hurt. I didn’t know how to tell her that though. I didn’t know how to tell myself that either.

A few weeks later I sat there, in my own hell. All I remember is a nurse, Trevor, holding me down and sedating me. I was told the next day that I was ripping my hair out claiming bugs were in me and that I was a murderer for my lost babies.

The Lord of Life is My Shepherd

It was then that I finally got real help. Life began to turn up from there. Medications help, I sought out God and somewhere along the way through therapies and friendship I managed to realize that I was going to be okay –even when I feel anything but. The pain still comes, it overwhelms but it passes and I can be happy the next day. I pull near to God, I still take my meds. I pray that I never fall into that pit again.

I know a lot of people have had suicide attempts or lost someone from suicide. It is NOT your fault. It is NOT their fault either. You cannot rationalize with an irrational and sick mind. People who hurt deep down are experts at hiding that pain and wearing a smile bright, cracking jokes and laughing. We are chameleons who blend right in, and then when we are alone the darkness creeps in.

My family has a long history of suicides, on both sides, and I know firsthand the damage it does to the survivors and how it feels to be the one teetering on the edge. I had no intention of writing about this tonight, but it’s what flowed out. The fall is the time of year in which I have had all of my miscarriages so it is easy for me to get down. I am not depressed or suicidal right now, only thinking back on years past and praising the Lord for the medications and the therapists who have helped me overcome those rough years of my life. Without Him, I wouldn’t be. Had He answered my prayer and called me Home my children wouldn’t have a mother and my mother wouldn’t have a daughter.

If you feel depressed or down or have had these thoughts seek help, you may feel broken, but there is glue to put you back together again! God has this, God has YOU!

Aug 272015
 



Weak as I am the emotions run strong, often ruling with an iron fist that I can’t evade, escape.
Maybe I don’t want to. Held here by the fear of the past even though handing it to God sounds easy.
Who are you? Who am I? What am I supposed to do?
Forgiving those who’ve trespassed against me, and trusting the world are two different things.
All life is bigger, bigger than you, and I said too much.
And that’s me in the corner losing my religion –while growing my faith.
‘Here I am before you, falling in love and seeking Your truth
Knowing that Your perfect grace has brought me to this place
Because of You I freely live, my life to You, oh God, I give
So I stand before you God
I lift my voice because You set me free
So I shout out your name, from the rooftops I proclaim – I am Yours, I am Yours!’
That’s me in the corner. Sorry I am bad. Please don’t go away.
Doubts dart frantically through the broken night’s sky.
Dream. Cheat. You let me down. Six feet underground. I might as well.
Have a little fun. Do all the things you do. Inspire. Carry on. Have you ever?
Breaking things we can’t repair. None of us will take the blame.
Will the running river reflect me as the shadow of death or will the light hidden deep in my soul shine bright?
Paradise.
Old. Grandmotherly, mischievous, the undead. Shadows follow everywhere I go. Feelings of unease, displeased. How do I know?
The Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
Casting demons out and running the Legion over the edge.
Why pick on me? My friends? Please don’t take him even though you can.
The Northern Lights dancing in the darkened evening sky
Domed around me begging me to dance with them in return.
And like every day, God paints the sky just for me.
One with the earth, the heavens and everything between.

May 212015
 

This bit of scripture seems to follow me wherever I go “on the wings of an eagle we will rise”. I first heard it in a song by Steve Bell, called Wings of an Eagle. I heard it standing there in our church as he strummed the guitar and we all listened to this beautiful song, telling us that no matter the situation, we will rise if we simply allow ourselves to soar on the wings of eagles, or through God.

I was in an extremely abusive situation at the time and I was a teen mom –before being a teen mom was “cool”. The tickets were bought for us by another family in the church and for the first time in a long time I felt hope. I felt like I could rise out of the dust of my life and truly hope in the Lord.

The scripture based song has stuck with me, been on all of my playlists and is etched in my memory. I feel like in a lot of ways this scripture saved me from that chaotic mess. I feel like that song re-introduced me to the true Bible and moved me away from a Bible that had been distorted by man for the purpose of abusing me in the name of God.

 

31 but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:31 (NIV)


 

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