Over the last year, while trying to find healing, I have learned as much about Satan and his army of demons as I have learned about God. The first time I asked God to speak to me in my dreams I heard a voice say, "Pray for discernment." Later, I dreamed a local pastor was being run over repeatedly by an evil man in a truck and nobody would help. The crowd standing there was distracted by other things. When I asked God to explain the dream to me I had another one where a group of people were laughing and dancing while an evil being was lurking in the trees behind them, but they didn't notice. The funny thing was that the group of people was the cast of "Happy Days" He has a sense of humor. These dreams make me wonder if part of my purpose is to tell people demons are lurking everywhere. Another dream I had was during a time when I was backsliding. I was suddenly angry and frustrated. I prayed God would reveal to me what had stopped my progress. I dreamt that while I was lying down there were some kind of slimy animals crawling all over me and without looking, I was trying to figure out what they were. I decided they were snakes. Then a voice asked me how I knew they were snakes and I told them it was because they moved so fast. I knew when I woke that my focus was being interupted by demons. They had snuck up on me so fast, I hadn't even realized what it was.
Let's say you go to see a ventriloquist's show, happy you were able to get seats in the front row. Not very far into the show, the puppet looks at you and makes a remark about your shirt. You get a little embarrassed but you let it go. Then the puppet goes so far as to talk about your weight or your bald head or your big nose or some other sensitive area of your appearance. When you have had enough, he pushes it further. The puppet laughs at your scars. You've had them from childhood and you don't share the story behind them, because it's just too painful. You jump up from your chair, storm up on stage and rip that puppet off that guys arm ... wait a minute... you forgot there was somebody with his hand in this puppets back controlling his every move? And he looks very scary. You slowly back off the stage until you're a safe distance and then you put your mad face back on and storm out of the theater. You drive home thinking about that stupid little puppet, wrap yourself in duct tape and pout. Should you really be angry at the puppet? Or the ventriloquist? The puppets eyes are made of wood, he can't even see your scars. But the ventriloquist has known you from birth. He knows what those scars mean to you.
Maybe that's why God wants us to be quick to forgive. Maybe your puppet friend is unaware of the demonic hand in their back, controlling them. If we were all given the gift of seeing demons and they were no longer invisible to us, if we could see what they were doing and hear what they were saying, would we understand each other better and become more united in the battle? Just sayin'
Thursday, May 31, 2012
My Brother
My brother was born a year and a half before me. In 1964 he was diagnosed epileptic and mildly retarded. He has the mind of a 7 maybe 8 year old. He goes to God every day like a small child. As we grew up I had a lot of difficulty with him, because I felt his needs always came before mine. He was smarter than my parent's gave him credit for. There were several disagreements between my parents on how he was to be raised.
As an adult, my brother lives in a group home. He actually has an apartment of his own, though there is a staff on call in an adjoining apartment at all times. My brother spends a lot of time praying for the little things that every one else forgets. He prays for people to stop smoking and to get along. He also is a very giving person. He is constantly giving away his possesions to people who need them more. My parents must have done something right. I believe he is special to God.
I had always wanted a "normal" big brother who would protect me. Maybe if I had a big brother who was not mentally challenged, I wouldn't have been abused. One day riding in my car, I told God I had always wanted a big brother to protect me. He told me, "I gave you one. He faithfully prays protection over you every day." Sometimes God answers prayers in unexpected ways. I am blessed.
Afflictions eclipsed by glory?
As an adult, my brother lives in a group home. He actually has an apartment of his own, though there is a staff on call in an adjoining apartment at all times. My brother spends a lot of time praying for the little things that every one else forgets. He prays for people to stop smoking and to get along. He also is a very giving person. He is constantly giving away his possesions to people who need them more. My parents must have done something right. I believe he is special to God.
I had always wanted a "normal" big brother who would protect me. Maybe if I had a big brother who was not mentally challenged, I wouldn't have been abused. One day riding in my car, I told God I had always wanted a big brother to protect me. He told me, "I gave you one. He faithfully prays protection over you every day." Sometimes God answers prayers in unexpected ways. I am blessed.
Afflictions eclipsed by glory?
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Battlefield
"Nothing will have a stronghold on you that is not an area of focus in your life. The only reason it has taken that place and gotten highly exalted is because we focus so much on it." - Beth Moore
According to Albert Einstein insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. By this definition I am totally insane, but I think I belong to a huge club. If you don't think you are a member, how many times have you pushed the same button on the remote, stereo, computer, etc thinking "this time it will work". We won't even talk about the amount of pressure you apply to the button or how it increases with each push. I will mention though, at one time in my life I repaired cell phones and our most popular model was a very thin, fit in your shirt pocket style. I was constantly forced to tell grown men that they had pushed the buttons too hard and damaged the innards beyond repair. I usually had to prove it by showing them.
According to the Bible the battlefield for spiritual warfare is in our mind. We must change the way we think to become more like Christ. The more we do this, the less vulnerable we are to the enemy's whispers. This is hard. I have pitched a fit or two over this. In my recovery I had to face the fact that I was insanely trying to obtain a different outcome using the same method and choices repeatedly. I tried to find happiness in a bottle of rum over and over. I tried to find security in the same emotionally unavailable man (different face) over and over. I tried repeatedly to solve the same argument by yelling and screaming the same way I had the last time. Nothing changed. I am in the process of learning everything over again. So I put down the bottle, closed the door on relationships and I'm really trying hard not to argue. You can't expect perfection.
I'm trying to go to Him like a small child, but it's difficult packing all this baggage. In writing my story I have been able to drop a few bags. I have read several books, listened to many sermons, had many conversations with the pastor and at the end of the day I can say I gave up and asked God to do it. It's too much for me. Apparently He is working on it. People have told me that my face has changed in the last year. I don't look as angry. They have seen more change in me than I see. I believe this is because I tend to focus on the failures.
(Still don't think you're a member of the insanity club? How many times do you look in the fridge expecting something different to be sitting there on the top shelf?")
How do you change your thinking? I've been thinking the same way for 47 years. It's obvious that all repeated behavoir is a cycle. Drinking for instance, started with drinking. I was usually going to have one or two. Then I would decide to have one more and one more and one more after that. I usually wouldn't realize I had gone too far until I woke up some place strange, like in the car with it running, on the floor in front of the dryer, in a strange house, or maybe once with my head pressed against the base of the toilet. Then I would try to get through the day, promising God if He helped me, I would never drink again. Depending how much I drank or where I woke up I would go a few days, maybe a week or two without drinking and then a friend would call or I would get angry or the Ford emblem would finally fade from my forehead. (It was a great reminder.) The next thing I knew it was four o'clock in the morning and I was teaching my friend to speed shift on our way to visit her ex-husband. (I never did figure that one out.) I did have to figure out where to stop the cycle and I decided it was to not pick up the first drink. If you don't stop the cycle soon enough you watch your kids run around in those same circles. The man thing, I have a lot more mind battles before I even go there.
So why do we push that button, or our spouses buttons, the same way over and over expecting change?
I may think differently than a lot of people, but this is what I believe. God made man in His image. I don't believe God said, "I want a brain tumor in this one, just one arm on that one, this one blind and that one deaf." I believe all those defects are from Satan. I don't like the word "defect", but I think that's what Satan meant it to be. Just like with Job, God allowed it. And just like Job, it was nothing he had done. It was not punishment for being bad. With each situation God decided either a full healing, an early death or for some, they live with the defect. I believe His decision is based on how much good and glory will come of it. I believe the people He allows Satan to affect are chosen by how they and their families will adapt to the situation. I know parents who have children born with diseases who have raised them in such away that they have become an inspiration to many people. We can't possibly see the whole picture. He is all knowing. I also believe that Satan goes after the biggest threats. If he knows that Bob is going to be the next Billy Graham, he plants the seed of cancer. The next question is "Then why did Billy Graham not have cancer?" Somebody prayed over him? Satan can't get us all? God said "No, this one will give me more glory untouched." I think it's a compliment to be tormented by demons. Obviously if they are trying to keep me drunk, depressed, isolated, or discouraged enough to stop me from God's will, they must be nervous about His plan in my life.
If the enemy can get a young couple to fight every time they leave church, maybe they will stop going. If every time a man wants to volunteer at the homeless shelter the devil convinces him that he is not worthy, he will stop thinking about it. Maybe situations like these seem too petty for the enemy to waste his time, but it's easier to stop them in the beginning. Keep a drunk drunk so he doesn't help the next guy get sober. Keep a cheater cheating so the guilt will keep him from sitting in church with his wife.
I have had enough of a taste of what the enemy can do to believe that the voices of schizophrenia are demonic and manias of a bi-polar person are caused by demons. They say there is a fine line between genius and insane. Is it because they are too smart for the enemy that he pushes them over the line? In the book "The Bondage Breakers" Neil Anderson talks about the mentally ill and people with MS walking out of the office healed after they worked through steps given in the book that include forgiveness. This takes the enemy's power away. They attack the nervous system. When I am under attack, my body twitches and jerks and I remind myself of a friend of mine who was bound to a wheelchair with MS.
If you think about it and if this is true, it's good news. We have the power in Jesus name to remove demons and restore lives.
Is this giving Satan too much credit? Or not giving God enough?
According to Albert Einstein insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. By this definition I am totally insane, but I think I belong to a huge club. If you don't think you are a member, how many times have you pushed the same button on the remote, stereo, computer, etc thinking "this time it will work". We won't even talk about the amount of pressure you apply to the button or how it increases with each push. I will mention though, at one time in my life I repaired cell phones and our most popular model was a very thin, fit in your shirt pocket style. I was constantly forced to tell grown men that they had pushed the buttons too hard and damaged the innards beyond repair. I usually had to prove it by showing them.
According to the Bible the battlefield for spiritual warfare is in our mind. We must change the way we think to become more like Christ. The more we do this, the less vulnerable we are to the enemy's whispers. This is hard. I have pitched a fit or two over this. In my recovery I had to face the fact that I was insanely trying to obtain a different outcome using the same method and choices repeatedly. I tried to find happiness in a bottle of rum over and over. I tried to find security in the same emotionally unavailable man (different face) over and over. I tried repeatedly to solve the same argument by yelling and screaming the same way I had the last time. Nothing changed. I am in the process of learning everything over again. So I put down the bottle, closed the door on relationships and I'm really trying hard not to argue. You can't expect perfection.
I'm trying to go to Him like a small child, but it's difficult packing all this baggage. In writing my story I have been able to drop a few bags. I have read several books, listened to many sermons, had many conversations with the pastor and at the end of the day I can say I gave up and asked God to do it. It's too much for me. Apparently He is working on it. People have told me that my face has changed in the last year. I don't look as angry. They have seen more change in me than I see. I believe this is because I tend to focus on the failures.
(Still don't think you're a member of the insanity club? How many times do you look in the fridge expecting something different to be sitting there on the top shelf?")
How do you change your thinking? I've been thinking the same way for 47 years. It's obvious that all repeated behavoir is a cycle. Drinking for instance, started with drinking. I was usually going to have one or two. Then I would decide to have one more and one more and one more after that. I usually wouldn't realize I had gone too far until I woke up some place strange, like in the car with it running, on the floor in front of the dryer, in a strange house, or maybe once with my head pressed against the base of the toilet. Then I would try to get through the day, promising God if He helped me, I would never drink again. Depending how much I drank or where I woke up I would go a few days, maybe a week or two without drinking and then a friend would call or I would get angry or the Ford emblem would finally fade from my forehead. (It was a great reminder.) The next thing I knew it was four o'clock in the morning and I was teaching my friend to speed shift on our way to visit her ex-husband. (I never did figure that one out.) I did have to figure out where to stop the cycle and I decided it was to not pick up the first drink. If you don't stop the cycle soon enough you watch your kids run around in those same circles. The man thing, I have a lot more mind battles before I even go there.
So why do we push that button, or our spouses buttons, the same way over and over expecting change?
I may think differently than a lot of people, but this is what I believe. God made man in His image. I don't believe God said, "I want a brain tumor in this one, just one arm on that one, this one blind and that one deaf." I believe all those defects are from Satan. I don't like the word "defect", but I think that's what Satan meant it to be. Just like with Job, God allowed it. And just like Job, it was nothing he had done. It was not punishment for being bad. With each situation God decided either a full healing, an early death or for some, they live with the defect. I believe His decision is based on how much good and glory will come of it. I believe the people He allows Satan to affect are chosen by how they and their families will adapt to the situation. I know parents who have children born with diseases who have raised them in such away that they have become an inspiration to many people. We can't possibly see the whole picture. He is all knowing. I also believe that Satan goes after the biggest threats. If he knows that Bob is going to be the next Billy Graham, he plants the seed of cancer. The next question is "Then why did Billy Graham not have cancer?" Somebody prayed over him? Satan can't get us all? God said "No, this one will give me more glory untouched." I think it's a compliment to be tormented by demons. Obviously if they are trying to keep me drunk, depressed, isolated, or discouraged enough to stop me from God's will, they must be nervous about His plan in my life.
If the enemy can get a young couple to fight every time they leave church, maybe they will stop going. If every time a man wants to volunteer at the homeless shelter the devil convinces him that he is not worthy, he will stop thinking about it. Maybe situations like these seem too petty for the enemy to waste his time, but it's easier to stop them in the beginning. Keep a drunk drunk so he doesn't help the next guy get sober. Keep a cheater cheating so the guilt will keep him from sitting in church with his wife.
I have had enough of a taste of what the enemy can do to believe that the voices of schizophrenia are demonic and manias of a bi-polar person are caused by demons. They say there is a fine line between genius and insane. Is it because they are too smart for the enemy that he pushes them over the line? In the book "The Bondage Breakers" Neil Anderson talks about the mentally ill and people with MS walking out of the office healed after they worked through steps given in the book that include forgiveness. This takes the enemy's power away. They attack the nervous system. When I am under attack, my body twitches and jerks and I remind myself of a friend of mine who was bound to a wheelchair with MS.
If you think about it and if this is true, it's good news. We have the power in Jesus name to remove demons and restore lives.
Is this giving Satan too much credit? Or not giving God enough?
Spiritual Warfare
Ephesians 6:10-12
10 Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.11 Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.12 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
10 Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.11 Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.12 For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
I hesitate to share this post for many reasons. The fear of judgement is usually very high on my list, but not in this instance. It is actually very low on the list. My strongest fear is that I will not be believed, because of the fear of demons. I understand the fear. I believe spiritual warfare carries an importance most of us will not understand until the Lord explains it to us in heaven. I have never been one to believe in haunted houses or ghosts of any kind and I still choose not to use and believe in those terms exactly. I do believe in demons.
One morning a couple years ago, I woke to the feeling that someone was watching me. When I opened my eyes there was a very evil face maybe twelve inches from mine. I jumped back as I closed my eyes. When I opened them again the face was gone. I decided I was dreaming. As I got ready for work I couldn't stop thinking about the face. I felt uneasy, though I kept telling myself it was a dream. When I walked out of the house to leave for work, I glanced at my daughter's car and saw the face in the driver's seat. It disappeared immediately. It bothered me for the next couple days but eventually I forgot about it.
I noticed little things around the house. Things weren't the way I left them sometimes. I decided it was age. I often saw dark shadows out of the corner of my eye and again wrote it off. I had ignored a whole herd of huge elephants in my livingroom for many years, what was so hard about ignoring a roaming roaring lion? My grandson often told me about the scary guys in one of the bedrooms, but he had quite an imagination. My daughter had trouble sleeping when she stayed in that same room. The day my grandson came running from the room with terror in his eyes, I knew there was something in my house. As a protective grandma, I stormed down the hall and yelled at whatever it was. "You don't come near my grandkids ever." My grandson never talked about them again.
There were nights I couldn't bring myself to go downstairs. I felt like I was being watched, though I had always felt like that. I blamed it on the abuse. Upstairs in my room was safe. I thought I was losing my mind. I didn't want to talk about it with anyone for fear of being locked up or kept away from my grandkids. Finally, I told the pastor about my unwelcome guests, expecting that he would show up at the door with men in white coats, but he believed me. It seemed that after I acknowledged them, they became more bold in their actions. Honestly I was scared to death, but I knew they were attached to me, not the house so it wouldn't help to move.
There was a day when they taunted me all day. I could hear them. They whispered in my ear clearer than I had ever heard. I felt like I was going to die. Then I heard them say, "You gave him your thoughts, you gave him your body, now he wants your heart." I knew they were talking about satan. I knew I was crazy at this point, but I kept shaking my head "No" refusing to give my heart as this pressure built up around me. I finally hollared at them, "My heart belongs to Jesus." Just like that, they were gone. I slept for 20 minutes, completely knocked out. When I woke I asked God, "Is it over?" He said, "No. They already knew that."
I started reading about spiritual warfare and demons. "The Bondage Breakers" by Neil Anderson told my story. When I was first practicing listening to God, I asked Him to talk to me in my dreams. That night I dreamt a voice told me to pray for discernment. I knew it was God because I didn't know what discernment was. I believe part of my purpose is to make people aware that demons are here.
I couldn't understand why I was having more spiritual moments with demons and feeling their presence stronger than I had ever felt God. After meeting with the pastor and three ladies from the church and seeing how close they felt to God, I wondered if I would or could ever experience God like they do I didn't feel worthy. The next morning, desperate for growth in my relationship with God, somewhat out of fear of giving up, I told Him. I hit my knees and prayed. I told Him I wanted to feel His presence like the people I had met with. He showed up. I felt a warmth around me and as usual, my first instinct was telling me I was insane. I found myself rocking side to side and couldn't stop myself. The more I tried, the harder I rocked. I felt like a small child in my daddy's arms. This peace filled the room and the chaos in my head just stopped. I cried. As I do when hugging, I stopped first. It was too intense.
I had an appointment and went downstairs to get ready, when a cold rush of air hit me at the bottom of the stairs. I got right to my knees and asked God to explain what it was and immediately I knew it was evil. I commanded any evil spirits to leave my house in the name of Jesus and I actually felt them laugh at me. I decided it was time to take the pastors advice and have people to the house to pray. I walked into the bathroom and suddenly it felt as though my heart stopped pushing blood through my body. My legs became extremely heavy and I believed I was having a major medical emergency of some kind. I was going to the phone but when I got to the doorway of the bathroom, I felt two hands on my shoulders push me to my knees. Instantly I knew the pastor was either killed in a car accident or about to be. I started praying for his safety when I felt a hand grab my throat. I prayed for God to remove the demons hand and He did. I truly felt like I was in a fight with some kind of evil being and God stood waiting for me to ask Him to help me. Each time I asked Him, He answered. When it was over, I heard Him say, "Even if the pastor was killed in a car accident, he would be happier than he's ever been. He would be with me."
I began to realize, the bigger God showed up, the bigger the enemy showed up. After I went through my forgiveness list their power went from an army to a slingshot. I laughed at them. The enemy didn't give up right away. I would see dark shadows boldly rushing toward me, but I just turned away. They have no power unless I give it to them. They still try, like tonight as I started writing about them, they shut down my computer. They don't want me to warn people they are here. If you believe in the devil you have to believe he has an army of demons, because he can't be everywhere like God can. They are busy. They whisper in people's ears, hold their eyes up for people to see through, and fight us constantly. Our weaknesses are their strengths against us. I believe they used the car accident with the pastor, because my best friend was killed in a car accident when I was twenty so the fear of losing my friend that way was something they could play on. I also believe they choked me not only to stop me from talking to God, but because years earlier I was in a relationship with a man who was abusive and his favorite thing to do to was choke me. They played on feelings and fears that already existed in my mind.
There is such a huge difference in the way God and the enemy interact with us. God sits back and invites us to join Him. He offers us anything and everything we need. He wants our happiness with Him. He gives us the choice to take it or refuse it. Satan on the other hand pushes. He takes. He and his demons buzz around busily trying to convince us his way is the way we want to go. He knows he has already lost this war. He knows he is cornered and he is panicking. He knows he's going down and he's making a last ditch effort to take as many as he can with him. After what he's done to me through my life, after what he has done to my family and friends, I'm fighting him to the very end.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Understanding
Why did I start this blog? Not to make excuses for my behavior or so that people would feel sorry for me. The reason is to hopefully help a few people who may be struggling with some of the same issues I have and and that I continue to struggle with. Over the years when I read a book, listen to a speaker, or in any way hear another persons story, I am most comforted when I identify with them. Addicts meet in groups to help addicts. Cancer fighters meet in groups to help each other. We hang out with people who are like us. No person can understand and support another person like one who has gone through the same situation. The most encouraging, touching, healing words I have ever heard were "I get it." Don't we all want somebody to get it, especially when our heart is broken, we are scared, lonely, or even angry. Maybe that's why the pastor finally got through to me in ways no one had. He tells me those words all the time. He wasn't sexually abused, but he has the ability to find a common feeling. Maybe one time in his life he was forced to do something he didn't want to do. Maybe he identified with the rejection. I'm not sure, but he does get it. If we dig deep enough we can all identify with each other on some level.
Because of the abuse, I have always had a difficult time around people. I love people. I love to watch them and see how they interact. But my fear of being judged, not being good enough and the feeling that me and my opinion don't matter, make it extremely tiring to be around people. To walk into a church by myself somedays can be terrifying still. People reaching out to me when I get there makes it worse. Though I want to be accepted, I also want to be invisible. I've always felt invisible so it is most comfortable. I have friends. I have good friends, but there is a wall I keep between us built of fear. Most of them probably have no idea how deeply I care for them and love them because of the distance I keep. Recently, I shared the story of my abuse with a very close friend and she said, "Wow, that explains alot." I wasn't sure what she meant and was afraid to ask. My point in sharing this is that once we know someone's story, who they really are, their hurts and fears, there is a part of us that identifies with them on some level and we understand them.
On the other side of my story, as a teenager I became a bully. I always had at least two victims at all times that I constantly picked on. They were all strong people. Underneath, I liked them and wanted to be more like them. They wouldn't know that of course, because I was mean. I was abusive toward them, from throwing ones coat out the bus window to picking up a shovel to beat one with it. (I didn't go through with it) So, if you knew the hurt I had been through, the pain in my heart, would you be more understanding to my abuse of others?
I was angry. I was very angry. I heard that all anger is fear based. We get angry at our child for running out into the street because we are afraid they will be hurt. We get angry at our spouse for flirting because we are afraid they will leave us. Maybe I bullied people because I was afraid they were better than me and I could never be like them. Maybe I was just afraid they wouldn't like me back.
If we knew the reason, would we understand the behavior and be more tolerant? Maybe the angry man at the gas station just lost his wife to another man. Maybe the old bitter woman next door was married to a workaholic who finally retired and then dropped dead. Maybe the bully on the playground gets hit every night at home. Maybe the person who constantly points out your shortcomings is afraid you will see hers and point them out like her mother did when she was growing up. If we all had a list of our hurts tattooed down our arms, would we be kinder toward each other or would we grow cold to a long list and avoid those people?
One who knows our lists is the enemy. He uses them against us. I've noticed the more effort I put into growing as a person and growing closer to Christ the deeper he digs into my past and whispers the hurts in my ear. For example, one of my abusers nicknamed me "Trash". The enemy uses this often. I am aware of it and most of the time, I tell him to shut up. God says I am not trash. But there are times he sneaks up on me. He may start with "You don't belong here in church. You can't fit in with these people. They are too good for you." We all have those little voices in our ears. The tapes we play from our past. They tell us we are too fat, too stupid, we'll never succeed. They stop us before we even start sometimes. Sometimes the enemy puts his eyes between us and what we see. We find ourselves judging others. "They don't belong here. Who does she think she is?"
What if we could see into each others hearts. What if we knew each others fears, wants, hurts? Jesus does. He knows everything done to us and everything we have done. He knows our thoughts and feelings. He wants us to see each other through His eyes. It's hard sometimes to love the unlovely, but I can be pretty unlovely myself and I want to be loved.
Because of the abuse, I have always had a difficult time around people. I love people. I love to watch them and see how they interact. But my fear of being judged, not being good enough and the feeling that me and my opinion don't matter, make it extremely tiring to be around people. To walk into a church by myself somedays can be terrifying still. People reaching out to me when I get there makes it worse. Though I want to be accepted, I also want to be invisible. I've always felt invisible so it is most comfortable. I have friends. I have good friends, but there is a wall I keep between us built of fear. Most of them probably have no idea how deeply I care for them and love them because of the distance I keep. Recently, I shared the story of my abuse with a very close friend and she said, "Wow, that explains alot." I wasn't sure what she meant and was afraid to ask. My point in sharing this is that once we know someone's story, who they really are, their hurts and fears, there is a part of us that identifies with them on some level and we understand them.
On the other side of my story, as a teenager I became a bully. I always had at least two victims at all times that I constantly picked on. They were all strong people. Underneath, I liked them and wanted to be more like them. They wouldn't know that of course, because I was mean. I was abusive toward them, from throwing ones coat out the bus window to picking up a shovel to beat one with it. (I didn't go through with it) So, if you knew the hurt I had been through, the pain in my heart, would you be more understanding to my abuse of others?
I was angry. I was very angry. I heard that all anger is fear based. We get angry at our child for running out into the street because we are afraid they will be hurt. We get angry at our spouse for flirting because we are afraid they will leave us. Maybe I bullied people because I was afraid they were better than me and I could never be like them. Maybe I was just afraid they wouldn't like me back.
If we knew the reason, would we understand the behavior and be more tolerant? Maybe the angry man at the gas station just lost his wife to another man. Maybe the old bitter woman next door was married to a workaholic who finally retired and then dropped dead. Maybe the bully on the playground gets hit every night at home. Maybe the person who constantly points out your shortcomings is afraid you will see hers and point them out like her mother did when she was growing up. If we all had a list of our hurts tattooed down our arms, would we be kinder toward each other or would we grow cold to a long list and avoid those people?
One who knows our lists is the enemy. He uses them against us. I've noticed the more effort I put into growing as a person and growing closer to Christ the deeper he digs into my past and whispers the hurts in my ear. For example, one of my abusers nicknamed me "Trash". The enemy uses this often. I am aware of it and most of the time, I tell him to shut up. God says I am not trash. But there are times he sneaks up on me. He may start with "You don't belong here in church. You can't fit in with these people. They are too good for you." We all have those little voices in our ears. The tapes we play from our past. They tell us we are too fat, too stupid, we'll never succeed. They stop us before we even start sometimes. Sometimes the enemy puts his eyes between us and what we see. We find ourselves judging others. "They don't belong here. Who does she think she is?"
What if we could see into each others hearts. What if we knew each others fears, wants, hurts? Jesus does. He knows everything done to us and everything we have done. He knows our thoughts and feelings. He wants us to see each other through His eyes. It's hard sometimes to love the unlovely, but I can be pretty unlovely myself and I want to be loved.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Unforgiveness
Have you ever had a fight with a roll of duct tape? I have. You have the scissors on the table in front of you as the tape is wrapping around your fingers and stuck to the hair on your arm, but you believe you can manage without having to cut the tape. "I can still use this piece, I just have to straighten it out and pull the hair off of it." Then there are people like me with long hair (head hair) and I can get some tape stuck in my hair. I've lost the cap to my pen in my hair. Admittedly some of us have more trouble with duct tape than others. There are those who don't even know what I'm talking about and then there are those who have had their arms and legs bound together, with their knees pulled up to their chest and as they peer through the break in the tape wrapped around their head you hear a muffled, "I got this."
This is how I see unforgiveness. Being bound up in unforgiveness is like being bound in duct tape. As you are trying to break free of the bondage you are in, guess who skips by? The person you are not forgiving. They don't even notice your arm is taped to the back of your head. They are just going on with their life like nobody's business, while you have two fingers free reaching, stretching for the scissors.
When my kids were little I tried to teach them to put themselves in someone else's shoes before judging their actions. They are all still good about it, most of the time. When somebody cut me off on the freeway, I would explain to the kids that they might be on their way to see their dying mother and so we just let them go by. (To be honest, most days I taught my kids by the "see what I just did? I don't ever want you to do that" method) Forgiving starts with understanding.
I realized unforgiveness not only stopped me from growing as a person but it stopped me from growing closer to God. Also it continued to feed all my negative feelings of anger, depression, and sadness. It was also the most powerful weapon the enemy had to use against me. Everytime I would take a step toward God, toward recovery and freedom he would whisper in my ear, "You can't trust people. They will hurt you."
As suggested in the book "THe Bondage Breakers", I spent a weekend locked in my room determined I was going to do some heavy forgiving. I first prayed asking the Holy Spirit to make my list of people I needed to forgive and He did. If a name popped in my head, I wrote it down. When my list was complete, I started back at the beginning and asked Him to reveal everything I needed to forgive that person for. He did. The most difficult part of it for me was that I actually recalled more memories of abuse. (I was warned this may happen) I couldn't deny the memories, because when I tried, the Holy Spirit would point out how it affected me and basically proved it. I took a few minutes to think about it. I e-mailed the pastor and I kept moving forward with my list. Of course I didn't complete the list, but I got through the toughest part that weekend. Whenever I found myself not wanting to complete it, I thought about some of the things I had done to others over the years and decided I would want them to forgive me, so I kept going.
It actually took the whole week to get through it, because I kept having to go back and re-forgive because of the memory recall. When I got through the list, I treated myself to a nice dinner and had a good cry. I sat out on the deck and enjoyed the quiet when I realized, "Wow, I don't feel any different". I barely had the scissors between two fingers, but I had them and I was willing to start cutting. Everytime something that I have already forgiven pops into my head, I try to forgive it again immediately and I do 47% of the time. I'm a "Work in Progress". It gets easier and I get freer.
I watched two women I love very much experience the brutal murder of a family member within six months of each other. Both these women have very big hearts and love deeply. Whenever I think I can't forgive, I think about them and what they are faced with forgiving. Whenever I think the abuse I suffered is too big, I know for a fact, I would rather go through that again than what these two women have had to experience. I might add that even though they had days full of anger at God, they both continue to love Him and trust Him
Forgiveness is not an event. Forgiveness is a process, sometimes a very long process. Like layers of an onion you peel them away. I could forgive the abusers for the abuse, but then I had to forgive them for the things I missed out on in life because of the affects of the abuse. Then I had to forgive them for affecting my parenting skills and my people skills and my self esteem and so on and so on. When I was younger I use to think the abuse was a great excuse for the awful things I did and said to others, but if I was going to live by that rule, then I have to accept that others had hurt and pain in their lives and thats why they hurt me.
This is how I see unforgiveness. Being bound up in unforgiveness is like being bound in duct tape. As you are trying to break free of the bondage you are in, guess who skips by? The person you are not forgiving. They don't even notice your arm is taped to the back of your head. They are just going on with their life like nobody's business, while you have two fingers free reaching, stretching for the scissors.
When my kids were little I tried to teach them to put themselves in someone else's shoes before judging their actions. They are all still good about it, most of the time. When somebody cut me off on the freeway, I would explain to the kids that they might be on their way to see their dying mother and so we just let them go by. (To be honest, most days I taught my kids by the "see what I just did? I don't ever want you to do that" method) Forgiving starts with understanding.
I realized unforgiveness not only stopped me from growing as a person but it stopped me from growing closer to God. Also it continued to feed all my negative feelings of anger, depression, and sadness. It was also the most powerful weapon the enemy had to use against me. Everytime I would take a step toward God, toward recovery and freedom he would whisper in my ear, "You can't trust people. They will hurt you."
As suggested in the book "THe Bondage Breakers", I spent a weekend locked in my room determined I was going to do some heavy forgiving. I first prayed asking the Holy Spirit to make my list of people I needed to forgive and He did. If a name popped in my head, I wrote it down. When my list was complete, I started back at the beginning and asked Him to reveal everything I needed to forgive that person for. He did. The most difficult part of it for me was that I actually recalled more memories of abuse. (I was warned this may happen) I couldn't deny the memories, because when I tried, the Holy Spirit would point out how it affected me and basically proved it. I took a few minutes to think about it. I e-mailed the pastor and I kept moving forward with my list. Of course I didn't complete the list, but I got through the toughest part that weekend. Whenever I found myself not wanting to complete it, I thought about some of the things I had done to others over the years and decided I would want them to forgive me, so I kept going.
It actually took the whole week to get through it, because I kept having to go back and re-forgive because of the memory recall. When I got through the list, I treated myself to a nice dinner and had a good cry. I sat out on the deck and enjoyed the quiet when I realized, "Wow, I don't feel any different". I barely had the scissors between two fingers, but I had them and I was willing to start cutting. Everytime something that I have already forgiven pops into my head, I try to forgive it again immediately and I do 47% of the time. I'm a "Work in Progress". It gets easier and I get freer.
I watched two women I love very much experience the brutal murder of a family member within six months of each other. Both these women have very big hearts and love deeply. Whenever I think I can't forgive, I think about them and what they are faced with forgiving. Whenever I think the abuse I suffered is too big, I know for a fact, I would rather go through that again than what these two women have had to experience. I might add that even though they had days full of anger at God, they both continue to love Him and trust Him
Forgiveness is not an event. Forgiveness is a process, sometimes a very long process. Like layers of an onion you peel them away. I could forgive the abusers for the abuse, but then I had to forgive them for the things I missed out on in life because of the affects of the abuse. Then I had to forgive them for affecting my parenting skills and my people skills and my self esteem and so on and so on. When I was younger I use to think the abuse was a great excuse for the awful things I did and said to others, but if I was going to live by that rule, then I have to accept that others had hurt and pain in their lives and thats why they hurt me.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Demons
I don't think we give demons enough credit, because we give them too much credit. All through the Bible we hear about spiritual warfare. I have always seen this as God and Satan slamming lightning bolts and such at each other far away from earth. Which really doesn't make sense because God could take him out at any given second and He will. I have found Satan's demons are here on earth. This is exactly where the battle is. We don't like to think about it, probably because we have watched too many scary movies and believe they are more powerful than we are. They are not.
I like to think of demons as fire ants. When you live in places that have fire ants you learn to wear your shoes in the yard. You keep an eye out for them. As long as you see them before they get on you, you're safe. Even if they do get on you, as long as you swat them off before they bite you won't suffer the sting. I picture God's angels flicking fire ants off as we go through our daily routines. But if we aren't paying attention or we purposely go stand in an ant hill, I think He let's us get bit to teach us something - don't stand in an anthill.
At first the demon thing seemed like an excuse. How convenient to blame demons for all the wrong decisions I had made in my lifetime. But then I began to think about the men who had abused me. How much easier it was to forgive them if I knew they were being coaxed by the enemy. Of course they still had responsibility because they had chosen to follow the voice of the enemy instead of God's voice. But who was I to say God's was the easier voice to hear and follow? The enemy is a schemer. He goes so far as to use God's word to fool us.
I am a very visual person. I picture God as the big bull dog walking along willing to talk to us, if we want to listen. Free will. Satan is that little yipping dog bouncing around trying to bark louder than the bull dog. Sometimes it's his yipping and bouncing that distracts us. One day, the bull dog's going to bite that little yipper in the neck.
I want to understand why God didn't just wipe out the enemy the minute he saw trouble. Why spritual warfare when He could have ended it before we were created. Warfare has to mean more than hand to hand combat. So, I looked it up
Why do we wage war with another? To take? To protect? He gave us free will and is waiting for us to decide. Some people belive there is no devil. Some have taken hell out of their bible. What is the point? If you choose not to follow God, there has to be an opposite or it wouldn't matter to Him. Why would the enemy fight against me if I already belong to God?
Because the enemy wants us. He doesn't want us recruiting his soldiers to our side of the field. If he can whisper in our ears that we are not capable, unworthy, stupid and all the other lies he tells us, he will paralyze us and we won't be able to fight. We won't be out there in the world saving people from his clutches. If he whispers those lies long enough, he can move on to others because we begin to play the messages for ourselves.
Even though I don't understand this whole warfare thing I do know the enemy has played a number on me over the years. I isolate because of the lies he has told me. I guess it's time to put on my shoes, get out to the battle field and kick some ants.
I like to think of demons as fire ants. When you live in places that have fire ants you learn to wear your shoes in the yard. You keep an eye out for them. As long as you see them before they get on you, you're safe. Even if they do get on you, as long as you swat them off before they bite you won't suffer the sting. I picture God's angels flicking fire ants off as we go through our daily routines. But if we aren't paying attention or we purposely go stand in an ant hill, I think He let's us get bit to teach us something - don't stand in an anthill.
At first the demon thing seemed like an excuse. How convenient to blame demons for all the wrong decisions I had made in my lifetime. But then I began to think about the men who had abused me. How much easier it was to forgive them if I knew they were being coaxed by the enemy. Of course they still had responsibility because they had chosen to follow the voice of the enemy instead of God's voice. But who was I to say God's was the easier voice to hear and follow? The enemy is a schemer. He goes so far as to use God's word to fool us.
I am a very visual person. I picture God as the big bull dog walking along willing to talk to us, if we want to listen. Free will. Satan is that little yipping dog bouncing around trying to bark louder than the bull dog. Sometimes it's his yipping and bouncing that distracts us. One day, the bull dog's going to bite that little yipper in the neck.
I want to understand why God didn't just wipe out the enemy the minute he saw trouble. Why spritual warfare when He could have ended it before we were created. Warfare has to mean more than hand to hand combat. So, I looked it up
1.
a. The waging of war against an enemy; armed conflict.
b. Military operations marked by a specific characteristic: guerrilla warfare; chemical warfare.
2. A state of disharmony or conflict; strife: constant spousal warfare in the household.
3. Acts undertaken to destroy or undermine the strength of another: political warfare.
Why do we wage war with another? To take? To protect? He gave us free will and is waiting for us to decide. Some people belive there is no devil. Some have taken hell out of their bible. What is the point? If you choose not to follow God, there has to be an opposite or it wouldn't matter to Him. Why would the enemy fight against me if I already belong to God?
Because the enemy wants us. He doesn't want us recruiting his soldiers to our side of the field. If he can whisper in our ears that we are not capable, unworthy, stupid and all the other lies he tells us, he will paralyze us and we won't be able to fight. We won't be out there in the world saving people from his clutches. If he whispers those lies long enough, he can move on to others because we begin to play the messages for ourselves.
Even though I don't understand this whole warfare thing I do know the enemy has played a number on me over the years. I isolate because of the lies he has told me. I guess it's time to put on my shoes, get out to the battle field and kick some ants.
Newlyborn
Matthew 18:3
And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
How do you start the healing process? I asked God and He gave me this verse and this verse always confused me. Become like little children? Why didn't He want us to be mature responsible adults? Born again? New in Christ?
How many times have we said we would we like to go back and start over, do it differently? We can. To be born again and then like a little child. It's easier to see what He means if you spend any time around small children. New born babies are totally dependent on their parents. God wants us to be totally dependent on Him, trusting Him for all our needs. I heard somebody say once, "Imagine God looking down on you as a parent of a baby would, cooing at you and trying to get you to smile." I like that. He wants to parent us, grow us into mature and spiritual adults. Becoming like a small child would mean being uninhibited. Isn't one of our biggest fears being judged? Children are able to hug and love minutes after being hurt or disciplined. They don't get stuck in the hurt. We learn more in the first year than any other year of our life. He wants to teach us. Children imitate their parents and God wants us to become like Him. Anger is shortlived. Children want approval. God knows us better than anyone. He knows everything we have done or even thought about doing. He knows our thoughts and wants and hurts and He still approves of us, not always what we do, but He approves of who we are. Children want to belong and be a part of. He wants us all to be united in the body of Christ.
In response to our becoming like little children, He wants to guide us, love us, nurse us back to health, give us security and gifts. He wants to be the parent most of us never had and always wanted. He wants to raise us to be mature and responsible and spiritual adults.
Ephesians 4:14-16
14 Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of people in their deceitful scheming. 15 Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ. 16 From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.
And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
How do you start the healing process? I asked God and He gave me this verse and this verse always confused me. Become like little children? Why didn't He want us to be mature responsible adults? Born again? New in Christ?
How many times have we said we would we like to go back and start over, do it differently? We can. To be born again and then like a little child. It's easier to see what He means if you spend any time around small children. New born babies are totally dependent on their parents. God wants us to be totally dependent on Him, trusting Him for all our needs. I heard somebody say once, "Imagine God looking down on you as a parent of a baby would, cooing at you and trying to get you to smile." I like that. He wants to parent us, grow us into mature and spiritual adults. Becoming like a small child would mean being uninhibited. Isn't one of our biggest fears being judged? Children are able to hug and love minutes after being hurt or disciplined. They don't get stuck in the hurt. We learn more in the first year than any other year of our life. He wants to teach us. Children imitate their parents and God wants us to become like Him. Anger is shortlived. Children want approval. God knows us better than anyone. He knows everything we have done or even thought about doing. He knows our thoughts and wants and hurts and He still approves of us, not always what we do, but He approves of who we are. Children want to belong and be a part of. He wants us all to be united in the body of Christ.
In response to our becoming like little children, He wants to guide us, love us, nurse us back to health, give us security and gifts. He wants to be the parent most of us never had and always wanted. He wants to raise us to be mature and responsible and spiritual adults.
Ephesians 4:14-16
14 Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of people in their deceitful scheming. 15 Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ. 16 From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.
Purpose
Habitually we ask, "How are you doing"? Then we walk away, not even waiting for an answer or wanting one. "I don't need to hear your problems, I have enough of my own." On the other side, we habitually answer the question "Fine", when inside we want somebody to truly want to know how we are. It could be excitement we don't share for many reasons. We don't want to brag, we don't want to spark jealousy, or we don't expect they care. It can be hurt or anger we don't share. "My dog is sick." "I don't love my spouse anymore." "My heart is broken." "I want to die." Maybe what we want to share is not appropriate for every day conversation, but we all want someone to care. We all want to matter. We all want a purpose.
I felt like God really didn't care about me. He loved other people and was good to them, but I believed He had more important things to do than talk to me about my hurts. Then one day I realized that I was asking God questions and not waiting for the answer. If I truly cared, truly wanted to know His answers, I needed to listen. When I started taking the time to listen to God he talked to me constantly. I wondered how I was going to remember it all. He talked through the TV, through people, through my thoughts, through books, through dreams and even through pictures. I would be busy doing something and suddenly I would see a picture in my mind. It got to the point where my prayer life consisted of, "Tell me more." and "Thank you." He had been waiting for years for me to shut up and listen. There I was on my knees for 40 years complaining, whining, asking "why me?", and then going back to my life without waiting and listening for an answer.
I sent an e-mail to the pastor one evening confessing that I had been angry at God for 40 years. Why had He allowed the abuse? Why didn't He love me? I waited for his response, expecting to be invited to the church for my own stoning or some kind of ceremony to cleanse me of my evilness, but he explained that at one time he had been angry at God too and that God has big shoulders. Immediately after sending my e-mail, a man on the TV said, "I had been angry at God for 40 years." I knew who was really talking to me. I didn't know the man's name or story, but I had seen him before. His face was scarred from some kind of burns. After shouting out a loud "Amen brother", I waited for his story. His next sentence was all I heard, "Until a friend of mine told me, God trusted you with those scars." Wow. I was trying to grasp all that was said in one sentence. God trusted me with my scars? I had gone through the abuse for a good reason? The statement floated on my mind, without really sinking in.
The next morning as I sat on the deck drinking my coffee and remembering the words from the night before, God gave me a picture. The picture was of Jesus' hand scarred from the crucifixion. I don't know how else to explain God talking to me other than He puts thoughts in my head that I know are not mine. He said, "All scars have purpose. It is through Jesus' scars that you were saved. Others will be saved through your scars."
I have a purpose. After many years of looking in all the wrong places for a reason to keep breathing, I have a purpose. God has a plan for my life. Not just everyone else, but me. If He has a plan, I must mean something to Him. We all have a purpose and I asked God a thousand times why He kept me on this earth and I finally listened for His answer and found ... I have a purpose.
I felt like God really didn't care about me. He loved other people and was good to them, but I believed He had more important things to do than talk to me about my hurts. Then one day I realized that I was asking God questions and not waiting for the answer. If I truly cared, truly wanted to know His answers, I needed to listen. When I started taking the time to listen to God he talked to me constantly. I wondered how I was going to remember it all. He talked through the TV, through people, through my thoughts, through books, through dreams and even through pictures. I would be busy doing something and suddenly I would see a picture in my mind. It got to the point where my prayer life consisted of, "Tell me more." and "Thank you." He had been waiting for years for me to shut up and listen. There I was on my knees for 40 years complaining, whining, asking "why me?", and then going back to my life without waiting and listening for an answer.
I sent an e-mail to the pastor one evening confessing that I had been angry at God for 40 years. Why had He allowed the abuse? Why didn't He love me? I waited for his response, expecting to be invited to the church for my own stoning or some kind of ceremony to cleanse me of my evilness, but he explained that at one time he had been angry at God too and that God has big shoulders. Immediately after sending my e-mail, a man on the TV said, "I had been angry at God for 40 years." I knew who was really talking to me. I didn't know the man's name or story, but I had seen him before. His face was scarred from some kind of burns. After shouting out a loud "Amen brother", I waited for his story. His next sentence was all I heard, "Until a friend of mine told me, God trusted you with those scars." Wow. I was trying to grasp all that was said in one sentence. God trusted me with my scars? I had gone through the abuse for a good reason? The statement floated on my mind, without really sinking in.
The next morning as I sat on the deck drinking my coffee and remembering the words from the night before, God gave me a picture. The picture was of Jesus' hand scarred from the crucifixion. I don't know how else to explain God talking to me other than He puts thoughts in my head that I know are not mine. He said, "All scars have purpose. It is through Jesus' scars that you were saved. Others will be saved through your scars."
I have a purpose. After many years of looking in all the wrong places for a reason to keep breathing, I have a purpose. God has a plan for my life. Not just everyone else, but me. If He has a plan, I must mean something to Him. We all have a purpose and I asked God a thousand times why He kept me on this earth and I finally listened for His answer and found ... I have a purpose.
Affected
Over the years, because I hadn't dealt with the pain or even the truth of what had happened to me, the affects it had on me became deeper, more intense, and much bigger to deal with and heal from. Not only was I addicted to many means of escape, but I was always sick, afraid of interacting with people, and had a self hatred that kept me alive. Let me explain. At about fourteen years old I wanted to die. I drank too much, I fought with anybody I thought could put me out of my misery, and continually teased death, but in my heart I knew I had to suffer on this planet because of who I was. I deserved to be miserable. Living was my punishment. I abused myself more than anyone ever had or ever would. Every morning, I flipped myself on in the mirror and then continued through the day with negative messages. I called myself stupid, ugly, fat, and many other things that would have hurt coming from someone else, but I didn't see it as hurtful coming from me. Over the years, I isolated more, dreamed of a good life less, and waited to die.
In public, in front of people, I laughed and joked all the time, but the energy it took to be around people completely wore me out. I was being someone I was not. My whole life was an act and it was exhausting. Because I loved my kids so much and I had already given them a crazy, damaged life, suicide wasn't the option it had been. I couldn't hurt them anymore, so I have actually prayed for a heart attack. I could be talking to someone, laughing, smiling and playing the role of the happy person, while in my head a voice was screaming out to God, "Please, just let me go. Take me out. Take me home. I can't do this anymore." We all suffer pain through life from loss of loved ones, hurtful words and other dissappointments, but the pain from being sexually abused is a pain like no other. Normal life pains bruise your heart, even scrape it sometimes until you can feel it bleed, but sexual abuse pain is like a cancer that starts eating at your heart from the inside. It doesn't heal with time like a bruise or scrape, it grows eating up more of your heart as time passes, until your not sure if there is even enough heart left to make it worth healing.
I was so angry at God. Why hadn't He protected me? Why didn't He love me? Why didn't He send somebody to help me? Why didn't He just let me die? There were times when I was a kid when adults would show some interest in me by asking about school and such and inside I was hoping they would ask me what was wrong. There were times it all would have come spewing out like water from a broken dam. But nobody asked. I would continue into my adult life as the kid on the playground sitting by myself, wishing I was like the other kids, but knowing I would never fit in. Why was I even here?
In public, in front of people, I laughed and joked all the time, but the energy it took to be around people completely wore me out. I was being someone I was not. My whole life was an act and it was exhausting. Because I loved my kids so much and I had already given them a crazy, damaged life, suicide wasn't the option it had been. I couldn't hurt them anymore, so I have actually prayed for a heart attack. I could be talking to someone, laughing, smiling and playing the role of the happy person, while in my head a voice was screaming out to God, "Please, just let me go. Take me out. Take me home. I can't do this anymore." We all suffer pain through life from loss of loved ones, hurtful words and other dissappointments, but the pain from being sexually abused is a pain like no other. Normal life pains bruise your heart, even scrape it sometimes until you can feel it bleed, but sexual abuse pain is like a cancer that starts eating at your heart from the inside. It doesn't heal with time like a bruise or scrape, it grows eating up more of your heart as time passes, until your not sure if there is even enough heart left to make it worth healing.
I was so angry at God. Why hadn't He protected me? Why didn't He love me? Why didn't He send somebody to help me? Why didn't He just let me die? There were times when I was a kid when adults would show some interest in me by asking about school and such and inside I was hoping they would ask me what was wrong. There were times it all would have come spewing out like water from a broken dam. But nobody asked. I would continue into my adult life as the kid on the playground sitting by myself, wishing I was like the other kids, but knowing I would never fit in. Why was I even here?
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Anger
Anger was my friend. It protected me. I didn't have to face uncomfortable situations, I could get angry and leave. It spoke up for me when fear got in my way and alcohol was not an option. It kept me company when I was alone hating the world. I was very protected behind my wall of anger. My expression alone caused people to pass me by.
It was the rage that scared me. It snuck up on me. It was like some kind of being put me in my own back pocket and took over my body. The daggers would fly from my eyes and mouth and nobody could hear the real me tucked away in my pocket screaming for help. I hit people, I cut them to pieces with my words, and I even pulled a gun on a man I was suppose to love. I wanted somebody to hurt as bad as I did.
People asked me all the time, "Why are you so angry?" I honestly did not know. After coming out of the shock of delving into the details of the years of abuse, I had a good idea. I wasn't just angry because I was abused. There is more to it. My choices were taken. I was told that my parent's and God wanted this to happen so those relationships were damaged beyond belief with the enemy's lies at a very young age. Trust is a battle beyond any I will fight for a long time. I thought something was wrong with me. That my parent's and God would wish this whole experience on me was an indicator that I was damaged. One of the most valuable lessons I have learned in the last year is that I was not abused because I was different but I was different because I was abused.
I wanted to quit this healing process and go back to the broken, angry, miserable depressed person I had been. I knew that person and how to be her. I soon experienced a new reason to be angry and even enraged at times. I had to clean up their mess. If I wanted to be a healthy happy person with a future full of relationships and promise, I had to go back and deal with the abuse, with the neglect, with all the fear and chaos in my head. It wasn't fair. I had been to counselors and read books on abuse and I understood the long list of affects it had on me, but now, it became a long list of issues that I had to address and I hadn't caused them. I pitched a fit. I took most of it out on the pastor. It made perfect sense. He was trying to coax me to do what I did not want to do. What I shouldn't have to do. Eventually the anger turned inward and I became depressed. I was already isolating. I had cut just about everybody out of my life so I could concentrate on getting well. The list of affects sexual abuse can have on a person is overwhelmingly long. This was going to take a while.
To name a few:
It was the rage that scared me. It snuck up on me. It was like some kind of being put me in my own back pocket and took over my body. The daggers would fly from my eyes and mouth and nobody could hear the real me tucked away in my pocket screaming for help. I hit people, I cut them to pieces with my words, and I even pulled a gun on a man I was suppose to love. I wanted somebody to hurt as bad as I did.
People asked me all the time, "Why are you so angry?" I honestly did not know. After coming out of the shock of delving into the details of the years of abuse, I had a good idea. I wasn't just angry because I was abused. There is more to it. My choices were taken. I was told that my parent's and God wanted this to happen so those relationships were damaged beyond belief with the enemy's lies at a very young age. Trust is a battle beyond any I will fight for a long time. I thought something was wrong with me. That my parent's and God would wish this whole experience on me was an indicator that I was damaged. One of the most valuable lessons I have learned in the last year is that I was not abused because I was different but I was different because I was abused.
I wanted to quit this healing process and go back to the broken, angry, miserable depressed person I had been. I knew that person and how to be her. I soon experienced a new reason to be angry and even enraged at times. I had to clean up their mess. If I wanted to be a healthy happy person with a future full of relationships and promise, I had to go back and deal with the abuse, with the neglect, with all the fear and chaos in my head. It wasn't fair. I had been to counselors and read books on abuse and I understood the long list of affects it had on me, but now, it became a long list of issues that I had to address and I hadn't caused them. I pitched a fit. I took most of it out on the pastor. It made perfect sense. He was trying to coax me to do what I did not want to do. What I shouldn't have to do. Eventually the anger turned inward and I became depressed. I was already isolating. I had cut just about everybody out of my life so I could concentrate on getting well. The list of affects sexual abuse can have on a person is overwhelmingly long. This was going to take a while.
To name a few:
- Physical Presentations
- Gastrointestinal symptoms/distress
- Musculoskeletal complaints
- Obesity, eating disorders
- Insomnia, sleep disorders
- Pseudocyesis
- Sexual dysfunction
- Asthma, respiratory ailments
- Addiction
- Chronic headache
- Chronic back pain
- Psychologic and Behavioral Presentations
- Depression and anxiety
- Posttraumatic stress disorder symptoms
- Dissociative states
- Repeated self-injury
- Suicide attempts
- Lying, stealing, truancy, running away
- Poor contraceptive practices
- Compulsive sexual behaviors
- Poor adherence to medical recommendations
- Intolerance of or constant search for intimacy
- Expectation of early death
The Truth
The truth shall set you free. That's what they say. That's what the Bible says. Since the truth sets you free, I'm going to tell you the part nobody talks about. Before it sets you free, it drags your heart through a knothole, stomps on it, slams it against a wall, and wrings out every single bit of emotion you can imagine. It just plain hurts. I have faced enough of it though to also tell you I have had glimpses of the freedom. I am still pursuing the truth, because of those bits I have seen. I know it's worth it.
To help me face the truth, I began by writing my story. It begins with my dad leaving when I was eleven years old. Writing it out put me in touch with a lot of pain I didn't realize was still there. In my story there have been many truths I've had to face. I was sexually abused, abandoned, and neglected. This is a good time to mention that hurting people hurt people, which explains the generational curses we pass down. (we can talk about that more later) I had minimized not only what I had gone through, but how it affected me and how it felt. You can't heal it - if you first don't feel it. I had spent most of my life numbing myself through addictions. It's not really the alcohol, food, movies etc. I was addicted to, it was the escape. I was afraid to feel. There was one emotion though that I couldn't find a way to numb - rage. I had been angry for most of my life and taken it out on several people who did not deserve it.
So, I wrote about the abuse and as I wrote through my story I sent it to the pastor to get it out to someone else. You are only as sick as your secrets. Sharing my story was difficult at times, but it helped him to understand the cycle of destruction I had been on and the cycle of emotional struggle it would take to get me free. It started with shock. I felt like I had just lived it and in a way I had through writing about it. At one point I sat on my couch wrapped in a blanket just hurting. I was paralyzed with pain. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, unless of course they were working toward freedom, then I would pray they got through it as fast as possible without missing anything and having to go back.
To help me face the truth, I began by writing my story. It begins with my dad leaving when I was eleven years old. Writing it out put me in touch with a lot of pain I didn't realize was still there. In my story there have been many truths I've had to face. I was sexually abused, abandoned, and neglected. This is a good time to mention that hurting people hurt people, which explains the generational curses we pass down. (we can talk about that more later) I had minimized not only what I had gone through, but how it affected me and how it felt. You can't heal it - if you first don't feel it. I had spent most of my life numbing myself through addictions. It's not really the alcohol, food, movies etc. I was addicted to, it was the escape. I was afraid to feel. There was one emotion though that I couldn't find a way to numb - rage. I had been angry for most of my life and taken it out on several people who did not deserve it.
So, I wrote about the abuse and as I wrote through my story I sent it to the pastor to get it out to someone else. You are only as sick as your secrets. Sharing my story was difficult at times, but it helped him to understand the cycle of destruction I had been on and the cycle of emotional struggle it would take to get me free. It started with shock. I felt like I had just lived it and in a way I had through writing about it. At one point I sat on my couch wrapped in a blanket just hurting. I was paralyzed with pain. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, unless of course they were working toward freedom, then I would pray they got through it as fast as possible without missing anything and having to go back.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Baptized
My true journey began a year ago on Mother's Day when I was baptized. I was saved in my early teens, but only talked to God when I was having an emergency, which was often, but it was more like a 911 call than a relationship. The day I was baptized I sank into a darkness like I had never seen before. I didn't realize at the time it was Satan. He was not happy with my decision to change my life and I was under attack. I spent one month contemplating suicide. Even though I had thoughts before during my life, this was different, because now I believed even God couldn't help me. I finally contacted a pastor I had heard speak about his story. He was free to talk about his mistakes, knowing God forgave him and loved him. I wanted what he had.
The last year has been the most difficult year of my life, yet it has been the most rewarding. I have experienced God like I never thought possible, but I have also experienced demons like I never thought possible. Because I am easily distracted, especially by addictions, I took off running down my path to Jesus. I have to admit though, sometimes I found myself running the wrong way. I thank God I had a friend who turned me back around and sometimes had to give me a good shove to get me going again. Most of the time he walked ahead of me and held out a hand for the times I needed it. Maybe he will be courageous and post here one day.
The last year has been the most difficult year of my life, yet it has been the most rewarding. I have experienced God like I never thought possible, but I have also experienced demons like I never thought possible. Because I am easily distracted, especially by addictions, I took off running down my path to Jesus. I have to admit though, sometimes I found myself running the wrong way. I thank God I had a friend who turned me back around and sometimes had to give me a good shove to get me going again. Most of the time he walked ahead of me and held out a hand for the times I needed it. Maybe he will be courageous and post here one day.
Begins
Everyone has a story. Everyone is on a journey. Whether you acknowledge Christ's existence or not, the journey is all about God. Some people refuse to admit it and take that first step on the path to Him. Others are already with Him for eternity and their earthly journey is over. The rest of us are right where we are suppose to be, traveling at our own speed and at our own level of willingness. I think of it as recovery. Recovery of the lost, sick and broken souls healing as we move toward God. Like the recovery program of AA everyone has something to give. The Old Timers pass on knowledge, wisdom, and advice, while the newbies remind the Old Timers where they came from.
It sounds pretty easy. If it was, we would all be doing it. Not only is the path narrow, rocky and just plain hard at times, but we have an enemy. Satan and his entourage of pesty demons are tripping us, knocking us down, lying to us, and anything else they can do to slow us down and even stop us. But we have the power over them. Just like any hike through rough terrain we help each other.
I will share my journey in hopes that I can help someone and I hope you will share to help me.
It sounds pretty easy. If it was, we would all be doing it. Not only is the path narrow, rocky and just plain hard at times, but we have an enemy. Satan and his entourage of pesty demons are tripping us, knocking us down, lying to us, and anything else they can do to slow us down and even stop us. But we have the power over them. Just like any hike through rough terrain we help each other.
I will share my journey in hopes that I can help someone and I hope you will share to help me.
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