Less Stress in knowing a loving God

I decided to stop having my adoptive parents in my life July 26, 2013.  I was tired of their hypocrisy and judgment.   They claimed to be followers of Jesus, but they didn’t know him.  I never once saw them read the Bible and the bible verses they quoted were not really in the Bible.  The last time I talked to my adoptive dad was right before Thanksgiving.  He told me, “If you raise your hand to strike a child of God, He will strike you down.” I just laughed.  God isn’t like that.  God is loving and caring.  He cries when we hurt and laugh when we smile.  He isn’t waiting with a baseball bat to beat us down every chance He gets.  He isn’t waiting for us to mess up so He can take pleasure in punishing us. I couldn’t serve a God that was so vengeful, He would be too much like my parents.  I am so happy to know that I serve a God that is loving and smiles when He thinks of me. 

I was meditating in prayer at a prayer meeting about a year ago.  I was thinking of Jesus and how much He loves us.  I smiled and kind of giggled at the next thought I had.  I could see Him looking down and seeing the progress I have made on my healing journey.  I could see Him being so proud of how I have been learning more about who He is and how I am trying to put what I have learned into action.  I suddenly saw Jesus smiling down and getting so excited.  I could see him bragging on me in Heaven.  He was telling all the angels about me and that made me feel so good.  I got even more excited when I realized that He did that for everyone.  I was so relieved to know that Jesus has a vested interest in our lives.  He is there for every milestone, nightmare, healing, tear, laugh, smile, and breath.  It is so wonderful to know that even though I was failed by my adoptive parents, Jesus happily takes their place.  😀


Birthday girl thoughts

Today is my birthday and I am happy.  Last week, I was in tears because I knew my siblings would not text me for my birthday.  I sobbed for two days.  Now, I am fine with it.

Last night I kept dreaming that I was begging my adoptive parents to tell the truth.  They kept refusing and I kept crying.  It was exhausting I when the sun came up, I was too tired to get up.  My husband let me sleep in while he went and got me some surprises.

When I woke up, my kitty was staring me in the face about six inches from my nose.  She was meowing her head off!  Then I saw she wanted to play fetch and I threw her toilet paper ball (Her favorite toy) to her.  We did a couple of rounds and she made me laugh. 

My husband came home and I just loved seeing him.  I realized that this past year, I had lost a lot.  I lost things and people that I cared so much about, but I also gained so much more than I lost. Sometimes I forget to think of what I gained.

This is what I gained: I can smile, truly smile.  I can laugh without it being forced.  I have a twinkle in my eyes.  I have joy and love in my heart.  I have a husband that loves me unconditionally and I love him more than anything.  I have a network of people who support me and ‘get’ why I am doing this.  I feel like the horrible past that has haunted me all my life is beginning dissipate like rain clouds on a sunny day.  I have a desire to stop people like those I grew up with, so I can honestly tell them thank you for that.  I finally know that God loves me no matter what!

It is an awesome feeling and yes it hurts that my family abandoned me, but I have so much more to be happy about!! 

Dear “Sissy”

I am writing this to my rapist’s wife.  A woman that I looked at like a sister. 

I remember the first moment I met you.  You were standing in front of the house as I got out of the van.  As soon as I saw you, I felt a connection to you.  I thought I could tell you things I couldn’t tell anyone else. 

We had a strong bond that was broken by a choice that YOU made.  Not me. 

I remember when you would cry that your husband wouldn’t spend time with you.  He would rather go to a ball game or go hunting rather than be at home with his family.  You complained that he would only give you part of the money that he made, well, I know the reason.  He went to strip clubs.  

You would cry that you didn’t feel loved.  That you weren’t even proposed to.  He treated you like his maid and didn’t even tell you thank you when you made his plate at supper.  So, basically, you were being the perfect housewife and took care of the man that raped me. 

I don’t blame you.  I blame him.  He used you.  The same as he used me.  He used you and the kids as a cover, and you let him.  Although in the beginning you didn’t know what he was doing, but you know now. That is enough to make me blame you. 

You and I would sleep in the same bed when you came to our house to get away from him because he was being mean.  I wiped your tears away and stood up to him for you.  I told him that he was a jerk.  I told him that he didn’t deserve you.  I was the one that made him treat you better. 

When I told my parent’s about it, they told me not to tell you.  “We have to hurt one to save the other.”  You would get insulted when I would come up with some dumb excuse to not go to your house for sleepovers.  You would pick on me.  I wanted to tell you, but as you know you don’t go against my mom. 

I loved you.  I loved you like my blood.  You were my Sissy.  You were suppose to help me rather than back up your man that had been touching and raping me since I was 13.  I know that my parent’s may have convinced themselves that it didn’t happen, but you can’t.  

You know what I say is the truth.  You think about it when you lay your head down to sleep at night.  You think about how I told you and the tears I cried. You know how he said how he had touched me and raped me and he knew I didn’t want it.  You even called me out for not telling the whole truth.  I bared my entire soul to you as I sobbed and said I wanted him to go to jail. 

I will never forget how I felt when you chose him over me.  How I felt betrayed by the one person I thought had my back.  So, what if I was off at college?  It doesn’t change what he did to me.  Then you went on to rail about the fact that your best friend’s daughters could have been raped by their dad and you were so upset.  What about me?  What about me, your friend?  A girl who was sobbing in your car asking the last person she trusted for help.  

My parent’s tried to control you.  I know they did.  I remember when we had the last conversation in my mom’s bedroom.  She said that we couldn’t talk about it anymore. After that, it was like it never happened.  But it did. 

You know it did.  You got both sides of the story and you marveled at how well they lined up. I was surprised that he would be so honest.  I was so hurt that you could look at me when I said he raped me and you could still choose him. 

After time past, I realized what happened.  My parent’s were controlling you.  They told you that people would blame you.  That they would think that you were not providing for him.  That you were not being a good enough wife.  That it would be a scandal.

Which is a bigger scandal: you standing up and saying what happened was wrong and protecting me from them or finding out latter that he broke his promise that he wouldn’t do it again and finding out your daughter is pregnant by her daddy? 

I may sound brutally honest and I want it too.  I want you to know the pain that you caused me.  I never wanted to tell you what he was doing to me.  I was just so sick of keeping it in that I planned my suicide.  I would have rather have died than tell you what he did to me.  I even told you that.  

All I want from you is for you to tell the truth.  I am tired of being shunned by my brothers and sisters.  The one person that can help me is you.  You have the whole story.  You know every detail.  I had to carry the burden of lies for 5 years.  For you it has only been 3 years and I know it gets heavier everyday.  I know that you want to tell everyone that I am telling the truth.  

The day you chose him over me, I am sure that you thought it would just go away.  Well, I told you then that I would leave and never return.  I came back for a few visits to see you and my siblings, but it was never my home.  

I miss you.  I want you to be part of my life.  I want to see how the kids are growing and have relationships with my siblings, but they have been told by my parents that I am lying.  You are the only one that can stop this.  You can step up and be a hero.  You can stop him.  

I think people would rather see you as a hero who stopped a serial child rapist rather than a victim of a man that used you.  That is just my opinion, and you know I always had an opinion.  

If you want to get in touch with me after you tell my siblings that what I am saying is true, my email is iamasurvivor23@gmail.com 

I want you in my life, so you need to know how I feel.  

“Our abusive parent didn’t give us the gentle, encouraging nurturing we needed. But healing invites us to give our inner child the kind of loving empowerment that will help us reach our potential and celebrate our spirit. Move past what you wished you could have experienced and embrace the uncommon, sweet possibilities of being your own best parent.”
― Jeanne McEvlaney