Book Give Away

"Not to transmit an experience is to betray it." Eli Wiesel

It took me one year to write what I lived. One year to put it down on paper. One year to remember how far down He had reached to pull me out. One year of fighting within myself to finally come to the place of letting Him use what I lived - to give hope - to someone else.   

It is a story I had never told; I kept it all inside. I started to wonder if it was some crazy dream, or if it had even happened at all. Sometimes I thought maybe I had made it up. Other times I thought it wasn’t that bad – it was no big deal. But last year people I hadn’t seen in a while started surfacing: family, friends... people who knew. “You’re a miracle,” they said. “How did you survive?” 
 “Survive?” “Miracle?”  What did they mean? They started to tell me stories from their memories of how bad things were: how thin I had become, how out of control... My older sister whom I hadn’t seen for a long time returned from living overseas. She needed to talk. She forced me to listen... forced me to remember. 

When the memories hit, they hit hard. I wrote to get the images out of my head. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I wanted to get in my car, close my eyes and drive. It felt like it was happening all over again – the beatings, the confinement, the rape; throwing up time after time after time, even when I had tasted only a small bite of something; shoving needles in my arm  three and four times a day; ripping my arms with jagged rocks to feel something because I was so numb inside.

Why God? Why are you letting me go through this again? 

I didn’t want to remember! Yet in remembering, it dawned on me – finally – just how far down God had reached to free me.

Every day, in heat, rain or cold, I ran - alone in the woods - in the hills near our home. There I felt the gentle touch of God. I heard Him whisper, “You’re stronger now. It’s time to tell the truth of what happened. Tell your story to give hope to others.”

How could I never have told anyone what He had done for me? Nothing else had worked. Nothing had been able to break the chains that kept me living on the edge. Nothing…except the gentleness of His touch. 

The power of His gentleness...
In the Eye of Deception: This is my story. www.gentlerecovery.webs.com

The publisher made an error and printed a couple of books with stretched margins. I thought I would turn this 'error' into a free give away. For everyone who leaves a comment with their email here or on my website -  your name will be written down and my daughter will pull out the name of the winner. The 'winner' will be chosen on Friday of this week. 

Afraid but Going Forward

"When you were born, you cried. 
Live your life so when you die, others cry." Native Proverb 

My book, In the Eye of Deception, is at the publisher. My words, my thoughts written in the last year - all complied in a book for the world to see. 

These last few weeks, I've been running on confidence - confidence to tell, to share, to be vulnerable  - my way - to show gratitude to Him - gratitude for what He did in my life....

When I close my eyes, I see it all like a movie playing in my head - the people, the sirens, the hospitals, the prison, the streets, fighting - desperate to be free.....shoving needles in my arms - going with anyone - desperate for a fix, a high - aching to be free from the awful lonliness, the crippling shame, the terror....It never let up. - Standing on the window ledge - believing if I jumped I wouldn't die....crouched in the fire....hearing that voice tell me he knew, and I knew so burn baby burn.....Seeing that house...where the rapist held me....climbing that 6 foot high fence in the middle of winter with no shoes, or coat or warm clothes - desperate to be free.....Throwing up day after day - afraid to eat - slashing my arms, biting myself.....my only way to fight the 'professionals' who kept pushing me to be and do what I just couldn't - forcing me to take pills that made me feel like a zombie -tying me to the bed......like an animal......I hated them..I hated me -  Locked up with people who scared me, who set themselves on fire, some who were violent, others talking and screaming to no one or threatening to kill anyone who looked at them the wrong way.... 

I thought I would die in that miserable darkness. I didn't wait for it to kill me - I tried over and over to take my life....He wouldn't let me die.

He had a plan, a purpose. He reached so far down and did what nothing else could. He touched me, freed me......shattered the chains that held me tight.

Last night and this morning it hit me - I'm afraid to be known - to be known for all of who I am. I've shown people only the parts of me I think are ok - Putting a book out there with the details of my life.....all those horrible things - I'm afraid..... I'm afraid but there seems to be somthing that feels stronger than that fear - a desire to give back - to help someone else find hope and freedom. Maybe my life, the darkness I lived - can be a catalyst for someone climbing out of their hell, their misery, their darkness.

My book will be out next week. A writer friend told me to start a webpage. I had it up and running, people from my other blog and facebook were linking to it and then today....I can't access it. No one can. All that work. Maybe it's a techno glitch so if anyone wants to try to check it out.  It still needs work...

www.gentlerecovery.webs.com

 

 

Pride

"Pride makes us artificial and humility makes us real." Thomas Merton

In spite of all the drugs I did and the many times I had my head bashed against a wall, I went back to school - to university. Got on the dean's honor list. I thought they made a mistake. I thought I didn't deserved it. I thought if they realized they had given it to me they would take it back.

I struggled to talk in school. I couldn't stand up in front of the class. I couldn't even stand up at my seat or even answer a question. I was afraid of being seen - afraid of being noticed. If I opened my mouth everyone would know that I had no idea what I was saying, that I didn't make any sense.

I couldn't stand up and talk, but I could write. When I write I don't have to prove myself. I don't have to convince anyone of anything. I don't have to stumble and falter and look stupid. No one's looking at me. No one's judging me. When I write, I'm free.

I've always felt like a fraud. I always thought, if people knew........... so I pretended what happened never did. I pushed everything down and copied other people, how they acted, moved and talked. I did all the 'normal' things everyone else did. Then I came home and threw up and cut my arms forcing myself to be strong. Continuing to live a lie.

I never wanted to tell anyone in my life where I came from. Hardly anyone knows. It was so bad that I've been afraid of what people would think of me. Pride. I think I have a lot of pride. Bad pride. The kind that keeps you from living the way God wants. Funny thing about pretending - it keeps you in a cycle of shame - hiding from the world and even from yourself. Somehow I had convinced myself what happened wasn't so bad.

A friend of mine knows I've been writing. She told me last night she can't wait to read my book. I told her I don't know if I want her to see it. She said, It won't change the way I think of you. But I'm not so sure. Pride. I've always worried what people will think of me if I tell them all the stuff that happened. Pride. I want to be real. I don't want to pretend anymore.

My book will be published soon. People will know. They'll know the truth. My friend told me yesterday her church is considering having me speak. She's on the women's committee and she told them about me. She gave them my blog and a copy of the radio program I did. Everyone will know.

When I'm alone I feel God. I feel his presence. His gentle touch. I can't live in silence anymore. I owe that to Him. Maybe I owe it to me too. And if my telling helps just one person find peace and freedom, then the shame of telling versus that of staying quiet is worth it.

Willingness to Fly

""How does one become a butterfly, she asked pensively.You must want to fly so much, you're willing to give up being a caterpiller." Trina Paulus (Hope for the Flowers)

I am grateful. Really grateful. As I write and remember, I am filled with gratitude. So often I have to shake myself and ask, 'did it all really happen?' The years of living on the street, shoving needles in my arm, not allowing myself to eat, throwing up if I did and cutting myself until I couldn't stand the pain or until I bled.

Living with extreme shame, out of control rage and debilitating fear - and one day, just like that - God touched me and changed everything. He gave me purpose and hope. He helped me heal. He gave me freedom. Now I owe Him my life.

There is a story about ten lepers being healed. Only one came back to say thank-you. I don't want to be like the nine who showed no gratitude. I need to tell what happened - what God did because had He not touched me in the ways He did......

How do I tell people what I lived? How do I say all those horrible things that happened? It's easier to tell strangers but I struggle with telling people who are close to me - my friends and people at work - I don't want them to think differently about me. I don't want them to be disgusted.

It was bad. Really bad. How can I tell them? Sometimes I just want to blurt it out but I can't. The words are stuck inside me. Many of my friends know I'm writing a book. They don't know what I'm writing, but they know I' m writing.

I get lost in writing. I think in some way it validates what happened really took place. And it's a way for me to have my voice. I need to write. Writing has become like breathing for me. Seeing the words in print diminishes the shame and gives me strength.

My friend came for a hike in the woods with me the other day. As we walked the secluded trails, she asked if I ever get scared out there alone. I don't. I feel safe in the woods. That's where I hear God speak to me. That's where my heart gains courage. In the woods, in the beauty of nature, I never feel alone. God whispers to me there. He reminds me I am never alone anymore. He tells me everything will be ok. He reminds me He has purposes and plans for my life. He tells me not to be afraid.

I don't want to live like a caterpiller anymore. I want to fly. I want to tell. It will be my way of saying thank-you.