In recent days the desire to continue where I left off in my book has been poking at the embers inside my soul. I'm afraid when I think about the next subjects. I know in my heart I've already lived through it.
What do you tell yourself when the flashbacks feel so real? When the memories and body sensations tell you it really did happen? How can anyone who "loves" you terrorize you in such a way that you live with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for so many years afterward?
My faith in God, in Jesus, tells me that all of these things happened for a reason I may never understand. It was not to hurt me or frighten me or to cause me so much pain. God doesn't do that.
I wasn't created to be someone else's punching bag or sexual gratifier or eye staring contest.
My faith in God, in Jesus tells me that all of these things happened because of man's free will. It was my Dad's choice to hit me and to yell at me and to shove me into the wall by my neck.
It was my Dad's choice to beat me with a belt and to touch me sexually and to stare into my eyes with his bloodshot eyes about an inch from my eyes.
My faith in God, in Jesus tells me that all of these things can heal. It's now my choice to let go of the hurts and the hitting, the fright and the yelling, the pain and the shoving.
It's my choice to no longer live like a punching bag or a beaten body, a sexual object or a sexual victim, a person afraid of eye contact or have angry eyes.
As hard as all of this is, I choose to heal.
As hard as all of this is, I choose to love myself forward.
As hard as all of this is, I choose to not live in secret anymore.
As hard as all of this is, I choose to trust this process - myself, my God, my therapist and whoever else God puts in my path.
