Broken, My testimony

This isn’t an ordinary run of the mill blog, this one is special. For weeks now, I might even be able to say months now, God has been putting it on my heart to share my testimony. At first I had some reservations about it, to start this is not an easy thing for me to talk about, it doesn’t just come up in casual conversation, it’s one of those things that I like to keep hidden away and pull it out only when it is needed, I will warn you now(*warning: the contents of this blog are of a sensitive nature and could trigger negative emotions and feelings, so readers discretion is advised). The other reasons I stalled on writing this was because I wasn’t sure how I was going to write this and not make my parents look like bad people, because they are not. I love my parents very much, as with every parent we all make mistakes, we can only parent with the knowledge and the skill or lack there of that we have at the time. I am convinced that my mom and dad raised me the best that they knew how at the time. Over the years I have watched my parents allow God to change them in the light of His word and I have so much respect and admiration for them today. I shared with them that I was going to write this blog and they gave me their trust and blessing to do it. Also in my concern came a part that I felt the church played in causing me much pain, however God showed me that it was only a couple prominent people in the church that hurt me, it wasn’t the whole church. I want everyone to know that, I value the church. Especially the one I am attending now it has been instrumental in my growth as a believer. I pray now that the words you read would bring glory and honour to God because without Him I wouldn’t be the person I am today. May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing through the experience of your faith that by the power of the Holy Spirit you will abound in hope and overflow with confidence in His promises.
Amen
God knew me before the foundation of the world, His word says that my story was already written down before I even lived one day of it and just as God had a plan to redeem man kind when Adam sinned He had a plan for me. He knew what life would bring my way, what I would go through and endure and in His great love for me He prepared ahead of time a remedy for my wounds. This testimony is about Gods saving and redeeming grace, it’s about His love and about the reason He came for me. He came to heal my broken heart, He came to give sight to my blindness and to set this prisoner free! For that I am ever grateful.

I was born to parents who were young and overwhelmed with life, the hand that life had dealt them before my arrival was a bitter pill indeed. My parents met young and got pregnant young, in a whirlwind of events they found themselves set to be married before their first child was to be born. My mom was a run away, she grew up in the country and she ran away to the city. My dad was an immigrant to this country, he arrived here at the age of 12 and he and his family made their home in the city. When my dad brought my mom home his parents rejected her, she wasn’t what they wanted for their only son, but alas there was now a baby involved and much to their dismay they set in motion a wedding. My older sister was born 4 months after they got married and 9 months after that they found out they were pregnant with me. The story I heard growing up was how my mom cried when she found out she was pregnant with me, she didn’t want to have another baby, she would joke and say that she thought I would be born with ” the pill” in my hand to rub it in that their efforts to prevent me from coming had failed. We lived with my dads parents and my mom and them did NOT get along, there was a lot of fighting amongst them, I was too young to have any recollection of this, but this is what I have been told. My mom left my dad a few times, the last time she left him was on my 3rd birthday and we were gone for a while. My dad loved my mom he searched for her until he found her and begged her to come home. From there my parents got their own apartment , eventually moved out of the city and bought a small house in a small town. We didn’t stay there long just less than 2 years. We moved to an even smaller town and for the 6 years we lived there, my parents made it work. My mom was a stay at home mom and my dad worked in the city, so he would stay the week in the city with his parents and come home on weekends. From the moment I was born insecurity began to work its way into me. By the time I started school, I made “friends” easily however they were always fair weather friends, friends today and not tomorrow. I was a feisty kid, a fighter if you will, I didn’t solve my problems with words I solved them with fists, my older sister knows that all too well as we fought quite a bit and my parents were constantly pulling me off of her. It did work to my sisters advantage though, I was her ” body guard” so to speak and I would threaten to beat up anyone who was mean to her. I learned early in life that any problems I had I would just have to suck it up and deal it myself. My mom at this stage was fragile and even as young as I was I knew it. So I learned to bury  my emotions, my motto was “never let them see you cry”. When my parents would spank me or discipline me I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. As a result of that when I got spanked it was usually much harder than what my sister got, she would cry before she even got her spank. I kept all my problems and feelings to myself and it was convienient to bury things away, it felt like the no longer exsisted. The turning point in my family came when we got born again, although things weren’t magically changed I just knew there was something good about it. At the age of seven a family friends teenage daughter began to sexually abuse me, having me perform sexual acts on her. I knew there was something wrong with it because it was so secretive and it didn’t feel right, but I dared not say anything to my parents lest I got In trouble for it. It wasn’t too long after this started that her family ended up moving away and the abuse stopped. Unfortunately it wouldn’t be the last time I was sexually abused. The abusers turned from female to male and it was sporadic and usually someone my family knew. I developed early, my mom bought me my first bra at the age of 9, by the time I was in grade 6 I was a small C cup and that didn’t go unnoticed. At school the boys were always trying to see if they could get a handful, they didn’t leave me alone until one day at recess they got a lot more than what they bargained for. For whatever reason that day I chose not to wear a bra, at recess they chased me around the play ground until the took me down and one of the boys put his hand up my shirt, I will never forget the look of shock that came on his face as he realized he was touching my bare skin, he quickly got off me and walked away, the others boys followed suit. For the rest of that year and for the next they didn’t touch me again. I failed my grade 7 year and had to repeat the grade, I was so embarrassed. With a new year came new classmates and new boys who once again saw me as their “play toy”. I am sad to say this kind o thing followed me to just about the end of high school. When I was 13 I was raped, he was a 21 year old chaperoning our youth group for Canada day. He took a liking to my friend and I and chatted with us the whole night. This lead him to offer my friend and I a ride back to the church once the fireworks were over. We being 13 and very flattered we were noticed by him were happy to consent to his offer, it made us feel special. As we headed to his truck I suddenly found myself to be the only one going with him, my friends cousin found us in the parking lot and took her with them. At that my heart pounded and my mind raced I didn’t want to be alone with him, I really didn’t know why, he seemed like a nice guy. I quickly assured myself all was well and got into his truck with him. After a while as we drove I began to realize he wasn’t taking me back to the church, I didn’t recognize my surrounding at all, then he pulled in to a darkened parking lot of a school, drove around back parked his truck and turned off his lights. I was in trouble, he asked me for sex to which I said no, he tried different ways of getting me to give in, all those efforts were in vain, I wasn’t interested in having sex, I just wanted to go home. He used my age and naivety against me as time past he pressured me more. Thoughts swirled in my head, time was going by and my parents would be worried about me. Finally the moment came when I realized we weren’t leaving there until he got what he came for, I couldn’t consent verbally all I could do was nod my head. He wasted no time stripping me and having his way, I lay there completely still until he was done, it only lasted minutes. Neither one of us said a word as we got ourselves pulled together and left the parking lot. Finally he asked me if I wanted a drink and stopped at McDonald’s, that’s where he swore me to secrecy. My thoughts were that I never planned to tell anyone! I was so ashamed. I got home an hour past my curfew to parents who were completely losing their mind. I was bombarded by questions of where have you been, what were you thinking, it’s an hour past your curfew. I gave them a story they believed I encouraged them to punish me with whatever punishment they saw fit, I broke the rules so give me the consequences, I just wanted to be left alone I just wanted to go to bed. I tried so hard to bury this, but this was bigger than anything that had ever been before. Every night I cried myself to sleep, I would pray and beg Gods forgiveness, I felt so dirty, I just wanted to be clean, but nothing helped. About a week later the youth pastor from our church paid me a visit, I wasn’t hard to find I was in my front yard playing with my friends like kids do. He got out of the car and called me over. He confronted me right there on the spot about what happened after the fireworks that night, he asked me flat out if I had had sex with the chaperone. I was so embarrassed that my initial response was no, but he pressed and he was not nice to me, he told me to give it up, my chaperone had already told him and there was no lying about it, of course after that I admitted to it. He told me that he would tell my dad and that I was to tell my mom and that’s what happened. While I was up in my parents room telling my mother, my dad came flying in and slapped me so hard across my face that it left welts and to add insult to injury he swore at me, I had never heard my dad ever use that word ever and he was using it on me. In that moment I was broken, reduced to a million little pieces and I accepted the blame for it all along with the weight of the guilt and shame, it crushed me. I realize now that I became my chaperones scape goat. I was no longer allowed to attend the youth group, that was the punishment that was handed down by the youth pastor, but what was shocking to me was that they allowed the chaperone to chaperone again. I don’t know what he told them and I don’t know why EVERY adult never considered the big age difference between us and how they came to the conclusion to only blame me. No ever did asked me about what happened that night, they were all in a big hurry to get it swept under the rug, they just wanted it to go away, but what about me!? What happened on the outside to me was obvious, but what took place inside was hidden, even from me, I was eventually able to bury this away, but little did I know the lasting effects that night would have on me and my future. To be continued…

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4 thoughts on “Broken, My testimony

  1. First of all, I love your blog! Secondly, I am so sorry this happened to you! I understand your feelings completely. A similar thing happened to me, and I was blamed. I was never to be trusted again by my parents. I always felt they viewed me as a problem anyway. They were always quick to judge and punish me without hearing my side throughout my youth. My life was changed forever. Even many years later and therapy, I still struggle with the shame and guilt. I remember being so afraid, guilty, and full of shame; that when my parents did find out (from a source that skewed the facts into lies to purely get me into trouble); I didn’t put up a fight to tell the truth. I knew anything I said would be considered a lie. I accepted my consequences, my changed life, and dealt with my depression the best that I could. I still feel anger toward my parents by the way they handled that situation. Sadly, even to this day, they do not see the wrong. The event impacted my life so much that I wasn’t allowed to experience normal teenage stuff; like dating or anything that could possibly put me into contact with boys. (Because, you know, I would some how magically seduce them.)

    1. Wow, how similar our parents were! I was the “trouble” child so to speak as well. There are so many layers to our lives stories that we will never be able to tell it all at one time. God knows what needs to be said and when. Thank you for your comment and I pray that you will come to know and experience more freedom from your past.

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