Living Free

"My hope is to laugh as much as I cry...and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return. Maya Angelou

I've lost a lot of time.....running scared....fighting to survive....not sure if my life was worth much of anything. Since publishing and telling my story...
things have changed. I'm freer.....not weighed down with so much shame. It feels as if I've slipped off an oversized jacket that was too bulky and cumbersome....or put down a gigantic sack I carried everywhere I went...an immense weight that kept getting in the way.....

There's a ton of things I want to do....things I want to try.  Mostly...I want to keep my heart open to living free. 

Things feel new. It's like I'm experimenting with the world....and life....with living and being. I can look people in their eyes.....and let them look in mine....something I couldn't do before. I feel more comfortable in my skin...not detached as if I don't belong in it. 

Most mornings I wake up ready to face the world. I'm still amazed at how far down He went to pull me out of the darkness...that place where I had no hope....no faith that anything could ever change. But it did...Somehow the power of His gentleness made the difference.

I still need to withdraw....to be alone...to tune into my heart.....and listen for His gentle whisper that always gives me the assurance I'm not alone anymore....and everything's going to be okay. 

And I want to make a difference for others who are where I was...to shine hope....to let them know....nothing is impossible to overcome.Aboslutely nothing.

We're leaving in a couple of days for San Fransisco. I used to be afraid to leave home....but I've made a deal with myself....to trust...kick back....and have a ton of fun....

Freedom

"I know why the caged bird sings" Maya Angelou

The small window didn't provide much to look at. I could see only the corner of another building that intersected with the one where I was held. It blocked most of the view to the gardens but I could still see the open sky and the white clouds hanging like soft beckoning pillows. Every once in a while a pigeon or two flew by, dipping in the cracks of the infrastructure and sometimes, even stopping to perch on the window ledge. Their liberty to come and go wherever they liked teased me and deepened my longing for freedom. 

I discovered if I stared long and hard at the sky....without moving or even blinking, I could feel it's energy pouring its life into me....and drawing me up and away from the dismal nightmare that I had been thrown into. Keeping my eyes fixed upward, I imagined myself blending in with the vast expanse of the open sky...flying up and away from the darkness with all its misery and frightening screams and strange people with bizarre behaviours and staff that enforced rules that made no sense to me.   

Being trapped is the worst feeling ever.....not being able to come and go as you like....having someone else dictate what you can and cannot do....even when to eat or sleep or shower. But living physically free without having freedom is not much better.

Like that caged bird....I yearned and ached for freedom. Yet when I got it....I still wasn't free. And even after He touched me....freed me from the drug addiction - still....I wasn't free. Someone said freedom comes with a price. I think that's true. I learned I had to give up.....let go....surrender....to be truly free.

I'm free now to chose what I want....in life and from  life...but it's a funny thing about freedom - now that I'm free...what I want....is to do what He wants...what He says....to follow His lead.... 

I struggled so hard to be my own person.....using my body as the battlefield....falling so far down....into some awfully dark places....making myself sick from a deep ache inside wanting to be free. And yet now I've discovered...there is freedom in not being totally free. 

Freedom

"I looked at my hands to see if I was the same person. There was such a glory over everything! The sun came up like gold through the trees, and I felt like I was in heaven. ”  Hariiet Tubman

Harriet Tubman...a slave....knew about being treated less than human. She had been beaten by those who owned her..... not just once....many times. They left scars on her body....and scars on her soul...Somehow she learned to be a fighter. She escaped.....found freedom......found safety. Yet something pulled at her....tugged at her heart....made her risk her life to return over and over and over to help others also know freedom.  

It had been dark for so long...when He finally freed me from the drugs....I walked outside and looked around at the trees, the flowers, the sun, the sky....Everything looked so brilliant...like velvet. The colors....the textures....I wanted to touch everything. It's almost like I had never seen any of it before....

Freedom! It made me see the world differently. It's as if my eyes had been blurred. Everything had been so dark, dim, shaded. I felt like I had been given a new pair of eye glasses that brought everything magically into perfect focus.

Freedom - When I was trapped, a slave to the drugs - nothing mattered except my need to survive from one day to the next, one hit to another. The same with the eating disorder....all I could think about was the addiction....and how to survive. 

I have recieved so many emails and phone calls from people who've read my book...telling me they're finding healing for themselves....and hope for their own freedom....I resisted telling my story. I fought hard not wanting anyone to know what had happened. But now...with every email, every phone call.....I want to tell and keep telling.....I want to help someone else find freedom. 

And I just found out February is Black History month...makes me especially  happy to honor the life of Hariiet Tubman.

Change

"Something in the wind has learned my name; And it's telling me that things are not the same. In the leaves on the trees and the touch of the breeze, there's a pleasing sense of happiness for me" The Carpenters

Sometimes I feel this overwhelming sense of happiness - a happiness that equals the sadness I used to feel. I don't always know what to do with that feeling. Running helps....so does writing and dancing with my girls.
 
I am really grateful He didn't let me die...And He's given me back so much. When He freed me from the drugs...even though I couldn't stop throwing up and cutting myself, I went back to school. I finished high school....then applied to university and got accepted. I walked around the campus waiting for someone to tell me I didn't belong there...for someone to say I was too stupid and couldn't do the work...and that I had no right to even be at university. 


In spite of all the drugs I did.... and all the times I had been beaten....and had my head bashed against the wall....I got on the dean's honor list. I thought they made a mistake. I thought they got it wrong. I thought they would take it back as soon as they discovered the error. 

I couldn't stand up in front of the class to speak...to do the presentations. I couldn't open my mouth. And I couldn't handle anyone looking at me. No one knew that everyday I was throwing up and cutting myself. No one knew what had happened to me. I detached from everything that happened....I detached enough to study. I learned to present 'normal.'  I had learned that as a kid....when my father pushed his fist in my face threatening to hurt me more if I cried.....I learned to present 'normal' when the rapist humiliated me...when he wouldn't let me go and I learned it from the professionals who told me if I didn't do what they wanted...I would never be released...

But presenting 'normal' isn't being 'normal.' I couldn't let people look in my eyes and I couldn't let them get too close. 


I never knew until I started writing last year....how shame kept me living less than free. No matter what I accomplished...shame wouldn't allow me the real freedom I craved. 


I have learned this past year...I needed to voice those things I never said. I needed to own them. Blogging has helped me so much. It's given me a voice....I can feel the shift inside. I can feel the the shame leaving. And I feel that happiness inside. Today....I want to dance....

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

 

 

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.

Stepping Out

"Take the first step in faith. You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step." Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr

     This past week I've been worried. My book is in the hands of the editor. November 6th is the potential day for it to be printed. 
     I've been wondering - what am I doing putting this stuff out there for everyone to know. I think people will look at me differently when they find out where I've been - when they find out how awful and crazy I was. 

     Reading what I wrote - I feel sick - Overwhelmed. It's not like there was one thing. There's too much - too much crazy stuff......kidnapped, raped, drugs, eating disorder, cutting, the streets,.....
     I' ve been trying to share bits of what happened with some friends - trying to prepare them - to warn them - that I'm not what they see. I'm trying to take a step - to test the waters. 
    I try to convince myself it wasn't so bad. Then I look at what I wrote.....yeah it was crazy - really bad. I go back and forth like a ping pong ball wondering what the heck I"m doing writing this stuff and putting it out there.
     I watched this tv show - about a brother and sister. They looked like everyone else - normal. But they endured years of abuse - now they struggle to cope. No one could tell that everyday they fight overwhelming feelings of shame, fear and worthlessness. Looking at person you can't tell......

     The other day I noticed someone - really thin - way to thin - face gaunt - body frame skinny - emaciated. I glanced in her eyes - I saw that familiar emptiness and the shame. I wanted to grab her and tell her she has a right to live....a right to be safe....a right to be cared for. I wanted to point her to the One who can help her. But I just let her pass by. I went home and emailed my editor some cover samples for the book.  


     If what I wrote can help just one person find peace, find their way out of the darkness, away from that horrible emptiness.....then I'll risk people in my world thinking less of me.

     And I need to bridge what happened with who I am today. I don't want to live in shame anymore - hiding a secret - hiding huge parts of myself. I want to be free - totally free. I spend too much time hiding - worried what people would think if they knew the truth of where I came from. I don't want to do that anymore.

     I want to be free inside - I don't want to carry the shame anymore. And I want others to be free....
 
     Last night I did what I've been afraid to do. I told a group of women my story. I voiced it. I spoke. I said the words. The words that I've not been able to say outloud to anyone except a trusted friend. I couldn't stand up so they let me sit at a table and they closed the lights - I talked in the dark. But I did it. 
     People came to me after - told me pieces of their stories - told me what I shared touched them - told me they were amazed I survived....
     I think freedom is learning how to dance in spite of the fear. I'm going to keep taking risks - even though I'm afraid. Something pulls me to do it. A hunger to be free. A hunger for others to be free. I think it's happening.

    


  .

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.


     

Life

"Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look at the stars." Henry Van Dyke

I'm glad God let me live. I'm glad He didn't let me die.

And I'm glad I'm not crippled, or sick or physically a mess because of all the things I did to my body. He let me live. And He gives me this amazing joy inside that makes me feel like I can fly.

Many times I wanted to take my own life. I tried. I popped tons of pills, overdosed shooting up, walked in front of cars, stood on the ledges of buildings, became so thin my heart could have stopped - Yet He let me live.

I shook my fist at Him, daring Him to kill me - but He wouldn't. I tempted life - ended up in crazy and dangerous situations where others could have killed me - He didn't let them.

He ran with me even when I didn't know Him. He fought for me when I was determined to live opposite to what He wanted. He saw something in me I couldn't see. I guess He knew I would live for Him if I ever let Him free me.

I keep wanting to ask why me when so many of my friends died. I won't ever know why, but I promise I will be whatever He wants. I'll do whatever He asks even if I'm afraid. I love Him. He touched me. He freed me. He broke chains that held me really tight - chains that were choking life from me.

I couldn't feel anyone's love. I couldn't accept kindness from anyone. I knew I didn't deserve it. I deserved nothing. When someone said they loved me I didn't believe them. I didn't know what they meant. I didn't trust them. In my mind, I believed I had no right to exit.

Somehow though, God broke through that. Somehow He manged to show me love that was so amazing it broke through the barrier of shame and did what nothing else could -

I'm really glad He didn't let me die. I'm really glad I know Him. I'm really glad I belong to Him.I want my life to count. I want it to count for Him.

The Power of Nature

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature." Anne Frank

I don't do good when I'm around people too much. I crave alone time. When I'm around too many people too much of the time, my mind goes into frantic mode. I stop listening. I stop being present. I daydream about the woods, the mountains, the water. I envsion the birds - the deer and I can even smell the sweetness of the earth. The pull to be outside is so strong. In nature - in the woods - I feel safe. I feel free.

I think nature has to be God's gift to us. If I wasn't so scared of the dark, I would probably live in the forest, up on a mountain somewhere.

I spent a lot of time locked up - My father used to lock me in his car in the worse part of the city for hours by myself. I was terrified. I prayed he would come back and get me. He always did. As a kid I spent hours hiding in a closet, under the balcony or in the basement, holding my breath, afraid to move - terrified, listening, waiting - like an animal being stalked.

The rapist held me for six months. In the cold, in winter, in the snow - with no shoes, no coat - I escaped. I climbed over a six foot high gate to freedom. When I couldn't stop throwing up, cutting myself, shooting dope - they locked me on a psych ward. Threatened to keep me locked up until I stopped the destructive behaviour.

Confined. Trapped. I hate those feelings. Maybe that's why I love being outside. There I hear God's whisper in my heart. I feel His gentle touch. I feel His strength.

Shame

"Shame is worse than death" Russian Proverb

When I went to therapy I couldn't talk. I couldn't stand for the therapist to even look at me. Shame - it was unbearable. Painful. Extremely uncomfortable. I hated to be seen. In my mind, to be seen meant to be hurt, raped, beaten. Even when there was no threat of danger, I felt it. Shame had become a part of me. I couldn't shake it.

The therapist - in her wisdom and kindness suggested we turn off the lights. In the dark - with no eyes looking at me I could relax a bit. When she tried to talk to me with the lights on - everything inside me screamed - Don't look at me!

I couldn't do it. It was insane. So she talked with her back facing me. I couldn't stand being looked at. I felt hideous, repulsive, different. Shame made me feel 'bad, unacceptable, wrong.' Shame - it is worse than death. It feels like death. It feels like having no control. It makes me sick inside. It makes me want to puke.

The therapist said - shame is when we feel like there is something inherently wrong with who we are. I believed there was something wrong with me. I believed I was bad, wrong, different. I felt unworthy. I believed I had no right to exist. No right to life.

I don't know how He did it, but somehow God broke through the layers of shame. I couldn't feel love before but I felt His love, His acceptance and mostly His gentleness. I don't need to hide so much anymore, although I still get antsy when I'm with people too long.

Yesterday I went running in the mountains where I used to live. In the quietness of the woods, in the power of nature - I hear His voice whispering in my spirit - He is my hope for freedom from shame.

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.

Hunger for Love and Acceptance

"Hunger is not only for a piece of bread, but for love. Homelessness is not only not having a home, but for being rejected and unwanted." Mother Theresa

For years I walked around with a profound sense of homesickness, an inner ache, a desperate yearning to go home. I felt it deep inside my gut and for years, I couldn't shake that twisting knotting in the pit of my stomach. Nothing took it away, - not relationships, not material things, not drugs, - nothing. I think now it was a hunger, a ravenous hunger for love and acceptance.

Everything I had been taught, told me I was nothing, worthless, bad. Images constantly rolled over in my head of my father spitting at me when he was in his rages, calling me names - garbage, retarded, worthless, - picking up furniture and throwing it at me, punching and slapping me and telling me it hurt him more than it hurt me; .....my mother beating me with a stick, teasing me, telling me I was stupid, an idiot, I couldn't talk right, walk right, breath right....I often wondered what was wrong with me that they hated me so much.

I wandered the streets, shooting dope, sometimes three and four times a day. I didn't care. My friend who I shot up kept telling me I wasn't shooting to get high, I was shooting to kill myself. He was right. I believed I had no right to exist.

One day I was in a fire. It was my fault. I accidently dropped the lit match I used to heat up the dope. My dog saved me. She grabbed me with her teeth and pulled me onto the balcony. A cop who had been looking out for me, heard what happened and came to see me at the hospital. He bought me clothes and when I was discharged, rented a place for us to move into together. He tried to help me. He told me over and over he loved me but I couldn't feel it. I didn't understand what he was saying. The amount of self-loathing I had was stronger than his love.

While I was with him, I was pulled into the rapist's house. He held me there for six months. He told me he loved me but he wouldn't let me go. And he hurt me. He hurt me really badly. Somehow I survived. I don't know how but I did. I never told anyone what happened or where I had been. I thought I deserved it. I thought it was my fault.

Then God touched me; cut through the pain, broke the chains holding me so tight. He took away the drug addiction but not the deep ache inside. That didn't go away. I couldn't let people get close. They would see what I knew, - they would see how worthless I was.

God never gave up on me. His love was so gentle. Some days I didn't care if He killed me. On those days when I felt wild, out of control, - when I ripped razor blades down my arms, or punched my head to make the memories stop, or held my head over the toilet throwing up over and over and over because I didn't believe I had the right to eat or live, - He was there, beside me, waiting. He never let me go. He waited. He stayed. Some days, I begged Him to kill me, to let me go but He didn't. He waited patiently. He waited until I was ready.

I live with gratitude, - gratitude that God didn't listen to me, that He let me live, that somehow He freed me.

I owe my life to Him. He broke through the emptiness and the pain and helped me to feel His love. I feel it. I feel it all the time. That feeling of homesickness is gone. That sense I'm worthless, garbage, - gone.

I want to help other people find freedom. I want them to know what I found out, that there is hope and there is freedom and God's love can break through anything and redeem it. Most of my friends have no idea what I lived. I don't want them to know but something inside me is compelling me to tell, - I think it's my love for God, my gratitude to Him. I need to tell.

"Love is not a feeling. It's a behaviour." Oprah Winfrey

'I love you,' my father said. Then he beat me and called me filthy names. 'I love you,' my father said. Then he locked me alone in the car for hours in the worst part of town. 'I love you,' my father said. Then he shoved his fist in my face and forced me to eat even when I kept throwing up. 'I love you,' my father said. Then he held me down on the bed.......

'I love you,' the rapist said. Then he punched me so hard, my spleen ruptured. 'I love you,' the rapist said. Then he held me down and did what he wanted. 'I love you,' the rapist said. Then he locked me in a cold dark room and wouldn't let me go.

'I love you,' God said. Then He patiently waited until I was ready to trust Him. 'I love you,' God said. Then He broke the hold of the drug addiction. 'I love you,' God said. Then He calmed my anger and hatred. 'I love you,' God said. Then He healed my heart with His gentle touch. 'I love you,' God said. Then He freed me from the shame and fear.

Just because someone claims they love you, doesn't mean they really do. I think the wires in my head got all mixed up when I was a kid. I thought what happened was normal, that everyone lived on edge, fighting to avoid getting beaten, living like someone in a war zone, in chaos, tension and confusion. I believed whatever happened was because something was wrong with me. I didn't know what was being done was wrong. I didn't know they had no right to do what they did. All I knew was it made me crazy. It made me want to punish myself in ways that nearly killed me. It pushed me over the edge, making me act impulsively, full of anger and not caring what happened.

But then I learned love doesn't hurt. I learned it's patient, kind and forgiving. I learned it's not jealous or full of pride or resentful or rude or demanding of its own way.

I never knew. No one had told me or showed me the truth about love. I figured it out as I went, but I had figured it out all wrong. Then God touched me and He showed me. He brought safe people into my life, but I resisted them, pushing them away, still needing to hide, afraid of getting hurt, not trusting. It took so long. But then I got it.

When love is real, not only does it not hurt, but it's like a balm that feels soothing on the inside and brings amazing healing and relief. I learned love doesn't keep a list of wrongs, so I chose to forgive and move forward. I want to shine so others can feel the touch of love from me. I want my life to reflect the truth of what love really is and find healing and freedom in their lives.

Friends

"If I don't have friends, I ain't got nothing." Billi Holiday

I'm overwhelmed. Tonight my friend, Debbie called. Her voice in a panic. Begged me to come over and to hurry. I went. I wasn't prepared for the surprise party she had thrown for me. Even my sister and her husband drove the eight hours to come. They all chipped in and bought me the mountain bike I wanted. It had all the bells and whistles.

I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I didn't want the attention. I didn't want the focus on me. I, who have spent a lifetime hiding, not wanting to be seen. Here were about thirty of my friends focusing on me. My first thought - I don't deserve this.

Later that night, after everyone left, Debbie told me, 'I would do anything for you. God brought me into your life because He wants to heal you completely.'

I met Debbie online. In a writers critique group. She read an excerpt of my book. I didn't tell her my real name. She emailed me and said she lives twenty minutes away. She wanted to talk. I panicked. I gave her my number. She called. I told her my real name. She wanted to meet. I couldn't. She knew too much. We emailed. We talked on the phone. She asked if I would ever meet her. Three months later, we finally met - In the park. Over the next few months she read more of my story. She wanted to know details. I couldn't talk. I hesitated. My words faltered. I started a sentence, then stopped. She encouraged me. Then begged me to come over to her place. We sat opposite each other, I unable to have her look at me. The shame was too great. She respected my need and talked with her face turned away from me. Over the next few months, we got close. Really close. We talked everyday. I told her things I had never told anyone. Things that happened. Horrible things. She said it made her care about me even more. She said our friendship to her is like David and Jonathon in the Bible.

My daughter told me on the drive home from the party, "Mom, you have some great friends." I do. I really do. I have been afraid of letting them get too close, afraid they would see the shame, afraid they would know my past and hate me. So I kept them at a distance.

My friends are awesome people. Each one of them. I still don't know how God did it. Took me out of a lifestyle of hopelessness and misery and brought me into one of love, friendship and family. The Bible says God came to set the captives free. It's true. He really did.