trialtribandtestimony

[trialtribandtestimony]

His Mercy

A lot of the time we find ourselves asking, "is there really hope for that person?". Usually not thought aloud, but we can see someone so deep in despair it's almost impossible to imagine them any other way. When I look back on my life, that's how I view where I was at.

What was my life like before Christ? Well defining what that means is difficult. Honestly my story starts even before my birth. I was conceived out of wedlock and I was born to my mother when both of my parents were 19. A wedding was set in place before my birth but was canceled at the last second by the grace of God. My mother had been made aware of how disgusting a man my father, Michael, really was and didn't even want him in the room when I was born quite understandably.

Of course when I was born many a court case took place. My last name, custody rights, and etc. My mother was genuinely scared for my safety, along with my grandparents, because my father already was a drug user. The judge decided that, and he stated, my father would "grow out of it", and granted him visitation. The judge was wrong, and this decision has affected my life ever since. But I believe that this decision was not an accident, I don't believe God's plan is an accident at all. He works all things for good.

Despite the chaos of events when I was a baby, my early childhood years were not anything particularly bad. All of my special talents started emerging, I loved to act, sing, and paint. I had a vast inner world which still exists. I was quite outrageous and special to my family, out of a difficult situation I felt like a blessing. I would sing to strangers in the grocery store and capture the heart of everyone I met. I was saved at four years old, my grandmother genuinely believing I knew what I was asking for and I believe she was right. That's why my testimony really isn't about my life "before" Christ. He died on the sins for all of the world, my name was written in the book of life before the earth was set in motion, Jesus was always there because according to Calvinism (a philosophy I heavily agree with) he knew the decision I would make to follow him. Unfortunately tragic events would make me question that decision in a few years to come.

When I became about 8 years old it seemed like everything started hitting me at once from every possible angle. My mother would get divorced from her husband whom was the father of my sister. My third grade teacher noted to my mother that every-time id come home from Michael's house I would become extremely pale. I physically started to become extremely thin. At this age my father's controlling tendencies consumed him and increasingly became worse. He would force me to watch demonic horror movies, I'd cry because of how traumatizing it would be and tell my mom, but unfortunately she didn't have much control over those things which terrified me. My mom was always my superhero, and realizing that not even my mom could protect me rocked my world. I believe this is the time period he started using heavier drugs, but many memories are fuzzy and still blocked out to this day. This is when his behavior became worse, but the true intentions and twisted behavior started to appear. He pawned all of my Christmas presents, begged people for money on the street, stole children's bikes for drug money

How did I cope with feeling utterly powerless? I became obsessed with weather. I would check the weather on my computer every day before school. I recall writing a goodbye letter to my mother during a storm in third grade one day because I genuinely thought I was going to die. I was consumed in fear and weather was the only way my child brain could rationalize it.

Another difficulty at this age was that I had undiagnosed ADHD. I have type two, which is inattentive, which means I'm not hyperactive, just deeply consumed in my own world at all times. I have always felt I was on autopilot about 75% of my life. A combination of both adhd and anxiety meant I failed to thrive at school. I had to sit out during recess every day because I couldn't do my homework. That's when I remember first feeling depression in my life. So because I had to sit out, and visitation every other weekend with my father, I was not socialized at all. In fact, when I was at my father's house I wasn't allowed to even play with my cousins. I remember looking out the window crying and crying because I was not allowed to go into the backyard on the trampoline. Ever. I still suffer with social integration, I've always wanted many friends and to talk to people, and I know what to say but it always comes out odd to me. I missed out on fun adventures and bonding with kids my age, and that lead to me never really having any friendships, honestly to this day I'm still not sure how to make friends which is horribly embarrassing to me and always was. The one time I was allowed to have a birthday party at Michael's house, a few friends from my elementary school came to a pool party I had. We jumped on the trampoline in our bathing suits, as Michael pulled out a random camera to take pictures. My step mom told him it was odd but he wouldn't stop taking pictures of me and my friends.

This would continue into middle school, when the abuse also started to happen. At first in my elementary years it was psychological. "Always make sure to lock your doors, someone will break in and kill you", I can still hear my father say over and over. Forcing me to watch the lovely bones, a movie about a girl getting kidnapped and molested as I panicked watching it as a young child in absolute fear. Now he became physically and sexually abusive as well as psychological. What went along with this was people being invited to friend's sleepovers which I was NEVER allowed to attend, and watching other kids my age form groups as I sat alone for lunch every day.

Around this time I recall starting to self harm, I didn't even really know what it meant at that point. I would get a comb and scrape my arms with it just to relieve intense fear I experienced. I had frequent stomach aches, not knowing what the concept of anxiety even was. I was skinny, pale, and always felt sick. I barely ever ate. My two younger siblings were born and he threatened to throw them down the stairs, and often neglected them. When my stepmom would leave for work I had to change their diapers and feed them. If I didn't, Michael would let them sit in their filth all day. One of my brothers developed selective mutism from the abuse and fear caused by Michael. I tried to care for them as much as a 10 year old could.

In this time period, about 6-7th grade I remember Michael using drugs and alcohol clearly. He would talk to himself while intoxicated and make absolutely no sense. He would claim to see demons, which may have actually been considering his involvement with psychics and satanic movies and music and necrophilia he watched. This is when the actual event of molestation happened but I will save the gory details on that. He would often tell my stepmother at the time odd and inappropriate remarks about my appearance as I grew older, and that I would grow up to be a prostitute. One time I wore skinny jeans and he talked to me for hours about how inappropriate that was and what boys at school would think. I was not allowed to wear shorts that were above my knees or any colorful clothing.

At this point I found a youth group I loved. I was supposed to see Michael on Wednesday nights, but I told him I just wouldn't go. He'd have to move it. So he demanded I see him Tuesday AND Thursday instead. I said fine, because this feeling I got from God is something I'd never had before in my life. I remember listening to "How He Loves" and bawling my eyes out as my father sent threatening texts to my mom. I brought a friend that night, and somehow he found her parent's phone number and called them saying that my mother took us to church on his visitation time. Because of his psychotic actions she was no longer allowed to hang out with me. But just in that chaotic moment and listening to the song "How He Loves", That became God's love song to me, and he has played it during significant times in my life ever since. God gave me this comfort that I could cling to, a comfort of hymns and nursery rhymes and bible stories like I had as a child. I experienced His absolute precious love which is just inexplicable.

During this time the abuse increasingly became worse with the drug use. He would drive me and my siblings around drunk in the middle of the night. He would stalk me as I slept and never really leave me alone. He would walk into the bathroom and stay in there while I showered. At this point I had developed severe depression and anxiety. All I could think about was escape. I escaped with boyfriends and art and music. I had one boyfriend who my father found out was African American, and called his number leaving a message of racial slurs on my phone to his number. A phone my mother bought me that he stole from me when I tried to bring it with me to his house.

My mom called CPS (again) when I told her I'd kill myself, (at age 11), if I ever had to see Michael again. There was not enough evidence to support a case so it was dropped. I prayed and prayed, and mentors in my life had prayed for me as well. This may sound odd but I could feel certain times where they currently prayed for me. And then, a miracle happened. Michael signed over his rights.

My family on his side no longer talked to me. During this time my ex stepmom divorced Michael and took my two brothers and had a restraining order filed. My family on that side didn't support her, and I was not in contact with her yet, she was forced to live in a shelter for a while because of the absolute neglect on my father's side of the family. Luckily now we got back in contact and she is my absolute best friend and I get to see my brothers whenever I please. But back to the fact that they divorced- Michael had an arrest record made public online of his drug use. It was getting worse. He became homeless, voluntarily living on the streets, but still using payphones to harass my mother and ex stepmom. He would steal pictures from my mother's Facebook of me and say, "she has my eyes" and post them online, which still haunts me. He would threaten to break in or harm us, and he threatened to kill his own parent's dog. His mother tried to get in contact with me, she told my mom that he got into an accident, looking for sympathy or something. The accident was that he overdosed on drugs. They claimed he fell off a bridge, but later confirmed to me it was drug related

The one friend I did have was my cousin, who to this day has no communication with me. She was my only friend when I had none. Even after my mom trying to make contact, and seeing them at my grandfather's funeral, no one believed my story of abuse.

I thought my pain was over. I was FREE. I could forever live with my mom and go to church and have friends. Unfortunately it just didn't turn out that ideally.

I still had depression and anxiety. It didn't go away. I still didn't know how to make friends, I started to become bullied and changed schools frequently. Now the suicidal ideation would come to play at age 13-14. I still believed in God but I just felt so hopeless. I believe the only reason I never fully attempted suicide was because the Holy Spirit left this lingering light in my heart. It was inexplicable, but it was there. Something just told me to look up to the heavens, no matter how dim and dreary the sky may be.

Despite this hope my mind was broken. I started my 9th grade year in an outpatient school, where I met my therapist who has been a gift from God. This school was for high risk suicidal adolescents, no phones were allowed and we were patted down on the daily. It was quite dreary but here I learned about coping skills and boundaries which were crucial for me to learn, I still didn't get the concept for a few years and honestly I'm still improving on these things. I was quite codependent on boyfriends I had and didn't know how to talk myself down from panic attacks that produced frequent vomiting and dizziness almost daily.

After outpatient I went to high school, but not much changed. I felt so alone, even with the few friends I did have. I felt like no one really still understood me, I felt suicidal again and went to inpatient. This honestly didn't change much for me, and I had to go to inpatient again not long after. It's basically just 24 hour supervision for high risk patients.

I just couldn't cope with feelings of isolation and not receiving the love I would find in Christ. I hopped from relationships which made me feel even worse, although I regret nothing and I learned quite a lot, some of which as a teen produced lifelong friends. I started to hurt other people, something I NEVER wanted to do in my wildest dreams. I didn't even know who I was anymore.

I started experimenting with different things and engaging in risky behavior. I just kept trying to fill the hole in the pit of my stomach. On a bad trip I had with a drug I tried, I had to go to the hospital. I never was addicted to drugs but recreationally tried things at parties which I shouldn't have dabbled with, but God used it to bring me back to him. All I remember with this trip is feeling so far from God and so so scared. No thoughts went through my head and I thought I would have a seizure. My mind was completely blank. When the ambulance arrived I sobbed as I called my grandfather and family to meet me. Their disappointment was the worst thing I would ever face in my life. The still loved me, but they were heartbroken. In the ride to the hospital I cried out to the EMT, "is God going to forgive me?" It's all I could ask as I sobbed and violently shook. He told me God will always love me in response, and I will always be grateful for the sensitive nature of that man, I could almost start bawling while even writing this. The sedative they gave me was supposed to make me forget but I never forgot that man's kindness.

You would think this would revert me right back to God but not entirely. I faced YEARS of abuse, and it would take years to know who I even really was, being allowed to be myself. I never tried anything like that and will never again, but then codependency reared it's ugly face into my life. Luckily in this time period though I still searched for God and prayed to Him. I read a book called The Shack which forever changed my view on Him, (highly recommend it.). I felt the Holy Spirit in my life but I couldn't let go of the control I needed. So what did I do? I ran.

First I ran to a new school. It was an alternative school but you could go at your own pace. For once I could do work in the way my brain functioned and I made A's, and graduated at 16 years old. I then went to cosmetology school, swicthed schools again, and finished it out even though the environment there was extremely toxic and self-indulgent in an appareance and narcissistic way that I started to loathe. During this time my paternal grandfather passed away. I attended the funeral along with my stepmother and brothers, mother and sister. We weren't allowed to sit with the family during the funeral. My paternal grandfather was extremely racist and homophobic, and also a Baptist Sunday school teacher. The whole funeral they bragged about how godly he was. I just wanted to shout "if only you knew the vile disgusting secrets of this family!" But God gave me the grace to be respectful during this time, so I was silent. When my father was notified of his father's passing, he stated "I'm hungry. I want Arby's." Shortly after the funeral my paternal grandmother took me out for my 18th birthday to Chili's. I thought this was a time to reconcile, so I accepted trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. During the dinner she tried to claim it was my fault Michael turned out this way, and it was horrible of me to not speak to them before my grandfather's passing and not to see Michael after the "accident". She said a phrase I've heard all throughout my life. "You need to forgive and move on." How could I possibly move on from a thorn that grew with me as I aged? This pain had become who I was. But I told her the honest truth. "I did forgive him long ago. I wish no harm upon him. It's just unsafe for me to speak to him." She couldn't grasp the concept of forgiving at a distance, which is something very important to learn, and it helped me move on in a sense, but some tragedies cannot just be forgotten. After that she has tried to make contact with me, but I have not spoken to her. This decision was not because I have any ill intentions towards her, I really hope she gets help. I just can't be the one to help her learn about boundaries, and she shows no remorse for her involvement and defense of Michael. I don't need an apology but I feel that would be necessary to move on in a relationship with her, just so I know she wouldn't be toxic for my health and well-being.

I moved out of Texas to Colorado with my parents. I felt alone, so I ran to Chicago at age 18 with a man I barely knew. Then something just clicked. I will never get this love and attention I seek from a human being, it's just not possible. I moved back to Texas and jumped into another relationship even with knowing this information. I wanted to date around but on the first date I fell absolutely in love.

This person often ignored me and abandoned me for days, yet all I could do was try to make him love me for so long. I would sit in my room and sob. Who could help me? Not a hospital, not a drug, not even my own family or myself. After he broke up with ME, (thank God because I wouldn't have broken up with him at the time), I started going back to church and I found a job. I became a hard worker and just started to seek God and pray everyday. What's to lose? My skepticism and cynical heart started to burn off like deadwood.

This job became extremely stressful, so I sought God even more (along with returning to see my therapist who I saw for years). One night after a particularly stressful Wednesday afternoon a call was made to the altar, and something just told me to go. I asked my grandma to go with me though because I was too scared to go alone, which she did. I started sobbing because once again, God spoke to me. "Why don't you trust me like you did when you were a child? Don't you know I will hold you? Just lean on me, I won't disappoint you.". I figured hey I had nothing to lose, and decided to take that risk.

I met a pastor at my church named Dr.Marti, and started many amazing friendships as I was prayed over after a service of other's testimonies. Dr.Marti stayed many prophetic things about me that night and wanted me to take part in Bethesda School Of Ministry, which I desperately wanted to do, but was unable to because of my job. Then came a blessing in disguise- I was let go from the job. When I was let go I asked God "what am I supposed to do?, I know you work all things for good and this has some kind of meaning but what do I take from this?" , and I heard a clear voice state "remain in me". Odd. Not a way I'd word something in my head, quite frankly I didn't understand. The next day on my Bible app a scripture I didn't recall every reading was John 15:4 "Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me." Needless to say I was shocked. I see now I lost this job in order to take part in ministry school at Bethesda while I could. I learned not only how to minister to others, but these codependent tendencies were restored into learning about healthy boundaries and how to be happy AND alone with God. (Also confirmed by Dr.Marti who stated she had a feeling God wanted me to be like a nun for a while. I laughed because if only she knew how true I knew that was.) So many behaviors in my life started to change, along with perspectives. I became patient, enduring, developed a sound mind, and fruits of the spirit. I learned not how to be normal, but how to find my unique identity in Jesus. The raw, blunt yet sensitive, fighting-for-the-underdog, intellectual, philosopher, artistic yet gentle and kind person I was designed to be.

In the school of ministry one night I remember asking God to heal me, to make me who I was meant to truly be at last. I love God's sense of humor. Dr.Marti after giving a message on healing that Sunday night called all of the students to pray over anyone who needed it. I was shaking in my flats. I'd NEVER done that before. As soon as she called us, I heard a voice from God which made me laugh in awe. He said "You will be healed not by being anointed with oil, but by anointing others with oil." This symbolism showed that when I take the first step to seek God He will reward me and I will be made available to find His presence even more, which heals and delivers. I prayed for an elderly man, spilled a little too much oil on his face as it almost dripped in his eye, and smudged it in with my thumb sheepishly and cracked up about it later, but it was such a sweet moment.

So through God healing me, what's changed? Well, I still have depression and anxiety, and adhd. Could God deliver me from it? Yes. Will He? Maybe. But if it's in His will I carry these things so I serve others and am reminded to think about myself less and others more, than these things will remain until I'm given my new body and these illnesses did with my old body. However, my daily vomiting panic attacks turned into at most bi-monthly anxiety attacks, and suicidal ideations turned into bouts of random melancholy. After being told I functioned at a rate of 15% out of 100% at a mental hospital, and being told be a psychologist he's surprised I still function in society and haven't lost my sanity is pretty astonishing. When I told the psychologist my backstory he was amazed I was still standing, and quite frankly so am I. I believe with my whole heart it's only by the grace of God, and the help of my unconditional loving and supporting friends and family. I have a new job at the church daycare which I love, and I would like to pay off cosmetology school debt and start college soon to continue healing other's through Jesus's name and prayer like He called me to do in more abstract means like psychology, reaching every kind of person there is, innocent children or addicts and thieves.

I was promised life more abundantly and that promise was fulfilled more than I could ever imagine. God gave me impossible endurance, yet didn't make my heart cold and cynical despite all of life's circumstances, I give all glory to Him for always keeping me close and loving me no matter what. I don't know where we'll go together in the future, but as long as God is with me I will march on, praising Him for his one million "second" chances and grace. I feel that my "rebirth" was more of a process. It didn't happen overnight, but over a long stretch of time. I feel I have the freedom to actually chose who to be and what I want to do, and I am so grateful for this new chapter in my life.