Not Alone Anymore

"We need others. We need others to love and we need to be loved by them. There is no doubt that without it, we would cease to grow....." Leo F. Buscaglia
All that time, living on the streets, fighting to survive....alone....
Lonliness hurts. It hurts so bad. That pain - in your gut - constantly there - reminding you no one  cares  - driving your behaviour - forcing you to seek relief in things that create more hurt, more pain. Lonliness - it never left - its intense hold - its powerful grip - gnawing away inside...

Lonliness that causes a pain so intense - the only relief you can think of is death. I remember that pain...those years - an emptiness so deep....a gut wrenching despair - connected to no one - feeling utterly worthless - not good enough. No one to care if I ate, or slept, or was sick or cold or scared....
Lonliness....It hurt so bad - I wanted relief - I wanted it to end - that agonizing pain - to just go away. 

Lonliness - is a disease. It eats away at you - steals your life - leaves you feeling hopeless - always craving - desperate to be free of it.



When God touched me....He slowly filled that empty hole in my soul - that deep lonliness. He gave me friends, family - who cared...who believed in me....who challenged me to live my best life....But I fought them - pushed them away - It was so weird - what I wanted for so long, the thing I yearned for hurt more than the pain of not having it. 
     I had always dreamed it would feel so good but instead I felt this awful pain assoicated with people caring about me  - I put up walls....lots of walls. For a long time I 'knew' I wasn't worthy of their love, their care, their kindness. I thought if they really knew me they wouldn't stay - so I left and kept leaving.  
One day God whispered - Stay. Don't go. Push past the pain.  
Why did it have to hurt so much? I wanted to be belong so bad and yet I couldn't accept it for a long time. Even now , sometimes - I have to fight - to not pull away....to stay present.....To let people get close  - to let them stay.  
     I wonder how many people are really lonely - who know how to put on a front - a facade - know how to look good, but go home feeling lonely - empty - aching for someone to really care about them.......to be connected in a way that makes their life meaningful - filling the emptiness with excessive shopping, popping medications, working until they want to drop.......

     I never want to forget where I was.....how much it hurt.....I want my arm to always be extended....reaching out.....to make a difference and help others feel connected.

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.

Comfortable With Yourself

"The worse loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself." Mark Twain

For too long I walked around feeling as if I weren't attached to myself, almost as if I was outside my body walking beside it rather then actually being in it. Being separate and not a part of who I was, was a totally weird sensation. It's almost like floating through the world; - not being grounded.

My body wasn't safe. I felt like it betrayed me. It allowed all the abuse, - the beatings, the kidnap and the rape to happen. In my mind, just being seen and having a female body caused the violence. It was my enemy. I fought with myself, trying to force the fear and terror to go away - I fought against myself to be strong, but I was afraid, so afraid I couldn't stand it. The fear forced me to pull more and more into myself and away from reality.

As a kid, I willed myself to disappear until I couldn't feel anything. I lived in my head, in fantasies that took me to another place, a safe place. A place where no one could hurt me. But even that stopped working at some point. I needed to find something stronger, more effective that lifted me out of the pain and shame and fear. So I cut myself, ripped open my skin, injected my body full of dope and forced myself to throw up even if I ate one small bite of something. I told myself, I wasn't allowed to exist. I had been told over and over I deserved nothing, I was garbage, worthless, ungrateful. I believed it. Words are so powerful. I lived on those words, falling deeper and deeper into a dark hole that became harder and harder to get out of.

And then, He touched me. He pulled me up and out of that pit of hell. In a hospital emergency room, where I lay under oxygen - the damage I had done to my body extensive - He touched me. He redeemed me. He breathed life into me. I felt it. I knew something supernatural had happened. It was powerful. So powerful I stopped using the drugs. Right from that moment. Fourteen years of shooting up, three and four times a day,- Gone - Over - because of His touch.

I don't know why He chose to free me. Why me? I'm no more special than anyone else. I thought of friends who died, friends who took their own lives or accidentally overdosed, - why me? Why did He let me live? I don't understand but I am determined now to to look back, as painful as it is, for one purpose, - to reach out and help someone else caught in their own cycle of torment. There is hope. There is freedom - For me, I found it in Him. When nothing else worked, He did. He touched me. He changed me. He turned the light of His love on. The darkness left. The fear went. Now I live with tremendous joy and gratitude.