Somehow, I've lost myself in looking at your pictures. You seem to have been getting in shape. I remember when I was doing better with weight loss - but somehow the way you controlled me all those years brought back all the fears and I gained it all back. Thankfully - even though I'm scared to death of losing the weight, my insurance is now making it almost impossible to not do something about it. Now, it just comes down to doing it. I've let you hold me in silence for all these years and as I see you lose weight and become healthy, it makes me hate you even more. To think that somehow you're life is good and well and you're not struggling - makes me want to scream. How can you be living such a life after the horrible things you did and never admitted to? How did I get stuck with all the guilt and shame and fear?
I have struggled with allowing myself to lose weight - in the back of my mind I constantly worry that someone else will do what you did. I am scared to death of finding a husband and being married because I don't know if I'll ever be well enough to want someone's affection again. You have me scarred with filth and it seems as though since I've been BIG no one cares to look at me with the same eyes you once did. I like it that way. Those times when I was younger and those people pulled up to the side of the road - I'm grateful that I never got in their cars, I'm grateful that I no longer get that happening to me. And yet, I know I enjoy being healthy and I liked it when I had lost all that weight, except for the fear that came with it.
I have all these thoughts going around in my head and now I'm predicting tonight to be a stressful night and not getting much sleep.
I hate that you messed up my life and I'll know never know a life where abuse wasn't there. I'll never understand what it means to go into a marriage clean. You stole my life when I was only 10 years old and I am doing everything I can to get it back.I pray that I have lost weight before I actually see you face to face. I pray that I don't let you push me back into silence. I pray that I'm following God's will and that He works everything out. I'm not sure I'm up for jumping through ropes or drawn out trials. I just want this to be over with. I want to over come you and everything you mean in my world. I want to be on the other side of this so that my story will matter.
The day just keeps getting closer to when I take the first step in fighting you and everything that tells me I was in the wrong. I was a child and you twisted my world to revolve around you and sexual things to please you. It was wrong what you did and I pray that the verdict turns out in my favor in the end for I do not know if I can handle a jury saying otherwise. I do pray that I have the strength to sit in front of you and my mother and share the story from my lips for the first time and that you realize what you did and just how traumatizing it really was to my soul. My wound will bleed that day and it will be because of you.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
23 1/2 days left....
23 days left until I meet with a legal advocate. 24 days till I make my way to two police stations and change the lives of everyone affected by what the monster did to me. Today, I sat in my living room journaling to my Jesus, and the fear just overwhelmed me. The pain that comes from the very center of my being and tries to overtake my life is often too much to bear. I am grateful for my Savior in these moments because I know that He is right there beside me, protecting me and calming me. Even when the pain is too much, I still feel confident in my decision and I know that this has to be done. As I write, talk and think about the memories that play in my mind, my humanness betrays me and fear, anger, depression and repulsion pulsates through my veins. The pain I keep in a locked vault leaks through the cracks and it takes a Savior to keep me from its devastating power.
In just over 3 weeks, I will have begun to do everything I can to prevent this monster from taking another child into its menacing grip.
I have this thought that keeps coming to mind ever since I thought it in counseling this week. "What if my mother knew?" "What if she 'sold' me to him in exchange for her own happiness?" "What if she wasn't as blind as I thought she was?" My mind plays these tricks on me, attacks from the evil one who wants to keep me quiet and locked in shame. Even if she didn't verbally say this is what she was doing, my feelings and thoughts make it obvious that her happiness was more important than my safety.
And today as I was preparing myself a little more for what's to come after my family becomes aware of the charges being pressed against their beloved father figure, the pain of a life lost was too much to bear. How do I defend my actions to my family members - by telling them of the girl he destroyed, how I will never be the person I could have been. My life ended after that first time and I am only now realizing that I have gotten it back, 100 fold with more to come.
My Savior keeps me safe now. He eases the pain that makes itself known without warning. He dries the tears and comforts me, a sinful human. My Savior is the only thing that keeps me from losing myself to the pain and is helping me to defeat it once and for all by guiding my footsteps and being in complete control.
Today as I feel the pain again, I also feel the comfort and I am so grateful for the comfort.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Courage from Pain
Your picture is available on facebook. Every time I look at your face, I feel as if I've taken a punch to the stomach. I quite literally feel the pain of your very existence in my life. And everytime I read your wife's statuses I am reminded of how weak she is and how greatly you have conditioned her mind to be solely devoted to you. I look into your eyes in your photograph and I remember the way they told me it was time. I see your smile and I know your teeth are all fake and I can feel your lips on my body. I see that you've lost weight and I can imagine you feel pretty good about yourself. I see the glasses set on your face held in position by your large nose and I see your age and my stomach churns with acid.
Slowly, this happy face of yours reveals the monster that lurks just beneath the surface. I don't know why I look at your picture because every time I do, the fear and shame come rushing to the surface. Your very picture ruins my day and I am doomed to spend the next few hours fighting depression - hoping to succeed and not have to deal with the pain any longer than needed.
And because of the emotions that come from looking at the picture of your evilness, I gain strength knowing that I can fight and overcome you. I must put aside the thoughts regarding my family and how they will respond. I must put aside the feelings that I get when I think about how this will cause drama in their lives. None of them even suspect that I am about to fight you, harder than you've ever been fought. For I am no longer a trapped 11 year old girl fighting for survival. I am a strong, woman of God who knows that what was done to her was extremely wrong. Since the truth has come out, you've been victorious in keeping me from knowing true, unconditional love from my family members. 5 years later, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God loves me enough to perfectly orchestrate the persons who will be in the court room with us. I know that somehow, all of this is going to work out because God is in control and He is the One that wants this.
I can't believe its been 6 years since I've been home, since I've been in the same room with you, since I've even spoken your name. In February it will be 6 years since your wife called me, finally knowing the truth about you and telling me that I had just ruined her life. Though, it only seems to have gotten better for the two of you and my mother is now more dependent on you than she's ever been. My heart breaks into a million pieces when I think about all the pain you have caused me and my family. The very thought of going through with this legal process, brings back all the fears that you once controlled me with.
However, this pain that rips apart the center of my soul is exactly what drives me forward. I am pursuing this with God on my side, determined to do all that I can to keep more little girls from the same fate. The wound that bleeds from the simple image of your face is exactly what pushes me towards complete healing. I know that God will be standing next to me, holding me firm and upright as I do what He has asked of me. Through the pain, I am given courage to fight. I am taking back my voice and the control and God is the One I choose to please.
Slowly, this happy face of yours reveals the monster that lurks just beneath the surface. I don't know why I look at your picture because every time I do, the fear and shame come rushing to the surface. Your very picture ruins my day and I am doomed to spend the next few hours fighting depression - hoping to succeed and not have to deal with the pain any longer than needed.
And because of the emotions that come from looking at the picture of your evilness, I gain strength knowing that I can fight and overcome you. I must put aside the thoughts regarding my family and how they will respond. I must put aside the feelings that I get when I think about how this will cause drama in their lives. None of them even suspect that I am about to fight you, harder than you've ever been fought. For I am no longer a trapped 11 year old girl fighting for survival. I am a strong, woman of God who knows that what was done to her was extremely wrong. Since the truth has come out, you've been victorious in keeping me from knowing true, unconditional love from my family members. 5 years later, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God loves me enough to perfectly orchestrate the persons who will be in the court room with us. I know that somehow, all of this is going to work out because God is in control and He is the One that wants this.
I can't believe its been 6 years since I've been home, since I've been in the same room with you, since I've even spoken your name. In February it will be 6 years since your wife called me, finally knowing the truth about you and telling me that I had just ruined her life. Though, it only seems to have gotten better for the two of you and my mother is now more dependent on you than she's ever been. My heart breaks into a million pieces when I think about all the pain you have caused me and my family. The very thought of going through with this legal process, brings back all the fears that you once controlled me with.
However, this pain that rips apart the center of my soul is exactly what drives me forward. I am pursuing this with God on my side, determined to do all that I can to keep more little girls from the same fate. The wound that bleeds from the simple image of your face is exactly what pushes me towards complete healing. I know that God will be standing next to me, holding me firm and upright as I do what He has asked of me. Through the pain, I am given courage to fight. I am taking back my voice and the control and God is the One I choose to please.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Its been 8 years...
The last time I saw my father, we ended up getting pulled over by the cops. My sister and I sat on the ground while the cops searched his car and decided that he would not be able to drive anymore. They had us call our aunt to come pick us up and they took him to the metro station. My aunt had horrible things to say about him while talking to my mother on the phone, updating her on how much of a loser our father is.
Then we visited this family that we grew up with. The girl that was my age had a baby prematurely, so I spent time in the hospital with her and the baby girl. The family was in the midst of a divorce. The older brother was a drug addict. The younger girl, probably followed in their steps. I don't even know their knows anymore.
We went to a few movies and that was it. 7 1/2 years later, he wants to see me. I thought it was longer than that, because I honestly don't remember visiting during high school, but apparently I did. Which makes a little bit of sense considering I did see my grandmother before she died, and she was sick at the time - so I was 15 or 16, not 13 or 14 like I thought.
Tomorrow night, I will see the man who handed me over to my mother's husband without ever really looking back. He wanted that man to adopt us, so he wouldn't be responsible for us financially - not like he ever paid anyways. I will see the face that goes with my the voice on the other end of the phone every couple of months for 10 minutes. This man who abused my mother and neglected us kids. Tomorrow I will have dinner with a man who my siblings hate. Tomorrow I will sit across the table from the person who did not protect me against the evil man my mother married.
I pray the weather is good and driving is not a problem...if I have to, I know backroads from half way of my trip to meet him.
I feel so emotionally drained already and I still have counseling and haven't even seen him yet. Geez. I hope this is the right thing to do. Maybe we'll get a freak blizzard and they'll cancel on me. I wouldn't be totally disappointed with that, especially since the weekend is going to be crazy weather. Sadness has quite a hold on me lately.
Then we visited this family that we grew up with. The girl that was my age had a baby prematurely, so I spent time in the hospital with her and the baby girl. The family was in the midst of a divorce. The older brother was a drug addict. The younger girl, probably followed in their steps. I don't even know their knows anymore.
We went to a few movies and that was it. 7 1/2 years later, he wants to see me. I thought it was longer than that, because I honestly don't remember visiting during high school, but apparently I did. Which makes a little bit of sense considering I did see my grandmother before she died, and she was sick at the time - so I was 15 or 16, not 13 or 14 like I thought.
Tomorrow night, I will see the man who handed me over to my mother's husband without ever really looking back. He wanted that man to adopt us, so he wouldn't be responsible for us financially - not like he ever paid anyways. I will see the face that goes with my the voice on the other end of the phone every couple of months for 10 minutes. This man who abused my mother and neglected us kids. Tomorrow I will have dinner with a man who my siblings hate. Tomorrow I will sit across the table from the person who did not protect me against the evil man my mother married.
I pray the weather is good and driving is not a problem...if I have to, I know backroads from half way of my trip to meet him.
I feel so emotionally drained already and I still have counseling and haven't even seen him yet. Geez. I hope this is the right thing to do. Maybe we'll get a freak blizzard and they'll cancel on me. I wouldn't be totally disappointed with that, especially since the weekend is going to be crazy weather. Sadness has quite a hold on me lately.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Beginning the Process
My fears grow bigger as I try to submit them over to Jesus. I continously bring them to His feet in hopes that He'll just make them go away. But the tears come when I think about the process I'm entering. I've made a decision to have my abuser prosecuted and with that confidence in Christ, satan is making every attempt to trap me into hiding again. But I refuse to go there. I want so much to allow Jesus this victory and to walk with Him through this battle. I feel weak and unable to win against this giant, but I believe that God is right there, planning out everything and who I need to talk with and how to go about gaining more freedom. Speaking my story in grave detail is scary, even just acknowledging it as something that happened to me and not something I did is scary. But in order for this to no longer have power over me, I have to face it head on.
My biggest fear in my selfish life is that my family will side with him, wholeheartedly. I fear that no one will stand by me when it comes to my family. No whether they will testify for him is another thing that I do not know. I hold on to this fantasy that one day, just maybe my mom will call me and tell me that she believes me and she's sorry and she's leaving him. I keep hoping that he'll just admit to what he did and give me back my family - allow us to heal without him in our way. Going through with this will bring out the truth, make everyone face it head on. I want them to hear what I have to say. I want them to care enough to listen to my voice and my story and know that I'm not just "sick."
My journey is just beginning with this. I keep handing over all my fears and doubts to Jesus, trusting Him that without this I'll be failing the little girls he comes into contact with now. I need to do everything in my power to prevent him from hurting them - everything. And that includes making him sit in front of me and listen to everything he did to me.
I'm not going to pretend that I'm not scared. But with this fear I will continue to walk with God in this process. I want Him to be the center of the whole thing. He's the person placing people in my life that can help me. As I play "phone tag" with the legal advocate in Illinois, I pray to Jesus that He calms my fears and helps me to be level headed during this process. I want only for my abuser to face what he did, be prevented from hurting other girls, and to no longer have power over me in anyway. I want to expose the reality that abusers are not just "crazies" running the streets, but are ministers, teachers, camp counselors and family members.
Step One of this process has begun. Tonight I meet with my pastor to pray about some of this stuff. I want to be in God's will for this. I don't want it to be my own selfishness. And I don't want him hurting those girls ~ they are who I think about. All it takes is one "accidental slip" of the hand to damage a child, he shouldn't have that opportunity at all.
So it begins.....
My biggest fear in my selfish life is that my family will side with him, wholeheartedly. I fear that no one will stand by me when it comes to my family. No whether they will testify for him is another thing that I do not know. I hold on to this fantasy that one day, just maybe my mom will call me and tell me that she believes me and she's sorry and she's leaving him. I keep hoping that he'll just admit to what he did and give me back my family - allow us to heal without him in our way. Going through with this will bring out the truth, make everyone face it head on. I want them to hear what I have to say. I want them to care enough to listen to my voice and my story and know that I'm not just "sick."
My journey is just beginning with this. I keep handing over all my fears and doubts to Jesus, trusting Him that without this I'll be failing the little girls he comes into contact with now. I need to do everything in my power to prevent him from hurting them - everything. And that includes making him sit in front of me and listen to everything he did to me.
I'm not going to pretend that I'm not scared. But with this fear I will continue to walk with God in this process. I want Him to be the center of the whole thing. He's the person placing people in my life that can help me. As I play "phone tag" with the legal advocate in Illinois, I pray to Jesus that He calms my fears and helps me to be level headed during this process. I want only for my abuser to face what he did, be prevented from hurting other girls, and to no longer have power over me in anyway. I want to expose the reality that abusers are not just "crazies" running the streets, but are ministers, teachers, camp counselors and family members.
Step One of this process has begun. Tonight I meet with my pastor to pray about some of this stuff. I want to be in God's will for this. I don't want it to be my own selfishness. And I don't want him hurting those girls ~ they are who I think about. All it takes is one "accidental slip" of the hand to damage a child, he shouldn't have that opportunity at all.
So it begins.....
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Family-less
I've been thinking about a lot these past few weeks. I have another topic I want to write about but its not as personal as what I need to write about at the moment...so this is for here and the other will be for facebook...
Today I saw a few pictures from my niece's first birthday party out in Las Vegas where the majority of my mother's side of the family resides. In these photos people were tagged to share the photo with, you know not just who's in the picture but who you want to see the picture...happens all the time. Am I tagged in any of them??? Nope.
I think right now, I'm slowly realizing that my blood family is not my real family. And what sucks is that they all think I am in the wrong here. That all I do is bring drama and what not. But I'm realizing that they just don't care enough about me to really love me the way I need. I spent some time visiting my sister in Chicago and I realized that my life is just so completely different from hers. Different priorities, different beliefs, different goals, different truths, different plans, different everything.
I'm reminded of the fact that I have been saved by grace and that in being sanctified with Christ, I have been set apart. I knew that I was different from my family the whole time. I never felt like I truly belonged with them. It became worse when my step father began abusing me sexually and I hated him and everyone else loved me. I knew I was different and that I just didn't belong there. And now I'm seeing that it is true, only I have the better life.
Its not to say that they live horrible lives, its just more stressed, filled with more discord, dysfunctional in ways. My life is simple, fairly stress free, stable, fun and filled with people who love the Lord. And even though it sucks sometimes that my mom isn't with me, I'm kinda glad, because I don't want a broken woman trying to be a mother to me.
I have a friend who looks at my decision to not speak with my mother and family as if its some horrible thing. But when I made the choice I was not thinking about what they would think or how they would feel, but about how much they tore me down and how miserable my life was with them in it. I am free from their control and I don't submit myself to their wickedness. I can forgive them and pray for them but I do not have to have them in my life.
It sucks because I imagine the conversations I'll have to have with my future husband about family and about my life. It will be extremely difficult to have my first baby and not have my mom there to support me and love me through it. It will also be extremely difficult to explain to my kids why they don't know their grandmother. And it's hard to watch as my mom pours love out on my nephew and niece, knowing that she will not have the chance to do so for my children.
My heart breaks at the reality that my blood family has turned their backs on me and has chosen to stay in darkness with my abuser. But my heart rejoices knowing that I have been adopted into the Family of God and I am the Kid of the King! For the first time in my life I have no major plans for the future. I don't expect anything to happen or to not happen. I have no plans. I'm simply opening myself up to whatever God has in store for me because I want to live the life He planned out and not the one I desire in my flesh.
I pray that my so called "family" opens their eyes to the Truth and the Light one day. When they do, I'll be ready to share with them and love them. But they hold too much power in their darkness and I fear that I may have to stop visiting my sister and my niece. It's not fair but I hate to feel like she's just some spy. I want them to be happy and I feel they never will be with me in the picture. I give up trying to fix it and am beginning to just accept what's happened in my life.
I am blessed by the family I have in this life of Light and Truth and Blessing. I desire to stay here and not go back.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
bleeding again...
Tomorrow I'm embarking a new journey. I'm headed away from the world for three days. It's just gonna be me and Jesus, no cell phone, no t.v., no facebook, no internet. I'm scared and excited for this time away with Jesus. I think the thing that has me scared is that recently I've been doing some major work in the healing department. I've been hearing songs, reading books, listening to speakers and journaling. Stuff I've been doing for several years now, but these past few weeks have been extremely focused on getting another layer of dirt out of my wound.
Sunday I had the great opportunity to hear from Dr. David Loveless at our church. He talked about "Church Wounds" and hyprocisy. Lately in the class I'm taking on Wednesdays I've heard it talked about as someone "putting on the robe for Sunday, but living differently on Monday." Sunday it was about everyone being a sinner and God's forgiveness. I get it, I understand that I am a sinner and that God forgives me, sometimes even before I ask. But Pastor Loveless asked forgiveness on behalf of all the church leaders and "Christians" that have hurt me in the past. And yet for some reason, I just couldn't forgive the few people that have truly hurt me.
Sure, forgiving people who I thought were going to be there for me and then once again left, not a big deal. But these people who truly did me wrong. Abused me and abandoned me. These "Christians' that are supposed to be like Christ, that not only stabbed me but dug the knife deeper and deeper every chance they got (or get in some cases). How can I forgive them? How can I let the pain of this go? I have no idea. I can't even speak their names.
My therapist has been asking me to do a "trauma narrative" for like a month. I've dodged it every time. So, on Sunday I think, okay I need to try this. I started writing about why it is that I can't talk about any type of details about the things I went through growing up. I wrote it from the piece of me that is guilty and shameful of what I did. Then I started to write it from the piece of me that was hurt and abused and broken. That little girl that just didn't want to make anyone unhappy. I got to this point where a certain word needed to be written and I had a complete panic attack. My heart was racing, I was sobbing uncontrollably, I couldn't breathe and I had to find a way to numb out. I threw the pen down and walked away from the notebook. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't write this horrible truth. I could write the lies that I've convinced myself of all these years. I could easily say it was my fault and that everything happened because I let it and I started it. But the year and a half before that became true, the time I spent as a complete victim in his control, that I can't write about.
Then Sunday, I talked with my dad on the phone for a few minutes. He's so pathetic. He barely knows how to use a computer, he can't hold a steady job. He tells me that he asked to be friends with my extended family and only some have accepted him. He tells me my mother responded to his invite with "leave my family alone." He tells me that he has no food in his fridge, but of course I could hear that he was intoxicated. I just want to send him some money but I don't trust that he'll do anything good with it. He asked me about my "personal" life. I told him "no I don't have a boyfriend" and that "I'm just working on healing from things." He says "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you and help you." Then he quickly changed the subject back to how to chat on facebook.
I wanted to confront him and ask him if what my brother said was true. But I just couldn't it. He's obviously a drunk and uneducated. But he's my dad and my only connection to my grandfather - the only man that was good to me as a kid. But you would think that my grandfather's inability to call me should just make me stop caring about any of them. He's my dad. Sure, he's a loser and never supported us. Sure, he hurt my mother but my mother was/is weak and I just don't feel sorry for her. But I started to cry because he noticed the pictures of the kids on my page and he was like "they're your family" and it sucked because he's right. They're my family and he's not and my mother's not and my brother's not and my grandmother's not and my aunts' aren't and my cousins aren't and my sister is only barely my family.
And so the wound in the pit of my being, the very center of who I am, is once again ripped open and bleeding. The past few days have been filled with depression and numbness and pain and fear and tears and heartache. Just in time to go on a 3 day journey with my Father to love me back to wholeness.
I just had to write because it was all stuck inside and I hadn't told anybody and it was causing way too much pain and sorrow in my days and nights. Now, back to work.....
Sunday I had the great opportunity to hear from Dr. David Loveless at our church. He talked about "Church Wounds" and hyprocisy. Lately in the class I'm taking on Wednesdays I've heard it talked about as someone "putting on the robe for Sunday, but living differently on Monday." Sunday it was about everyone being a sinner and God's forgiveness. I get it, I understand that I am a sinner and that God forgives me, sometimes even before I ask. But Pastor Loveless asked forgiveness on behalf of all the church leaders and "Christians" that have hurt me in the past. And yet for some reason, I just couldn't forgive the few people that have truly hurt me.
Sure, forgiving people who I thought were going to be there for me and then once again left, not a big deal. But these people who truly did me wrong. Abused me and abandoned me. These "Christians' that are supposed to be like Christ, that not only stabbed me but dug the knife deeper and deeper every chance they got (or get in some cases). How can I forgive them? How can I let the pain of this go? I have no idea. I can't even speak their names.
My therapist has been asking me to do a "trauma narrative" for like a month. I've dodged it every time. So, on Sunday I think, okay I need to try this. I started writing about why it is that I can't talk about any type of details about the things I went through growing up. I wrote it from the piece of me that is guilty and shameful of what I did. Then I started to write it from the piece of me that was hurt and abused and broken. That little girl that just didn't want to make anyone unhappy. I got to this point where a certain word needed to be written and I had a complete panic attack. My heart was racing, I was sobbing uncontrollably, I couldn't breathe and I had to find a way to numb out. I threw the pen down and walked away from the notebook. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't write this horrible truth. I could write the lies that I've convinced myself of all these years. I could easily say it was my fault and that everything happened because I let it and I started it. But the year and a half before that became true, the time I spent as a complete victim in his control, that I can't write about.
Then Sunday, I talked with my dad on the phone for a few minutes. He's so pathetic. He barely knows how to use a computer, he can't hold a steady job. He tells me that he asked to be friends with my extended family and only some have accepted him. He tells me my mother responded to his invite with "leave my family alone." He tells me that he has no food in his fridge, but of course I could hear that he was intoxicated. I just want to send him some money but I don't trust that he'll do anything good with it. He asked me about my "personal" life. I told him "no I don't have a boyfriend" and that "I'm just working on healing from things." He says "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you and help you." Then he quickly changed the subject back to how to chat on facebook.
I wanted to confront him and ask him if what my brother said was true. But I just couldn't it. He's obviously a drunk and uneducated. But he's my dad and my only connection to my grandfather - the only man that was good to me as a kid. But you would think that my grandfather's inability to call me should just make me stop caring about any of them. He's my dad. Sure, he's a loser and never supported us. Sure, he hurt my mother but my mother was/is weak and I just don't feel sorry for her. But I started to cry because he noticed the pictures of the kids on my page and he was like "they're your family" and it sucked because he's right. They're my family and he's not and my mother's not and my brother's not and my grandmother's not and my aunts' aren't and my cousins aren't and my sister is only barely my family.
And so the wound in the pit of my being, the very center of who I am, is once again ripped open and bleeding. The past few days have been filled with depression and numbness and pain and fear and tears and heartache. Just in time to go on a 3 day journey with my Father to love me back to wholeness.
I just had to write because it was all stuck inside and I hadn't told anybody and it was causing way too much pain and sorrow in my days and nights. Now, back to work.....
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