Keep on Swimming

"Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming, swimming swimming." Dory in Finding Nemo

On Wednesday I gave my first Toastmaster's speech. My heart was beating so hard....my mouth was really dry...my hands wouldn't stop shaking.  All my life I've  struggled with being seen.....and being heard. But I'm determined now....to stand up....not run....not hide....and have my voice.

Fear always dictated what I did or didn't do. It ruled my life...pushing me to live less than the best. It's intensity forced me to reach for anything to shut it down...things that almost killed me...like drugs...and throwing up and cutting myself. 

I know the opposite of fear is faith....someone once told me that. They said faith is like a positive magnet that repels the negative...fear is the negative.  I was determined that even if I stood up in front of all those people....and couldn't speak.....or my words got all mangled up.....I wouldn't give into the fear anymore. The response I got at the meeting was amazing. After speaking....it was hard to look anyone in their eyes....but I heard their praise....I felt their applause.....and Dory's words swirled in my head....'keep on swimming...keep on swimming....'

Maybe fear's always going to be a part of the journey....maybe it's supposed to be that way....but I won't let it be the major part anymore. It seems that if I don't give into it....and don't feed it....it eventually goes.

Maybe it's presence is some sort of test....a barrier to push past to get to that place where I really want to be....a place of empowerment and freedom. Fear's been like a bully.....goading me to buckle to it's power.....But no more.....I'm standing up to it....and maybe doing that....it'll realize it has no more power ...and it'll just sizzle out.

I'm with Dory....I'm going to keep on swimming.....keep on moving....keep on pushing past the fear.

Winners Don't Run

“First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win." Mathatma Gandhi

She was a frumpy forty-something single woman...with no style...and no flair. She definitely didn't look the part of a superstar singer. Everyone laughed at her. But she knew something the crowds didn't know. She knew she could sing. And she had gotten to a place in her life that she was ready to show everyone who she really was. She walked onto that stage....held her head high....and let everyone laugh.  The lights dimmed....the music started...and Susan Boyle wowed the world. No one's laughing now!

I know what it feels like to be laughed at...to be judged...to be ridiculed. My parents laughed at me....called me garbage, idiot, retarded....told me I was a nobody...a nothing.....said I couldn't talk right...my words  made no sense... I made no sense. I believed them...until that day in a hospital Emerg when He touched me.....and broke through the shame...and whispered that I was a somebody.

I went back to school....got a degree....even got on the dean's honor list. But the shame had reached so far down...that even though I didn't think it affected me anymore....it did. Those old voices taunting... teasing ...tormenting. No matter what I accomplished...they were there...whispering...who do you think you are? they'll find out they made a mistake...they'll find out you're a mistake.

Shame.....So many times I thought I was free of it and WHAMP! I wasn't! I tried shutting it out by throwing up and cutting myself...but it was always in the shadows.... holding me back....keeping me from living free. 

Then this past year...I wrote my story...told what happened (www.gentlerecovery.webs.com)....all the secrets I had kept for so long. People looked at me with respect. I've been asked to speak at a writer's panel on Sept. 21st and at a women's centre Oct. 1st. I'm afraid of the shame kicking in again. I've always been afraid to be seen....to stand up...to talk in front of people who are looking at me...listening...and watching. I hope my words make sense. I hope I can do this without throwing up or passing out. 

I know I'm a fighter...a fighter that pushes back. I don't give up...and I'll never give in....not to the lies...not to the shame. Like Susan Boyle...I'm beginning to know who I am....and what I'm capable of....I'm gonna push through that shame....

Ignored

"I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse, perhaps, to be locked in." Virginia Wolfe

Being ignored hurts. It cuts deep.....drudging up old wounds....stirring up unresolved pain....a tactic used to show superiority and send a strong message.... declaring the unacknowledged...unworthy... undeserving....less than.....

Being ignored is the cruelest way to make a point......to flaunt control.....to wield power. Not acknowledging a person can create a hurt so deep - it's the harshest thing someone can do to another...especially if that person claims to care. 

My father used to ignore me....refusing to talk or  acknowledge my presence. His silence would go on for days...sometimes weeks... shutting me out of his world....closing the door....denying me access to him. He wanted to teach me a lesson....that he was right....I was wrong...he was good....I was bad.  It was his way to force me to do whatever he wanted. 

He had hurt me many times with his words and his fists - yet to be locked out of his world tore at me. It made me crazy...and desperate to make things right. I ended up doing whatever he wanted....anything just to have him acknowledge me again.  

Ever since I could think, he taught me  'that without him...I was nothing'  and even though he beat me...called me awful names...broke my spirit - I believed I needed him to live...to breathe...to exist. I needed him to survive. 

Something has changed since I wrote my story...and told the truth of what happened. Writing...voicing what I had never been able to say....changed something in me. It gave me an inner strength...a courage I didn't have before. I'm not afraid anymore and I'm not a child. 

Letting go of that desperation...I'm learning to take my power back. 

Being Seen...Being Heard

Intimacy is being seen and known as the person you truly are. Amy Bloom

 

I've spent a lot time hiding....trying hard to be invisible...not wanting to be seen. To be seen...meant to be hurt. 

 

Shame - consumed me.....kept me from living free.

Shame - made me believe I was wrong...

Shame - made me feel lower than a snake

Shame - unable to look people in their eyes...or worse have them look in mine. 

Shame - kept me from being present....kept me from being seen.

 

I could never talk.....never tell the truth of what happened. But things are changing. Through writing....and blogging....I've found my voice. I'm being heard and in some way...seen.  

There's so much I want to say. Sometimes I wonder....if my words can make a difference....even for one...who also can't speak....who'se still living in the dark....reaching for freedom..

I just found out my book won a TWG award and had an honorable mention for their highest award. It feels like validation. Someone knows...and my voice is being heard. 

 

Yet still.....There are times....I need to hide.....in the dark...in the woods....alone....unable to be seen....wondering if what I say makes any sense....

 

Being seen....Being heard.... 

 

I want to be heard. I'm afraid but something inside drives me...pushes me forward...to say yes to those people and organizations who ask if I would speak in the Fall...and share my story. 

Talking...speaking...being seen. I have the summer to kick the fear of standing up...of being seen...and being heard.

The Difference

"There are two ways of exerting one's strength; one is pushing down, the other is pulling up." Booker T. Washington

I had a friend who was labeled violent. He was. He constantly beat people up....smashed things....terrorized everyone. His father had beat and sexually abused him. His uncles did too. When he turned 14 he wanted the power they had....he didn't want to be the victim anyomore. He wanted to be in control....like them. 

He showed up at school one day and attacked a kid.... turned over desks and was labeled violent. Everyone was afraid of him....the kids...the teachers....even the authorities. For the next few years he was in and out of treatment centres.....in and out of psych hospitals....heavily medicated. He couldn't hold down a job or  live on his own. His rage....his temper became his calling card. 

We talked a lot him and I. He told me stuff....stuff from his heart. I found out he could draw like no one else I knew. I wrote a story about a dandelion.....I read it to him. He drew pages and pages of beautiful dandelions....in brilliant color. I saw gentleness in his art...and in him. I saw the human being....the real person. 

I told him me and God believed in him. One day he admitted he didn't want to hurt anyone....he never did. He had just wanted the abuse to stop. He didn't know how to make it stop.....and now he didn't know how to stop being violent.

I never told him what happened to me...I never told him I had been beaten, held and raped. I never told him how much I hated the people who hurt me...and how I lived and breathed that hatred. I didn't even tell him how I unleashed all that hatred on myself......I was just there for him....listening....letting him talk...letting him vent his frustrations...and share his heart.  I started to see more of the the good in him. Others saw it too.  He started trying hard to control his temper and when he couldn't...when he lost it...he started saying he was sorry. 

One day his father came to see him. I was there. It shocked me to see how ordinary he looked...like anyone's father.....not deranged...or perverted or weird....just an ordinary man. But I knew what he had done to my friend. I knew his twisted mind. 

I remember thinking that day....I don't ever want to be like that man...or like my parents....or like the rapist who held me. I never want to hurt anybody. I want to be kind. I want to care. I want to be gentle like how God has been with me. I want to help pull others up...not tear them down. I  just want to make a postive difference....like He did for me. 

Rights

"Get up, stand up, Stand up for your rights. Get up, stand up, Don't give up the fight." Bob Marley
 
 I never knew I had rights. In fact I believed I didn't even have the right to exist. This week....someone asked me to post only the positive....things about my kids and not the pain of what happened.

It's taken me a long time to speak....to tell what I never could....to own it....to look at it head on and not run. The shame lived inside, crippling....keeping me from living my best life. This past year.....writing...blogging...I could feel the shame leaving. I've learned something through blogging....I have the right to my voice.....I have the right to say what I need....I have the right to tell what happened.

I had been silenced by shame. It did cripple me...kept me stuck. I couldn't look people in their eyes and worse....have them look in mine. I never stayed anywhere long enough to let anyone get close. I still struggle with that...I have to force myself to be with people. But writing....blogging....helps me. It frees me. 

Before my book went to print...I spoke to a lawyer. She told me I have the right to tell my story. I have a right to speak my truth. I have a right to not keep silent anymore. Tell and keep on telling she said.

I need to tell. I carried it alone too long. I kept it secret....not letting anyone know. I can't anymore.

Letting Love In

"To love and be loved is to feel the sun from both sides." David Viscott

 

For a long time I was afraid to love....anyone or anything. I didn't want to get hurt. I was afraid it or them would be taken away. Anytime someone showed they cared - or wanted to get close - I pushed them away - making excuses - leaving. And I never let myself get attached to things. I didn't think they would last either.

But not loving anything or anyone left me feeling alone and empty. That deep hunger for love and being too afraid was a vicious cycle that churned and gnawed inside me - It made me feel like an outsider - not really living. Fear won out for a long time.  


People called me a risk taker. I never knew....to love is to take a risk. Writing, blogging....opened my heart. I don't know how that happened. I wrote the truth - I wrote what I could never say. I wrote and kept writing...Something happened. A light turned on. The heaviness began to lift. The shame didn't feel so intense. I let people look in my eyes - and I could stay in their presence a bit longer. 

Somebody knew. You guys knew. No one had ever said what I lived was awful. I had tried to fight it - to not let it be so big. No one had told me it was bad - no one had said they were sorry it happened. People are saying it now - And that was the key that turned the lock on my heart. I feel a softness inside - a vulnerabilty that wasn't there before - I'm letting people in my world - I'm letting people care - and I'm letting them stay.


I always cared about people - I didn't want anyone to be hurt or afraid - but to care....really care...I'm learning you have to let them love you back....and not be afraid to take a risk.

Love - it started with Him - somehow He cut through all the layers that padded and hid my heart - all the layers that kept the light out  -  I want to love and let others love me back. I want to live free and be a part of life - not an outsider afraid to join in - and I want to give back in ways that make a difference  -

Giving Back

"Feel the fear and do it anyways." Susan Jeffers

I need to thank you guys. I got into a horrible slump - doubted everything I was working towards - After I posted, I was totally blown away by your responses. I am humbled by your support, your kindness and your encouragement. Thanks guys. Thank you so much.  I still have doubts...and fears....but I'm going forward. I'm hoping what I wrote...what I lived may make a difference for someone.....I want to make a difference. I want to reach back....I want to give hope to someone feeling like there's no way out. I still remember those feelings and thinking death was the only way to find peace...


I remember some of my friends who didn't survive the streets, the drugs, the pain....some took their own lives....others died accidently.  They didn't see a way out of the fight. They couldn't hold on. Sometimes I wonder why I survived and they didn't.
All I know  -  when He touched me....He made the difference. He didn't let me die.  I weighed less than  90 pounds -  my heart could have stopped; I used to walk on the top ledges of buildings thinking I was invincible. I could have fallen to my death. He didn't let me. Things happened - terrible things - things that taught me to hate....that hatred pushed me to fight back - to strike out.....That hatred became my strength. Many times I lay in the dark - unable to move - my body hurting so bad - feeling weak - desperate for a fix....thinking of ways to end it all....to let go and give in to the darkness. He wouldn't let me.

Arrested for drug possession, my social worker thought it would be easier for me to serve the time on a locked ward of a mental hospital than in prison. Her intentions were good, but I was terrified of the 'crazy' people - strange looking people who paced up and down the dingy hallways muttering to themselves, shaking their fists in the air, carrying on conversations with no one....Others did weird things like one guy who misinterpreted the Bible - 'if your eye offends you...pluck it out.' He did. Alone in his house, he cut his eye out of its socket - then drove himself to the hospital. And some of the staff used their power to humilate and hurt... I learned to hate even more in that place. But I also learned something else - something from the 'crazy' people - they taught me compassion. Their stories were sad. It wasn't their fault they were sick. I learned compassion from them. They taught me not to judge...to be kind....to look beyond the external.....

Courage - I never thought I had any. I thought I was a wimp, a chicken - hiding from the world, not wanting to be seen, running scared.
Courage - I think now I do have some - maybe I always did. Maybe my fighting, my push against those awful things was a sign of courage...I had always thought courage would feel different - strong, confident  - now though, I think you can be scared and not feel very brave and still have courage.

I really do want to make a difference - a difference for others - giving hope and maybe helping people trapped in the darkness find their way out.

He let me live. I want my life to reflect the kindness He gave me... I want Him to use what I lived - I want to give back.....

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.

Letting go and A Plug for a Friend

"There are two lasting bequests we can give our children.  One is roots.  The other is wings." ~Hodding Carter, Jr.

My 13 year old came home from school and handed me a form. "Can you fill it out, Mom. I want to go on the trip." Trip? What trip? "Next June 2010 - our school is going to........" I looked at the face of my child. Her sweet smile, her innocent face. She wanted to go. Her friends were going. She didn't want to be left out.

The words, of course you can go came out of my mouth, but in my heart I heard another voice, no, don't ask me that. You can't go. Something might happen to you. Something awful. I won't let you go.
I'm afraid - afraid to let her go. She'll be 14 next June. How could I say no. How could I deny her the right to experience her life.

I'm hoping they don't get enough kids and have to cancel - I'm hoping because I'm afraid - afraid of losing her, afraid of what can happen...... Images dance in my head - images of terrible things - I feel the panic - I won't be close enough to help her, to protect her - to keep her safe.

I never want her to feel fear, or experience being trapped like I did. I never want her to look into the eyes of a madman, a rapist, a crazed person and feel terror. I never want her to be held against her will - humiliated -shamed....fighting for her life....fighting to survive.  Everything inside me is praying; My sweet girl - please don't go. I know I'm praying the wrong thing. I need to pray protection over her and I will - but my instincts to protect her, to not let happen to her what happened to me takes over.

I survived horrible things. I know that now. I didn't always know it. I had always believed it was me that caused everything to happen -somehow I had brought it on......something about me made it happen.....
It's been a long fight to find my way back home to myself. I've become strong. Yet if something like what happened to me, happens to one of my girls - I won't be able to live. I won't be able to fight. The thought of them scared, terrified, hurting makes me crazy. I just want to hold onto my daughter and never let her go. But I also don't want to make her afraid of life - I can't transfer my fears onto her -

I am so afraid - afraid of letting her go. I'm trying to remember the opposite of fear is faith. Letting go and trusting God to keep her safe - to bring her home....to not let anything bad happen to her..the trip is almost a year away. For today -for right now - I don't have to think about her going. For today - I have time to learn to let go, to trust, to move from fear of what happened to me - to faith it won't happen to her.


Madison from Addiction -in God We Trust - was getting a lot of Spam because of the word addiciton in the heading. Her writing is amazing, detailing her journey from a parent's perspective. Her new blog is up and running. Check it out or if you are a Madison fan, want to read some awesome stuff from the heart of a parent and didn't know she moved......Here's the link. 
http://fight-of-your-life.blogspot.com/

Refusing Fear

"Fear is only as deep as the mind allows." Japanese Proverb
I drove to work this morning with the song, "  How can you say there is no God...  playing around in my head. All morning that tune played over and over  inside me. I felt like I could fly. By the time I left work, I had so much energy I needed some way to release it. I drove to the mountains where I love to run. The air, the smells, the sights - being in nature - made me feel even more pumped.

Before I had left work, a friend told me she's concerned I run alone in the woods. I hit the trails and started running. Her words popped into my head. I started to feel afraid - afraid to run in the place I love. I kept running through the isolated wooded trails, but I became aware of a growing sense of not being safe - of the possiblity someone evil was lurking behind the trees, on the trails, waiting - I felt that familiar sense of needing to brace my body, to be on guard, watching, attuned to every sound, every movement......It was too much. I was really afraid. I turned around and headed back to my car. I hate that as a female, we never feel really safe in the world.

Fear - I don't want to live being afraid. I don't want to be restricted in what I do or don't do just because I'm too afraid. I do that a lot. I'm still afraid to be seen. I still find it easier to talk in the darkness. I'm still afraid of people knowing the real me, how bad things had been - so I keep a distance - And I'm still afraid of being alone in the dark -
Fear - it has a life of its own. It drives, it pushes, it picks up steam the more I feed it with wild crazy thoughts from my imagination. 
Fear - it cripples, it stops me from living my best life, from doing the things I really want to do.  And it forces me to accept situations I don't want.
I never used to admit I was afraid. Instead I forced myself to be brave, to look fearless - by shoving needles in my arms, or throwing up or cutting myself. I never cried - instead I fought - mostly myself - to stay strong - to not show weakness - to not show fear.  


Fear - someone once told me it's the opposite of faith. I want to walk in faith - faith that I can do anything I want. Faith that has a positive strength to it. 
Faith that can stand up and speak and not be afraid. Faith that can look fear  head on and not back down.  
I know I need to be careful - to not put myself in crazy situations. Maybe running in the woods alone isn't so smart. I need to really think about that. Other fears - fears that control me - I want to challenge them and become freer. 

Secrets

"Secrets are made to be found out with time." Charles Sanford

Secrets - I kept so many of them. All the time. Never told anyone anything.
Secrets - I didn't think anyone would believe me. I didn't think I got it right. I thought I was making it up. And I thought it was no big deal. 
Secrets - they tore at me  - kept me living in shame - terrified to be seen - unable to look people in their eyes or worse have them look in mine. If they did, I knew they would see how bad, how horrible, how disgusting I was.
Secrets - they forced me to inflict pain on myself because I believed it was all my fault - everything that happened - everything they told me - I was bad - deserved it - worthless - garbage - I ran with those beliefs. Everytime I pushed a needle in my arm, everytime I puked my guts out - everytime I pulled jagged rocks up my arms until the blood oozed out and I could breathe - 
Secrets - the images danced in my brain forcing me to stay awake, terrified to sleep, terrified of the dark, of what could happen in the dark.....
Secrets - made me angry - angry at me. I hated me - everything about me. I tried to destroy myself because I knew they were right - I had no right to exist, no right to life -
Secrets -Finally I discovered I had believed Lies. Lies that kept me stuck. Lies that had sounded so much like the truth. Lies. Deception. 


It's taken me a long time to tell. To tell the truth. The truth of what they did to me. It wasn't my fault - 
Those 4 words it wasn't my fault helped me breathe again, helped me know it was wrong what happened - they had no right. How could I not know that before?


Last week, the radio was abuzz with talk about this loved teacher and Christian youth leader....charged by police for molesting two boys in a Christian camp. The day after he was charged, he commited suicide.
Secrets....
A friend came to me the other day, she's a nurse - told me she needs help - told me no one knows - told me she's  a Christian and an alcoholic - drinking 16 oz. of booze a day.

Secrets....
A good friend of mine found out her husband of twenty years was addicted to porn and had been having an online affair
Secrets....hidden. shameful....destructive
I don't want to live with secrets anymore. I am commited to telling what happened to me. Commited to saying the truth in the hopes someone else whose keeping secrets will tell.....will get help.....will find freedom.

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.


     

Weakness and Tears

"Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it." Albert Smith

I learned to fight. I learned to fight to survive. And to never show weakness. To show weakness meant defeat.

And he had taught me - his fist in my face, 'don't you dare cry.' I never did. I swallowed the fear. I forced myself to be strong. I cut my body instead to fight the urge to give in - to buckle - to fall.

When he beat or ridiculed me - I refused to let him see how terrified I was. And when the rapist held me in that house I cried only the first time - After that - I never did. I forced myself to be strong - to never let him see my fear. When I was detained - I refused to cry. I wouldn't show them I was afraid. Instead I fought. I fought to stay strong.

I was driving back from a friend's. My 13 yr. old, then just a baby, was in the back in her car seat. Without thinking, I pulled off to the side of the road and started crying. The tears kept coming. They wouldn't stop.

I wasn't crying because I had to fight someone to stop them from hurting me. I was crying because I felt inadequate as a mother.

This baby depended on me to protect her and keep her safe. I felt overwhelmed. I had no idea how how to be a mother. I only knew how to fight - I only knew how to survive.

I cried not because of someone's hatred towards me - not because someone was hurting me. I cried because I loved this child and I didn't want her to ever feel shame and pain and fear like I had. I cried because I was afraid I couldn't give her what she needed.

Love made me cry. Not hate, not violence, not having to fight to survive.

Writing to Heal

"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." William Wordsworth.

Writing - journaling has been one of the best ways for me to deal with stuff. I couldn't tell anyone what happened, how I felt or how afraid I was or even what I wanted or needed - But I could write.

Writing helps free me. It takes me to that dark place deep inside myself that I've been too afraid to look at. The place that's held the fear, the shame, the pain, the memories.....The place I've spent years running from. Writing has helped pull from that place what I could never say.

To say meant owning it - Owning it meant it was real. I didn't want it to be real. But the shame kept me a prisoner....isolated and distant even from myself....

So I write.

In writing I own it. In writing it becomes real. In writing I look at the shame. I face the fear, the pain, the memories that have tormented me.

There are times I want to close my eyes and not wake up....the memories hurt- the shame too overwhelming....But God doesn't let me give up. He takes me to a place I've never been....a peaceful place. He sooths that part of me I try to hide, to push away, to pretend doesn't exist. He offers me His gentleness and whispers; it's ok now.

People in my life don't know where I've been. They see me as happy, fun, free. I don't know how I never told anyone about being held in that house for six months, desperate to get away. I don't know how I never told all those things I lived, the 14 year drug addiction, the years of battling an eating disorder and cutting myself, of being forced into situations that nearly broke me. It's like I've lived two lives. Side by side. Never free. Pretending. But I want to be free. I really want to be free.

My book is soon ready to be published. I'm afraid of people I work with, friends and neighbours knowing how awful things were and how much a fight it has been. Not telling though is being selfish. If God hadn't touched me the way He had - I wouldn't have lived. I owe Him.

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.

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.

Memories

"Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us." Oscar Wilde.

Last night my friend told me she saw a movie. A movie about a woman whose story is similiar to mine. She told me she understands me better. She said she couldn't have survived what I did. She said she's glad I survived.

Hearing her say that, knowing she watched that movie and related it to me made me feel scared. Vulnerable. I couldn't talk. She's read my book. Edited it. Believes God wants to use me to help others. So why do I feel afraid? Listening to her talk about that show brought up painful memories of what happened. The memories hurt. They hurt really bad.

I talked to Maury Blair, author of Child of Woe. He said everytime he shares his story it hurts. The memories surface and it feels like it's happening all over again. But he said he won't stop telling. He does it because God touched him. Healed him. He talks to give hope to others and to help them find some freedom.

I didn't think it would be like this. I didn't think writing what happened would be so hard. When I remember it feels like I'm back there fighting to survive. The anger is there too. Anger at the people who hurt me and anger at myelf for being so powerless.

Why did God let it happen? Why did He allow it? I think of my friends who committed suicide or died by accident. He let me live. He redeemed my life. Why me and not them? I have to tell. Like Maury, I feel compelled to tell even if it's going to hurt everytime I do.

My Voice

"Words are the voice of the heart." Confucious

I never talked. I never told. I never said the things that happened. Instead I hid - overwhelmed with shame, wondering if all those awful things even happened at all. I used to talk in the third person - almost as if I was speaking for someone else and not for myself. I lived as if I wasn't a part of myself - Separate. Detached.

This blog has become my voice. It's given me the freedom to write what I can't say - to put a 'voice' to the memories that play in my head like old reruns that have kept me cowering in shame, - terrified to be seen.

When I sit at my computer and type - I feel free. It kind of feels like running in the woods. I can say what I want. I can say the truth. I can be honest. No one's looking at me.

My book is finished. My writer friend edited the whole thing. She said she was entralled. She said I'll touch many lives. She told me she's proud of me for writing it. My other friend, my best friend, gave my name to some local churches to speak at in the fall. The fall is too far away for me to worry about right now, but I hope I can stand up and have people look at me and tell the truth of what happened.

This morning I went for a run. I listened for God's voice. His voice gives me courage. This morning, I heard, 'trust.' One word. One powerful word. I believe He led me to write. He brought some amazing people to help me including some of you on the blog. I'm grateful, really grateful.

I want my voice to be heard. I don't want to be silent anymore. I want to help other people find peace and freedom. Maybe my story will give them that.

Changes

"I have accepted fear as a part of life..... specifically the fear of change. I have gone ahead despite the pounding in my heart that says: turn back.... Erica Jong

I hate change. Even when it's good change.

We've moved to the new place. - I know I like it. I love the quiet, being surrounded by animals, woods and water - the neighbours are great. A few have warmly welcomed us, some even jumping in wanting to give us a hand.

Everything is different here - the layout of the rooms, the appliances, even the shower in the ensuite is on the opposite side to our old house. Things still need to be set up. Boxes are everywhere. I can't find some things I want. We still need to buy some furniture.

And I want to go running, but I don't know the woods around here. Where we were, I knew them really well and always felt safe but here I don't know the trails. I need to run. I need to run in the quiet of the woods. It calms me. It gives me a sense of safety. I don't know if these woods are as safe as the ones I ran in. I feel afraid. It's all so new.

Change. I hate it. Even when I know what I'm moving towards is better.
Why am I afraid? Something inside me just wants the familiar. And it's not like we've moved that far away from where we were. The day we moved, it was so hot, but I had to run. I went back to run in the familiar woods. I needed to quiet the fear inside me. I needed to hear God whisper, it's ok.

My heart tells me, trust. Don't be afraid. The little kid inside me feels like things are somewhat out of control. I think of some of the places I've been in my life. This is heaven compared to those places. I'm trying to breathe, to trust, to let go and know God never leads us where He knows we can't handle it. Maybe today I'll venture out in these woods.