About This Blog

My blog shares my recovery journey from childhood abuse to living with mental illness. I've been involved in twelve step groups and therapy since 1982. I accepted Jesus as my Savior in 1988. To the best of my ability, I have followed where He wants me to go and what He wants me to do. Maybe you'll find the hope and strength you need through what I write. Maybe you want to stop hurting yourself. Maybe you have a friend who needs help and can benefit from my story. I was newly disabled when I asked God this question: "What do you want me to do with my life?" I closed my eyes and paused for a few moments to still my mind. This is what I sensed from Him: "Amy, I want you to write your story to bring hope and healing to those who are still suffering." And that's exactly what I am doing!

Friday, March 18, 2016

When Your Sleep Shouts Out

I didn't tell anyone about this until yesterday.  I've had so many prayer requests that I did not want to burden my friends with one more.  I knew they couldn't help me, so why bother?  Because they are my friends.

In my experience, abuse recovery shows itself in many ways.  This is one of them for me.  I do most of my falling asleep on the couch then at some point bounce up to get into bed.  I stick to my normal routine then I get all snuggled into my blankets and holding a pillow close to me (like a hug) and I close my eyes.  In the background I've already started playing a video that has nature sounds and a man reads scripture.  It's relaxing as I feel God's Word wash over me.  I am at peace.

Then, while I'm sleeping, it happens.  I feel myself writhing around in bed and I'm making indistinguishable noises then shouting or yelling out.  I'm on my back and my body is flat but moving around like it's trying to get away.  I have no memory in my mind.  I wake up and wonder what that was all about.  The only thing I can figure out is that I'm reliving the time my dad beat me with a belt while on he and my mom's bed and I was trying to get out of the way of his strikes.

I'm not certain about that but I think they are flashbacks and God is sparing the image of what happened.  I think this because I've had similar behaviors early on in my recovery, when I was first remembering what happened.

I've told God several times that I don't need to see what happened to me.  In fact, I prefer not to.  I don't need anymore proof that it was real and I didn't imagine it.  I believe it, my therapists believe it and my Mom believes it.

When the memories shout out, I remind myself that writing my story or putting it together is going to stir up old memories or possibly activate new ones.  That's okay with me because I know this calling is from God and He's going to help me through it.

Does it still scare me?  Not as much as it used to.
Do I get paralyzed when it happens?  No, not anymore.
Do I feel peace while it happens?  No, it's still disruptive.

I've trained myself to wake up during a dream and yell, "Stop!"
I've learned these memories may never go away.
I've accepted that this is a thorn in my flesh.
I lean on God very heavily when this happens.

My friends are limited in what they can do.  Their prayer is best because I know I'm not alone.  In fact, praying is our best weapon against the evil one.  This battle is tied into recovery and spiritual warfare.  That's why I have a therapist (although it's been over a month since I've been able to see her) and I receive prayer at church and through email.

I don't feel sorry for myself.  If anything, I get pissed off and fight for my God given right to get well and be well.

My mother said, "Amy, I admire you because no matter what happens to you, you always forge forward."  Yes and I always shall!!

For my God understands and receives my shouts and is Holy.

DARLENE ZSCHECH AND MICHAEL.W. SMITH
Shout to the Lord and Angus Dei 

Abuse memories have a way of disrupting our lives.  What we do when they happen will determine our ability to work through them and find peace on the other side.