Restoration

I would like to tell you about my upcoming wedding. Part of the reason I haven't written on here as often is because of all the wedding planning. My fiance and I decided that we would plan it ourselves and make our own decorations and party favors to cut down on the cost of the wedding. I also decided to sew my own gown. Though I can proudly say we've saved thousands, I have to be honest and say it was more work than we expected. But, we have done it! and in sixty days I will stand at the altar and give myself to the love and light of my life.

First, I would like to tell you what led up to our meeting.

They say that wherever life leads you, whatever you go through, when you come out in the end you are exactly where you are supposed to be. Sometimes you are happy with it and sometimes you have to adjust and become okay with where you are at. I do believe that things eventually work out, no matter how far gone or out of touch you feel.

So let's start at the beginning. 

I have a lot of happy memories from my childhood. My favorite one is of a warm summer day. It was a little hazy out and the blue sky had big fluffy clouds of cotton spotted here and there. It wasn't too hot and there was a gentle breeze blowing. Me and my young brother Mac were on the front porch blowing bubbles. I was wearing a favorite shirt. It was quiet outside except for the birds and the occasional passing car. I remember watching the bubbles float away with the sunlight gleaming off of them. It made them look like little orbs of glass. That moment lives on in my memory and when I let myself, I am once again standing on the porch with Mac, watching those bubbles in peace and perfect innocence.

I hold onto this memory when the dark ones approach. 

My father died before I was born - just a week before I believe. I often wonder how different would things have been if he hadn't gone out that day. It isn't all sad though. Out of the broken comes the life and out of this pain I was blessed with brothers and a sister I would have never known.

I don't like to talk about the past. Sometimes it still feels so fresh and new. However, to understand the future we must understand the past, right? It would take many, many posts to explain in depth about what we suffered. So, for now, I will touch on some of the things that have impacted me the most.

My stepfather was very abusive. He was a monster. I cannot put a number on the times he hit me, pushed me, beat me, deprived me of sleep, and even starved me. He spent his time drilling into my brain that I was scum, a worthless human being that should be grateful for his instruction and care. He misused the Bible and manipulated it's words to fit his own evil agenda, be it discipline or sexual aggression. We were not allowed to be 'wordly' - no pants for the girls, no makeup, no jewelry, we couldn't cut our hair and we had to keep it covered up. We weren't even allowed to shave our legs. We had to wear shapeless dresses. The boys weren't allowed special clothing or fun t-shirts. Their heads were shaved. Just like prison.

When I was six years old, I was raped several times by this man who was supposed to be my protector. He threatened me afterward and warned me never to tell anyone or I would 'be in big, big trouble.' As I grew, the abuse escalated. He accused me of lying about everything. It didn't matter what the truth was - I was a liar and not to be trusted. So eventually I stopped denying my guilt and gave in. It was easier than fighting. Each time I gave in, I started to believe it a little more. That's when I developed my nervous eating habit. I took food from the pantry and ate some, would be angry with myself, and would dump the rest out the back window behind some bushes. I cannot describe what it was like the day he discovered it...Life itself was a trial. Everything made him angry, any sound would light his fuse - the crackling of grocery bags, the clinking of dishes, our laughter, our tears, the way we chewed our food.

One of the most painful things I remember is when he accused me of molesting my brothers. I was still at an age when I didn't even understand what that meant. The longer I 'lied' about doing it and denied my guilt, the worse the punishments would get, until one day I couldn't take anymore and admitted that I did. A part of me died that day, and it still brings tears to my eyes. I remember the day he took me to the hardware store and he bought some lumber. He took it home, took it to my bedroom and told me that he was downsizing my room. He was building me a cage - and he forced me to help him build it. He took away all my toys, books, and trinkets. He padlocked my closet. He screwed my windows shut. He left me with a blanket and a Bible and locked the door. He told me I was too evil to associate with the family, often beating me until my bruises began to bleed. I wasn't allowed near my brothers. My clothes were picked out for me. I ate there. When I had to go to the bathroom, I had to pound on the door until someone heard me. Sometimes I didn't make it. When I did, I wasn't allowed to close the door because who knew what I might do with the door shut! I don't even know how long this continued for because I lost track of the days. The summer went by, and the fall...and time seemed like an eternity. I used to sing the Psalms out loud. The joyful ones were my favorite. The ones that talked of love and freedom and the great joy David felt when he walked with God. I read the Bible front to back. I knew all the stories. It was the only solace that I had.

But time moves on and so do we and eventually the imprisonment did, too. The abuse got worse as his health began to decline. He had foot surgery and became addicted to his pain killers. It made him even more of a monster, if you can believe that. I will never forget looking into his eyes and seeing the all consuming hate and disgust that lived there. Our life was a day by day kind of thing. And I watched from the windows when he stayed out in his garage expecting him to bring a gun and murder us. He had a full arsenal that he displayed through out the house - a dare for one of us to try to leave. Not that we could anyway. We were isolated from the world - cut off from friends and family  We only had one vehicle - a rusted work van that only had two seats and he slept with the keys and his wallet which controlled all the money. We were trapped in this hell.

When I turned 18, I was no longer a child. It wasn't considered child abuse anymore. For twelve years I kept his dirty secret. I guess he thought he was safe. Two days after my birthday, it began. A whole new level of hell. He would make me come out to his garage and keep me up all hours of the night and then wake me early in the morning. Its a form of control so you don't fight back because you are too tired. Every day, sometimes multiple times a day, my stepfather would sexually assault me. I would cry and beg him to stop and he would - for awhile. Then it would begin all over again and with more control and disregard for what I said. I didn't want to stop fighting, but eventually I got too tired. I would stand or sit until it was over and then cry myself to sleep.

This lasted for a full year. And in that year, I begged God to let me die. I begged him to let me go to sleep and not wake up. I was broken and there was no way to salvation - none that I could see. And it was in that moment, that I felt God's presence and in my heart He told me 'it will be okay. I promise. It will end soon.'

That kept me alive. That, and my brothers whom I love more than life. I couldn't let them face the darkness without me.

In December of 2009 we received our salvation. We escaped and we never looked backed. At a different time, I will tell you about that day. It was scary and he chased us but we made it to safety.

We lived in a shelter for three months. There, we learned about the cycle of abuse. We began therapy to help us work through the trauma. We learned about the outside world. I wore make up for the first time, and had jewelry and a black pair of denim jeans. I still have them.

It's not easy to begin a new life in a strange country and that is what it was like for us. There was so much we had to learn, most by trial and error.

There was a lot I had to learn. A lot I needed to overcome or find a way around. I still do. These things still hurt. They don't go away just because the inflictor is gone. They don't disappear although I wish they could. There is no magic wand, no perfect word, and no therapy that can undo what has occured.

During the hard times when I felt like everything was over, I would recite this one verse to myself. It was a reminder, a director of hope : 'There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off.' Proverbs 23:18. I wanted to believe it more than anything. I wanted all of this darkness to mean something, because then what was the point? There is surely a future hope for you. Trust me, there is. I didn't think there was one for me. I never believed someone would ever love me because I was so damaged. Damaged goods. That's how I saw myself. Unworthy, unwanted, unloveable. It's a terrible, terrible place to be.

But I kept going because this time I wasn't going to give in, I was done giving in! I was done letting someone break me day in and day out. I have fought every single day to maintain the breath in my lungs and the beat in my heart. I have worked every day to find a reason to keep walking. It wasn't easy.

They say that wherever life leads you, whatever you go through, when you come out in the end you are exactly where you are supposed to be. 

Despite all that I have been through, I have come to the place I was meant to be. When I met Link, my fiance, I was dating someone else. A bad someone else who I dumped for cheating on me. I was at a low point in my depression. I was cutting non stop back then and Link knew. He didn't try to stop me because he knew it wouldn't do any good. He just reasoned with me. One day he called me while I was cutting. I had carved 'ugly' and 'perfect' into my upper right thigh. I was angry and told him exactly what I was doing. Do you know what he did? He got into his car, came to my house, and cleaned and bandaged my wounds. And he cried over them. He cried because he hated to see the pain I was in.

Someone who had just started getting to know me cared so much.

Eventually, I stopped cutting. I stopped for Link. I wanted a future with him and I wasn't willing to mess it up. I wasn't willing to stop fighting. Our relationship isn't perfect. Of course we fight sometimes, but he is my best friend. He gets me on a deeper level than I ever thought possible. He never expects an explanation. He's patient when I'm angry or distant. He reasons when I'm irrational and heated. He's there when I wake up from the nightmares.

I do believe there is someone for everyone. When you get to where you need to be, you will find him or her. And maybe you don't need a someone, maybe you just need a chance, just a moment to escape. I promise that you will find one of those, too. It's coming, please hold on!

There is another verse in the Bible, Joel 2:25, and it says that 'the Lord will restore the years that the locust have eaten', meaning he will right the wrongs that came to you. This time in my life, despite the daily ups and downs, this time is my restoration. And I'm telling you whether you believe in God or not, that your life will not always be in darkness. I promise you, because I have been there.

I have walked to the edge of the darkness and I have stared Death straight in the eyes and I still turned around and walked the other way! It is never too late and you are never too far gone.

It will get better.

This wedding is so huge for me. It is something I never believed I would have. There is no where I would rather be than by Link's side. This new life is my restoration. This wedding is. But this wedding also holds a lot of symbolism, too. We leave our old life behind to begin anew. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to let it go and let the restoration wash over me.

It will be one of the happiest moments of my life. However, I will never forget that moment with Mac, on our porch in the summer. From that moment, I traveled to where I needed to be.

Wherever you are, don't give up. Please, please don't give up. There is surely a future hope for you. Your life will be restored.

Believe in yourself.

Don't stop fighting.

I won't. I can't, because I have something to live for.

So do you.

I wasn't the only one to live through the horror. My mother and my siblings lived it too. They are survivors. They are strong, and I am proud of all of them. I know they all have their own stories to tell. They have their own nightmares and flash backs to contend with. But not once have I ever seen them stop fighting, struggling to get free. I know they haven't found all their words yet. I hope some day they will. I hope they recognize their restoration as well.

Please, please don't give up! I promise that it gets better! 

May the Frets be with you.