Ok, here I am again. This is gonna be long, it’s my life. I don’t know how to start; I don’t usually write letters like this. If it were not for God, I would be dead. I have the scars to show you, if you could only see.
I’ll start from the beginning, when I was little, I was very sad. I was so sad, I felt I could easily fall into a pool of nothing and disappear. I did not want to be in my world. I was scared of my world. That’s why a book was easily my mother, father, my god, my best friend. In my mind, the only thing that came to my rescue was the withdrawal the books offered me, my only solace.
Life back then was all about keeping my head above water, keeping my soul alive, and my behavior in check. My parents were not horrible, they did what they knew how do to. My mom is very sick; she has borderline personality disorder, as do I. My brother was her favorite, my sister was forgotten, and I was the competition.
I watched my baby sister and brother every day in the summer, and after school till my parents got home. They were my kids. My sister cried for me, and would follow directions when I was telling her, a lot of the time she would not listen to my mom. My brother was my best friend, even though I got jealous of him, I would die for him. My mom was very emotionally abusive. She would call me all kinds of names, just to make me do what she wanted. She threw a remote at me one time just because I would not get up and fix her a coke.
On my 13th birthday she tore down the Christmas tree because we had a fight. Mom and dad called me a bitch, before I knew what the word was. Mom tried killing herself when I was 8. I remember every detail down to what we were all wearing. I was in a silk night gown, and she was in a red cotton gown with a cat on it. I woke up because I heard my dad’s voice. When I went in there, he was trying to drag her 200 pld frame to the toilet and having a hard time at it.
I remember mom kept grabbing me and telling me she loves me. I was scared. I think she was either drunk, or in shock. Dad told me to call 9-1-1. Our phone was an old timey wood phone but had the numbers on it.
I remember the lady on the other end asking me what was wrong; all I could say was “my mommies sick”. I knew what she did; I could see the Tylenol bottle and the bottle of alcohol on the table. When the ambulance got there, I quite thinking. I did not allow myself to feel anything. I was good at that, not anymore though, I am making up for lost time =)
I was molested by my cousin for the first time when I was 8. He is four years older than me and had found a porno magazine in the dumpster and wanted to try out the positions. I was penetrated rectally a little after that. I love my cousin; I never was really mad at him. He asked for my forgiveness, though. I was scared of him. I told my parents he was mean to me. My mom told me a few years ago, that she suspected what was going on, and she had a talk with him. Who knows, I can’t blame her though.
When I was 11, my dad hung himself. I knew he was going to do it; I saw the brand new rope in his closet the night before. But I did not care, I wanted him to die. He was mean. I remember every time I got a loose tooth, he would pull it out before it was time. I got to where I did not say anything about my loose teeth, but he would always catch me wiggling them in the bathroom (you can unlock the bathroom door with a pair of scissors). I don’t remember a lot about my dad. I remember my mom saying a few years back that he had told her,
“I have a voice in my head that tells me to do bad things”.
I remember telling God one time, “I’ll take your eyes out if you don’t give me black hair and freckles”. I wanted so bad to be anyone but me, I have natural blonde hair and I am pale. I hated everything that was me. I realize now, that the black hair was an outward expression on how I feel on the inside.
When I was 12, I was admitted to the hospital for the first time for depression. I was in and out in 2 weeks. I had been seeing a doctor since my dad died because I had these terrible panic attacks. I would get scared that he was not really dead and coming to get us. I would get my brother and sister into the middle of the bed, lock all the doors and windows, and I would fight off Gary (my mom’s then boyfriend, now husband) thinking he was my dad. I had an unnatural hate for men back then.
When I was 13, I overdosed on Tylenol. It was the only way I could think of, thanks to my mom. I experimented at first, and only took a hand full. It made me throw up and I missed a day of school, not good enough.
So, a few days later I took the whole family size bottle, I was in shock within the hour. I went to bed and expected to go to sleep and not wake up. My mom messed that up. I don’t know why, but she would not leave me alone. I could not fully wake myself up. Ironic, huh, I wanted to get up and do whatever it was that she wanted I just couldn’t.
She called my grandma and she got me down the hall, I could hardly walk. I remember the paramedic best. His eyes were so beautiful, they revealed caring, which mad me sad. I saw in those eyes that he was upset about the situation, and that drew me in, and shut me off at the same time. I have never seen in a person’s eye what I saw in his eyes. I can only pray that now my eyes reflect my love to the world.
I was in I.C.U. for four days with a tube up my nose that pumped my stomach. I had dry heaves all night. Mom told me later that the doctor said if we would have been a minute later, I would have died. I went back to the hospital for another 2 weeks.
At 14 I cut my wrist. I remember this time a lot better because God would not let me go all the way. I was talking on the phone with my aunt about how bad mom had gotten.
That’s when I started with the first wrist, I cut it pretty deep, it was my right wrist (I am right-handed). It bled like crazy. I got blood spots on the kitchen floor and the hall carpet and the bathroom carpet. I rinsed my wrist off in the bathroom and put it up to my shirt. I hung up with my aunt and went outside.
The dogs knew what was going on. They kept licking my right wrist. I went on the side of the house and bent behind the lawn mower. This time was different, I thought this is it. But something held me back. Some call it fear, some say I did not really want to die. I say it was God saying he was not through with me.
I wanted to die. No doubt. I just couldn’t go any deeper. When we got to the E.R. they started to stitch me up, I asked them if this was going to hurt. They did not understand, but I cut as a way to numb myself. Well, I had come down from my high, and felt pain again.
The nurse said I did not want to die because I did it side to side instead of up and down. Ha-ha shows how little he knew, or how little I knew. Again, mom told me that the doctor said I came an inch away from the artery that went to my heart; I assume that was when I was cutting my left wrist.
So, back to the hospital for good this time. I had a panic attack and they said I was trying to pull out my stitches, I don’t remember. When we went to court to decide if I should go to state or not, mom said I had to go. It probably saved my life. They put me on Risperdal because I heard my name being called. The doctor told me that people in a deep state of depression hear their name being called. I call it being in a deep state of need for God, he was calling my name, no lie.
State was really bad, they had big roaches. Mom came through for me though. She got me out in 3 months. In the beginning, before court, she threw all my stuff in my grandparent’s alley. So that’s where I lived until I was 15.
Mom and them moved to Arkansas, because that’s where a friends sister lived. I loved trees; I drew them all the time. I still don’t know why, maybe I was obsessed with them because Christ died on a tree. I did not realize that at the time, I just thought of it, =). I ended up with empty nest syndrome and moved to where trey and Sarah were.
At 16 I was pregnant. Nate, my boyfriend, was the bad boy every girl wants. I slept with anyone who showed me attention. Mom kicked me out when she found out. She was drunk and told me that she had trey, Sarah, and her boyfriend to worry about, and could not worry about me anymore, so I moved in with Nate. I snuck back into the house to take showers and use the phone until she discovered what I was doing and locked everything down.
I found a way in though. While I was on the phone, she told me this was no longer my home. A couple of weeks later I was in the custody of D.H.S. There my journey begins.
My foster mother was named Debbie (my mom’s name is Debbie). She was not very accepting of bad kids like me. She and others said I was possessed, I probably was. I did not like being looked down at, or people looking at me like I was disgusting. I hated it there, I was never good enough, no matter what I did, and I was not allowed to feel how I felt.
I got kicked out and went to live in a group home in Little Rock. Christian was born at UAMS when I was 17. He rocked my world. I think it proves the word of God, he is only 4 and has helped convert more people than most adults, me. I wanted to be good for him. I knew in order to be a good mother; I had to do exactly the opposite of what my mother did. His birth put me on the road to salivation.
2 years later, on May 11, I was sitting in the Wal-Mart parking lot, with my heart breaking and my soul dying. I was homeless, me and my had gotten in a fight and I hit her, I left, and she kicked me out.
I had 6 hot checks out, lost my youngest son, and was fixing to lose Christian. I had been working double shifts at the nursing home for a week and was exhausted, and my luck Wal-Mart was closed. I had a few hours to cry, and that’s what I did.
Killing myself was no longer an option, and running was out of the question. I had nothing left to do but talk to God. I started screaming
over and over, until He answered me. All he said was
So that’s where I went.
I walked through those doors a broken little girl needing a father’s touch and touch me He did.
When the singing started, I cried. I was a shy person and wanted to lift my hands and could not. So, I closed my eyes, and my soul cried for God’s warmth.
My hands went up. It reminds me of that poem footprints, because that’s what God did for me, he carried me. He lifted my hands when I was weak, and he carried my dying soul to that alter.
I cried for God to love me and love me he did. That moment he began stitching back together my broken spirit. A woman I barely knew kneeled next to me, looked me straight in the eye and said,
“I know what it’s like to not have family there for you when you need them.”
I believe those words came straight from JESUS. Everyone left him when he was arrested; He was alone in the world.
That was the day I was set free from the devil. I am no longer borderline. Doctors say it takes 6 years of intensive psychotherapy and med management; they lie. Christ healed me in one second, and all it took was a choice.
Today I am healthier than ever. I tried cutting a few years back, but did not get the same high, because I did not need that coping skill anymore, I had God, and my trust was just shaky. I am writing you this letter because I feel it’s what God wants from me. Allow me to share with you what He has taught me:
1) The living word: the bible is called the living word because you understand by His guidance. A newborn Christian does not pick up the bible and understand everything, you have to experience it. You can have heaven here and now and you can have hell here and now.
Look at it like a good country meal. You get fried chicken, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and corn bread, and for dessert, you get cherry pie with ice-cream. The chicken dinner is heaven right now, the dessert is heaven when you die. Heaven is here and now. We do not serve God on this earth just so we can get into heaven; we are missing the chicken dinner. We serve him here so we can have a taste of heaven; heaven is the dessert after the meal, when we die.
I was also shown the marriage to Christ. I did not understand when I was being taught by a friend. I understood when God married me. The physical marriage is symbolic to the spiritual marriage to Christ. On the flip side of heaven here and now, we can also have hell here and now, I am living proof of that.
2)Once saved always saved is a deception from Satan. God says if you don’t recognize me before men, I will not recognize you before my Father. That means, if you deny you received the Holy Spirit, you will not be forgiven.
Thanks for taking the time to read this, I hope in the future to do more for God’s glory.