Beautiful Delight

You are probably wondering where this heightened sexual awareness came from at such a young age, so, I’d like to take you back to the very beginning.

I WAS MOLESTED.

Yes, my innocence was taken from me while I was very young by two different members of my family. The only way that I knew was from a dream that God gave me as a pre-teen. I don’t know how many different times the abuse happened, but I do know that it did occur. Growing up, I was always an extremely isolated and shy child. Most of my friends and teachers thought it was due to my personality, but when I was in elementary school, something happened that changed their minds.

A boy, with light eyes and light brown hair,

began talking to me about how he looked different than me. I, being naive, told him that it was because I was a girl. He asked me about what made girls different from boys and I, already knowing way too much too soon, told him that my “privates” made me different than him. He dared me to show him what they looked like. Witty old me, asked him to reveal himself first. He asked me to meet him under the slide to fulfill the dare. Another classmate of mine went with me. When we got to the “dare location”, he began undoing his pants. At this point, i remember feeling a tingle (that I later learned was arousal) in my private area and a rush of intrigue came over me.

“What does he look like down there?”

“Why does it look different than mine?”

Before he could even get his button undone, one of the teachers caught wind of our “secret gathering place” and called out to us. She asked us what we were doing. Thinking quickly, I said we were playing a game, hoping this would ease her curiosity. Instead, I was brought inside and received a “talking to” by not only the teacher, but my father when he picked me up from school that day. From that point on, I could no longer hide my inquisitiveness. A fire was ignited inside of me that could not be contained. Each day after school, I would run home to demonstrate sex acts on my barbie dolls, hoping that would stave the flames.

But, it didn’t.

And somewhere down the line, I discovered pornography.

For the longest time, I longed to be that innocent child again. To have the experience a “normal” child had, free from porn and free from sexual sin committed against me. I longed for it for so long, my heart would literally ache. I wanted more than anything to be whole again.

Free.

Before I discovered this freedom, I suffered (yes, suffered) through a long 9 month battle with severe depression. My joy was non existent. My days consisted of waking up disappointed that I even had breath in my body still (because I prayed the night before that god would just take me in my sleep), eating sugary poison and gluttonous snacks all day and barely having the energy the leave my room, let alone my house. I cried so much  that i honestly thought I would run out of tears. I felt numb; terrifyingly numb to the point where my Mom started to wonder what was wrong with me. Each time I got in my car, I dreamed of ways i could end my life. I figured that if I swerved and ran off into an embankment, that the news anchor’s could say that I lost control. That way, my family would know that my death was not “on purpose” even though it would have been. I convinced myself once that if I took a bottle full of Vicodin after my parents went to sleep, that they could be comforted by the fact that there was nothing they could have done to prevent my death, when they awoke to my lifeless body on the floor in front of my bed.

It was insensible. It was shameful. It was … my reality.

My breaking point was after the Vicodin incident. I remember sitting on the floor of my room, in front of my bed, tears streaming down my face, contemplating suicide. I begged the Lord to help me, to save me, by any means necessary. I was expecting a bolt of lightning or rumbling thunder to strike at that moment, but nothing happened.

Nothing happened.

This moment, in my room, was by far the most terrifying part of my journey. Our terror doesn’t terrify the Father, though. He brought me out of that night with a strange sense of calm surrounding my body. I recall walking down the stairs to get water for the pills and then, all of a sudden, grabbing a sharpie marker and drawing “X’s” on every single one. He saved me that night.

But i didn’t feel saved. At all.

I felt alone, confused and bewildered. That next morning, I woke up with the slightest bit of relief. Though I was sad I was still alive, I knew that there was some reason I still needed to be here. That day (unbeknownst to me) was the first day of my new life. I truly believe that without that “Vicodin encounter”, I wouldn’t be here writing these words.

From that day on, my life drastically changed. I found out things about myself and the Father that I never dreamed of. I can honestly say that I am an overcomer.

By His grace…

By His Mercy…

I survived.

NOTE: If you are reading this blog and are feeling similar or worse that I did, please know that there is nothing to be ashamed of. There is help and there is nothing you can’t do, even in the place you are in right now. Please trust the Father and go get help. Click on the link below and begin again. He is with you. He is for you. 

National Suicide Hotline