SUFFER NOW,MAKE YOU STRONGER
Recently my best friend, Penelope, posted her absolutely incredible testimony on this website about her healing from an 11-year addiction with masturbation and suggested I posted mine. My first thoughts were that I have had no KABOOOOOM of God in my life, so nothing interesting for anyone to read. Most of all, I’ve had no pretty conclusions, but I realised something even more hot than that. If you endure to the end of my life story, you shall find out what that is.
I was born just of 15 years ago, into a family of 3, with 2 more to follow. A total of 6 children. I was mummy’s little girl, I was always loved and spoilt to the max. I had this amazing, exhilarating, bind blowing relationship with God when I was little. I would spend hours praying in our paddocks, just worshipping. Seriously, my love and connection with God was rare. I miss it so much… that flowing walk with God. I have my life at 4 and was baptized at 7. Mum says that she saw what a special thing I had, and that she knew id be attacked by the devil later in my life. Little did she know, or even knows now, that she was one of his main utensils.
I was a homeschooled kid, so I was always the freak. I was used to this, I was shy which seemed to cover it up a little. Well, when I was 10 people just assumed I was quiet out of nature, but the truth was I was absolutely tormented with depression and just couldn’t communicate anymore.
I have no doubt of the cause of all of this: rejection. My “friends”
would literally run away from me and my mum converted her favourite kid status from me to my little brother. I remember that was a horrible time for me, and reading through old journals of mine, im so glad I didn’t know methods of expressing all this (self harm, eating disorders etc). I really just wanted someone not to think I was a freak, who would love me so much. I wanted a best friend. Only just realising this as I write, I guess it was my first falter with God, not being completely satisfied with him.
A year later, after a year of melancholy wishing of a friend, I finally got the best one. I transformed from a little shy mature ting that wrote poetry in her spare time, to an outspoken, wild thing that would write novels about silly nonsense. Through this transformation, I was still 100% with God, his amazingness now even greater than before, I finally had a friend.
Life continued in bliss, as I turned into a teenager. Me and Penny were really alike, which made me feel so satisfied. I wasn’t being classified as the weird one, but just the same. I could finally relate to someone. I was so happy. Whenever I was at her house, or she at mine, I would read my bible at bed time. I began to see an interest spark in her, and it was so exciting when we could finally pray together.
I tell you completely and honestly, I was so innocent. But my mother had decided I had stricken 13, so therefore I was a rebellious teenager. I remember coming home after going to a birthday party with Penny, and receiving a lecture. I looked like a slut. Penny was a slut. I was a bitch, Penny had turned me into a bitch. Gosh, it felt horrible. The first time I was ever happy and my mother was shouting hatred for my best friend and me.
It continued over the rest of the Christmas holidays. When we went anywhere, mum would hold me back in the car and tell me I was an unworthy child and make me sit there and watch everyone else enjoy themselves. We’d see a movie and she’d tell me she liked the character off it over me and I should become a better person. I was always just being myself and I never meant to do anything bad. I was a really good kid, but I was being told I was absolutely the devil. I was getting punished for things I had done my entire life and had never been reprimanded for. I was so confused, and being rejected yet again.
My relationship with God went from excellent to good in year 8. Penny was there to make me smile. Whenever mum began to verbally abuse me, which was becoming daily, I could read a letter from her to make me all better. I was pretty good with dealing with things, but I think that is because God had greater control in my life. It was the last year, putting aside the grief mum’s words caused me, that I was ok.
Things soon began to crack. Mum told me I dressed only to get guy’s attention, which had never crossed my mind, and since she wouldn’t notice the difference now, I discovered boys October 2008. Mum told everyone in the family I was a liar, so since no-one believed the truth any longer, I just lied. Not fighting back didn’t stop mum from hurting me, so I began to try to stop her. It was beginning to burn, a lot.
2009 was by far an ugly year. The highlight was Easter Camp in Mylor, in which I really loved. It made me believe that like would be ok when I went home, but mum decided I used it as a rebellion tool and made her grip around me a million times worse.
It was horrible. All day, every day. It was torture. Being locked in rooms and being told that… things no young girl should ever be told. I was also physically abused a couple of times, but I told no one. I think I was grounded nearly every weekend last year, for the mildest things. Messing up dinner by accident, forgetting to clean my room, looking at stuff on the internet that I never had. What I learnt? Mum hated me. I had to vow to not hurt myself. Once night I had to hold myself with so much prayer and passion, absolutely hysteric with tears, not to pick up the iron and burn all the skin on my arms, legs and face. My parents found me and was told to stop sulking, followed with an hour of shouts getting told to be myself. Mum hated me. I was myself, but she hated it. All I remember from last year is always looking through tears.
I started school term 4 last year, which was a major adjustment. I didn’t realise until recently but with mum’s attacks getting worse and worse every night and morning, I was suffering depression. Every day when id get home id collapse on my bed in a half sleep thing and my brother would say they’d think I was high coz id just be mumbling about crap.
One night my mum kicked me out of my room. I hadn’t cleaned it, as I apparently said I had and was getting put in the little room at the other end of the house. I told mum I just wouldn’t be able to cope. She told me I was the biggest bitch and I was obviously demon possessed and so many other things. The worst part? “Let’s pray.” I needed prayer, because I was in the wrong. I wanted to die. I couldn’t survive another night. I knew I would do something really bad. I wouldn’t be able to keep my no-self-harm promise. I would poison myself. So on November 6th 2009 I ran away from home.
My friends at school told me it was a perfect plan. Lucy told me that the way mum treated me was completely wrong. Where was God in all of this? I couldn’t talk to him. Mum told me that he was disappointed in me. God said respect your parents. I didn’t know what side he was one, and of course, I was the crap person. I was reminded everyday. I was in the wrong and it made me feel so sick. I took the Mt Barker bus after school and then caught a bus into the city. I was going to ring Penny from a pay-phone and work things out from there. She wasn’t even home. I remember standing at a phone booth, crying and crying.
It was a long hard night, and I shan’t go into detail. Someone at the school had dobbed me in, so soon Rundle Mall was swarming with police (who were incredibly stupid, I walked past 10 individual ones and they didn’t even notice me). I saw my mum once, looking absolutely cold. Only concerned on getting me and grounded me. I walked accidentally into my old pastors wife. Who, in my words I is a MASSIVE bitchv (which made me so happy when we left her church). She gripped my arm and gave me the God loves you speech.
Gosh, what a retard. Like I ran away because I thought God didn’t love me.
My parents were relieved to find me I suppose, but dealt with it so wrongly.
They looked at me like I was a parasite. They took all my savings off me and actually told me off for not bringing my PJs. They didn’t care about the why, but the how. I could’ve been raped and nadadadada. All I wanted was an are you ok? I wanted them to tell me they’d help me through it all. All they wanted to do was punish me, I was something they just needed to put into place. They didn’t even want me to come home with them. They only sent me to my older sister’s house. She only tried to get answers from me, waiting with her phone to tell mum them all. The next day I went to my sister’s bf’s house warming. I sat with a girl and I talked just a little about it.
I can’t remember much, but I know that she told me to always stay close to Jesus. What amazing words.
The worst part is that I hurt my mum so much. Ill never forgive myself.
Whenever my mind comes upon this, I collapse into tears. I am such a horrible person. Mum was- oh! this is just so hard to write right now, im crushed with guilt. I was worse than her. To make my hard-hearted mum leave the room in tears in one of her lock-in-lectures meant that, well, I had done something that no-one else had done in her life before. I had broken her heart in cliché terms. Why would I do that? How could I do that for a person who had loved and nurtured me always? My burning loathe went from her to myself.
I hate myself, and there is nothing else to say about that.
I guessed I kinda did the rebellion thing, not really wanting morals anymore.
It wouldn’t make me a better person. I never did anything to “fill that void” or to be cool or such, but just coz I could. It didn’t make an impact on my life at all. So different to many people, I didn’t turn to alcohol, the opposite sex, drugs, smoking and things because I wanted control or out of depression, I just dabbled because I could.
I began to get nightmares. I would be in bed and see a man come into my room with a knife or he would get into bed with me. I would start screaming an ear-piercing squeal that would wake up the entire family. These we so often and so frightening. The scene would grip me. Soon I was running around my room or the hallway screaming in fear. It was like demons coming into my room and murdering or raping me spiritually. Absolutely terrifying. These went on into the new year. Mum and I were talking one day and I managed to share this with her. She gave me the reason that it was because I was a bad person with evil practises in my life speech, but also the story of the same thing happening to her years ago. She gave me the verse found at Luke 10:19, “I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you.” I would recite this over and over, in spiritual attacks at night, when I was at school and soon I was released. I could sleep without fear. For a while actually, if I didn’t pray before bed I was surely attacked. If I prayed, I was safe. This was God’s way of getting me to put my life in his charge again.
Easter Camp 2010. It was great to get away from mum for a couple of days, but I didn’t escape my problems. One night we had to visit stations around the camp. One, in the main hall, showed pictures of thoughts by people who basically hated themselves on the big screen. I could relate to them all.
Walking out of that dark room of gloom my small group leader, Hannah, came over and asked if I was ok. I was holding myself tightly together when I told her I was. She responded that I hadn’t been acting like myself of the last day, and she was there for me if I needed to talk. I had been having a great time at camp, but the thought of returning home to everything was killing me.
We walked into the next station, at the leaders house. There was a family sitting around a table, playing a board game. 2 members sat quietly, looking tortured. One other, the mother, spitted negative comment the way of the 3, the last person fighting her off. My restraining failed and the tears fell.
It was hardly a couple of minutes before I was sitting outside with Hannah.
“I just can’t go home, I don’t know how I can go back to it all. I cant go home.”
I didn’t go to any more stations that night. I sat in my dorm with Hannah.
I can’t remember much of what either of us said, I remember crying lots and eating lots of chocolate. I loved what she said, I loved how she cared and tried to understand. I loved how she didn’t put me down and didn’t speak bitchingly about my mum. I loved how she showed God. It was one rare moment in my life where I was utterly miserable but so touched by God.
Nothing really changed when I got back to mum, I don’t have much hope that it ever will. But there is something I have grasped over the last 6 months.
Life for the majority of the time has been up and down. Ive learnt to block it all out and cry when it all falls back. Ive learnt how to have a good time and not live with the fear of what might happen tonight. God has a plan for my life and it isn’t going to start one day. It started the day I was born.
If I suffer now, big deal. It will make me stronger for what is ahead. The world cant get me down because ALAS I am a babe-and-a-half who is driven by a great inspiration. I am going to do some pretty darn amazing things today and for the rest of my life. A couple things in life suck, but a majority of it doesn’t. I still hurt and burn from heaps of stuff. It isn’t easy.
Someone told me they get mad that God hasn’t swooped in and saved the day yet for me. I never get mad at God. I have no reason to. He knows the bigger picture and can use all this so that I can do some pretty spekky stuff for him. Ive had so much shit go on but it doesn’t matter because
“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39).
Im so excited that I don’t have to sit in a corner and weep, but gallop around and be like, “God is so darn pretty, I do love him.” Whenever I read my Bible I get a rush of excitement and a smile. I can have bad stuff happen to me, and sin is going to affect me for the rest of my life. There are lyrics in the song Monster by The Almost that go, “Are you ready to live your life? / Are you healed enough?” Well yes I am. Im not going to wait for a KABOOM, I don’t need one. I am not going to sit around and mope, im going to cry and get upset, laugh and get into trouble, and be God’s little fruitful one. I love God, so much. Thumbs up for Big-G.