Last night was rough.

In October I challenged myself to face one of my biggest fears stemming from the molestation. Men.

I have had very limited experiences with the opposite sex. In fact, technically, I have only had one “boyfriend” my entire life, and that was in the fifth grade…I don’t really think that counts. Sure, I have gone on a few dates, but they were few and far between. Usually, I ran away any time males came near me until I got to know them. In fact, it took one friend two years of professing his “love” for me to feel safe around him. If a guy so much as looked my way, I felt threatened and unsafe. I felt that I immediately needed to protect myself. HE WOULD HURT ME, somehow. As much as I’ve wanted relationships my whole life, I’ve been terrified of them much, much more.

So, when I started working through the molestation and its aftereffects, I knew that along with facing it, I had to move forward. So, I joined an online dating site. This way I could control who I communicated with and when. I could delete someone from my matches with one click. It was one baby step in the right direction. Since then I have actually made quite a bit of progress, but not without bumps and bruises. I cannot count the number of anxiety attacks I’ve had as a direct result of this “baby step”. Every step of the way has been anxiety stricken. Merely creating a profile took me two weeks, and then I didn’t make it official for another week. The first time a less than desirable guy contacted me, I slept with my switchblade in my hand. Navigating each of the different “stages” of communication has felt comparable to sitting in a room full of clowns-I hate clowns.

In fact, there were many occasions when I have simply prayed to God for contentment. I prayed to be content being single and alone my entire life, to be content living without the blessings of a marriage and children. In fact, I didn’t pray, I begged. I’m not sure what God’s answer is, but I can tell you I am not content with my current singlehood.

I have been navigating through these baby steps and coming down of numerous ledges, but last night was by far the worst. This is a bit embarrassing to admit. I have been communicating with a seemingly nice guy, who lives within driving distant, for a few weeks now. He asked for my personal phone number. After some good-hearted peer pressure from friends, I gave it to him. Then, I panicked. I barely slept that night. I can’t tell you what specifically frightened me, most likely because it was highly irrational. However, throughout the day yesterday, the more rational side of my brain was dominant and I was actually getting excited. I knew this was something I wanted. Then, it happened. He called.

But, I didn’t answer, I couldn’t. I simply stared straight ahead for a good thirty minutes, like a spooked deer.

My sister knew what was happening the past few days. She has been with me every step of the way. So when I called in tears, she wasn’t surprised. As we talked, I cried and cried and cried. I went to my safe place, the bathroom. (That was the only “safe” place when my abuser was around. Since then, I have always gone into a bathroom when I got anxious.) I was literally curled up in the corner of the bathroom sobbing. I was terrified; full-fledged panic attack style-chest pain, sweating, hyperventilating, room spinning, etc.

What frightened me so much? Well, for one, getting what I have always wanted…yes, that is scary. Also, I am constantly afraid that men want what I don’t want to give them. Let’s be realistic, that is true for the majority of men, especially godless men. (Sorry guys, but we know what is on your mind.) This guy is not godless though. He seems like a very nice, God-fearing man. So, rationally, I know I do not need to be afraid of him. In fact, I wasn’t afraid of him. But I can’t get that thought out of my head. Deep down, that wasn’t what was happening. I have worked hard and come so far, I honestly didn’t see this coming.

When people would ask me if I felt guilt or shame about the abuse, I would retort with a resounding “NO, I was a kid!” I was so proud of that. I knew it wasn’t my fault. But, what I didn’t realize was that I did feel guilty when I was young and that feeling has stayed with me to this day. I felt guilty because someone I loved wanted something I wouldn’t give him. I stopped him because I didn’t want him to touch me anymore. I loved him, he is family. I felt guilty because I disappointed him. In fact, I have a very early memory of abuse that has bothered me because I can’t remember the whole picture. I can remember the end of it and that is it, but I have never forgotten the feeling I had. I felt like I had let my abuser down. I felt guilty about that. I realize that sounds a bit ridiculous, but it is true, and, a quintessential component of child sexual abuse. I never thought I fit that mold, but it is absolutely true.

I remember feeling special because this family member paid attention to me. I liked that attention, I craved it. I am the youngest of four and was always the annoying baby sister. But, not when I was spending time with him, I felt special. That feeling was exploited by his sinful desires. My world was ripped apart. I was torn between wanting that attention so badly, wanting to keep it, wanting to do anything to keep him close, but knowing deep down inside that what he wanted me to let him do was horribly sinful. God wouldn’t let me be taken over by that sin, He gave me the strength to stand up to Satan and his evil schemes. So, I shouldn’t feel guilty, in fact, I stopped him from sinning against me any longer. I should be proud, I should not feel guilty.

As my sister and I talked, I came to this realization and, literally, the fog, disorientation, and terror melted away. She repeated over and over again that I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do and, more importantly, I don’t have to feel bad about that. This is MY life and I make the choices.

Moreover, God is with me every step of the way. He has commanded his angels concerning me to guard me. He will never leave me. Since He is for me, who can be against me?  I am not that scared little girl anymore. Not only do I have God on my side, I have the strength He has given me, physical and personal strength. By God’s grace He has given me the ability to see right from wrong, to see sin when I am faced with it. Putting my trust in Him, I have nothing to fear. He makes my paths straight towards the plans He has for me. The Lord is the stronghold of my life. He is my light, my salvation. He is my guide, my comforter, my Redeemer.

Sometimes, I’d just rather be in heaven

I beg and beg God to take me home. I don’t want to deal with all this anymore. I just want to go home. I spend days and days stuck in this rut, somewhere between knowing that God has me here on this earth for a reason and feeling like I can’t do it anymore, like I don’t want to do it anymore. I look at all that is before me and I am overwhelmed and frustrated. I am sad, worn out, and angry. I don’t know how I can fight my way back. I can’t keep it all together anymore. Sometimes I can’t even find a coherent thought in my head (a dangerous situation since I’m in my last semester of nursing school and have the responsibility of keeping people alive.) I don’t know if I have the strength. I want the peace and joy of heaven.

Oh, sweet and blessed country, the home of God's elect!
Oh, sweet and blessed country that eager hearts expect
Where they who with their Leader, have conquered in the fight
Forever and forever are clad in robes of white.
Jesus, in mercy bring us to that dear land of rest
Where sings the host of heaven your glorious name to bless.
The Christ is ever with them, the daylight is serene.
The pastures of the blessed are ever rich and green.
There is the throne of David; and there from care released,
The shout of them that triumph, the song of them that feast;
To God enthroned in glory the Church's voices blend,
The Lamb forever blessed, the Light that knows no end.

Who would rather be here than there?

I look back at my 29 years of life and see how my dreams and hopes were put on the back burner while I was busy surviving. I wonder if I have missed the opportunity to be of use in this world. I wonder if the little injured girl inside me will ever get to see and experience all the joys and blessings of this world. I wonder if she will ever get to do everything she hoped and dreamed. She deserved better than what she got.

It is all just too much. It is unfair. It is infuriating. It is debilitating.

I don’t want this anymore.

Then, again, right when I am at my breaking point, a reminder:

Ecclesiates 7:13-15 “Consider what God has done: Who can straighten what he has made crooked?  When times are good, be happy; but when times are bad, consider: God has made the one as well as the other. Therefore, a man cannot discover anything about his future.”

And, here, another:

1 Peter 1:3-9 ^“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”

Sigh, thank you, God. As much as I yell and scream and doubt and disobey you, you never let me down. You never let me go. Instead, you fulfill your promise and send me peace. John 14:27 “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”

So, renewed and refresh, I awaken to a new day.

Psalm 121:1-2

“I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.”

I can do this. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

 

“You have no right to look with contempt upon yourself when God has taken such an interest in you.”

I am a survivor. I am a survivor of sexual abuse. But that is not all I am.

Some days I feeling like I’m failing, like I’m letting him violate all over again. It is hard to be happy and cheerful and confident while working through all this garbage. I want to move on. I want to be happy. I want to be content. But it is just so hard. I want to be able to forget again. I want to be able to wake up and think of something else. I want to stop focusing on everything that has been taken from me. I want to see the good in life instead of the bad. I want to be able to live life unafraid of what is lurking in the darkness.

 I feel violated. I feel defeated. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to move on. Surely this cannot be all my life has to offer. I know this is not true. Yet, often times, this is how I feel. I wake up and look in the mirror and see a big sign stamped on my forehead, “Victim: Violated, Wounded, Defeated, Dirty, Disgusting, Ugly, Weak, Vulnerable, Failure”.

Needless to say, I have a bit of a self-esteem problem today. Days like today, I want to stay in bed. I want to avoid the world. I want to erase everything in my brain and just go blank. I want to forget. But, the devil won’t let me. He keeps creeping into my thoughts, making me doubt, making me focus on all the negatives in my life, making me forget who I really am: a dearly loved child of God. Peace.

“You have no right to look with contempt upon yourself when God has taken such an interest in you.”

Who am I to feel disgusting, ugly, weak, wounded, defeated, failing or vulnerable? When God looks at me, he doesn’t see that, he doesn’t see some disgusting lump of wasted life. He sees his dearly love child.

 “What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?  He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.” Romans 8:31-34

Though on my own, because of sin, I AM defeated, wounded, violated, dirty, disgusting, ugly, weak, vulnerable, and a failure, because of JESUS I am victorious, strong, beautiful, pure, safe and loved.  

Selected verses from Lamentations 3:

7-26 ^“ He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains.
 Even when I call out or cry for help,
he shuts out my prayer.
 He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
he has made my paths crooked.

 Like a bear lying in wait,
like a lion in hiding,
 he dragged me from the path and mangled me
and left me without help.
He drew his bow
and made me the target for his arrows.

 He pierced my heart
with arrows from his quiver.
I became the laughingstock of all my people;
they mock me in song all day long.
He has filled me with bitter herbs
and sated me with gall.

 He has broken my teeth with gravel;
he has trampled me in the dust.
I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.
So I say, “My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the Lord.”

I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.”

 

49-58 ^“ My eyes will flow unceasingly,
without relief,
until the Lord looks down
from heaven and sees.
What I see brings grief to my soul
because of all the women of my city.

Those who were my enemies without cause
hunted me like a bird.
They tried to end my life in a pit
and threw stones at me;
 the waters closed over my head,
and I thought I was about to be cut off.I called on your name, O Lord,
from the depths of the pit.
You heard my plea: “Do not close your ears
to my cry for relief.”
You came near when I called you,
and you said, “Do not fear.”

 O Lord, you took up my case;
you redeemed my life.”

Romans 8:37 “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”

Unagi

What is Unagi, you ask? Well, Ross Gellar tells it best. He developed his Unagi while studying karate`. (You should watch the episode, it is hysterical and cleverly titled, “The One with the Unagi.” But, for a quick background, and also so you get the tone of this post, view this youtube video of the Unagi episode...at least to 3:30 minutes. ) Anyway, to summarize Ross, “Unagi” is a sense of awareness about one’s environment. If you have Unagi, you can sense danger coming your way. I have a hefty dose of Unagi.

As I have mentioned before, in an almost paranoid fashion, I am constantly scanning my environment and assessing those around me for threats. It is involuntary, it is Unagi.

That feeling in the pit of your stomach that something is wrong? Unagi. That unease when you meet someone new and they creep you out a bit? Unagi. The three bears had Unagi. They knew someone had been in their home, in their chairs and beds, and eating their porridge. Ok, so they had more evidence than just their Unagi.

When I was living in Florida, my already hyperactive Unagi was in overdrive. Everyone creeped me out. I didn’t trust anyone. Then, while working at a restaurant, this huge guy would not leave me alone. When he wasn’t staring at me from his perch at the bar, he was following me around the restaurant. Then he came in repeatedly asking for me and trying to find out when I worked. Several times he refused to leave unless I talked to him…um, yeah, like that was going to happen. My Unagi really didn’t like him. Even more creepy was when he showed up with a girl who looked eerily similar to me…

Some months later, I had just gotten home from work around 930pm and was talking to my sister in her bedroom (she’s a teacher, they go to bed early). I heard a noise at the door. Knowing my Unagi was sensitive, I shook it off. Then it happened again. My sister asked if I heard it and if I locked the door…um, of course, who did she think she was talking to? Anyways, she went to sleep and I hopped in the shower. Shortly thereafter, I was watching TV when I heard a noise at the door like someone hand grabbed the doorknob and inserted a key. I ran to the door and punched it, denting the door. (Yay me!) But, when I peered through the peep hole, I saw nothing and no one. I thought I may have gone crazy. I grabbed a can of wasp spray and dared whoever it was to come back and try to mess with me…but nothing. My sister didn’t really believe me when I told her the next day. Aah, salmon skin roll. I can’t blame her; my Unagi is much more sensitive than hers. For the next several weeks, I slept with that can of wasp spray by my bed and a light by the door-The Light of Unagi to be exact. Weeks went by and nothing happened. Then, when my sister was visiting her now husband out of town, I returned home from a graduation party around 10pm. I was talking on the phone with my mom, when I walked in the door and got an instant spike in Unagi. Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t want to alarm my mom, so I blew it off. About 30 minutes later, I was on the phone with a friend in Michigan when I heard the sound again at the door. Recognizing it immediately, I told her that I thought someone was trying to get in. She was yelling at me to get something to hit him with, when I saw the lock turn open. I ran to the door, and a nearly unrecognizable voice from somewhere deep inside me yelled, “GET THE F*** AWAY FROM MY APARTMENT!!!” I hung up and dialed 911. The poor dispatcher had to stay on the phone with me in my panic until the police officers arrived. Who, by the way, knocked on the door without identifying themselves…uh, yea, like I’m going to open the door. They found no signs that anyone had been there but mentioned that the complex had a voyeur and had a rash of burglaries in recent months. Awesome. I called some friends to come pick me up so I didn’t have to stay alone there. The next morning they returned with me to make sure there were no recording devices in the apartment, which there were not. I had to fight the feeling that I was crazy, that my Unagi was too sensitive. I know what I saw, I didn’t hallucinate the lock opening like that. It was awful, I couldn’t sleep for months. In fact, I don’t think I slept even after we moved to a new second story apartment. I still left the lights on during the night and a TV on while I was gone to convince said threat that I was not alone. I also developed the usage of “The Rock of Unagi.” The Rock of Unagi was a little rock that I would put in front of the door in a very particular place, one that couldn’t be reached from inside the door. If that rock was moved, I knew someone had been or was at that moment inside. It gave me great comfort. There were no other incidents that I know of. I chalk up the lack of incident on both occasions to the efficacy of my Unagi.

My Unagi helped me again when I noticed a man following me around Walmart. He literally followed me everywhere in the store, through checkout and out into the parking lot. It was daytime, so I wasn’t too scared and my Unagi had prepared me for action. This girl has no flight in her, I fight. And, I was ready to fight should he attempt to touch me. He ended up following me to my car and commented on the appearance of my derriere. He was on the receiving end of a few terse words. Other than that exchange, it was a nonevent. Thanks to my Unagi, I was prepared for him and I’m sure the look on my face told him to F*** off. My Unagi had saved me again.

All joking aside, I do believe that those of us who have been violated in some way, whether it is sexual abuse, robbery, stalking, have an increase sense of awareness of our environment. We are on alert for threats, we don’t want to be violated again. Some days it drives me crazy, other days it is an invaluable tool. I like to think that am working on developing my Unagi to a point of maximum effectiveness without hyperactivity. I am aware of the environment around me, but I am less fearful than I once was. Progress. I also have the confidence that if someone were to mess with me, I’d most likely rip them to shreds. Which is a good feeling.

I love my Unagi. 

In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

I kill houseplants. I may be able to tend a garden, but I murder every plant I bring into the house. My major downfall: overwatering. It never fails. I think a plant is dry, so I water it. I come back 20 minutes later and there is water everywhere. It seeped down through the soil, the plant taking what it needs-and then some. Then, it pours out that little hole in the bottom of the pot and floods my windowsill. That hole only lets so much out; even it can’t keep up with my relentless urge to water the plant. Even worse, pots with no holes, then the soil gets oversaturated and moldy, suffocating the plant. Then, inevitably, I get frustrated and refuse to water this poor, mistreated bit of greenery, and it shrivels and dies. I can’t ever find a happy medium.

Apparently, this is how I deal with more than just houseplants.

Initially, when I stood up for myself at the young age of twelve, it was like the first watering of the little seedling in its new pot. I picked up a guitar and I was ready to swing. I stopped him with just a threat. Victory. My young brain then associated that type of defense as the only way to live. So, I kept that guitar at the ready in every aspect of my life. Even my family was on the receiving end of the threat, even if they didn’t realize it. Friends had it even worse. The slightest faltering in loyalty, perceived or realized, they were put on warning in my mind. A simple glance from a boy had me ready to swing. (And, unfortunately for some, I actually did swing.) Increasingly, I kept more and more people further and further away. I thought I had to keep everyone at a guitar’s length to keep myself from being violated again. Every time I thought I was growing and learning, I was suffocating myself. There was no outlet for me in those years except perhaps athletics. A coach once told me intensity was my big key. I was intense alright; the court or field was where all my angst was released. My intensity was often over the top. I shudder to think about my attitude on the court back then. But that wasn’t enough, that hole wasn’t big enough to handle everything being poured into that pot. Some would argue that it is barely large enough to handle normal teenager tears, let alone that of a severely wounded child. My frustrations, my defense, poured out to those around me. My attempt at surviving washed anyone close to me away. Until, I was alone on the windowsill, praying that the Sun would dry up the mess and keep me alive.

When I went away to college, I had no outlet for my frustration. I kept everything bottled up inside. I could barely attend class. I was afraid of everyone and everything. I was far away from home and scared. Hearing stories about college life made me equally excited and terrified, and completely overwhelmed. I was barely present mentally, even if I went through the motions. I was gripping the guitar so tightly; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. I could hardly speak. I was drowning. Water logged, moldy, and tired, I came home, and slept for about a year and a half.

Ironically, what followed in my life is a different kind of watering. I spent much of my time at a local watering hole. (Pun much?) This time I was literally drowning myself in alcohol. Bordering on alcoholism, I drank my way through my early twenties. The only way I could socialize was with a drink in my hand. The only way I could stand being alone with my thoughts was with a drink in my hand. Trying to forget what happened to me caused me to dry out while drowning myself in alcohol.

I know I have come a long way from those days. I have grown. God never allowed me to be scorched or drown completely.

I still find myself grasping that guitar more than I would like. Even sitting at home, driving down the road, shopping, socializing, I have my hands clenched, literally. I’m always ready to swing, if necessary. I sleep with a switchblade under my pillow. I lock my bedroom door at night. I make sure no one follows when I leave work or school. I’m constantly scanning my environment. I’m still suspicious of every male that looks my way. Even when I am in a room with male friends who’ve known me for years or male family members, I am unnerved.  

My coping has nearly flooded my whole identity. The slightest mistake at work or school and I’m in a panic. Even the anticipation of the mistake and I’m a nervous wreck. I lack self-esteem. I immediately invalidate any achievement or compliment with a denial or redirection to a failure. I feel ugly, fat, and unlovable.

I feel like my life is a disappointment because I am missed out on so much because I have been so busy surviving.

Then, I get anxious about that. I start panicking that I will never be able to turn my life around. I cannot enjoy my life now because I feel like I wasted so much time and now it is too late.

I pray for contentment regularly.  I pray that whatever God has planned for my life that I will learn to be content with it. This would give me peace. Because, with all this guitar holding, I’m anything but peaceful. I’m angry.

I tend to get so down and depressed about 28 years of struggling and I get frustrated and anxious, almost to the point of overwhelming. Then I realize I’m angry. I’m so angry. I’m so angry that I could swing that guitar over and over and over again.

Instead, I go into the scary part of the basement and break stuff. I save every ounce of glass that comes into this house. Forget ten cent refunds; I’ll whip that beer bottle at the wall. That release is worth for more than ten cents.

Perhaps I’m playing out what I wish I would’ve done all those years ago. I’m swinging the guitar instead of just threatening. Although, I’m thankful I never needed to be violent. God wouldn’t approve of unnecessary violence.

This is my outlet now, the hole at the bottom of the pot. It is incredibly effective…when I recognize that I’m the anger is bubbling up again. I’m still working on that. But, I’m headed in the right direction.

In the mean time, I pray that God will help me forgive myself for the ways I coped, I was just a child. I pray that God helps me find contentment in all the blessings he’s given me. I pray that I will focus on those blessings instead of the disappointments in my life. I pray that I can move forward and not pour so much of my life into this survival. I pray for peace in this world.

When I am most discouraged, drowning in agony, ready to give up, hoping for an end. Praying, begging for any relief. I remind myself that no matter what happens here, no matter how bad things seem, I will spend eternity in heaven and these light and momentary troubles will matter no longer.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Some days I miss my bunnies

Some days I miss my bunnies. When I was a child, I had a tall dresser with two small drawers and three large drawers. There were three adorable bunnies on the three large drawers. My sister and I used to jump off the dresser onto our beds (our hand-me-down beds, that didn’t have box-springs, rather a mattress made of springs that worked well as a trampoline…) until, inevitably, we would jump just wrong and the spring mattress and mattress would fall through the frame. Oops, dad loved that. (She says sarcastically.) Sigh, I loved those bunnies. In fact, when I moved back home from college and then back from Florida, I still used that dresser. (Part of that was just convenience, but, let’s face it, I loved those bunnies.) My family often poked fun at my dresser. I didn’t care, I would joke that they were my only friends. Wah wah, not at all true. But in the context of child abuse, it would make sense to hold onto something that was symbolic of my innocence. It was not until this past year, 16 years after I made certain he would never touch me again, was I ready to let those bunnies go. (Ok, so, they only made it into the next room, at least I’m not using it anymore. Baby steps.) I took another dresser, refinished it, it looks all grown up and it is awesome. I love it. The day I took the bunnies out of my room and brought the new “adult worthy” dresser into my room, I felt a shift. Like I had taken a huge step forward in letting go of the bunnies; realizing, I didn’t have to be stuck. I was holding on so tight to everything that happened in my childhood that it was holding me back. I couldn’t move forward…with a dresser with bunnies on it. Slowly, I’m noticing why I hold onto things, tokens, pictures, memories. My family is often amazed at the little details I remember from childhood, things I’ve held onto so tightly all these years. Remembering all those little details, all those little bunnies, leaves little room for the dark and not-so-adorable creatures of my childhood sexual abuse.

While I recognize the need to loosen my grip and feel safe enough to let those frightening memories come forward, it is incredibly difficult, and I try to let them through little by little. I also try to not lose my grip on all those adorable bunnies entirely. Despite the abuse, I had a great childhood. I was very blessed. I grew up in a loving, Christian family. We lived in a neighborhood full of kids our age. We went to a great parochial grade school. We never lacked anything we truly needed. Not everyone is so blessed.

My bunnies helped me survive. They protected me mentally until I was strong enough to face those other creatures from my childhood. Some may think it is silly, some might judge me for it and think it is ridiculous, but I don’t care. I’m learning not to judge myself for the way I survived all by myself for well over 16 years. I did what I had to do…and the bunnies helped me do it.

Some days, I miss my bunnies. Some days, I think it would be easier to bring them back to chase the creatures away so I can go on surviving. My bunnies helped me survive, but they can’t help me live. I need to look those creepy creature memories in the eyes and say, I beat you, and you can’t hurt me anymore. I need to stop surviving, and start living. So, the bunnies will stay peacefully in the other room, having done their duty. Every now and then, I’ll look at them and say “well done bunnies, thank you, but I’ve got it from here.”

“Be self controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8)

I just can’t take days like today. As a CNA and nursing student, I’m often in situations that make me a bit uncomfortable given my past experiences. Normal days are no problem. Some days are a little trying.

Everyone has experience silly old men who forget themselves from time to time. Or the men and women who are sadly stricken with dementia who literally forget themselves and have huge lapses in judgment which cause them to do or say things that are totally wrong and out of character. Then there are the people who take advantage of the fact that they are alone with a female and that female is helping them bathe.

Today was terrible. I was helping a man bathe in bed when he became sexually inappropriate with me. Rather than assume that he is aware of what he was doing, I dodged several of his advances as I have in the past. But, today he was more persistent, more grotesque, more frightening. He repeatedly grabbed my shoulders and tried to pull me down towards him on the bed. He tried to grab various parts of my body that he shouldn’t be touching. Then he pulled back his covers and started to fondle with himself.

I remained professional, simply covering him up with his hands outside the blanket and called for another aide to help me get him dressed. He tried again to fondle himself; the aide simply stopped him and told him it was inappropriate.

I held it together long enough to talk to my bosses and tell them I felt uncomfortable caring for him after today. They completely understood and said I should not have had to endure that under any circumstances, let alone as a sexual abuse survivor.

I left the office and called my sister, sobbing hysterically, as I drove to church where my mom is the secretary. It was there where I proceeded to sob, gag, and dry heave, recounting the story for a third time.

I don’t know what to say about days like this. Partially, I feel victorious, because as an adult I was able to handle the situation appropriately. I told him repeatedly that he needed to stop and I got help. I remained calm in the room, I didn’t panic.  The other part of me feels like I overreacted and I’m too sensitive. But, in talking with coworkers and family members today, I’m reassured that I did not. One thing I know, I’m exhausted.

I hate feeling like I am not safe in my own body. I hate feeling like someone has the power to hurt me. I hate feeling trapped. I hate feeling scared. I hate feeling like an object of someone perversion.

I’m not feeling very peaceful today.

“Be self controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” (1 Peter 5:8)

But, another reason to feel victorious…

The devil really seems to have my number when it comes to which buttons to push to get me worked up. He knows that days like today will cause me pain. He tries so hard to push me to the point where I curse God for allowing these things to happen. But I did not. I will not. Try as hard as he may, that bastard the devil with all his tricks and schemes will not shake my faith. I have a good and loving Lord who never leaves my side. “And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.” 1 Corinthians 10:13b

 

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.  For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.  In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” Ephesians 6:10-17

 

See, Luther gets it…

A mighty fortress is our God, A trusty shield and weapon.

He helps us free from ever need That has us now o’ertaken.

The old evil foe Now means deadly woe

Deep guile and great might Are his dread arms in fight;

On earth is not his equal.

With might of ours can naught be done; Soon were our loss effected.

 But for us fights the valiant one Whom God himself elected.

You ask, “Who is this?” Jesus Christ it is,

The almighty Lord. And there’s no other God;

He holds he field forever.

Though devils all the world should fill, All eager to devour us,

We tremble not, we fear no ill; They shall not overpow’r us.

This world’s prince may still Scowl fierce as he will,

He can harm us none. He’s judged; the deed is done!

One little word can fell him.

The Word they still shall let remain, Nor any thanks have for it;

He’s by our side upon the plain With his good gifts and Spirit.

And do what they will—Hate, steal, hurt, or kill—

Though all may be gone, Our victory is won;

The kingdom’s ours forever!