"It is the support and care and love you give yourself that gives you the real strength to care for and love others." Oprah Winfrey
I want to make a difference. I want to impact others in positive ways. I know it has to start with me. - Taking care of myself, honoring the life God blessed me with; embracing all of who I am; the good, the bad and the ugly. Accepting me just as I am. That is a tough thing to do some days. For years I berated myself for not being good enough. I did to myself what those who hurt me, did to me. I called myself names when I couldn't do something. I hurt myself to try to stop being afraid or when I felt vulnerable and weak. I refused to eat and threw up when I did because I believed I had no right to exist. That's what I was told. That's what I accepted.
The cult of deception: - lies I believed. Lies that almost destroyed me. Lies that kept me in a cycle of pain. I lived my life based on those lies. The lies made me sick. I had persistent panic attacks. Simply walking down the street triggered them. My stomach hurt. I felt dizzy, lightheaded. My perceptions became distorted and my heart raced. I felt like I was losing control and was powerless to stop it. I obsessed about the fear of being seen. Being seen meant getting hurt - I spent a lifetime hiding.
But amazingly God touched me. Broke the curse of deception. Cut the cords of despair. Filled me with a joy that bubbled and overflowed. The self-destructive behaviours continued. My need to hide persisted, except now I felt I wasn't alone in the dance anymore.
I started reading the Bible. I discovered its power of truth was able to dispel the darkness. I read and reread and learned I was made in His image. I found out I was the apple of His eye. I learned He wanted to set me free.
I moved with caution, but at least I moved. For every two steps forward I was thrown one back. I became frustrated, angry, overwhelmed. But I sensed His Spirit whispering encouragement, prodding me to keep taking a step, then another, and then another.
His touch empowered me. He poured His love into my broken spirit. Somehow His gentleness made a difference. There were days I was so consumed with self-hate that I raised my fist in the air and screamed at Him, daring Him to kill me. Amazingly, instead, He whispered words of peace. The presence of His love walked me through the lies and the pain - He taught me new ways to cope - running, nature, friends, His Word.
I want to partner with Him to help others find freedom. I live with tremendous gratitude.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Opening Your Heart To Others
"The less you open your heart to others, the more your heart suffers." Deepak Chopra
For years I lived with the fear of being seen. Having been beaten and bullied as a child by both my parents and later held in a cult for six months and raped, I lived in fear, trusting nobody. In my mind, people were to be avoided. I saw everyone as an enemy that wanted to hurt me. I hated them and I hated me. The people in my world taught me, - I was bad, wrong, good only to be used, abused, hurt. I became angry, very angry, a fighter. Having nowhere to put that rage, I turned it on myself.
My body became the battleground for my self-loathing. I tried to make myself disappear by becoming so thin I could hardly stand without feeling dizzy. I was freezing all the time. I dressed in black, covering my entire body even in the warmest summer weather. I cut my arms and legs until I couldn't stand the pain. It was a way to numb out and not feel, except then, I cut myself again to feel, to know I was still alive. I felt nothing. Only anger. Only fear.
Then something happened. One day, God broke the chains that held me so tight in their grip. I don't know why He chose me. Some of my friends died by their own hand or by accident. I lived on the edge like them. Their fate should have been mine. But He touched me. Freed me. Poured out His grace, His favor in such a gentle way - I was no more deserving than they. Sometimes I wonder, why me? Mostly now, I'm just grateful.
God showed me I need people. Safe people. I need them to heal. They mirror who I really am. They help me grow in self-confidence and freedom. They reflect the healing power of His love to me. All the abuse took place in relation to others. In the same way, I have learned healing comes in relation to others.
From the moment He touched me, I felt safe in His love, His presence. I opened up to God. I trusted Him. Then He asked me to open my heart to another, and then another and then another.......
Opening my heart to others wasn't easy. I resisted. I struggled. I felt His patience, His gentleness, the warmth of His love prompting me, reminding me I wasn't alone.
Sometimes I still experience the fear of being seen and the need to hide. I get ansy being with people too long, especially when I'm tired.
I will keep opening my heart to others. Something magical happens everytime I do. The fear of being seen diminshes a bit more. The need to hide isn't as great.
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Impact of Kindness
"Forget injuries. Never forget kindness." Chinese Proverb
An act of kindness never goes without it having some impact on the recipient. During those years I lived on the street, there were a number of people who reached out to me and whose thoughtful actions, I have never forgotten.
One such person was a bank manager. I walked into a Royal Bank, completely stoned and asked to speak to the manager. He came out of his office dressed in a three piece suit, looking so professional. I, on the other hand, wore tattered faded jeans and a short sleeve tee, extremely thin, dark track marks from the needles running along the inside of my arms, the pupils in my eyes wide, like green smarties. Regardless of what he saw when he looked at me, this man treated me with respect. Ushering me into his office, he asked how he could help me. Feeling a bit sheepish, I asked for a $100 loan.
I can still see him, - standing up, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing me the money. I promised to pay him back and I did. When I got my cheque, I went back to see him and paid him the $100.
That became a monthly ritual for the two of us. Mid-month, I went to see him, asked for a loan and just as he did that first time, he always handed me the money, no questions asked. At the beginning of every month, I went to pay him back until I ended up in the hospital. I never saw him again after that.
I don't know why he did what he did, but I have never forgotten his act of kindness, his generosity or his acceptance. He impacted me and helped to shape who I am today.
God's angels. I want to be like that bank manager. He taught me a valuable lesson. In my world, at that time, I had experienced no kindness, only brutality. It was not the $100 he gave me, but the lesson, - that every human being has worth. I have never forgotten him nor his act of kindness.
I want to be like that bank manger to whoever is put along my path. I want to convey what he had shown me; - each person has worth. We are all made in God's image. I have learned that just simply by looking at someone's outward appearance, we don't know what has happened or is happening in their lives. To walk in gentleness, to move in love and be His vessel to bring about peace and healing is my deepest longing.
An act of kindness never goes without it having some impact on the recipient. During those years I lived on the street, there were a number of people who reached out to me and whose thoughtful actions, I have never forgotten.
One such person was a bank manager. I walked into a Royal Bank, completely stoned and asked to speak to the manager. He came out of his office dressed in a three piece suit, looking so professional. I, on the other hand, wore tattered faded jeans and a short sleeve tee, extremely thin, dark track marks from the needles running along the inside of my arms, the pupils in my eyes wide, like green smarties. Regardless of what he saw when he looked at me, this man treated me with respect. Ushering me into his office, he asked how he could help me. Feeling a bit sheepish, I asked for a $100 loan.
I can still see him, - standing up, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing me the money. I promised to pay him back and I did. When I got my cheque, I went back to see him and paid him the $100.
That became a monthly ritual for the two of us. Mid-month, I went to see him, asked for a loan and just as he did that first time, he always handed me the money, no questions asked. At the beginning of every month, I went to pay him back until I ended up in the hospital. I never saw him again after that.
I don't know why he did what he did, but I have never forgotten his act of kindness, his generosity or his acceptance. He impacted me and helped to shape who I am today.
God's angels. I want to be like that bank manager. He taught me a valuable lesson. In my world, at that time, I had experienced no kindness, only brutality. It was not the $100 he gave me, but the lesson, - that every human being has worth. I have never forgotten him nor his act of kindness.
I want to be like that bank manger to whoever is put along my path. I want to convey what he had shown me; - each person has worth. We are all made in God's image. I have learned that just simply by looking at someone's outward appearance, we don't know what has happened or is happening in their lives. To walk in gentleness, to move in love and be His vessel to bring about peace and healing is my deepest longing.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
"Not to know the past is to be in bondage to it, while to remember, to know, is to be set free." Dr. Sigmund Freud
Nobody knew. I never spoke about it. I never told anyone. I carried the shame, the terror inside. I couldn't face what happened so I pushed it down, way down, deep inside. I didn't want anyone to know. I thought everyone would think I was disgusting and horrible.
The years have gone by. Last April while sitting at my computer, thoughts of what happened popped into my mind. Just like that. Out of the blue. Closing my eyes I could see it as if it were happening all over again. I became ill. I stopped eating. I sat in the dark for days.
I hadn't thought about it for years. Why now? I started to write. I wrote in the third person, as if it happened to someone else and not me. As I wrote, I connected with people, - people who knew, people who told me he had gone to jail for some of the things he did, people who said I could still lay charges.
Last summer I went back to that house where he held me, a prisoner, for six months. That big black iron gate surrounding the property was gone. It was replaced by a small one in front of the house. It shocked me to see how close the neighbours had been, yet no one heard anything, no one came to help. I went through every room of that house, like a holocust survivor returning to face the camps. I needed to put it to rest. I needed to let it go.
Running through the woods, I can feel my hearting pumping hard, my breathing strong, my body one with nature. - Here in the midst of God's creation, I feel free, alive. The whispering of His voice in my spirit gives me a deep sense of peace. I survived. Now I can tell. Now I can speak about what happened. Somehow God empowered me. He reached through the terror and shame - He set me free. Because of what He did, I want to tell. I want to say what happened. For His glory.
Nobody knew. I never spoke about it. I never told anyone. I carried the shame, the terror inside. I couldn't face what happened so I pushed it down, way down, deep inside. I didn't want anyone to know. I thought everyone would think I was disgusting and horrible.
The years have gone by. Last April while sitting at my computer, thoughts of what happened popped into my mind. Just like that. Out of the blue. Closing my eyes I could see it as if it were happening all over again. I became ill. I stopped eating. I sat in the dark for days.
I hadn't thought about it for years. Why now? I started to write. I wrote in the third person, as if it happened to someone else and not me. As I wrote, I connected with people, - people who knew, people who told me he had gone to jail for some of the things he did, people who said I could still lay charges.
Last summer I went back to that house where he held me, a prisoner, for six months. That big black iron gate surrounding the property was gone. It was replaced by a small one in front of the house. It shocked me to see how close the neighbours had been, yet no one heard anything, no one came to help. I went through every room of that house, like a holocust survivor returning to face the camps. I needed to put it to rest. I needed to let it go.
Running through the woods, I can feel my hearting pumping hard, my breathing strong, my body one with nature. - Here in the midst of God's creation, I feel free, alive. The whispering of His voice in my spirit gives me a deep sense of peace. I survived. Now I can tell. Now I can speak about what happened. Somehow God empowered me. He reached through the terror and shame - He set me free. Because of what He did, I want to tell. I want to say what happened. For His glory.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
In the Eye of Deception
Soon to be Pubished: Book - In the Eye of Deception
No one knows what goes on behind closed doors. Raised in a middle-class family, from the outside everything looked good, but inside our home, I lived in fear and terror from the volatile rages of my father, and from the constant criticisms and name calling of my mother. As a young girl, I learned to hide and to feel ashamed of who I was. I came to believe I had no right to exist. Turning to self-destructive coping behaviours; a fourteen year drug addiction, an eating disorder and self-mutilation, I sought to punish myself for just being alive. In my late teens, I was pulled into a cult where I was confined for six months and raped.
This is a story of coming to faith in God but continuing to live less than a victorious Christian. It is a story about becoming whole through facing the pain of child abuse, confinement and rape and learning to trust God to provide freedom from the crippling effects of shame and fear.
This book is one of hope and faith. The message is clear, - no darkness is so black, no valley so deep, God cannot redeem it for His glory.
No one knows what goes on behind closed doors. Raised in a middle-class family, from the outside everything looked good, but inside our home, I lived in fear and terror from the volatile rages of my father, and from the constant criticisms and name calling of my mother. As a young girl, I learned to hide and to feel ashamed of who I was. I came to believe I had no right to exist. Turning to self-destructive coping behaviours; a fourteen year drug addiction, an eating disorder and self-mutilation, I sought to punish myself for just being alive. In my late teens, I was pulled into a cult where I was confined for six months and raped.
This is a story of coming to faith in God but continuing to live less than a victorious Christian. It is a story about becoming whole through facing the pain of child abuse, confinement and rape and learning to trust God to provide freedom from the crippling effects of shame and fear.
This book is one of hope and faith. The message is clear, - no darkness is so black, no valley so deep, God cannot redeem it for His glory.
I Keep My Ideals
"I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart." Anne Frank
For too many years I lived with anger, hating those who hurt me and wanting revenge. The rage burned inside me. I took it out on myself, numbing out with anything destructive I could think of. I believed I had no right to exist, no right to life. One amazing day, God touched me. He broke the chains. He poured out His love. I stopped hating. I couldn't anymore. His love was too great. I learned to forgive. It wasn't easy. A part of me still wanted to punish those who hurt me so bad. And then I began to realize, at some point in their lives, they too were hurt. Someone did to them what they had done to me. Maybe it was done in different ways, but they were victims too. I want to strive to be part of the solution of healing.
There are days I am consumed by what happened. It makes me want to hide, to disappear and I have to remind myself, what happened does not define who I am. And just maybe what they did to me, doesn't define who they really are too.
For too many years I lived with anger, hating those who hurt me and wanting revenge. The rage burned inside me. I took it out on myself, numbing out with anything destructive I could think of. I believed I had no right to exist, no right to life. One amazing day, God touched me. He broke the chains. He poured out His love. I stopped hating. I couldn't anymore. His love was too great. I learned to forgive. It wasn't easy. A part of me still wanted to punish those who hurt me so bad. And then I began to realize, at some point in their lives, they too were hurt. Someone did to them what they had done to me. Maybe it was done in different ways, but they were victims too. I want to strive to be part of the solution of healing.
There are days I am consumed by what happened. It makes me want to hide, to disappear and I have to remind myself, what happened does not define who I am. And just maybe what they did to me, doesn't define who they really are too.
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Secret of Redemption
"In remembrance is the secret of redemption." Jewish Saying
It's so hard to reflect back to the pain of what happened, but there is also healing in looking at those things that shaped us and made us who we are today. In writing my story, "In the Eye of Deception," there were times I felt like it was happening all over again. The memory clips screamed at me, the sounds, the intense feelings, and even the shame and fear hit me so hard that I thought I would become consumed in them. Yet, as I wrote, God took the healing to a whole new level. He led some wonderful people into my life who I was able to share the pain with, and who could handle my inability to talk during those times the memories overwhelmed me. They offered support and friendship on such a deep level that I still marvel how awesome God is in giving us what we need. My faith is my anchor. It is my strength to move forward. It gives me the courage to look head on what happened and not turn away. It is my hope and prayer that I can use all that I lived through to touch someone else on their journey to healing and recovery. There is something else in remembrance - deep gratitude. My heart swells with thankfulness to a God who reached through the layers of pain and drew me out of deep darkness into His marvelous light.
It's so hard to reflect back to the pain of what happened, but there is also healing in looking at those things that shaped us and made us who we are today. In writing my story, "In the Eye of Deception," there were times I felt like it was happening all over again. The memory clips screamed at me, the sounds, the intense feelings, and even the shame and fear hit me so hard that I thought I would become consumed in them. Yet, as I wrote, God took the healing to a whole new level. He led some wonderful people into my life who I was able to share the pain with, and who could handle my inability to talk during those times the memories overwhelmed me. They offered support and friendship on such a deep level that I still marvel how awesome God is in giving us what we need. My faith is my anchor. It is my strength to move forward. It gives me the courage to look head on what happened and not turn away. It is my hope and prayer that I can use all that I lived through to touch someone else on their journey to healing and recovery. There is something else in remembrance - deep gratitude. My heart swells with thankfulness to a God who reached through the layers of pain and drew me out of deep darkness into His marvelous light.
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