Gifts From the Darkness

"Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift." Mary Oliver

I never realized until recently...where I had been...what I had lived...had left me with some pretty amazing gifts....gifts I probably wouldn't have gotten had I not danced with the darkness.

I never wanted anybody to know any of what happened. I tried to hide it...push it down....even pretend it hadn't happened at all. The shame crippled me....kept me a prisoner of the past....and tainted everything I touched with bits of that darkness. I walked around holding my breath....afraid to let go....afraid of something worse happening...living on edge....waiting.. anticipating the worse.... always on guard.

Then I wrote my story....told what happened. People started to know. The veil began to lift. The shame I had tried to mask began to slowly disolve. And then I discovered them....the gifts - gratitude...strength...faith...hope....even courage. 

Darkness taught me some things....it taught me to never give up...never let go....to face my fears....and hold onto my dreams. It taught me its wild fierceness runs out of steam. It's not forever...things change...it changes....eventually it lets go of its grip. And sometimes I wonder if it were some sort of test...to see if I was strong enough...brave enough....determined enough. 

And those times when I started to tire....feeling exhausted....and wanting to just give in...He came alongside and held me up. With Him in my corner I could hold on longer. I could fight the darkness with greater intensity.

The darkness taught me perservance.....and that holding on eventually does bring healing... freedom....and purpose. It taught me....never give up. Never give in. And maybe it wasn't just about me. Maybe it's about showing hope to someone else lost in the darkness...that they too can win the fight. The thought of that makes me even more grateful....because if I could beat the odds....anybody can.

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.....

Changes

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.  Anatole France

In so many ways....I have become free. The shame and fear mostly gone....blogging has given me a voice...a voice that was heard and affirmed by you guys. Your constant affirmations have given me something so huge....it's made me feel like I don't need to hide as much.  My biggest fear has always been being known.....being seen. I  know I'm not quite where I should be...but I'm not where I was. I want to be free not to worry about being seen.....especially when someone knows my past...what happened....how far down I had fallen and what I did to survive..

I held onto the secrets too long and allowed the shame to cripple me. I'm accepting more and more that I'm not what happened to me.....but I know it has shaped who I have become and how I see things.  

I never what to take anyone's dignity away from them. I never want to reduce anyone to feeling less than human like those professionals who did that to me....who medicalized my response to being beaten and raped. When I didn't cooperate with what they said I 'should' do, they took it as a message that I didn't want help. And they labeled me and saw the destructive behaviour as my being unwillingly to be free. 

I've learned that cutting, eating disorders and the needle were only symptoms of what was going on inside...and they were also my way of surviving what happened.

I want to keep moving forward...reaching for life....learning to live it fully. I still struggle to let myself enjoy life....to touch and feel and experience the good without feeling guilty or believing I don't have the right. I've come this far...I'm determined to climb higher....I want my life to shine with hope that nothing is impossible to overcome.

Hunger

“Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat.”  Mother Teresa

Hunger! Eating! - Food!  So much of life revolves around it...fears of not having enough....always aware of the emptiness inside....that dull ache that never goes away......or having too much....yet deseprate for more. Compulsive. Obsessive. Always needing to fill the hole inside...that deep sense of worthlessness...and feelings of insignificance. Hunger!

Hunger....an aching....yearning...desperation...a longing to be filled....to be  satisfied.....a desperation to fill something deep within.

Living on the streets....I was always hungry...always desperate....constantly aware of that dull ache gnawing inside....never letting up...never letting go...and even when I got food....and filled my belly....I hated it. I'd throw up. It never brought the satisfaction I craved...a longing that tugged at me....pushed me to live in ways that dared life....that dared God....

Hunger....a need so deep...deeper than the physical need to eat....the soul's hunger to feel needed...appreciated....accepted....the need to belong...a desire so great....it can become a matter of life and death. 

Hunger - it's insatiable appetite that goes beyond a physical hunger to eat...a need for something so huge..that sometimes no amount of food can meet its ravanous cravings. 

Hunger....I used to be afraid of not having enough...of never being physically satisfied to quiet that throbbing inside.  I was always worried that when the food ran out... there wouldn't be anymore...ever....Funny thing though...there always was. Even long after He touched me....and turned my life around....I still feared there wouldn't be enough. I've learned that ravenous hunger inside....was always my desire to be loved....to be cared about....to belong....to have a home....and friends.....and family who cared enough to stay. I have that now....and that hunger....is leaving...For many of us....it's never about food.

The Innocent

"I brought children into this dark world because it needed the light that only a child can bring" Liz Armbruster

Babies are cute...really cute....wide eyes....chubby cheeks....small chunky bodies. It's hard not to smile when being around them. The best is when they smile back or hearing their sweet laughter at the goofiest things. And kids are so much fun to be around with their neat way of looking at the world....and picking up on things most adults don't notice anymore..simple things....things that make everything they experience an adventure. 

But some look at babies and children in a different way....a way I don't get....a way that takes their trust and uses it to hurt them. Babies..children...they're vulnerable...innocent...trusting.

My daughter's school sent a note home...warning about some guy trying to pull girls into his pickup truck....making lewd comments....wanting to hurt them. Hearing that makes me think of what happened to me....it makes me afraid. I want to keep my girls home....keep them close...keep them safe....where I can watch them them....and where I can protect them.. 

The news is full of stories of children being hurt...abducted...harmed. Abuse  leaves it's mark...burning deep into a child's spirit and becoming their filter of seeing the world. I don't want my girls to ever experience that....to ever feel the terror or torment of someone's evil intentions. 

My oldest is going on a trip six hours away with her school next month. I have images in my head....of never seeing her again. I know it's irrational..... I'm trying to fight it....and give it to Him...to protect her and the other kids....A mother's worst nightmare are the perverts who roam the streets prowling on the innocent.  

The only protection I know for sure....is faith...trusting Him. He let me survive....He let me live.

Seeing the Stars

"But I know somehow, that only when it is dark enough, can you see the stars." Martin Luther King, Jr.

I used to think....those things that happened would kill me. They cut so deep....and kept me living in hiding....like a fugitive....always on the run....not letting anyone get too close....too afraid to be found out...for the truth to be discovered....of what I had done....where I had been...what I had lived. 

Now though, I can see the stars. All that stuff that happened....that drove me crazy...that kept me locked in shame - that created so much pain..... and that I thought I would never be free from - has taught me to look up and see the stars.
Those things that almost killed me....has worked to make me strong. 

I want others who are still fighting the demons...to Know Hope...to know there is a way to break free...to come to the place where they too can look up when it's really dark and see the stars shining back....and know the darkness didn't consume them....

I wish those things had never happened. And I never want to go through them again.....but maybe they had a purpose....to tell others...that freedom is possible....that there is a way out.  Things aren't perfect...but it's ok. Maybe that's the difference....I just know looking back - He pulled me out from being so far down that somehow...I know....the rest will come. 

So if you're still fighting...and the darkness seems too great...hold on....never give up...and Know Hope...

Shortlisted

"If there's a book you really want to read but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it." Toni Morrison

My book, In the Eye of Deception, has been shortlisted for a literary award. It blew me away when I found out. I had struggled so much to write....and to tell. When I first started writing...I never imaged publishing a book. I just needed to release what was inside me. I wrote every day and late into the nights. I wrote in the third person.

And I went running, everyday..in the woods....alone - Fighting what I knew inside.  I had to tell. I had to write the truth....to give hope to even one person...that nothing is impossible to overcome...and that Light can shine where darkness lived.

Guys, I 'm really sorry but I changed this post from the way I had it originally. I wasn't comfortable with how I wrote it.  Some of you had left comments.  Unfortunately all those comments disappeared too. I'm sorry.  But please know  I really appreciate everything you said and all your encouragement and support. You guys have helped me come through so much...

Breaking the Cycle

"Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it."  Helen Keller

People are always telling me..... they see me as being gentle. And those at work or friends who've read my story say....they don't know how I can be gentle when all I knew was violence. Their words shock me. I've never seen myself as being gentle....I've carried so much anger...so much hatred and lived as a fighter. 

Thoughts: The cycle of abuse can be broken. What happens to us doesn't define who we are...for a long time, though....I didn't believe that. I moved in the world as if it was my fault...as if there was something wrong with me and that I caused everything that happened. 

It's true that abuse changes you...it changes who you are....it changes who you become....and it changes how you move in the world. It creates shame...shame that makes you want to hide all the time....not wanting to be seen....leaving you with the belief that you're defective and have no right to exist. 

Abuse, violence.....messes up the wires in your head. It causes you to turn on yourself...to hate what and who you are; to hurt yourself with drugs, eating disorders or self-injury. And others start having control over your life....like professionals who think they know better what you need and perverts and predators who strangely sense the abuse that happened to you and see you as prey to them too....

Fighting to take my life back...to empower myself has been long and hard. Many times I wanted to give up...let go..give in. I'm glad now I didn't. And I needed His touch to help me stay alive. Sometimes I think of where I was....the things I did....the things done to me....and for a brief moment....I want to lash out and fight again. But I won't...Instead I go running...in the woods....alone....to hear His whisper....to know that maybe all that stuff had purpose....to help even one person hang on....and never give up the fight to come back to themselves and to be all they were meant to be. 

Kindness of Strangers

Goodness is the only investment that never fails. Henry David Thoreau

I always tell my kids...there are more good people than bad....and I tell them the story of the woman living in the city next to ours....

She was a waitress....all her life. She didn't earn alot of money....but somehow she managed to save $10,000. She dreamed of taking a trip when she retired...maybe a cruise. She never married....never had kids.  

One day, her boss asked if he could borrow the money...he would pay her back. He promised. She trusted him....lent him the money. He put it towards building a huge house in a rich part of town. A house larger than anyone needed. Time went by, he never gave the money back. Then two years, three...still nothing. The woman retired. She lived on a small pension. Her dreams of taking a trip...over. 

Somehow, a businessman heard about her story. Maybe from a customer at the diner. He went to see her. Gave her a cheque for $1000. The two sat, had tea in her small apartment. Every two months, he returned and gave her another $1000. He told her he would do that until she had her $10,000 in full. 

The media got a hold of the story. By that time, the businessman had paid her all the money her boss had taken from her....but he was still going back every two months to visit with her. The media asked why. His answer, We've become good friends.

The boss never apologized. He lives in one of the largest homes in the city. He has never repaid the woman a dime. 

This story makes me think of the people who reached out to me when I lived on the streets...those who gave me food, or a place to sleep or encouraged me to never give up.  The kindness of strangers! I've never forgotten them. And their kindness, their goodness has made me want to reach out to others who need to know.....there are more good people in the world than bad.

Burned Out Houses

"It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything…Only after disaster can we be resurrected." Tyler Durden, Fight Club 1999

I used to be afraid when I'd see a house that had been destroyed by fire.  But as afraid as I was.... I'd stand frozen...staring...the fear playing in my head. I don't  know what that fear was....but something about it held me....made my heart stop.....gave me cold chills....and made me really really afraid......

I think in some way I related the burned out house to my broken life....that burned house....devestated by fire...people....families once living in it....fighting to survive...battling fear.....panic... Did someone die....having hope to get out but then losing their life trying to get free? The house that once been lived in.....with people...families....gone. My life...living on the streets - alone....broken....lost....fighting to hold on to hope....hope to make it out alive. 

Burnt out houses still scare me. They hold a fascination....some meaning....that life even after losing everything....goes on....maybe in different ways....surviving the fire of life....changes you....makes you move in the world different....gives you a heightened sense of danger that you didn't have before....but it also gives you something else....an amazing feeling of gratitude...that you survived....that you made it out alive.....

Bugs

"God in His wisdom made the fly and then forgot to tell us why."  

Ogden Nash "The Fly

 Hearing screams, I flew downstairs. My girls stood holding each other....shaking and pointing towards the front door. "a bug...a creepy fat bug with a gizzilion legs..." 
I cracked up laughing. "It's just the Easter bunny in disguise." I told them. They didn't believe me. 
"Get it Ma...kill it." 
"Uh uh. not me....I ain't touching it."
 
Bugs! Like my girls....I'm afraid of them too. I once lived in a rough part of the city.....in an apartment infested with roaches. Nighttimes were the worst. They came out in droves.....and they were big and fat...the sound of the clicking of their legs scurrying across counters, tabletops and floor made me cringe. I was really afraid....and slept with the lights on. I thought maybe the light would deter them....but it didn't. They ruled the place and since I had no money....and nowhere to go - I was stuck there.

What's even worse....are the two legged ones..the perverts....those who rape children....assualt women.....hurt the vulnerable.  They too like the dark....and live in secret...in lies and deception. So many portray themselves as good...nice...helpful...like - coaches, fathers, teachers, pastors....and even some women....Maybe I'm colored by the stuff that happened to me.. 

I teach my girls...to listen to their gut....that if someone looks really good....sounds really good...and tons of people are supportive of them....but something in their gut doesn't feel good....to run.

Saying Good-bye

“Never forget me, because if I thought you would, I'd never leave.” A. A. Milne

It was the middle of the night. My aunt woke me up....told me my mother was dead. Then she turned and walked out of the room... left me alone....alone in the dark. I was 12 years old. One year before...my grandmother who looked out for me...died in her sleep. 

I've always struggled with good-byes. Whenever someone says good-bye....I panic. It feels like forever........finished....no more.....gone.

Good-bye triggers feelings of being alone....lost....left.  Good-bye sounds so final....end of story.

Life changed after my mother died. Everyone left....left me and my sister alone...alone with him. And then my sister left....and I really was alone. 

Saying good-bye is hard. When I say goodbye or when someone says it to me....I feel like it's a death....a huge loss....even when it's someone who'se not so important to me. I don't ever say good-bye to my kids. I'm afraid if I do....I'll never see them again....something awful will happen.

Good-bye hurts...it scares me....Even to let go of what I don't want..of anything that's familiar...But life is a series of goodbyes....of constant letting go...To hold on....to never let go doesn't allow other things..good things to come in. 

In my head...I'm afraid...afraid to say goodbye...afraid to let go...but there's something I need to say goodbye to.  I feel it. I know it. But I'm still afraid. So today...I'm going to practice letting go...to not being afraid to trust....to believe that in letting go....in saying goodbye...something better will come...

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. 

It Hurt So Bad.

To read the introduction and reviews go to www.gentlerecovery.webs.com

"Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, and clever in their own sight." Isaiah 5:20,21

It hurt so bad. It hurt my mind. It hurt my body. It changed the way I moved in the world. I stopped being free. I needed to cover all of myself - my body, my soul - even my mind. I couldn't be seen. 

I was too scared to let anyone look in my eyes. If they did, they would see the shame, the badness, the horribleness of who I was. 

My body is bad. I can't be seen. To be seen means to be hurt: raped, punched, beaten. Being seen hurts too much. It means being forced to do what what I don't want. Hold your breath. Don't move. Then no one can see. 

It hurt so bad. In hurt my mind. It hurt my soul. I wasn't good enough. I moved in shame. I moved in apprehension knowing the slightest look, the tiniest hint of vulnerablity would result in an unwanted attack. 'Don't touch me. Don't look at me.' I feel dirty. I feel less than human. 

Beaten and shamed, I deserved what I got. That's what he said, his fist shoved in my face. I held back tears that wanted to pour out of me, but I knew if they did, they would never stop; my soul would be flooded and I would drown in their torrent. I need to fight to survive. I need to fight me, to hurt myself to stay alive. 

I have become my abuser. I need to punish myself because they are right. I am bad. So I cut into my soul and I cut into my body, trying to rip the good out, tear the bad apart, desperate to be accepted. 

I watch the red life force stain the sheets, the bed, the floor. My blood. It tells me I am still alive. I can go on fighting. The demons rage in my head, fighting for my soul while I stand on the sidelines waiting to see who the victor will be.
 

I'm Sorry

An apology is the superglue of life.  It can repair just about anything.  ~Lynn Johnston

We met shortly after I began writing. She critiqued something I wrote online. Then we found out we lived 20 minutes away from each other. She wanted to meet. I couldn't....not for three months. A year later we have become the best of friends...talking every day....sharing our lives, our hopes, our dreams....our fears.

From the first time we met, she's been there....in my corner....supportive - encouraging me to tell what I never could. When I struggled to talk....and couldn't stand to have anyone look at me.....she sat - waited in the dark.  When I tried to speak...tried to tell what happened....the words getting caught inside - not being able to get them out....she waited....prayed...sat in the darkness with me. Over time I did share the worst....speaking in broken sentences....not finishing whole thoughts.....starting...stopping - my words faltering.....She waited and prayed and stayed.

Tonight she told me there was something she wanted to say.....something she had wanted to tell me since last year.....when she knew what had happened.
I'm sorry for what happened to you. I'm sorry for what they did. I'm sorry that P. held you down and let him rape you. As a woman I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. And if anyone ever hurt you now I would fight for you.  

Her words took me off guard. No one had ever said they were sorry for what happened. I had fought alone. I had fought hard to survive....with no one in my corner. No one helping me....only those who hurt me....holding me.....preventing me from being free. P was the woman who helped the rapist hold me in that place. She had the keys....the opportunity to let me go....she wouldn't. And she held me down and let him rape me. I used to think she too was a victim because I didn't believe a woman could hurt anyone the way she hurt me. 


I didn't know what to say to my friend, but in some crazy way.....her words are healing. I'm sorry for what happened to you....I'm sorry they hurt you. I'm really sorry and if anyone hurts you again....I'll fight for you. 

Strange....

"Leaving behind nights of terror and fear....I rise." Maya Angelou
 
My books have been selling...sold four yesterday...two more today. Sold almost 100 copies since it was released last month. And they're getting into bookstores. Four stores are carrying them now. 

It feels strange...strange to read people's comments...to know they're talking about me... Many have emailed...telling me what they think of the book....what they think of me....They're saying what no one ever said. You went through so much. Too much. This is amazing. You survived!  

At first their words shocked me. I had always thought it was normal, no big deal....not that bad. Maybe because I went through it alone...maybe because I never told anyone. No one ever knew. I didn't want anyone to know. I thought what happened was my fault. I thought I was bad, wrong, different...I thought I caused those things to happen in some weird way.

The words of kindness and affirmation that it was bad...are taking away that need in me to fight...to be on guard. I can feel something in me relaxing...softening...I don't want to fight anymore.

And something else - people are saying, If you can do it...I can too. My book is doing what I wanted. It's giving hope. It's pumping people to reach for their own freedom. That humbles me. I think He knew. He knew I would tell. He knew I would stand up. He knew I would give back. I feel scared and excited at the same time. I listen to Maya Angelou over and over...Her words 'and still I rise' empowering me...helping me know - I am becoming strong!

He is the core of my story. He is the One who broke chains when nothing else worked....I don't know how He did it....but He did. And if I can help just one person find freedom....find their way out of the darkness...than maybe everything I went through was all worth it.

Dignity

"One's dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but cannot be taken away unless it is surrendered." Micheal J. Fox

She was the first-born of triplet girls and weighed only 2 pounds. Her parents wanted to prepare her for marriage...not a career. They refused to support her decision to attend university...She chose to go anyways....without their support. 


She became one of the most loved and respected psychiatrist of our time. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross...well known for her work on death and dying...practised psychiatry at a U.S. facility early in her career. It was there she tested her theory.....if you show compassion, kindness and respect to even the most disturbed patients.....they will respond positively.  It worked. No drugs, no force, no punishment...  
"Patients with even the most severe illnesses seemed to respond to Kübler-Ross's compassionate approach. The indifferent and even inhumane treatment of patients in psychiatric hospitals appalled the young doctor, and the more freedom she was allowed in treating patients, the more successful results she achieved......

When I think about the 'professionals' who used force.....tying me to a bed, locking me in a closet sized room, pumping me full of sedatives that gave me horrible side effects...I still get angry...I want to strike back at them....hurt them the way they hurt me. Why did they think it was acceptable to treat anyone like that?  And that type of 'treatment' goes on all the time in government run homes and institutions. 

The dictionary defines dignity as - a term used to signify that a human being has an inate right to respect and ethical treatment. 

Some of those professionals claiming to 'help' me - stripped me of any shred of dignity I may have had. They said they were simply trying to stop me from hurting myself.  Their force, their control...their methods only pushed me to lash out more....and intensified my self-hatred.  What they did...was reinforce what I had already learned growing up in a violent home....


Dignity....He touched me....and showed me a different way. He showed me compassion, kindness....gentleness. He changed me like Kubler-Ross's kindness changed her patients. Dignity - I never want to take that from anybody....

Facing Fear

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." Dorothy Thompson

I talked to myself all morning....telling myself not to be afraid... not to worry what anyone thinks. This was the day I planned to go market my book. My daughter had made up some cards for me to give out...4X6's that had a picture of the book cover and my website. 

I dropped my daughter off at school....I was pumped...and ready. Let's do this. I drove to the first place really confident. I went in. The woman in charge was off sick. Got back in the car...losing courage. 

I started having all kinds of doubts...wondering what I was doing...and why. It was only a year ago...not even....that I didn't want anyone to know all those awful things that had happened. But things were changing. I was changing. It had never dawned on me how much He had done in my heart, in my life....how far down He had reached to pull me out. He had given me so much. I had given him nothing. I needed to show my gratitude....for what He did....for letting me live. 

I kept driving....out of the city....lost in my thoughts. I owe Him. I can do this....I need to...I need to tell. 

I stopped and walked into a sexual assault centre. I started to blurt out - I wrote this book...
The woman took me in a room, picked up my book, held it gently and then, we had a staff meeting this morning...talked about doing a fund raiser....finding women who wrote their story who would be willing to come in and share. Can I tell them about you? She took all my cards to pass out. 

I drove home...stunned. It worked. Courage....Faith....I had stepped out of my comfort zone...trusting I can make a difference...Something's shifted in me. I can make a difference....No more secrets!

Loyalty

"The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool." Stephen King

His hook were his words....gentle, soothing...claiming love. I overlooked his rage, the beatings, the name calling.  He told me he loved me.....he told me I was the only one who understood him.....he said he  needed me. I was seven years old.

He poured out his heart...sharing things I didn't understand. And when he hurt me....using vulgar words or his fists....or locking me in the car for hours...I still believed he loved me....I didn't know any different and besides - he needed me. 

At eight....he beat me so bad I started cutting myself. I thought he was right - I believed I was worthless.  Nine...ten....eleven...at twelve I stole morphine trying to block out his rage and my fear....thirteen....fourteen I was shooting dope three and four times a day.

Loyalty.....I was loyal to him no matter what he did or how he treated me.  I tried to be what he wanted, to give him what I thought he needed. He spoke with kindness...tenderness but then in the same heartbeat he turned like someone possessed and I became the object of his hatred.

Loyalty - I knew more about what he liked, what he wanted, what he needed than what I did. I didn't exist near him. I couldn't. He couldn't handle that....so I disappeared. I went away. I got lost. I lived in my own world...

Loyalty....the rapist demanded loyalty just like my father. He said he loved me....that I couldn't live without him....and that God wanted me to be with him. Like my father, he hurt me and wouldn't let me go. I managed to get free...but I wasn't really free. Not for a long time....Not until I had falled so far down....not until I almost died - not until I felt His touch....and He showed me the power and truth of loyalty....

I learned I had trusted in lies, in deception. To trust from my heart instead of my head was too hard.  I screamed at Him to kill me...to let me go...but He wouldn't. 

I needed to learn to be loyal to myself.  I struggled with knowing simple things....like my favorite color or food or tv program. I had a hard time staying present or letting anyone get close and I couldn't stop hurting myself. He waited....with patience...with gentleness.

Loyalty - It's powerful. It determines the direction of life. 



 

Nightmare

"It was a dark and stormy nightmare." Neil Gaiman

I woke up feeling it....ice cold terror. We had been at a party...somewhere in the country. I couldn't find my oldest daughter. Nobody seemed concerned. She'll show up they said. The night went on. People told me not to worry - I did.  I wandered around gripping my youngest - looking everywhere for my oldest. I couldn't find her. She had vanished. Someone asked me to take a phone call in the house. I took my youngest with me. I wouldn't let go of her. I kept telling the person on the phone I couldn't talk to them....I finally hung up and made my way back to the party. Everything had turned to ice- the ground, the handrails, the steps  - my heart. 

I used to have these dreams all the time - waking up in a panic - a cold sweat - afraid someone would hurt my girls or had taken them away. It's been a long time since I had these dreams.  

A friend of mine read my book. The night before the dream - she called...told me she hated the rapist - told me he should be charged...that he's walking free....that he's still out there. She would help me. She knows the legal system. 

She meant well. I told her I would think about it. I did. I dreamt about my oldest daughter getting hurt.

I can't charge him. Not if my girls will get hurt. Not if something will happen to them. They are worth more than him being charged. I just want to trust that God will deal with him somehow. I don't know if that sounds too airy fairy but I can't charge him. I just can't. I hope that's ok. I hope people understand. I hope they don't think less of me. I'm just afraid to go there. I'm afraid for my girls....not for me. If it was just me...then maybe, but I want to protect my girls...keep them safe - as safe as I can in a world that can be so cruel.