"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." (1 Pet 1:6-7 NIV)
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!
If ever there was a day to be teary and sad with no ability to see,
That day would be this day, because six years ago tonight Aaron died and all he left us was an empty shell of his body.
It was a long and quiet day, it did not go like it was supposed,
For Aaron was wheeled down to donate his organs but he did not die...
No, he did not die like he was supposed to.
They brought him back to his room, did not reconnect the ventilator,
His heart beat strong, his blood flowed throughout his body, his brain was dead.
His mom asked me to stay with him and to come get her when it starts.
Hour after
Hour after
Hour after
Hour.
His heart beat for almost twelve more hours and then it started to be like it was supposed to be.
A steady 125 beats.
Then 122.
Then 121.
Then 118.
And down it kept going. I went and got everyone.
I kept watching it because soon it would happen.
The 90's.
The 80's.
The 70's.
The 60's.
He was prepared through everyone who had spoken to him all five days.
His heart rate kept going down.
The 50's.
The 40's.
The 30's.
The 20's.
The finality of his life was almost here.
I watched until the end.
The 10's.
Then the nurse turned off the volume before it reached 0.
Grace.
Aaron was gone.
His heart stopped, his blood stopped, his brain eased, he wasn't with us anymore.
By God's grace, He's in Heaven.
Everyone was crying, crying loudly.
I did not feel sadness - I felt nothing.
I felt numb. I talked to my therapist and that didn't surprise her.
I sat there with the others, asking God what I could do.
"Just be silent and don't move until I tell you to."
I wanted to flee.
There's was nothing more to do.
Aaron would never come back to us.
That much I knew was true.
I stayed with his parents until the very end.
I made sure they were able to drive home.
Aaron, no longer alive, his body stayed in that room until it was brought to the funeral home.
I'd have one final good-bye.
All of us would.
The Fellowship of Abuse starts with one person - the one who has been abused. The secret of the abuse is hidden where no one can find it - deep inside their spirit where no one is allowed to go. Only the secret holder knows it's there. But soon, everyone will see and hear the shadow that lurks inside. For the abuse has to recover and the only way to recover is to expose the ugliness that looms inside.
The Abused One survives abuse many cannot see. In the hand of the Abuser, the Abused One is hit and bruised and shoved against walls and sexually bound to the Abuser. I wouldn't say it if it were not so. The Abused One is not allowed to cry or express emotions but the rage wells up. Even then, thoughts of murder take over the Abused One's mind and the days are counted when that can become a reality.
There are so many opinions about how to heal from childhood abuse. I (Abused One) have learned to use several of them in different lands of recovery. Some sound a bit odd, some sound like they came from the wizards of old, some originated from the Bible, some are from the ancient ruins and some I've discovered along my journey walking on the side of the road.
What looked like a weed transformed my troubled self into someone who could continue walking no matter how slow the pace or how muddy the path. The cloak that covered me from danger also kept me warm when the sun hid behind the clouds. The Elven bread that had no taste at all gave my body nourishment.
And I think well meaning folk forget that sort of thing. My recovery began early - age 14. I gave my life to Jesus - age 20. I attempted suicide and ended up in the hospital several times, I was in three different inpatient and outpatient hospitals, I've had six therapists and three psychiatrists (the last therapist and psychiatrist for over three years). I self-injure but I don't cut anymore, I'll have 7 years of sobriety in July, I've had two major back surgeries, my highest weight was 247 and now it's 222, I've lost 10 pounds since changing my meds and what I eat.
It's not easy to be or become my friend. It's not easy to stay my friend. My mom puts it this way, "It's hard to be Amy's friend because of all she goes through." Mental Illness is not easy. What I have is beyond challenging. I don't talk easily and when I do I usually shake. I like to live alone with my cats. I take my direction from God and only consider other things from people I trust. Even then it's a maybe. One friend said, "You suffer in silence, don't you?" Yes I do and I prefer it stay that way.
The people at inpatient are my people.
We understand each other on a deep and personal level that doesn't require many words.
We love Jello.
We participate in Groups.
There's a level of acceptance.
If I were feeling sad and drifted into oncoming traffic and died, they'd understand. Sometimes, you just get tired of life. But since I haven't done that or any other wacko ideas, I'd have to say when God said to me, "Amy, it's not time for you to come home yet," I believed Him.
He's my Heavenly Father.
He's the one I trust the most.
He has my whole heart.
I was so drained yesterday all I could do physically was very minimal. I thought I'd be able to work on small projects but my body was tired beyond belief. All I could do is rest and watch episodes of Marvels Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. - Season 1.
I think the depression, sadness and fear I felt about Aaron dying is still with me. I know I get very emotional these five days. I'm going to see my therapist. Maybe that will help.
I sent out the updates and prayer requests for the book. At least I was able to get that done in the afternoon.
Yesterday and today I woke up filled with stress, wanting to isolate, grief and nervousness. Yesterday I did not want to go to small group though I love each woman in our group. I went out of obedience. I was able to pay for this session myself, something I was very proud of, so I didn't want to waste God's money by not attending.
Last night was our first book meeting. I was so glad I had forethought to write out an agenda. It kept us right on track for discussion, tasking and finishing on time. It was the part of the day I was most nervous about. Even though these women have been part of my past or I knew of them but didn't really know them until now, listening to them express how they personally felt about what they were reading was very valuable and insightful. None of them seemed overcome by sadness yet they felt sad. They were not overcome with surprise but they were surprised. They did not know parts of my past or current coping behaviors though they know me. They knew I was abused as a child but not how early or for how long.
By the end of the 90 minutes, I was exhausted. I saw all of my writing in these ladies hands: All my sharing, all my tears, all the abuse, all the self-abuse, all the coping skills learned over time, all the healing, all the death, all the God moments and so much more. Today is a day for isolation. When I feel what I was feeling above, I watch a couple of episodes of something on Netflix then I either rest my body, do some writing or work on a project. Yesterday I rested my body after small group. Today I work on projects.
God has a way of restoring my mind and body when I am in solitude. There's no noise except for the traffic outside. The sound of a ticking clock. The movement of the cats. The garbage truck going by. Nothing but quiet for my weary soul to find restoration in His presence.
On Sunday, I blew off prayer at church because I believed a lie that I wasn't important enough for someone to stay longer and pray for me. I was really looking forward to it and brought pictures of Aaron with me. I went home mad at myself for believing that lie but reconciled it yesterday. I talked about my behavior in small group. How I told myself this lie - it wasn't Satan influencing me (sometimes I think He gets too much credit). When small group was over, my dear friend Ann sat down next to me and listened to me talk about Aaron (through tears) and my nervousness about the book meeting. At the end, she yelled, "You're the boss, Amy! You're the boss!" It was at that moment that I remembered I had leadership gifts, this was my book (and God's) and as long as I stay in tune with Him, my goal of being published in one year will happen.
That's what I told my Merry Group of Women last night.
I want to be published in one year: 04-16-17 (In honor of Aaron)
That's how we'll be marching from here on out.
I feel like I had a break through as I was praying and climbing into bed last night. The woman who broke my heart so many years ago has not received what my Dad, Mom and abusers have received in all my years of recovery.
That's my forgiveness.
I have allowed her hurtful behavior to negatively influence my emotions when it comes to rekindling old relationships or firing up new ones. I've been giving her the power to snuff out safe relationships or try to extinguish merciful ones. She's had too much control in this area of my life. It's time to let her go.
"Name, when our friendship first began, I was so thrilled that you would take interest in me. As we grew closer and you became my most trusted friend, I never thought our friendship would end. You held me when I cried for minutes at a time, we laughed at stuff we had in common and you trusted me with your kids when you went out. But one night, you asked to use my car and I could use yours. I knew what was happening. Soon after you asked me to breakfast and you dropped a bomb. The shrapnel ripped into my flesh above and below the surface. I was in shock. You acted like everything was okay but you never looked back to see the shattered spirit you created. Everything was not okay.
Since that day, I vowed to never let anyone get that close to me again. That lasted just over ten years. I still don't trust easily, especially when it comes to crying in front of someone, but that's not only because of you. The anger, rage, unfairness and selfishness of what you did cut deep. It's been effecting other relationships I want to be real in and I can't allow you to remain a part of me.
Even though I don't understand, God told me last night that I needed to forgive you just like I forgave my Dad and other abusers. Maybe I do understand. The best way to have closure with your abusive act is to forgive it. Well, that's what I'm going to do. I know it will be a process but I'm committed to do it. Quite frankly, you never deserved me as a friend - I was only 17 and impressionable. As an adult, I can say good-bye and welcome the healthy godly people He is bringing to me.
I forgive you and I pray you have a relationship with Jesus."
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6 Years This Week - Today is Day One for Aaron's Journey to Heaven:
A phone call from my mom around 7 pm. "Amy, you need to get to NIMC as quickly as possible. Something has happened to Aaron and we don't know if he's going to make it."
I have the gift of intercessory prayer. I went back to where he was. I was alone. I placed my right hand on his forehead and my left hand on his heart. I closed my eyes to see if he was there. Nothing. The ventilator was keeping him alive.
I walked out to talk to my sister. She looked at me and I shook my head no.
I had a dream last night where in a past blog I shared about it. Since this dream caused a stirring of sad emotions and questions where answers were never found, I think it's wise to write it down and perhaps gain insight into my pain.
She and her husband started out as our Alateen sponsors. She brought wisdom, humor and a hug whenever we needed it. I believe I was sixteen at the time. My mom gave me her car so I was free to travel. This sponsor and I became friends outside of group meetings. I'm not sure that was a good idea.
I was only two years into recovery. I was in counseling, in school, working part-time and going to Alateen once a week. I was pretty busy. I had a great group of friends in High School. Even one who befriended me and listened to my growing up story (not all the details because I didn't know about them).
Nevertheless, this sponsor helped me transition into Al-Anon when I was seventeen. I remember attending this meeting every Friday morning and meeting some of the most spiritual women I'd ever known. I learned about meditation, more about a Higher Power and then I became friends with my Alateen sponsor and other ladies. I felt accepted and loved.
She invited me to her house. I would babysit her two younger boys and just keep an eye on her two older children. After awhile, I became one of the family. Many fun things happened. Many emotional times happened. She would hold me for a long time while I cried. She was safe. I even stayed with she and her family for three weeks while my family went on a vacation I did not wish to go on.
She and I grew very close. When I was going through something, she hugged me and whispered she loved me like a daughter. This surprised me because she already had a daughter. And then a weird thing happened. Her dad died and her husband wouldn't let me see her. Why not? When can I see her?
She invited me for breakfast one morning. She picked me up and we went to a small restaurant in my town. Her words were not only shocking but there was no validity to them and they cut into my heart like nothing I'd ever felt before. She told me she had to end our friendship because I was stepping into her shoes. She talked about other stuff that made no sense except she blamed me for everything. She asked if I understood. My head was already bent down so I nodded yes. She got up, paid the bill and dropped me off at home.
I ran into the house, at age 17, and burst into the saddest tears I'd ever cried. My mom immediately asked what happened and I told her. I don't think it was much later and I don't think this person asked me to do this but I had her house key. I felt obliged to return it not throw it away. I drove over there, walked into the house like I usually did, was greeted with hello's from everyone, did not look in their direction, slammed the key onto the counter and walked out. I walked out and never walked back in again.
After telling my mom what happened, I later learned she confronted his woman quite harshly. She told her to stay away from me and to never talk to me again. After telling my counselor (who knew this woman), she did the same thing. "Don't ever talk to Amy again. Do you have any idea how much damage you've done to this child? You're an adult! Act like one!" It made me feel good, like I had a posse looking out for me.
The dream I had last night revealed all of it. I know why I had it. There's a woman who, when I began attending our church, would join in and pray for me. The tenderness and sweetness of her voice and the way she held my hands caused those same feelings of safety to surface. A woman from my small group then this other woman would join us each week. The feelings of safety continued. But then something happened.
She invited me into her home to talk. Some weeks later, she said she wanted to be my friend. I felt self-conscious when she asked me but I did it and I survived. Asking her the same question took courage because I don't do one way friendships.
I still have problems feeling worthy of someone else's time, even if they are my friend, because I doubt what's troubling me is as important or equal to someone else's troubles. My friends' ministry at church is prayer. Now that we're friends, I can send her an email or text message if something's going on. So, do I still have prayer with her? This is my struggle.
Many times, if she's engaged with someone else after church, I opt to leave especially if their exchange looks tender. I use the above rationalization to prevent myself from getting hurt. Do I want her to pray over me? Of course. Am I more afraid of hearing, "I don't have anymore time or something else?", absolutely. There's no surprise - it all takes place in my mind.
I guess what it boils down to is am I willing to surrender my mind to God and allow Him to lead me or am I going to stay locked up in fear, in my emotions, which usually have no foundation in truth? What am I willing to risk in this new friendship? That's a question I cannot answer at this time.
