My Testimony: Part One: An Abused Soul

Micah 7:8 Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me.

Why do I sometimes feel so prideful and like I am better than those who struggle with sin? The pride in my redemption from Christ gives me status. I do not have to mix with depravity. But am I really better than them? I recall my journey as an abused soul through mental instability through the eyes of a child of God who knows that God’s love can heal broken, traumatized souls.

Growing up in New Hampshire, I stole food and media items from stores, my home, or others. I was quite a liar for about three years to boost my image. However, people found me out, and I felt ashamed. I stole hard liquor from my parents or got it from teenage boys in exchange for allowing them to have their pleasure.  Almost no one wanted to be my friend because of my shameful label. I stole money from my parents, stole my sister’s car, and ran away from home with my friend for a couple of days. We drove into Boston to see my ex-boyfriend at his college.

Troubled, I hung out with the delinquent crowd, skipped school with them, smoked marijuana, took LSD and magic mushrooms, and suffered being taken advantage of.  I had a miscarriage after 10th grade from my first true love. In 11th grade, I flunked out. My mom took me to court to ask for help controlling me. I was placed on a special nightly tracking program until age 18. I repeated the 11th grade and then went on to 12th at two secondary boarding schools in Massachusetts, a gift from my mom with some additional financial aid to get me away from the delinquents. These two schools were specialty schools for high school kids who could not succeed in overcrowded public schools. One of those male friends showed up and pressured me into selling drugs to my classmates for him. I was kicked out, had to go to summer school, received only two major credits in my senior year, and missed my graduation ceremony.

Feeling All Alone In The World

In elementary school, I was teased by the boys, called names like “Teeny Tiny” and “Small fry. The popular girls shunned me. In junior high, the kids mocked me for being on crutches when I injured my knee. I had to walk away from GED school to avoid getting beaten up by some angry females who were offended at my sexual escapade with a classmate and his buddies. They didn’t know that I was not told about his buddies. In the first year of boarding school, my classmates all ganged up on me for trying to trust in God and became violent toward me.

I endured embarrassment for being the last to be picked for the school gym class sports teams. My classmates’ attempt to peer-pressure me into sexual loss of virginity before I was comfortable or ready, when playing Truth or Dare in the cemetery at night, really made me think twice about them. I was ostracized by the in-crowd, so I hung out with the rebellious crowd, and it wrecked my early years. Only one real friend was willing to acknowledge me most of the time, which changed from year to year, even though I had a steady string of boyfriends, and some guy friends with benefits.

Oh God, Heal My Hurts

The school scene brought great pain as the cliques ganged up on me and erected spider webs (with string) strung all around me twice in my sleep, at age 12 and age 19. They never invited me to their gatherings, except on a rare occasion. I attended but suffered humiliation, including putting my bra in the freezer and falling into evil traps. They never wanted me to live it down. Even my relatives, family, and their friends thought it was fun to laugh at me, so I endured that humiliation too, for I didn’t know better. The shame grew and grew. I felt shamed even when acknowledging my neighbors.

I was diagnosed with depression, put on Prozac, and saw therapists through high school. One therapist at my school in my senior year said, “You have a very thin membrane, so you feel everything so much more sensitively.”

Mommy, Mommy

Proverbs 28: 13 He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy.

My mother has never stopped being abusive. As a young child, I suffered her belittling me, trashing my writings and treasures. She was completely cold and resistant to my cries. She always insisted I was too messy and had no competence. Every single thing I did wrong, I had to give her a reason why. Everything was always my fault, even when someone else was guilty. Her insults were always aimed at my intelligence, or my ability to perceive, or my ability to manage my life and upkeep my surroundings and my possessions. She even aimed at my body image. She always berated me for my bad choices.

Physical abuses from her included a slap on the face, spankings with a wooden paddle, sometimes bare-bottomed, with no warnings that took me by surprise. She ripped the hairbrush through my hair, yanking it into pigtails, and wound the hair elastics too tightly. I was forced to take scalding hot baths that hurt my skin and made me sweat. Then, she forced me to take my first shower at age five or six with my dad. When I was 14, she hit me repeatedly one afternoon, all over, for being too slow to do my paperroute, causing welts, until I collapsed into a heap. Sometimes, when I dragged my feet getting out the door (reluctant to go to junior high), she would kick me from behind.

Shame Grew and Grew

She bought me all kinds of ugly clearance rack clothes that made me mortified to wear. Since she loved to sew, she made me homemade clothes until age 14, dressing me up like a little girl, which made me look and feel younger than I was, as I moved toward adolescence and preteens.

She refused to buy me any snacks except frozen kids’ sweets like freeze pops and fudgsicles. I got tired of those, so I ate my dad’s snacks, which she freely bought for him. Then she would get mad at me for eating them. Because I was hungry, I often consumed a second lunch after the first to stave off hunger. I did not usually eat breakfast. I had to reheat/cook them myself from convenience foods. She would curtly remark on her “prediction” of my inevitable “huge” weight gain. My belly did grow round and noticeable. I wasn’t overly concerned about it. I was not grossly overweight until put on psychiatric meds in my early 20’s.

She refused to put any snacks in my school lunchbox. While all the other kids had them, all I had were applesauce, a fruit cup, a pear, a banana, or a plum. I also had a bologna and process cheese sandwich (which I liked), on squishy white bread, or a tuna fish sandwich, which was so gross I often threw it away, or peanut butter and Fluff, one of my favorites to this day. Every week or two, she packed a thermos full of soup or chowder, foods I still love. I envied the kids who had hot lunches that they purchased every week. I drank almost nothing else but milk or juice, which she freely bought in gallons and half-gallons. The milk often had a sweet taste to it, reminding me of the taste of “The pink stuff,” penicillin for kids. The kids at school all had juice boxes and such, but I got milk each day.

God Loved Me More

Luke 12:53 The father shall be divided against the son, and the son against the father; the mother against the daughter, and the daughter against the mother; the mother in law against her daughter in law, and the daughter in law against her mother in law.

The Lord Jesus told me, “Thy mother is evil,” at the beginning of my move from the north to the south in 2004. It opened my eyes. At that time, I also heard the Holy Spirit of God say, “Run away from your family. Keep running until you know you are free.” He realized I was an abused soul, and He cared. It touched my heart that He longed to set me free. I felt frozen with timid fearfulness and couldn’t. But within eight years, my mother became the sole guardian of all my government disability income. There was no way to get away; I had no money apart from her. So, I became dependent on her. I moved out into my own home, but I ate dinner at my parents’ house every night. The government food assistance was not enough to eat more than one meal a day. For five years, I lived with my parents before moving out.

I Never Felt Safe

Job 5:4 His children are far from safety, and they are crushed in the gate, neither is there any to deliver them.

I began to notice my mother’s hidden evil. She calculated all her words to manipulate my mind. She seemed to cast mind-blindings on me, and I suspected apparent ongoing hypnotizing of my subconscious, which she concealed, although I barely managed to be conscious of it a couple of times. Every time I spend a significant period of time away from her, my energy level improves, and my hope is restored. When returning to her, the hope evaporates, and negative energy and depression return. She was always mean-spirited, unkind with her words, not just to me, but to many, including insulting other family members.

I resented having no escape from her abuse. She felt more like the wicked stepmother in Cinderella than my real mother, and she certainly treated me that way. I longed for kind words from her, which never came until I reduced one size in weight and excelled in technical college in my forties. Her compliments I craved for the meals I made, but she gave few.  I showered her with gifts at Christmas each year after Dad’s death, as she did to me. She complained she didn’t need much and said they were just unnecessary. Her religious pride has kept her so strict that she seldom allows herself any personal purchases, nor any fattening food or snacks.

I Held On to God’s Encouragement

Ezekiel 13:22 Because with lies ye have made the heart of the righteous sad, whom I have not made sad; and strengthened the hands of the wicked, that he should not return from his wicked way, by promising him life:

I experienced (and still do) her insistence that she is better than I in everything, including intelligence, mind/word puzzles, games, cleanliness and neatness, weight control, driving, and even her old-fashioned cooking. She also claimed to be better at holiday decorating, getting enough sleep, doing yard work, paying bills, in financial wisdom, and in responsibility. The emphasis is also on her charity helping out sick neighbors, having the means to feed feral cats, being much faster than I, and succeeding at work. She often rehearses to me how much she accomplishes in a day, then asks me what I did all day. Her insistence that I could not keep my house clean, I stood up to. I have proved again and again that I can. Her insistence that I am a slob all the time, and that I have no grace in my eating habits, but she does, frustrates me. I do not have a careless attitude, just some ignorance and an unstable mind that has difficulty focusing. She sought to publicly embarrass me at restaurants, concerning how embarrassed she feels when I eat.

Psalm 27:10 When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.

I never felt she saw anything in me that was valuable. When I was thirteen, she said, “I am no longer your mother; I am leaving your dad. I don’t care if you get hit by a car or commit suicide.” She never left him, but those words stung so deep I never forgot them. They haunted me, like the haunting from watching a scary horror movie.

Stereotypes

I have an older sister who was a goody-two-shoes. She never got into trouble and did everything right, was full of light, and was exemplary. I was like the black, troubled teenage sheep enshrouded in darkness. My mother never abused her, but my dad scolded her, not me. He seemed to favor me, for I was Daddy’s little girl.

Every time my sister (who lives in the north) visits us, my mom and she both seem to gang up on me. I am targeted and feel like the joke is on me, and I feel ostracized from my own family. Later, my niece joined in their charade, and this was also sometimes felt from my parents’ friends during get-togethers.

My mother refused to admit she was abusing me when confronted by me. My dad refused to believe me, saying I was making it up. This has also been her own tactic whenever I complained of any kind of physical pain or ailment, including allergic reactions, or funny-tasting food, or something that felt off, not quite right. She always claims, “It’s all in your mind,” and refuses to believe me. Several ER trips, when concerned over my physical health, ended with the same conclusion; they often shipped me off to a mental hospital. In Pediatrics, I experienced an inner ear piercing violation that made me scream because it felt like torture. Once, when I was twelve, a doctor from a nearby physician’s stop touched me inappropriately. I did not tell anyone.

I Loved Daddy

Jeremiah 23:24 Can any hide himself in secret places that I shall not see him? saith the Lord. Do not I fill heaven and earth? saith the Lord.

My dad was always quiet, withdrawn, kept to himself, and was a little odd, strange (even having his own undecipherable language, which sounded like chanting). He seemed to have extremely strong upset feelings against all who did him wrong. This was a weight he carried with him, and we all felt it. He seemed to be very hostile to lots of actors, sports team players, and politicians. He NEVER said ANYTHING nice about those, only slandered them viciously. His mouth incessantly cussed; he had a daily beer drinking habit, and a temper that could flare up so quickly that we all trembled. He even occasionally insulted other government or business authorities; he had nothing nice to say about most charities and CEOs.  

Daddy Was Nice

Dad felt that he could show love to others by giving. He became a giver in amazing ways. I watched him give large pieces of expensive used furniture to poorer people, and donated some food at the holiday. He loved to give to beggars on the sides of the roads. I lost my government income for four years from working. Once I quit, I had to repay thousands for eleven years. He supplied my income all by himself, even though it was so little. I didn’t complain. He felt the church was corrupt and said he would never give his money there. He wouldn’t watch the gospel preachers because all they were after was your money. One preacher who had fallen from grace and who was made an example of to the world he despised. He believed just about every other preacher was like him. At Christmas time, he gave expensive gifts to me, my mom, and my sister. He was always ready to drop everything and lend a helping hand when asked. He taught himself handyman work, but the hurricanes and wear and tear destroyed his repairs and all his remodeling work.

 

Discovering Hidden Things

Ecclesiastes 12:14 For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil.

I began to discern, later in my 30s, that my dad had an evil side to him, and this distressed me. He seemed to hide secret evil, cruel violations of me. These included covert hypnotizing (even keeping me in a trance-like state, singing song after song). I saw him blind me in one eye using some evil energy. He set mind-blindings by arranging tools, pens, and other items into a V shape. Somehow, he set me up to make me think and talk in an artificial, exaggerated mentality because my mom couldn’t hear me in my regular voice and mindset. This he found amusing. My voice has always been quiet and subdued, so most adults struggled to hear me speak and still do. I suspected a secret evil ploy to reverse the air flow in his house or in other places I resided in when I was there alone, or just with him. Maybe my mom did the same. I wondered why it hurt so much in my head, why there was such pressure inside. Why was it so hard to breathe? He also arranged shoes or instructed my mom to be where I would almost trip over them.

Dad was There For Me

Isaiah 5:20 Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!

He bought me an old used Dodge van before I moved south, which was so incredibly cheap. I loved that van. I totaled it in an accident due to an error in judgment, and it was carted to the junkyard. He then bought me a Durango, but it was totaled in another accident. Then it was restored, then shortly sold off because I had three accidents, and my insurance was sky high. I had to quit my newspaper delivery job because of a mental breakdown and psychiatric hospitalization. He bought me a house and helped me pay off the mortgage. It was almost all paid off before he died. The balance was paid off less than two years later. He gave me his white Town and Country van free when he upgraded. I drove it for three years and paid my own insurance. Then he surprised me and bought me a brand-new Jeep, so I sold the van to a close friend. The balance on the jeep was paid off in five years with his extra help. I did not have to pay for insurance.

He died in 2021 after seven years of cancer. I still have so many treasures he gave me. Many were taken from condominiums on Sanibel Island, where he worked, given when an owner upgraded. These include nice used furniture, utensils, dishes, decorations, and other household items.  

The Spirit of God Cares

Micah 2:1 Woe to them that devise iniquity, and work evil upon their beds! when the morning is light, they practise it, because it is in the power of their hand.

I have continued eating dinner at my mother’s. I enjoy cooking for the two of us each week, sometimes at my house, sometimes at hers. She prefers I cook at mine because I make too much of a mess at hers. My disability income was restored, plus an additional source of grocery assistance/insurance. I have tried working again in food delivery, but nervousness, anxiety, and irrational thinking made me give up again.

As a teenager and young adult, I hung my head. I had no confidence to try for any kind of job except the easiest. I tried my hand at cashier work. Most of my managers berated me for mistakes and being too slow, making me feel inept. I then tried companion work non-hands-on, but feedback was similar, although less abusive.

God is My Friend

After I moved south, I worked from 2004—2007 in an assembly line and in delivery, but a total mental collapse ended my working. I just gave up, mentally and physically shipwrecked, unable to resume working again (until last year). I felt like a total failure. My daily existence consisted of dealing with lots and lots of anxiety, fears, paranoia, and an unstable mind. I felt like I was in a dream world, filled with conspiracies, evil plots, and schemes from adversaries. It has always felt like it’s me and God against the world. I was/am always bracing for betrayal of some kind. He and His Son and Spirit alone have stood with me, until recently. I was overjoyed when God Most High showed Himself strong on my behalf. I had no friends as a young adult, except one Christian guy friend. Years later, after attending different Bible studies, I made a few friends from church. There was/is always a lingering feeling that they cared/care not about me.

I Knew I Had Something I Could Do For God

Seeking therapy in 2008 from a Christian career counselor confirmed that I was headed in the right direction with writing as my focus. I sought Christian counseling in 2010 because of depression that made me feel bleak and reach out for help. I admitted to her that I could not seem to get anything accomplished. She showed me how to create goals and plan out my days. I did start making progress, albeit a little. I felt grateful that she helped me get back on Disability. She charged me about ¼ the cost, so I received therapy for two years. Then, when she left, I switched to another counselor, but had to quit when she left. I saw the career counselor again in 2021, who encouraged me to pursue social media/ writing/blogging. I have.

Genesis 50:20 But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive.