"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!
Sunday, September 21, 2014
If My Childhood Were Different, Who Would I Be?
If my childhood were different,
who would I be?
A girl more proper who didn't skin her knees?
Or perhaps the pretty one in dresses and bows?
Surely I would have been more popular,
or so the story goes.
If my childhood were different, would I still be afraid?
Of people being too close to me, friends or first aid.
Loud noises that startle me so I jump out of my skin,
Surely I wouldn't be so sensitive, just wanting to fit in.
If my childhood were different, would I drive as well as I do?
To be taught by someone sober, not at age 8 but 15 will do.
The throwing out of beer bottles as I drove many miles,
I only thought of getting home, no laughter, no smiles.
If my childhood were different, would I be thin not fat?
To be misled by dysfunctional messages, too many years, at that.
Eating for comfort, out of sadness and more,
I thought food was my friend, not now, not anymore.
If my childhood were different, would I be married to a man?
Someone who loved me and I him, as best as we can?
Trust is shattered when physical and sexual abuse are repeated,
While it was once a dream to have that love, that dream died defeated.
If my childhood were different, who would I be?
Not the person in the mirror, reflected back at me.
The person I see is a survivor, she fights to stay alive,
I am a strong woman, Praise God, my childhood I did survive.