Honoring Truth

"I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it." Maya Angelou

When I first saw her....I was drawn to the softness in her face....and to her smile. There was a warmth, a kindness, a gentleness about her. She had been admitted to the hospital after falling and breaking a hip. I knew she was from Poland. I asked if she had been through the war. 


Putting her head down, she let the tears fall and began to tell me the horrors she had lived. As I listened....I struggled to stay present. I found myself wanting to close my eyes and go away. She talked quickly, wanting to get it all out....she knew dates, places, times, names.....She wanted to be accurate...she wanted to say the truth. 

I asked her how she managed to live all those years with what had happened to her....She shook her head and cried unashamedly. I don't know. I think God let me live to tell....

I went home that night....detached...like I used to be....feeling separate from myself...that 84 year old woman's words echoing in my mind...I think God let me live to tell.....

When I got home...my friend called....two people her husband works with bought the book. Two other people ordered it online. And a bookstore in the city next to where I live asked me to bring some books to place on their shelves. 

Writing this...I feel sad...I don't know why. Maybe sad for that woman...that  survivor who knew at 84 God let her live to tell her story....Maybe because in some way that lady gave me a message today...a message to be strong...a message to tell the truth of what happened...to not be afraid....It wasn't my fault...and what happened doesn't define who I am today. 

And maybe by telling my truth....I can show there is a way out of darkness...a way out of hopelessness. I think of friends who died...who took their own lives or died by accident because of the damage they had done to their bodies...and I think of the many times I tempted death......Yet He let me live - Maybe He let me live to tell. 

There is still a part of me that thinks what happened defines who I am....In my head I know that's not true...but somewhere inside me....it doesn't feel like that's completely true.

I want to be strong...and give that strength to others. I want to use what happened and give hope. And I want to show the gentleness of His power is able to break through any darkness.

Seeing Beauty When There's None

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her words strong, positive, powerful:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hope

"The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live."  Flora Whittemore

      All day yesterday I walked around feeling lower than a snake. I couldn't shake the feeling. Came home from work and even hugs from my nine year old didn't make me feel better. 

     I felt like a crumb - a worthless crumb. I went for a walk to try to get rid of the feeling but I couldn't. I wanted to just crawl in a hole.

It was that rejection. Not winning the contest. Maybe they were right - I can't write. Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe everything I've done this last year was for nothing. Writing - praying - believing it was from God......

     But today...... Something changed - something shifted inside me. That crummy feeling lifted. I heard God - His whisper in my spirt  - I'm in this. It is my will. 

     My friend called. My writer friend. She said something wonderful happened. I asked if something she wrote was accepted for publication - or did one of her four daughters do something awesome.......

     Her voice - filled with excitement -  I told my massage therapist that you'll be speaking in October, that your story is awesome......Before I left she asked me to write down the time and address. She wants to come. She wants to hear. 

     That's your wonderful news - I asked. You bet! The strength of her words lifted me out of the crummy place. She told me my writing is amazing...my story is incredible - that it will touch lots of people and she is in my corner. 

I met her online. Three months after I started writing. She did a sample critique -  Then asked where I lived. It blew me away when she said she lived in the same city as me. She wanted to meet. I couldn't. The shame. It took me three months to finally meet her. We've become really close friends. She's a writer, a Christian, a youth worker with girls in trouble. God knew. He knew we needed each other. 

     I went to work today. Wanted to stand on a table and shout - Guys, listen. I'm not who you think I am. I have a secret. A secret I need to tell so I can be free - so others can be free. If you don't like me anymore I don't care. I can't carry the shame anymore. It wasn't my fault. 

     I work in a hospital. People trust me. They see me as fun  - together - But I'm not who they think. The fighter ....the street....still lives inside me. I want to fight for others now. I want to help them get free. To give them hope.

The words have been stuck inside me too long. The shame has crippled me. I haven't been free. 
     But something has shifted. I am going to tell. I need to tell the truth of what happened. I need to do it for me - for my girls, for others - 
I feel a strength I didn't have before. I feel a determination - a drive - a focus. It's the right thing.

Rejection

"We keep going back, stronger, not weaker, because we will not allow rejection to beat us down. It will only strengthen our resolve." Earl G. Graves

Rejection hurts. It's sting goes deep - tearing at everything that's good. It makes me want to give up - makes me feel worthless - that my life is worthless - I'm worthless.

Anything that feels like rejection - a small touch of it triggers the pain of everything that hurt - the beatings, the bullying from my parents - being held - raped - confined - chemically and physically restrained -

It pushes me back to the darkness - to hopelessness -

How can I be a writer and not deal with rejection? I love to write - to weave words together. To spin stories that can touch people and inspire others to climb out of their own darkness. I entered a contest. Didn't win. It came on the heels of an email acknowledging the article I submited was the best they had recieved. All I could focus on was the rejection.

For two days I walked around in the darkness. Couldn't talk to anyone. Didn't care about anything. Angry - sullen - wanting to stop writing - even to stop living.

My close friend and writer called. Told me she wouldn't let me stop writing. And my editor encouraged me. Said the words I had written had stayed with her since the first time she read them. Don't give up they told me. You need to write. Writing is your voice.

I went running in the woods. Alone. God whispered to my heart - Write. Write for you. Write. Never give up.

The fighter in me came back. It came back strong. I won't let what happened in the past keep me down anymore. I won't let it pull me to into darkness and hold me there. I can use it to make a difference. A difference in the life of even one person - to give them hope - that there is a way out. I want to do that. I want to shine the light for others.

God let me live. I owe Him. I owe it to my kids - to the people who love me - who are in my corner. I owe it to myself.

Fighting for Others

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

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

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

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

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

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