MORE ABOUT ME

In June of 1978, my mother gave birth to a healthy, happy baby girl…me! Although, I had not known (yet) that I was coming into such a broken world and dysfunctional family. My mother’s father was an abusive alcoholic and her mother was an enabling codependent, which left my mother with some deeply rooted mental and emotional instabilities. My father grew up in a home where there were many sexual and incestual perversions that seemed to leave nobody unscathed. Well, one day my mother and father met, bred and had me and my brother. So, I often joke that we ended up with the best of both worlds.

But to start off, I would like to think that my first decade of life was pretty normal for a young girl. I mean, after all, it was the 80’s…before the internet, cell phones and social media took over. It was a time when kids were safe to play around the neighborhood from sun up to sundown and only came home to eat, use the bathroom or tattle on a pestering sibling.  It was when our biggest concern was pushing the start and stop buttons in perfect timing to record our favorite songs on the radio while listening to Casey Kasem’s weekly Top 40. 

I have many fond memories of taking road trips with my grandmothers, having big birthday parties where all of our friends and family showed up and spending summers hanging out with my cousins, building blanket tents any where we could get a sheet to firmly hang. Oh, those were the days, right? Other than the day I can still vividly remember my father leaving us and taking everything (including the phone off the wall), when I was 4 years old or waking up to all the leftover beer cans that remained from my mother’s party the night before and the few attempts of being sexually assaulted from time to time throughout my childhood, all was pretty normal…for me.  

That was until 1988, the summer I spent with my father and grandmother. It was the summer that changed the course of my life. My mother had recently come back to Michigan after being committed for several months in a mental institution down in North Carolina. I don’t recall where she was staying or where my brother was; it was just me, my grandma and my dad living in a trailer park. When one night, I awoke to find my dad in my bed and it wasn’t to tuck me in like most fathers would do. I remember squirming and rolling around as much as I could, pretending to still be asleep the whole time, until he finally stopped touching me and left. 

The next morning, I thought (or hoped) it had just been a bad dream or nightmare, to say the least. But then, why was I so nauseous and confused at what had possibly happened. I couldn’t look anyone in the eye, nor, could  I say a single word. I didn’t talk to my grandma the entire day, as I was consumed with all the thoughts about the night before. Could this have actually happened? This was my own father. All I knew was that I had to keep it all inside, as my own secret, our secret. I took all the shame upon myself as I felt I needed to protect my father from his. And that was the day I lost my voice.

Within the next couple of years, I was starting to get out of control. At 13, I had started smoking cigarettes, became sexually active and was sneaking out most nights with the neighborhood boys. They would climb in or I would climb out of my bedroom window, sometimes having to run and hide from the police a few times for being out after curfew. I did what I wanted  to do or as much as I could get away with and nobody could seem to stop me. I had a strong desire for the bad boys and they desired me.

At 16, I ran away with one of my boyfriends and left the state. I spent most of my high school years obsessed with him and dropped out of high school during my senior year just to be with him every day. I got pregnant at 18 and was married at 19, even though the relationship had been very physically and verbally abusive for several years. It didn’t last long and I filed for a divorce by 21. Then, I started immediately dating my second husband, not knowing of the verbal and emotional abuse and neglect I would endure for the next 16 years.

By my mid-twenties, I had already struggled with over a decade of daunting suicidal thoughts, several years of depression, hopelessness and many different fears and anxieties. My emotions always swung from extreme highs to extreme lows, to the point I was diagnosed bipolar. There was so much drama and chaos around me, but especially, inside of me. I was mad at the world for letting me down. Almost every man that I had encountered abused me, I was despised by my dad’s second wife after the news of what he had done came out and my mind was tormented almost daily. Where was peace? Where was joy? Where was love?

I searched for anything that would bring relief and comfort. I turned to food, sex, drugs, alcohol, even perfectionism, for answers. But everything only left me feeling less fulfilled than I was before. Eventually, I turned back to God. He was the only possible option I had left. I had loved Him as a child, could He love me again? One day, while my husband was at work and our 4 children were in school, the tv was on when I was cleaning the house. That was the first time I ever heard Joyce Meyer preach. She became one of the greatest voices of reason and guidance in my life and I have now been under her teachings for 17 years. God has used many other people and resources, as well, to completely transform my life from the inside out.

I found that in order to go forward, many times, you have to go backwards. I had to dig into the roots that had taken ahold of me since I was the little girl who had been abandoned, rejected and abused. I had to undo and unlearn so many beliefs and behaviors that had been a part of my being for so long. I ended up battling an anxiety disorder for 15 years, that at one point, left me agoraphobic. I couldn’t leave my house, go to the grocery store, drive on the highway or travel because I would have panic attacks everywhere I went; for any reason or no known reason at all.

I had believed that I inherited all the mental health issues of my family and that there was no hope due to my genetics. I thought I would always be a product of my past, whether it was from my own actions or the actions of others. I thought there was no way God could save, fix or use somebody like me. But I was wrong, I was exactly who He was looking for. And eventually, I overcame all those lies, one at a time…by facing every fear, taking control of my thoughts, changing many lifestyle habits, setting better boundaries, eliminating toxic and abusive relationships, finding freedom in forgiveness and embracing God’s immense love for me. 

The journey to recovery has been long and hard (often seeming to take 3 steps forward and 2 steps back) but more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. The good news is that in God’s kingdom, His principles are not the same as the worlds. His word says that He uses the foolish things to confound the wise, uses the weak to lead the strong and that the last will be first. So this brings hope to us who seem lost, broken or deemed as less than because we are the ones that God loves and fights for.

I know all to well the dark places that we can find ourselves in but I assure you that you will find the light if you never stop seeking it. Through God, He has taught me how to fight for myself and win; and now I hope to show you how to do the same. I finally got my voice back and now it is louder than ever before. I found peace, I found joy, I found love…and it is available for you, too!