Here is the story of a journey of fear, growth and faith.  The survivor tells of struggles, temptations, hurts and fears that many often face in the shadow of difficult relationships with our parents or significant adults.  This story is no different. 

As I read through the story, my heart was touched by the ups and downs exeptlified in this survivor’s journey.  There are times when faith is experienced through hope and promise and yet other times you will experience the writer’s hurts, fears and struggles.  Isn’t that the way it is for all of us?  Some days are easier than others.  Some life circumstances are more wonderful and some are more difficult.

This story serves as a wonderful testimony to the power of faith and God’s love as well as a wonderful example of what a life’s journey is all about…overcoming the trials and struggles so as to enjoy the gifts of joy and love.

My story…

I am a faithful believer in Jesus Christ who has struggled and is recovering from depression, anxiety, emotional abuse, and sexual addiction. 

I grew up in a small town in southern Minnesota, the daughter of two school teachers.  I grew up attending a traditional Lutheran Church but attending church was more of an obligation and a very low priority in our family.  I knew very little about the Bible and had never felt the presence of God in my life.

 I was always an athlete and started playing a sport at age 3.  By age 7, I was playing competitively in this sport and by age 9 I was competing nationally.  From the outside everything seemed normal; I excelled athletically and in school and it appeared that my family was supportive.  However, what was happening behind closed doors was a whole different story.  My dad was a great coach and teacher at our local school and a very jovial, fun person to be around in public.  I loved that dad and really enjoyed being around him.  Behind closed doors however, he was ultra controlling, verbally abusive, angry, and would expose himself naked to me on a consistent basis.  I was always scared that something terrible would happen in our house, whether it be my brother, who had the same temper as my dad or my dad losing his temper on myself or my mom.  I would try to stay out of the way when tempers were flaring and go hide in my room.  I learned very early on that keeping things to myself was the best way to stay safe.  I became a shell of the person I really was.  I was extremely introverted and struggled talking to others I didn’t know, especially men.

I had to win…

The pressure to succeed at my sport increased as I got older.  I distinctly remember being yelled at after an event when I didn’t perform as my dad thought I should.  I was constantly questioning myself and the pressure to succeed made me physically ill.  I was always sick before a sporting event and I firmly believe this is where I learned my anxious tendencies.  I would play in 30 plus competitive events a summer and travel all over the country. I missed out on my childhood in so many ways and lacked the social skills to be friends with kids my age.

There were some positives…

But those were just the negatives from sport—I have been blessed with so many positives from growing up playing.  The game taught me perseverance, respect, honesty, and integrity.  Because of my abilities, I earned a Division I athletic scholarship.  With that came a team of other young woman who had similar life experiences.  That was the greatest gift God could give me at that moment in my life. 

In addition, I had the most loving, amazing coach, who guided me through this period of my life.  In my freshman year of college, I herniated a disk in my back and had to have surgery the following spring.  The only thing I knew in life, my sport, was taken away.  I couldn’t play for 6 months and it really took me a year and a half to get back to full speed.  I didn’t know how to function without the sport I had played almost my entire life.  I didn’t have practice to go to everyday and felt so empty inside.  What ensued was my first bout with depression.  I had severe sadness, loneliness, and I didn’t know what I could possibly do now that my sport was to be limited in my future.  My team and coach surrounded me with their love and I was able to go off of my depression medication after a year and a half.  I wouldn’t struggle with depression again for the next five years.

Life was still tough and I learned to stuff my emotions…

Meanwhile, my relationship with my dad was always difficult.  Whatever I did in life, it was never good enough for my dad.  I spent the first 27 years of my life trying desperately to please him and live my life the way he wanted.  It was like he was my God.  I believed everything he told me.  That I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t have a good enough job, that I shouldn’t have taken the time to get my masters, that my apartment wasn’t nice enough, the list goes on and on.  My self-esteem was exceedingly low and for the longest time my self worth was determined by my success in my sport.  I stuffed everything inside, deep down.

Eventually, you can’t stuff anymore inside of yourself.  In November 2008, I had something happen at work that made me question what I had become, what people thought of me, and what I was doing in my life.  It didn’t take much and my life was spiraling downward.  I was depressed and suicidal.  I felt so extremely alone and didn’t let anyone into my life.  The walls were up and I thought I could get out of this situation through my own strength and courage.  I did not tell a single person about my darkness until February 2009.  During this time, I somehow went to work, came home, went to sleep and got up the next day to go to work again.  I don’t even remember a lot about these three to four months of my life.

I found hope…

God had a plan though and He brought me through the doors of Lutheran Church of Hope on November 21, 2008.  The first thing I heard that Sunday evening was, “If this is your first time visiting Hope, we have been praying for you and believe it is no accident that you are here tonight.”  Well, that certainly got my attention.  I kept coming to Hope each weekend and accepted Christ into my life on December 23, 2008 during the Christmas Eve service at Hope.  It was an amazing experience and the first time I had truly felt God’s presence.  From there, I took the Alpha course that spring and it was in that small group that I told them about my depression, my suicidal thoughts, and how I hadn’t shared with anyone.  It took me 7 weeks to tell my Alpha group, and as some of you know the course is only 9 weeks long!

Sometimes it gets harder before it gets easier…

As it turns out the Depression was only a result of much deeper hurts, habits, and hang-ups.  In June of 2009, I started having panic attacks, some so debilitating that I thought I was having a heart attack; I couldn’t breathe, and would sometimes throw up when they were really bad.  I had them at work, at my support group, and in the car.  I was hurting really bad and was struggling to reach out to others and to develop some Accountability Partner relationships at my support group.  One night at my support group, I connected with a couple of people and we began an email conversation.  This helped build my trust and it was easier for me than face-to-face conversations.  These people were instrumental in helping me come out of my shell.  I slowly began to trust these few people and that trust was upheld.

One night in August 2009, the lesson at my support group was on sponsorship.  I always figured that sponsors were only for those with an addiction and not for someone who struggles with depression and anxiety.  But as I soon discovered, we all need someone to talk to and to walk alongside of us during our journey.  I really struggled trying to ask someone to be my sponsor.  I would come face-to-face with the person I felt should be my sponsor and not say a word.  I asked someone to be my sponsor about a month after the lesson.  I am currently on my fourth sponsor but am truly grateful for the one I have now.  This person is there for me when I need her and challenges me to become a better person and to be as God intended me to be.  I have several accountability partners who are also an integral part of my life.  The reason I am here today and striving to live the life God intended is because of my friends.  I have never had such authentic true friends in all my life.  I love them with all my heart and would do anything for them.  I never believed people when they said your church family can make up for a broken biological family…but it is so true.  Thanks Sisters!!

One of my accountability partners suggested that I purchase the step study books and begin working through the first step of denial.  I was willing to try anything because I was nearing the end of my rope.  My own willpower wasn’t working and I was having panic attacks on a regular basis.  I completed that first step on denial in one day and I couldn’t believe how much freedom and also pain it brought up.  I decided at that point I wanted to get into a Step Study.  Doing this study, especially the fourth and fifth step, has allowed me to work through my pain and to move on.  I know my journey is not complete but the step study is an important component in my journey of freedom from past hurts.

One of the biggest moments in my recovery journey was the day I gave over my control to God.  It was in September 2009 and I had been sick, I was experiencing problems with my depression medicine and at a definite low point in my life.  At the bottom, I finally realized that I could not fix this with my own willpower.  I prayed that evening on the side of my bed to God, I told him I was powerless and that I needed his help to overcome my depression and anxiety.  My way didn’t work and I was at the end of my rope.  Tears were flowing and my emotions were out for the first time in a very long time.  God was with me that night.  I felt His presence and felt His work in my life from then on.

With my support network strongly intact, God must have felt I was ready to remember and deal with more from my past.  In October 2009, during a guest speaker at my support group, I experienced a panic attack and started remembering abuse in my childhood and of being exposed to my father.  The abuse or exposure was so vivid in my mind and I struggled to sleep for a week and the panic attacks seemed stronger.  But God only gave me as much as I could handle and he surrounded me with such wonderful people from this recovery ministry.

During this journey, my faith and convictions continued to grow as I participated in classes at church, attended weekly services, met with prayer warriors, started the step study, and talked frequently with my sponsor and accountability partners.  As Ecclesiastes 4: 9-10 says:  “Two people are better off than one, for they can help each other succeed.  If one person falls, the other can reach out and help.  But someone who falls alone is in real trouble.”

My journey continues…

As my faith grew deeper I realized that some things in my life were not for the glory of God and were against his law.  It was very hard for me to tell others of the addiction that I had been facing for several years.  Prior to coming into a relationship with Jesus Christ, I didn’t think it was that wrong.  Finally, shortly before Thanksgiving 2009, I told a very close friend that I was addicted to pornography and had a sexual addiction.  She was very loving and didn’t judge me at all.  Gradually, I started to feel less shameful of my addiction and more focused on how to overcome it.  I started reaching out for help and being accountable to others.  I still struggle with the temptations but pray that the Lord will help me through this addiction.

A scripture that I focus on a lot and sums up my struggles are Romans 7:21-25:

“I have discovered this principle of life—that when I do what is right, I inevitably do what is wrong.  I love God’s law with all my heart.  But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind.  This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me.  Oh, what a miserable person I am!  Who will free me from this life that is dominated by sin and death?  Thank God!  The answer is in Jesus Christ our Lord.  So you see how it is in my mind I really want to obey God’s law, but because of my sinful nature I am a slave to sin.”

 God has given me a new heart now and a new lease on life.  A prayer partner led me to a scripture one night in the prayer room and said that is what he now saw in me.

Ezekiel 36:25-26—“Then I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you will be clean.  Your filth will be washed away, and you will no longer worship idols.  And I will give you a NEW HEART and I will put a new spirit in you.  I will take out your stony, stubborn heart and give you a tender, responsive heart.”

I know God had me experience the valleys and mountain tops of life for a reason, so I could help others with the same affliction.  I always had a servant and caring heart and what I found in the darkness will help others in the light.  I now know God’s purpose for my life, his intention when he created me.  I am looking forward to loving and glorifying God the rest of the days of my life.  This new heart, new life is amazing and I feel truly blessed to have been given this opportunity.

I will end with my favorite scripture and it helped get me through some very tough moments.

Joshua 1:9—“This is my command—be strong and courageous!  Do not be afraid or discouraged.  For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

Just remember, He is with you always, in the good times and the bad.  And His light shines brighter than any darkness this world can bring.

Thank you.

Here is another story of a life full of unanswered questions and some hurtful memories.  This young woman bravely faces her memories and is willing to share them with you.  She wisely recognizes that her healing process is a journey and she bravely and gratefully moves forward – one day at a time! 

Some memories

Many of my childhood memories are like a dream to me.  You know how a dream is portrayed on TV?  Like a dense cloud and the events aren’t that clear?  That’s how my early childhood memories are in my mind. 

 I’m not sure how old I was when the sexual abuse first occurred.  I do know that when I talk about it, the emotions I feel are overwhelming.  I’ve been told that having such strong emotions like that can be synonymous with sexual abuse before age five (when children begin to formulate words for feelings).  My memories of sexual abuse began to surface when I was in college at age 20-21.  I was seeing a therapist at the college campus counseling center for depression and self-injury behaviors at the time.  One evening, I had a dream that a man was sexually molesting me. This dream wasn’t that detailed, except that the man was having sex with me and he didn’t have a face.  I mentioned this dream to my therapist.  The therapist told me to let her know if the dream ever re-occurred and we could talk about it more.  The memories didn’t re-occur… until I was 27. 

At 27, I started having memories of being molested in a tall, yellow wheat field and of being forced to perform oral sex on a man.  I’m not exactly sure how old I was in this memory, but I know I was very young.  I’d say I was probably around four to five years of age, if not younger.  This molestation memory really scared me because it seemed really violent in nature.  This memory was also the first one I had that included sexual penetration. 

Triggers

To this date, I am disgusted to the point of nausea by anyone with bad breath, or what I perceive as bad breath, and I feel like I have to brush my teeth and tongue until they both are super clean.  I frequently have to be careful to not gag myself as the gagging happens easily.  My memories include thoughts that the man towered over me, and he casting a huge shadow like a person would imagine a monster getting ready to attack its prey. 

I’m still not exactly sure where these events took place or who the man was.  I do remember going back to a house after it had occurred and just wanting my mother.  I was covered in blood, terrified and crying.  When I went to the house seeking comfort from my mother, I don’t remember being validated or comforted by anyone.  It was like I was all alone and couldn’t find anyone.  I’m also triggered to this day by anything off-white or creamy in nature, and specifically liquid soap, shampoo, conditioner or body wash.  This causes an immense fear in me when I am triggered.  It’s like I can’t even look at the liquid soap, shampoo, conditioner or body wash for too long.  I have to tell myself that I’m okay and that the liquid soap, shampoo, conditioner or body wash is not what it was in my memory.  Later in my therapy process, I did ask my mother if my father could have ever molested me.  She adamantly denied this possibility.  I’ve also asked my mother if she ever left me alone somewhere, and she says she can’t remember.   

Abuse by my father

My relationship with my father has never been what a person would consider a typical father-daughter relationship.  From as early as I can remember, my father was verbally, physically and emotionally abusive to me.  I’ve always been afraid of my father.  He’s 6’3” and over 300 pounds.  My parents always told me that the abuse I endured was simply discipline, and, if I would just keep my mouth shut, they wouldn’t need to ‘discipline’ me.  

My father and I have strong personalities; consequently, neither of us gave in easily.  We constantly argued our side of an issue and would fight until he threatened to shut me up (which usually meant physical abuse) or he would take something from me for which he was paying.  He once punched me in the mouth, which ended up splitting my lip and turning it blue and swollen.  I can’t remember what had happened that caused his abuse.  I did go to school the next day.  I was in high school at the time, and my best friend knew exactly what was going on as she had witnessed a fight between my father and me previously. 

There was another time when my father chased me down a full flight of stairs.  He kicked me in the back of my thigh with his dress shoes still on.  I believe this was because I had called my mother a bitch, but the memories aren’t too clear.  I just know it left a bruise the length of my thigh from my butt almost to my knee.  I also have a very vague memory of me cowering in the corner of our couch begging my father to not hit me and doing whatever I could to protect myself from his rage.  I know I was shielding my face with my hands and crying, pleading with him not to hit me.  The words, “Daddy, please don’t hit me,” repeat over and over in my head as part of this memory. 

It Wasn’t Okay to Feel

I learned quickly that I needed to figure out what mood my father was in and this information dictated my actions or lack thereof.  The unspoken rules at my house were don’t talk, don’t trust and certainly don’t feel.  If you had feelings, you were threatened with my father offering to give you “something to cry about.”  We, (my younger brother and I,) were told that we were lucky that my father didn’t do to us what his father did to him.  I never heard too many details about what his father did to him except that he kept a razor strap on the refrigerator and used it as necessary. 

So, what did I do with my feelings?  The only thing I could – I stuffed them.  When I got to college, I began to cut on myself with razor blades and found a temporary release for the deep pain and anger.  I remember using a box cutter to cut on my arm once because I was experiencing such tension and did not have a razor blade available.  I was at work at the time in the mail/reception center of the dorms.  I couldn’t express the anger safely, so I expressed it on my body. 

I Really Didn’t Want to Die

This only became worse when my father once told me he’d wished I were never born.  He also said I could go ahead and keep stuffing pills (anti-depressants) down my throat if I thought they would work.  At the time, I was still in college and on my parent’s health insurance; therefore, they were paying for my medications.  My father telling me this was the event that preceded one of my suicide attempts.  (I had previously attempted to cut my wrists when I was 15, but I couldn’t go through with it because, surprisingly, it hurt too much.)  I mean, if your own parents don’t want you, then what’s the point?  I felt very helpless and hopeless.  Not to mention lost beyond all belief and alone, very alone.  I remember to this day that I grabbed my two medication bottles in the closet of my dorm room and was going to take all the contents of both bottles.  I had no idea what I was doing, but I was sure it would do something to make the pain go away.  I believe the medications were Zoloft and Ativan, but I’m not exactly sure on that.  For some reason, I ended up picking up the phone and calling my best friend at the time, instead.  I still don’t know why I did that, but I know somewhere – deep down inside – I really didn’t want to die. 

How to Cope?

I don’t remember when I was “officially” diagnosed with depression, but I know I’ve struggled with it since my early teens, if not before.  I know as a teen, my diary entries alternated between wanting to kill my father, expressing hate toward him for the abuse and contemplating suicide.  I somehow learned how to cope with all my feelings, but not in healthy ways.  I learned that if I was hurt, afraid or sad, I could express it in anger.  If I wasn’t allowed to express the anger, then I could take it out on myself by self-injury in order to get the emotional pain out through physical means.  I could either do this – or I could turn the anger inward and deal with the resulting depression.  Sometimes, I did both.

I’ve also learned how to “take care of” feelings by finding relief in food.  I’ve tried all kinds of diets only to fail in the long run.  I still struggle with looking at myself in the mirror and can only approve of my face – when I have makeup on.  Today, I recognize when I am overeating, but I still engage in this habit occasionally.  Growing up, my mother usually made three-course meals for every meal except breakfast.  If I was sad, upset, or having any unpleasant emotion, she would offer food.  She and I would take trips to the local ice cream shop after going shopping or to choir practice.  We always had to make sure we got some ice cream for my father as well.  He would be upset with us if we didn’t.  My father frequently would become irritated with my mom if she didn’t make enough for dinner and he was still hungry.  I remember him eating two sandwiches and munching on a bag of potato chips about an hour before dinner several times.  During sporting events, it wasn’t uncommon for my father to eat an entire large bag of potato chips by himself.  I hate to admit it, but I have adopted several of these eating habits.  I suppose there is a lot of truth to children learning and eventually doing what they observe. 

Codependency

Somewhere along the way, I recognized that I am codependent.  What that means to me is that I obtain my worth by doing things for others that they can do for themselves.  Funny thing is that doing these things doesn’t make me happy.  It only makes me resentful.  I confuse the definition of enabling and helping on a constant basis.  Thankfully, through the 12-step support group of Al-Anon, I have worked on this issue extensively. 

Romance

I’ve had two romantic relationships in my life.  One lasted three months.  The other – three weeks.  One of the men has since come out as being gay and the other had issues with alcohol and dropped out of college.  I’m afraid of being intimate with a man because of how uncomfortable it makes me.  For some reason, I can’t imagine a man wanting to be with me.  With my second relationship, we came pretty close to having intercourse, but I just couldn’t allow myself to experience it.  I’m not sure if I didn’t want to have my first sexual intercourse experience with this man, or if I just was afraid of the unknown.  Would it hurt?  Would the memories of sexual abuse from my childhood come up and ruin the experience?  Would I not be good enough?  Would he still care for me after I’d shared myself with him in such a way?  I know I wasn’t able to allow myself to just “be” in the relationship and experience the wonderful parts of it.  I kept focusing on the negative feelings and allowed them to overrule the positive.  I was too uncomfortable and it felt awkward being loved.  It’s been said that a girl obtains her sense of self-worth from her father.  I’ve always longed for that “daddy’s little girl” type of relationship, and to this day, I don’t know what that feels like. 

Healing is a Journey

I’ve been in therapy/counseling now for about ten years altogether and I feel some days as if I’m just at the tip of the iceberg.  Abuse affects every facet of your life.  Sometimes I wonder how fair it is for the abusers to “get away” with it while we are the ones left with the memories and after effects.  Then, I am reminded that they too, have memories and will face their judgment one day.  Until then, I will continue to live as a grateful and blessed survivor as I know not everyone who has experienced abuse is given this chance.