I am sorry for not posting in the last day or two, after No Noise- I had to emotionally take a break. That incident was really traumatic for me. Since Easter is literally just around the corner I thought this would be the perfect time to tell you how I got to know the real Jesus. If this is the first blog you are reading of mine then you wouldn’t quite understand that statement.
I have setup a time to regularly see a counselor/therapist for my anxiety, depression and traumas. One of the forms of abuse she pointed out to me was my Spiritual Abuse I get from my m. Spiritual abuse is hard to overcome because it turns God into the bad guy when in reality he is not.
The Abuser will switch or manipulate God’s word to make you fit into the mold they wish for you to be in. So for example, my abuser always wanted to be right and be in charge. So the passage “Children obey your parents with all your heart-” is forever engrained in my brain, as well as “spare the rod, spoil the child.”
In my opinion that is a horrible way to grow up. I was taught about God and all the “Sunday School” stories but it was never about his tenderness or his true love. Love to me was a foreign concept. We would discuss it just like it was a thing, not an action.
Of course I have heard the story over and over about how he died for us and rose again and we are saved. But that sounds quite generic to me. It doesn’t have any personal attachment to me at all. I was more so taught of his anger if you didn’t obey him.
When I was little I accepted Jesus into my heart to please my m. Not because I understood what I was doing but to see her smile, to be proud of me and to draw me closer to her. It didn’t work. The spiritual abuse- the memorization, the stories, the fakery was getting worse- so I forgot about Jesus.
When I was 10 I was attacked by our dog in the face and skull (The Trees’ Secret blog). I remember sitting there in the hospital bed and truly feeling his protection over me but I still didn’t quite get it. I carried on without him. When I was 14 my dad received custody of me, which I talk about in The Switch blog.
My m. still had visitation with me and when I was about 14-16 I harbored some serious anger. I still don’t quite understand why I am so full of rage at times but it was bad. I drifted far away from anything that reminded me of Jesus because that reminded me of the abuse and the abuser.
All my life I just wanted someone who I could speak to freely and understand my pain and just be there. But no matter how many times I tried to explain- I just couldn’t find the words. I had no idea what I was going through or why I felt the way I did.
When I was 18- I was raped, which I talk about some of the flashbacks in the No Noise blog. I still didn’t heavily rely on Jesus at all. I wanted to do what I wanted. Why was I to listen to someone who was forced down my throat and was all about rules?
After the rape I became very promiscuous, sleeping with dozens of men. I got a thrill out of being wanted and desired. It made me feel sexy, powerful and fulfilled my need of being wanted that I longed for. It wasn’t until I was around 21-22 that I met my future husband and things changed. We both weren’t living the way we were supposed to but it was just something about him that made me want to be with him. I had never had a serious boyfriend before and didn’t really ever truly want one- he was the first.
It wasn’t until my cancer scare and being told I had a sexually transmitted infection that brought me to my knees. I felt nasty, dirty and filthy. I had to get a biopsy to check if the tissue on my cervix was indeed cancerous or not. We got the results back and it was clear. Nothing was there and the infection cleared up with antibiotics. I knew right then and there God had protected me. I had not had a single real pregnancy scare in all the times I had have sex, no STDs and no cancer.
It still didn’t really sink in about God’s love for me until I realized one day that all I ever wanted was someone to be there. To know what kind of experience I had gone through. I always felt too scared to talk to anyone in the family because no one ever saw what my abuser was truly like. No one ever felt the loneliness I felt growing up. Who would believe me?
Everything with my m. is so rehearsed. Even at Easter Sunday Church or dinner she will say “He is Risen” and you are supposed to say “He is Risen indeed”. I am sorry but since when does it matter what you say or how you say it? Why is it a rule? It just feels completely fake and impersonal. Why not tell the story of how he spoke to your heart? Or of how he was treated?
There is a country song called The Little Girl by John Michael Montgomery, I had heard it before several times but never actually listened to it. I don’t want to spoil it for you if you haven’t heard it but even though that isn’t my life at all- the meaning at the end is the same. Jesus was there.
That melted my stone cold heart of bitterness I had towards everyone. I didn’t like anyone, I didn’t trust anyone, I didn’t care about anyone but when I listened to this song- it all melted away. My future husband and I got back into church, closer to our family and really started to understand God’s love for us. He pulled us both out of the darkness and God offered me a shoulder to cry on.
He knows everything I have been through, he still loves and cherishes me even though some people still despise me. He took everything that I was ashamed about and wiped it away. I still remember the things I did but the guilt is gone because I know I am forgiven from all the horrible things I did to myself and to others.
I know it’s hard because he isn’t physically here to be with you during your journey or mine. And sometimes to be honest- I resent him for that. I doubt him sometimes. I lose faith. I get angry. I don’t have all the answers. I am not perfect at all. I don’t go to church every sunday and I don’t pray before EVERY meal but it is something I am not judged on. He knows my heart. Even though we don’t have the perfect relationship- I strive to be better. I am his and love him with all heart. Why? Because he was there and always will be there for me.
“Cause He was there in my old house-
He held me close to His side”
John Michael Montgomery
The Little Girl