Am I Worthy?

Growing up as a child of abuse I always felt shame and guilt that was unexplainable, but what has carried with me into adulthood is a feeling of not being truly worthy of anything. Something it’s as simple as a, “you look nice” or “you did a good job on that.” It’s a feeling that I’ve carrying deep down inside. My life is so much better then it has ever been. I have come to a point of more inter peace about my past, who I am as a person and my relationship with God is at a level that I never knew was possible.

I have always wanted to be a women the is self sufficient, able to take care of herself, who has a great career, who is loved and able to give love. Lately, I have been given more and more responsibility within the church I attend and the potential to take on even more responsibility at work. Lately, I have been contemplating my readiness of all these new possibilities and if I’am prepared.

While questioning my abilities and preparing for this turn of events I have also started to question if I am worthy and have began to doubt myself. I feel as though I am once again slipping into a self-sabotaging thought pattern. I am being given great opportunities and all these feelings and thoughts are starting to come back. I am going back to the way of thinking that is comfortable for me. The positive side of it all is I am able to recognize it before it gets out of hand. The trick my friends is not staying in this thought process but figuring out how to get pass it and continue to build on the foundation I have worked so hard to lay.

Once again, I have readjusted my thinking and have not been so quick to over react and to run to someone, anyone who might listen and baby me with the “poor you” pep talk of sorts. What I do instead is take it to God, I am not the best at it all the time but I am continuing to improve and reach out more and more each day. It’s the little prayers of, “Jesus, help me please,” that have helped so much in regards of not slipping back into my old ways of surviving.

Being saved, doesn’t mean that all the hurt and pain from your past will miraculously go away and that your life will be all sunshine and rainbows from here on out, it does mean, there is a force, if you will, on your side and in your heart that has your back on a level that is indescribable.

My friends, especially those of you who have suffered in the way I have, give it to God and don’t take it back but on those days that you find you take it away from Him, don’t beat yourself up, once again give it back to Him and continue too until the day comes that you only bring out and talk about it to help those how need to here the power that God has to heal us all.

Am I worthy? YES!


All a Little Broken

On some level all of us are damaged or broken inside to one degree or another, but that’s ok. Have any of you dealt with the broken record way of thinking? This recording that plays in our head saying, “your damaged, your not liked, people don’t listen to you.” It might be a different recording for all of us, but we all have insecurities or thoughts that can effect us, if we let it.

Depression and anxiety have been a constant in my life and that broken record that plays in my head is one that repeats “you are crazy.” Sunday, I woke up to get ready for church and even before I started my day, the anxiety set in. It was like this steady climb that knocked me down before church even started. It was so bad I wasn’t even able to carry out my duty’s for service that morning. I ended up in a room in the back of the church with my head in my hands crying my eyes out. Sometimes for no reason, that I can pin point these attacks come on so fast and so bad. Sunday was one of those days.

It really throw me for a loop because the day before was a good day. I have been having nightmares lately that I can’t remember when I wake up what they were about. All I can tell you is I wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat so scared. I wonder to myself is something trying to come up and I am not allowing it? Or is this just another distraction?

By the grace of God, someone was there to help me through it, as she often is. She is my mother of Joy. The first thing she said when she walked in the room was, “lift your head up child.” She spent some time to talk to me and helped me through the broken record and the way I was feeling. She told me to not pay much attention to those records, not to fight them or argue with them. But rather agree with them but then do what I need to do. I came to realize that igniting these broken records are like arguing with a 10 year old or my own 10 year old self. Don’t fight these thoughts agree, move on and do what you know you need too, because it’s a argument you can’t win.

That line of thinking was a fresh approach to get me back on track once again. We will all be attacked in one way or another in our lives. It hurts, yes! Satan can’t take me down so he’s trying his best to ware me out. I’m determined not stop at this point and let him win. God has not got me this far to let me stop now.

Like I said we have all been faced with different trials in life. It’s not my place or even desire to sit here and say that people that have been abused have it the worst. That’s not the point, this kind of pain, I know and understand and want to continue this journey to the end with my head held high and project gracefulness while doing it. That is my goal my friends, to be graceful.

Sadness…I’m Addicted!

I am addicted to sadness. That may sound like a weird statement to some, “why would anyone choose to be sad?” Growing up, I had an older sister who we referred to her as, “not being happy unless she was miserable.” But, I am addicted to sadness.

It really goes back to how I learned to cope with my emotions and get attention as a child and it has followed me into adulthood. The sad thing is I have to put a great deal of effort into being sad, but being sad, in a messed up sort of way is a comfort to me, a consistent that has always been with me. Same with depression and anxiety. I don’t really remember a time in my life when I wasn’t one or both of them.

The idea of being happy, being a go with the flow kind of girl, sounds wonderful, on so many levels. However at the same time when I have the choice to be happy, it scares me. It’s uncomfortable, I feel out of place. I don’t know what to do with that feeling or how to act. Often when things are good and I really have no reason to be sad, there is this constente reminder like a broken record in my mind that says, “if I let my guard down and I allow myself to be happy something bad is going to happen anyway and I might as well just be sad anyways.”

This is a sad way to live. A sad state to always be in not to mention exhausting psychically and emotionally. I think of the others who have to deal with me and this continued sadness I surrounded myself with. I know it is rough for them as well as me. Oh, how I wish I could sit here and tell you, “No more. No more being sad, I am over it!” But, it takes work. It’s easy to slip back into what I am accustomed to, just out of habit.

I have come to a new season in my life and I really, whole heartedly, need to admitted to myself that I am addicted to sadness and confront the erge to resist staying sad, but instead become the happy, creative and loving women God created me to be. I am a fun girl when I am relax and don’t make the worst of whatever is going on. I want to have more of a let go and let flow kind of attitude.

My pastor has recently given a series of sermons over the last 6 weeks or so about “Breaking Bad Habits,” that has made me reflect on mind and why I do, what I do, when I do it. Not going to lie, it hasn’t been the easiest thing to walk through but not the hardest either. My pastors intention when giving these sermons was not to make us feel bad about ourselves, but to help us. He started with a sermon centered around the ideology of change your life when you change your mind. That is really what it comes down to, my mind. Satan has always known how to attack me, with my mind and insecurities.

I was on somewhat of a upswing in life and he started to send the usual my way but I was, with the strength and love of God, able to power through it. He couldn’t bring me down, so now he is trying to ware me out. But God and I are putting up a fight.

The question is, why? What happened to me that I am the way I am? Yes, the abuse, but there is more to it then that. I don’t want to stay the way I am and continue to use my past as an excuse or play the victim. It’s time to adult. It’s time to continue to grow in Christ.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

I have known for a while that I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). However it has never really been explained to me in helpful detail. So, I am taking matters in to my own hands. I have been in and out of therapy since the day I turned 18. The sexual abuse happen when I was much younger. I don’t remember when it started. I do know that it stopped around Christmas when I was 10. The reason I did not receive the professional help that I so desperately required, was because of religion.

I was raised in a cult like religion called Jehovah Witnesses, perhaps you have heard of them? In an attempt to not bring reproach upon the name of this cult, I mean religion I was told not to talk about it to anyone or my brother would go to jail and there would be a trial and I wouldn’t be able to handle it. That if it went public and the people in the small town I lived in knew, I would be judged. I was told that when I would walk down the street people would call me names and the sort.

I remember that conversation with my mom, if you can call it a conversation? She basically scared me into submission and to keep the abuse and my feelings inside me and not talk about them. It was hard to express myself to anyone from simple things, like can I have a glass of milk to even more important matters. It always seemed to me that what was important to me was never important to my mother or that it just didn’t matter.

I don’t mean to pick or put all the blame on my mother, she did the best she could at the time. My dad, not around much, he preferred to work then be with the family he never wanted. I am trying to work through this anger for my mom, it’s not easy at all. She did do what she thought was right at the time with the information she had.

In terms of family life and how we turned out, we like so many others are MESSED UP!

Let’s start with my oldest sister, 48 years old still lives at home with my mom. My brother, should be in jail for molesting my little sister and me. Married a harpy of a women who just tares him down but he allows it. The sister before me, married at a young age of 19. The engagement lasted longer then the marriage. He was physically and sexually abusive to her, he felt that because she was his wife he could take what he wanted when he wanted. It took her almost 10 years to move on from that experience, she did remarry at the age of 31 to a man that was 11 years younger then her. They have a little girl now. Then me, we will get into me later, but then there’s my baby sister.

I think she is the worse of us all, poor thing. I still to this day struggle with guilt that I didn’t protect her. When she turned 21 she had a psychotic break. She ended up being put into the psych ward at a hospital and then was in and out of half way homes because she kept trying to kill herself. There was an incident once where my mother was driving 55 miles an hour down the road one day taking my sister to one of these homes and she tried to jump out of the car. My mother still doesn’t know how she kept her from jumping while controlling the car.

My sister was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic, delusional with multiple personalities. Like I said she suffered so much and it destroyed her and the person she was meant to be. I know my mom did what she thought was best, but her and I were having a conversation one day not long after my father divorced her and how things had turned out. She made the comment that “if I had to do it all over again I wouldn’t change a thing.” That was the beginning of the end for her and I. I remember losing all respect for her that day. I always had this felling that when I got to a point in my life that I would be alone, without blood family around. And that was the day I started to separate myself from them all. Slowly, but it started. It started out of self-preservation. I was dying, not living, just going through the motion of existing. It came down to a few things, mostly the religion I was born into, and their failure to practice what they preach. They say they are a loving, non-judgmental, everyone is welcome organization, but I’m here to tell you, that’s not the case. They call their religion “The Truth,” more accurately they hide the truth from the world and their members. The reason my parents got divorced is because my little sister told my mom that he had tried to make her perform oral sex on him when she was younger. This came out at the same time as her breakdown. That was it for my mom, I mean things were messed up, well pretty much from the word “I Do,” when it came to those two. So, my mom told him he needed to leave that she had, had enough. Because of her religious beliefs or rather those imposed upon her by this cult she did not have scriptural grounds for divorce. See in this religion the only grounds for divorce and to be free from your marriage in the eyes of God is fornication. I bet your thinking, but wait he molested your sister. Yes, he did, but it was her word against his. Their rule requires two witnesses to the sexual act, if the other person doesn’t admit to the misconduct. BULLSHIT I say, BULLSHIT!

So my father denied that he had abused her and my mom filed for legal separation to protect herself. My father in turn divorced her. He went around telling members of the congregation that, “My wife kicked me out and now we are getting a divorce.” He made people think that she was the one sinning by divorcing him, but that wasn’t the case, but there was no telling people that. My father was really good at manipulating people into believing things the way he wanted them to, lets face it he had 35 years or so of practice. Being a man that abused his wife and children he had to be good at making up stories about the bruises and such. My mom didn’t stand up for herself, she let people believe what they wanted. Somehow and this still boggles my mind, I was the one who seemed to get picked on from a member of the congregation for it. There was this woman who I think had something going on with my father on the side, I have no proof but it just a feeling, she was just so mean to me. It felt like she would go out of her way to make things hard for me. I was still living at home when they split, so it wasn’t that I picked sides in the divorce but I did stand up for my mom the best I could. My father put the woman through hell. So, judgment was passed on me for something I had no control over. So I left. I moved. I tried to move on with my life. It cost me my relationship with my whole family. It really just came down to me or them and I choose me.

It’s been one hell of a journey that I am still traveling, but minute by minute, day by day I’m doing what’s best for me.