Forgiven

"The past can't be changed, can it? It can just be forgiven." Elizabeth George 

They live inside my head....the memories of what happened.....it's all there....the pain, the fear, the fight to hold on.....all that darkness.....and the people who hurt me.....who tried to keep me down...who terrified me....and tried to keep me from living free - they're there too....

But the neat thing.....they're just memories...with no power....smoke without fire. 

I have choices now....how I want to move in the world....what I want my life to look like...be like. I have choices.....what I want or don't want. It's still a struggle some days....but nothing compared to what it was. Most days now.....I wake up happy....thankful to be alive....grateful I survived....

I can't change what happened...or that I had to fight alone against people trying to keep me living less than my best.....

But I do have choices today.....how I'm going to live.....what I'm going to do with all that stuff.  And I chose to forgive the things that happened and the people who hurt me.  I can't forget...but I can use what happened to show hope and make a difference for someone else.

What happened....shaped who I am...they made me me.....a fighter....someone who refuses to stay down. I learned from living on the streets....from the things I had to fight.....to never give in....to never give up.  And I learned from the people I met....those more vulnerable....who couldn't fight....to walk more gently....to have compassion....

And those people who hurt me....who almost killed me from what they did......they couldn't touch my spirit. They left scars on my body but they couldn't leave them on my soul....

I'm grateful to be alive....to have another day to draw in a breathe and live my best life.....to shine hope for someone else fighting their way through the darkness. Someone once told me the best revenge is to live my best life. I'm determined....that's what I'm going to do. And in doing that....I forgive.  I'm doing that for me.....and for my kids....so they have a mom who'se free.....

We're going on holidays....heading to the mountains....a place I feel free....connected.....strong.  And it's there I hear His whisper reminding me......nothing is ever impossible to overcome.

Strength not shame

"Survival is your strength not your shame"  Jaycee Lee Dugard

Shame...not the healthy kind that keeps us from running to the store naked.....
but toxic shame....the kind that makes you believe you're wrong...defective.... not good enough. 
Shame....it's power so strong.....it forced me into hiding....living in darkness...holding onto secrets. 
Shame.....the glue that kept me stuck....spinning my wheels..spiraling further down into that black hole.
Shame....made me believe lies.....that I was different....wrong....bad. 

Shame.....it wouldn't let me look in someone's eyes or worse....have them look in mine.  I  knew....if they did....they would see...and know....the truth about who and what I was.

Shame...it covered like a blanket....held on like a leech.....fed beliefs that had been ingrained since I could remember. 

I'm reading Jaycee Durgard's story, A Stolen Life. I was afraid to read it but I wanted to. I wanted to hear her strength.....read her courage... and remind myself that evil can't destroy us if we don't let it. 

Jaycee's story....a reminder of my own in so many ways..... Her words...feelings....thoughts....similiar. Her focus to move forward and her gratitude for all she's been given....the same.  Her words confirm....evil can wield so much damage but it can't steal our souls....not if we don't allow it.  

I wish there was no evil....I wish children everywhere were safe.....I wish only good was in the world. I hate what happened to Jaycee....the years she had to endure evil in its purest form.....and I hate that her kidnappers were free.....to do what they did....and that nobody noticed a girl, a child, held a prisoner in the backyard enduring the worse at the hands of a madman.  And it sickens me to know his partner worked in a senior's home....every day at the end of her shift...going home and participating in evil. 

I want to live alert....aware....of what's happening around me.....Maybe if we all did that.....children wouldn't be taken.....lives wouldn't be destroyed.....and evil would be diminished. 

Reflections

"One faces the future with one's past." Pearl S. Buck

Some people say.....you have to  forget the past and move on. But how do you do that.....when all those things that happened made you who you are today.   

Everything that happened.....everything I lived.....shaped who I've become. All those things.....made me who I am. How can I forget the things that made such a huge impact...the things that shaped me.....and made me the person I am now.

Everything I survived....all the dark stuff.....taught me to fight....and gave me a passion to want to make a difference....to show if I can overcome the things that almost broke me....anybody can. 

The darkness still lives in me...as memories....as reminders....of what I lived....of where I was....names - faces - places...they're still there....in my mind. All those nights fighting sleep...terrified to close my eyes...terrified of the  nightmares. And in the daytime...fearing being seen forced me to hide in ways that almost killed me. 

That fight to survive became a lifestyle...a way of being...a way of moving in the world...always trying to stay one step ahead. I used to think it was just a matter of time....until it would be over. The darkness seemed so strong... stronger than me. I never realized how much I wanted to live....how much I wanted to fight back and win.  

And I did win. When He teamed up with me....He took over the fight. He pushed the darkness back....one bit at a time. I'm not sure how it even happened...except somehow I started letting Him take over...and do most of the fighting. I was too tired. Some days it seemed as if I was watching on the sidelines...a bystander...hoping He would win...because I knew....if He did....then I would be declared a winner too. 

Being in the winner's circle...is not something I did...it's something He did. I'm grateful and I carry that gratitude with me everywhere I go now.

A Witness

 
"....for the dead and the living, we must bear witness." Eli Wiesel 

A German publisher asked to review my book. They're considering translating it to sell in Germany. It's not a sure thing but I'm blown away that they're even considering it. A book store yesterday took 20 of my books and told me they want to help me find a distributor...and someone else is wanting to help me get my book out into a wider audience. I am blown away by all this....and by the kindness and support I've recieved. 

Funny how I never wanted anyone to know any of the stuff that happened or what I did to survive. Now I want to be a witness that freedom is possible....that there is a way out of darkness...of pain....and mostly from the shame that is like sticky paper - so hard to get out from under.  

I've stopped asking why....why I survived and others didn't. Why I lived...when others took their lives...or died by accident or lived but can't shake the depression or chronic pain or addiction to medications or food or something......

I want to stand up....be a witness....a witness that no matter what we lived...no matter what happened.....we can be free. What ever happened to us doesn't define who are are...or even who we become.

It's painful to remember...but I want to walk back into the darkness....into that silence....to that place that held so much shame from which I thought I would never be free - for the reason....of helping someone else find freedom. To give hope to not to give up....to never to give up....

And I want to show the power of His gentleness that broke through and gave me the freedom. When I close my eyes.....when I'm quiet.....and alone...the memories are right there....fighting so hard to survive....alone....not believing  I would ever be free....living so close to the edge....and to death....unable to look anyone in their eyes....or have them look into mine......ripping my arms, shooting up, throwing up...just to make it through a day......And then....just like that....He touched me. His gentle touch changed everything....gave me hope....and the courage to fight even harder...and to make it out of the darkness. And all I know....if I can make it out...anybody can.....

Seeing Beauty When There's None

"He who has courage and faith will never perish in misery." Anne Frank

It's hard to think Anne Frank was only 14 when she wrote this. 14 and hated - for no other reason than being Jewish. 14 and having her world as she had known it - turned upside down. 14 and not able to go outside to smell the flowers, or attend a dance or sit in a classroom and daydream about boys, or her future or life.....

In spite of the hatred and brutality that had taken over her world - in spite of  being stripped of all the comforts of home and school and friendships - in spite of those who believed she had no right to exist......14 year old Anne wrote as if her world was normal....as if nothing had changed....putting her thoughts down on paper - the thoughts of a normal teen.....

I try to visualize what it must have felt like to be 14 and forced to live in a small space with people terrified for their lives - fearing the craziness of those who wanted to kill not only you but your whole race - people who lived with fear that if they were found - they would die.....or worse...

Anguish - cries heard in the streets - family, friends, respected elders - taken - their lives stolen - beaten like violent criminals - in temples, in shops, in communities - there was no safe place....nowhere to hide. It was always just a matter of time. 

Yet in the midst of that senseless brutality - 14 year old Anne kept her diary and wrote like any typical young teen pondering the world around her and her place in it.

Her words strong, positive, powerful:

"I twist my heart round again, so that the bad is on the outside and the good is on the inside, and keep trying to find a way of becoming what I would so like to be...."  

"think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy."  

"I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains."

I didn't have the strength that Anne had. Or the courage - nor her positive outlook. I felt the hatred and I hated back. I felt the brutality and I wanted to lash out against every perpetrator who hurt me. I let the brutality pull me into its lies - into its fear, into its hatred - Everything in my world was black - dark  - I saw no beauty. I wanted so bad to give up and to give in to the darkness. I saw no hope - no light - no meaning.

 Anne had been raised by loving parents - parents who gave her security and a strong foundation  - so strong that when the darkness came - she was able to push it aside and still see beauty. I'm trying to parent my girls that way. Maybe it's working. My oldest 13 - almost 14 - is amazingly positive. She inspires me - she teaches me....

Growing up in a Jewish home - I heard the phrase over and over: "to not remember the past is to be condemned to repeat it." I used to wonder why do Jewish people constantly talk about what happened....and hold memorials and give honor to the survivors.   I was told - 'so it will never happen again. From one generation to the next - we must tell what happened.' 

I think I'm beginning to understand.....to tell of the brutality we lived - in some way is a protection for the next generation - to know - to be aware - to live a bit differently - to understand there is darkness - but there's also a strength, a hope - a light with each survivor who stands up and says, "I survived. The darkness couldn't destroy me."

I never wanted anyone to know what happened to me - all those things I lived - Today I want you to know, "I survived." And everytime I read some of your blogs - and know you too have survived - I'm cheering.

Braver than you Think

An older post revisited. 

"Promise me you'll always remember; you're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem and smarter than you think." A.A.Milne - Christopher Robin to Pooh

I remember being really stoned. My eyes had gone all weird and I couldn't focus. I felt off balance, dizzy and separate from myself. Almost like I was on the outside looking in. I was having problems walking. I had no idea where I was, how I got there or how to get out and go home. I remember falling, crashing into a wall and hitting my head. Some old lady popped out and started screaming at me. I had no idea what she was saying. Then the sound of sirens and the ambulance....... Life was a constant crisis. Constant chaos.
I kept saying I wanted it all to stop. I wanted it to be normal. I didn't want to do the drugs. At least that's what I said and even as I said it, I was shooting up and ripping my arms open with razor blades and jagged rocks. Even as I said it, I threw up if I ate even a small bite of something. In my mind, I wasn't allowed to be free. I wasn't worthy. No amount of wanting or needing made a difference. No threats from any authority could bring about the freedom I said I wanted.
I needed to stay high. I needed to hurt myself. I needed to throw up. I needed to not feel or think. Especially to not think. The images of what happened tortured me. Anything to numb out from feeling the terror, the shame, the pain - I needed that more. And then God touched me. He broke through the torment in my head, in my soul - He took away the 14 year drug addiction. The memories though, the pain and shame and feelings of extreme worthlessness - they were still there. I continued to throw up and hurt myself. I still needed to numb out.
I felt guilty. I wondered if God would kill me because I was destroying myself. I screamed at Him to do it already. I dared Him to take my life, but He wouldn't. Years went by. I lived two lives. I looked ok. People thought I was fun, happy, Christian. I wasn't. When people said, God is in control, I knew my life was completely out of control.
I started writing. Then running. In the woods, alone - He whispered to me. 'Face the pain. Don't run from it.' I never wanted to face it. I never wanted to admit it. I couldn't. To admit it meant it happened. I didn't want to believe it happened. But it did.
All I know - God is my strength - my anchor for freedom. The one thing in my life that gives me the courage to do what I otherwise can't. He brought me to the point of being ready to confront what I never could. He allowed me to use the cutting, the throwing up, the hiding to stay alive. Cause that's what it did. It kept me alive. It helped me survive until I was ready to face what happened.
All I know -is in His presence, I feel at peace. In the woods I feel His gentle touch and hear His whispers of comfort and there I gain the courage to come home and not use things that hurt me.
I want to make a difference. I want what I lived to help someone else find their freedom. Maybe that's why God let me live.

Fear and Perspective

 "Courage is not the absense of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." Ambrose Redmoon

The other day I took my kids walking along the water. A snake slithered in front of us - I screamed. My youngest jumped in my arms. My oldest cracked up laughing. 

To her it was 'just' a harmless garter snake. To me and my youngest - it was huge, disgusting - terrifying. For the rest of the walk my youngest and I moved cautiously - terrified of meeting another slimy snake. My oldest kept laughing and trying to convince us we were just being goofy. 

I got home and thought about my fears. I've been so afraid to tell anyone about the stuff that happened to me. I've been afraid to speak. Afraid to be seen. Afraid of the memories. Some days I want to scream at myself - 'who cares. It's over. I survived.' Other times, I'm convinced people will look at me differently and think something's wrong with me to have been where I've been.


I kept silent for a long time. Afraid. Worrying what others would think. Living in shame. Not wanting anyone to know. Not wanting to admit it was bad - lying even to myself. 


This year I felt God shaking me....... shaking me into reality. Things happened. I connected with people. People who knew. Some said they were shocked I had survived the drugs, the streets - living life on the edge. God forced me to face the truth. The truth of what happened. The truth of how bad it had gotten - the truth of where I had been .....how far down He had reached to pull me out.

  
I started writing. Mostly to get rid of the images in my head.  I had minimized it  - kept telling myself it was no big deal. But the shame....the shame consumed me. I couldn't be with people long. I couldn't let anyone look in my eyes.


I went to talk to a physician friend. I told her everything....in the dark...my words faltering...hesitating....broken. I couldn't look at her. Worse - I couldn't have her look at me. You should be dead she told me. You need to tell your story. Her words shocked me. For so long I didn't believe it even happened....I thought I made it up.



Listening to her ....and writing - I started feeling selfish, selfish that I never told.....

God had touched me. He had broken chains that I couldn't get free of. Nothing had worked, not jail, not hospitals, not rehab.......Then He touched me.....in a hospital...under oxygen.... He freed me from the drugs. Just like that. 


I promised Him I would tell whoever He wants - so others can have hope - to know there's a way - But.....


I'm still afraid to be seen, to speak in front of people. I keep thinking about that snake....my daughter's persepective versus mine. 


I don't know how I'm going to tell.....but I will. He gave me life. I owe Him.


     

Fighting for Others

"Don't give up trying to find your way. But do remember that sometimes it takes bending to avoid breaking." Katinka Hesselink

I spent a long time fighting - fighting to stay alive - watching friends die. Others falling into deep depression unable to find their way out. Listening to voices of hatred - feeling the touch of evil.

I'm a fighter. I don't give up easily. In some ways that fighter mentality has given me strength. An inner strength. A strength that makes me push against whatever I need - to survive. I don't understand. Why me? - others gave up - died - gave in to the darkness - gave in to hopelessness.

The worst is past. It's behind me. But I'm still fighting. I feel it inside. Sometimes I fight when I don't have to - when there isn't a need to fight. I don't know how to stop. It's a part of me - like my name - a drive that surges through me - pushing me to hang in - stay focused until I exhaust myself. Letting go - giving in is not an option. Not until I'm writing or running alone in the woods.

I want to use this energy to fight for others. To give them hope - a reason to live - a purpose to push back - to fight their demons. I want this fight in me to help others not give up - to show the gentleness of God - to point them to the One who has the power to break through anything.

I'm working on courage. Courage to tell people in my world the things that happened - how I lived.....the darkness - the deception that I believed. - I don't want shame to win out. I don't want shame to stop me - Some days it's easier to have faith. Other days I feel lower than a worm. But that fighter in me won't give up - won't stay down. I have a purpose - a goal. To give back. To reach out. To help even one person not be swallowed up by the darkness.

Fear

"You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do." Eleanor Roosevelt

Fear. I hate it. Most of the time I don't even know why I am afraid.

Like these past few days. We we're getting ready to go away. I want to go. The place we picked is beautiful - it's up north in the mountains - a fun place with lakes, sports, cool shops, tons of fun. But I'm afraid to leave home. I'm driving myself crazy. Want to go - don't want to go - want to go - have to go. Kids are excited.

What's wrong with me? This happens so often. Before we went to disney last January, I agonized about going for weeks. Everyone was excited but I had this overwhelming fear. I dreaded going. We went. It was great fun.

It's weird. I think I'm afraid to leave home. Fear is just as bad as shame. It cripples and it clouds my thinking.

I'm going in spite of the fear. I'm going because I know it's a good thing and I can't disappoint my girls.

Someone once told me fear is the opposite of faith. I think that's true. When I think of fear and faith, I think of them being similiar to a positive and negative magnet. When you try to bring them together they repel each other.

I can't live in fear and faith at the same time. I am so tired of being afriad. I choose faith. Even if my stomach is filled with crazy butterflies - I choose to trust. I choose to go.

Moving Forward

"Live your life with greater courage, intensity and kindness." Oprah Winfrey

Whatever happened - whatever I survived - I want to use it to give hope to someone. Hope that life can turn around - that things can change - that addictions can be beat - that life can have purpose.

It never really dawned on me how bad things had been until I started writing and blogging. I stared at the words on the screen. I read and reread them. My own words - my own thougths shocked me. I had pushed it away - pretended it all hadn't happened. It hurt too much too remember. But when I started writing I couldn't stop. It's as if a damn had opened......

I want God to use what I lived - I want to help others. I don't want to think He freed me for nothing. Maybe if I can use what I survived, then all that horrible stuff wouldn't have been in vain.

I'm working on courage - courage to physically face someone and tell - I keep telling myself I am not what happened to me. I'm going to keep telling myself that until I believe it - until I have the courage - Meanwhile I want to reach out in kindness cause I know everyone is fighting some kind of battle.

I'll do Anything God

"Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title." Virginia Woolf

I told God I would do anything for Him. I told Him there is nothing I wouldn't do. Nothing at all. He freed me. He broke the hold of all those things that were killing me. I almost died. Not once. Many times. But He wouldn't let me die.

I had a thing for heights. I used to shoot up and then climb to the rooftop of this building. I'd stand on the ledge with my arms out. I believed I could fly. I believed I wouldn't fall. I heard a voice telling me to jump. Telling me it's ok. Telling me I would soar. I wanted to trust that voice. I came so close to believing what it said. There was a cop who followed me. Who always seemed to be there on that rooftop. Many times he pulled me off that ledge. I would have jumped. I could have died. God didn't let me.

I'll do anything God. Anything you want.

Anything except tell the people in my world today how I lived, what I did, how bad things were, the drugs, the cutting, the abuse, the horrible mess I lived. Pride? Shame?

There was a fire. I dropped the match trying to heat up the dope. The flames engulfed the room. I was trapped. I should have died.

I'll do anything God. Anything you want.

The hospital told me they had never seen anyone so thin. I weighed less than eighty pounds. I was cold all the time. Freezing. Even in summer. My electrolytes were out of whack making my legs hurt. They said my heart would stop. It never did. He wouldn't let it.

I'll do anything God. Anything you want.

When I run I have courage. When I run I know He is running with me. I'm not alone. He gives me this incredible strength. He empowers me. When I run and feel His presence I know I can do anything. Will do anything. Even tell.

I owe Him. I want to tell but I'm afaid to. One day, I won't be afraid.

I'll do anything God. I promise. One day. I'll find the courage.

Reason To Tell

"The first question which the priest and the Levite asked: If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" But the good Samaritan reversed the question: If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?" Martin Luther King, Jr.

I've decided to tell the truth of what happened, - all of it. Although I still sometimes wonder if it happened or if I am making something more of it than it really was - But the pictures in my head are vivid and clear. Pictures of living on the street, crouched in dark corners shooting up, trapped and held in a house for six months and raped, punched until my spleen ruptured and .......

The scars are still there. Vi sable scars that tell me it really did happen.

The shame I carried for so long, the shame that silenced me, kept me quiet - unable to talk, unable to tell - that shame is losing it's power.

I think maybe my story can help someone overcome their demons. Maybe, it can help even one person find freedom and peace.

For years I said nothing. I wanted to forget, except I never really forgot. The flashbacks, the panic attacks, the need to hurt myself.....all reminders of what took place.

When I started writing last year, I never imagined I would want to show anyone what I wrote. Now I can't imagine not.

A few months ago, I met a writer. She read the first three chapters of the book I'm writing. She said, "you need to tell what happened. Your story needs to be told." Now she's editing the whole thing. And God amazingly led me to someone else. Someone who has become a close friend, someone who has never gone through what I did but who keeps telling me my story needs to be told.

I want to tell. I struggle thinking about everyone in my life knowing the awful details but my desire to help give hope to someone in a situation I was in, compels me to pray, "God use what I lived. Give me courage to tell."

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.

Braver than you Think

"Promise me you'll always remember; you're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem and smarter than you think." A.A.Milne - Christopher Robin to Pooh

I remember being really stoned. My eyes had gone all weird and I couldn't focus. I felt off balance, dizzy and separate from myself. Almost like I was on the outside looking in. I was having problems walking. I had no idea where I was, how I got there or how to get out and go home. I remember falling, crashing into a wall and hitting my head. Some old lady popped out and started screaming at me. I had no idea what she was saying. Then the sound of sirens and the ambulance....... Life was a constant crisis. Constant chaos.

I kept saying I wanted it all to stop. I wanted it to be normal. I didn't want to do the drugs. At least that's what I said and even as I said it, I was shooting up and ripping my arms open with razor blades and jagged rocks. Even as I said it, I threw up if I ate even a small bite of something. In my mind, I wasn't allowed to be free. I wasn't worthy. No amount of wanting or needing made a difference. No threats from any authority could bring about the freedom I said I wanted.

I needed to stay high. I needed to hurt myself. I needed to throw up. I needed to not feel or think. Especially to not think. The images of what happened tortured me. Anything to numb out from feeling the terror, the shame, the pain - I needed that more. And then God touched me. He broke through the torment in my head, in my soul - He took away the 14 year drug addiction. The memories though, the pain and shame and feelings of extreme worthlessness - they were still there. I continued to throw up and hurt myself. I still needed to numb out.

I felt guilty. I wondered if God would kill me because I was destroying myself. I screamed at Him to do it already. I dared Him to take my life, but He wouldn't. Years went by. I lived two lives. I looked ok. People thought I was fun, happy, Christian. I wasn't. When people said, God is in control, I knew my life was completely out of control.

I started writing. Then running. In the woods, alone - He whispered to me. 'Face the pain. Don't run from it.' I never wanted to face it. I never wanted to admit it. I couldn't. To admit it meant it happened. I didn't want to believe it happened. But it did.

All I know - God is my strength - my anchor for freedom. The one thing in my life that gives me the courage to do what I otherwise can't. He brought me to the point of being ready to confront what I never could. He allowed me to use the cutting, the throwing up, the hiding to stay alive. Cause that's what it did. It kept me alive. It helped me survive until I was ready to face what happened.

All I know -is in His presence, I feel at peace. In the woods I feel His gentle touch and hear His whispers of comfort and there I gain the courage to come home and not use things that hurt me.

I want to make a difference. I want what I lived to help someone else find their freedom. Maybe that's why God let me live.

Taking A Stand

"The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controvery." Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Taking a stand and speaking out when we see or hear an injustice being done takes courage. It's not easy to get involved, to have our voice - it's so much easier to walk away; to kid ourselves into believing we didn't see, we didn't hear, we didn't really know.......

Whether it's standing up for the rights of a child to be free from harm, or a nation to be free from unjust rule, or a cause that we know we cannot look away from - taking a stand tells the world we will not be silent, we will not allow wrong to be be perpertrated - whatever the cost to ourselves.

I have struggled recently with family members who knew my sister and I were being abused. They said they didn't know how bad it was, but they admitted they were terrified or our father and that many times they pulled our mother off us when she was beating us so badly. And finally they said, "we didn't want to interfere in someone else's family problems." So they walked away and left. Left us to fend for ourselves against adults who bullied and terrorized us.

Then they said we should have asked for help. They blamed us. They said we didn't reach out. It's hard for me to understand their reasoning. We were children who had no voice. They said I was quiet, that I never talked, never spoke. I had no words. No voice. How could I have asked for help?

To protect myself, I tried to disappear, first in my head, then through drugs, throwing up and cutting myself. I willed myself to not be present. Once, while at the park, it started raining. I ran to the store to look for my sister. She wasn't there. I ran back to the park. Everyone had left. Alone in the rain, thunder and lightening, I ran home. As soon as I got in the house, my mother attacked me - punching, kicking and slapping me. She put her hands around my throat and two of my aunts grabbed her and pulled her off. I slipped away and made it to the bathroom, locking the door. I dropped to the floor, soaking wet. Her screams filtered through the door. I closed my eyes and forced myself to pull away in my mind until I couldn't hear her anymore.

I became lost. I never talked. Teachers told me I was the saddest child they had ever seen. But nobody did anything. Nobody helped.

When God wrapped His gentleness around me, poured out His love - I knew I needed to be a voice for those who had no voice. I couldn't do what my relatives had done, look the other way and walk away from anyone experiencing any form of injustice or cruelty.

I went back to school. Got my degree. For all the drugs I did, the many times my head was bashed against the wall, for all the times I was called stupid, retarded, garbage, an idiot, I somehow managed to get on the Dean's Honor List.

God empowered me. He gave me my life back, then my voice. I will never keep silent again. I will stand up and speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. I will not turn away. I will be a voice for the vulnerable, the weak and those unable to stand up for themselves. I want to make a difference, regardless of the cost to myself. With Him in my corner, I will not be silent anymore.

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.

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.