So much easier to say than to do in reality. I'd heard it all my life, from a teenager when the true signs of my condition were becoming manifest. No one, of course, knew the truth about why I would be in fits of crying, with no provocation, or short-tempered at seemingless benign situations. I, myself, didn't understand, and it made me more confused and feeling truly isolated, afterall, who wanted to be around someone who was down or would go off without notice, and I was embarrassed of my own actions at times.
I remember one time in particular, even after I'd told the world the embarrassing truth of my father's sexual and emotional abuse I'd suffered for over 10 years, no one seemed to understand why it was that I'd insist on going out to a field in the middle of no where and sit for hours, talking to the wind, crying, begging for help to my sadness and anger. I'd been going to church and prayed every Sunday at the altar for answers and healing, also for the understanding of my mother and family. One Sunday I left the congregation in the middle of services and went to the nursery. There were no children in there and it was peaceful. I got down on my knees and prayed and cried so desperately, as I'd felt until that point that I was about to explode from within.
My sister had just made fun of me in Sunday school class and embarrassed me in front of my classmates and teacher, and I didn't know how to respond to her except to be angry and frustrated. I wanted to burst during the service and I knew I couldn't do that. So, as I prayed alone, I saw a great wall appear before me, it was made up of hundreds of bricks and mortar. I watched as it began to crumble little by little, and I could see the rays of Heaven peering through, feeling them touch and engulf me in Love. I thanked the Lord for His touch and blessing and hoped that that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, it was not to be. We teens were to gather out at a friends house out in the country and have a lunch cookout and fellowship. I'd known these people all my life. We went to "Kathy's" new home which was just down the country road from her parents', home, since she'd just been newly married. We were in need of some condiments that she didn't have available, so her brother "Tim", and I volunteered to go to his house and pick them up. We were just fine, laughing, as he made himself a banana shake to tide him over until dinner, and we decided we better get back to the party. I walked out ahead of him, carrying a bag of items toward "Kathy's" house, and as I drew closer, I noticed that the cars were gone! I don't know what on earth came over me, but I "LOST IT" then and began screaming like a child.....
"Tim" found me on my knees in the middle of the road, screaming "Why did they leave me?" over and over, crying incessantly, and uncontrollably. He said he slapped my face to bring me out of my hysteria, but, he couldn't stop me...he put me into his van and drove me back to his house, put me to bed, and I came around with him at my side and a cold wet cloth over my forehead. I begged him not to tell anyone as he told me the condition he'd found me in. He told me it was too late, out of desperation and fear he'd already called our pastor. I was so scared that my mom would be angry with me if she found out.
He had arranged to take me to our pastor's home and had not phoned my parents. I was relieved. We went to see the pastor and he asked me a lot of questions, but I could not admit to what my father had done to me. He was back with my mother and our family, living in our house again, forgiven by my mother, and attending the church as a good, upstanding Christian man. He told me he had called my mother and she wanted me home NOW! I begged him to not take me home. He couldn't understand at all why, and insisted that I allow him to take me home or he would have them come to pick me up. I agreed to let him take me, hoping it would soften the blow I knew I was in for.
He escorted me into my house and asked my mom and dad to please try to find out what had caused this and to be kind, as I'd seemed to have suffered some sort of trauma, but was unable to divulge any information to him, "probably out of embarrassment", and he was sure my mother could get me to confide in her. Well, perhaps I may have, however, the moment he drove away, my mother flew off the handle at me, yelling at me and accusing me of trying to get attention again and embarrassing her and the family....this was the end! I could no longer hold in my volcano of anger and frustration over what my father had done and her insensitivity to it, so I blew up at her, telling her to shut her "G-D mouth!" and I threw a toaster at her! Thankfully, it didn't hit her, but my point was well made. She was completely speechless for a while. She gathered back her usual strength and went at me again, threatening to have me put away, and Dad was going after her, telling her to leave me alone, I obviously had problems and needed to be left alone. Yeah, he knew!!
I was extremely withdrawn at that point and only went to school and work. Dated once in a while but, couldn't keep a boyfriend, because everytime they tried to give me a gift, I'd run crying and hiding. This was due to the fact that my father had always tried to buy my acceptance of his sexual offers with gifts and money in the later years of his abusive ways. I was becoming well aware that what he was doing was wrong, so I wasn't so easily taken toward the end.
The problem I'm addressing here, really is that I felt completely alone. I could trust no one to tell them how I felt. That's why it took all these years of anger, confusion and so many personal conflicting events in my life and finally physical illness to bring me to the help I so desperately needed. If I'd had just one person I could have confided in with complete confidence, maybe I wouldn't have suffered as severely and put myself into repeatedly poisonous situations. I might have resolved many of my problems years ago.
It was some years later, after my mother had gone through a bit of counseling, herself, that we were able to sit and talk about that day. Amazing, she didn't remember the toaster, but I sure did, as it was the beginning of my striking out for independence from her scowling and scorn, discounting me as a person with the right to be angry or upset. I wasn't even allowed to have headaches, as I was supposedly too young.....she just didn't understand then. But, as we were recounting that day's events, she finally had a flash of what may have triggered that episode.
She said that as a very small child, she was going through some horrible times in her marriage to my father, and my grandfather had taken possession of me and my sister, until she could get herself and her life straightened out. She said he lived in the country then, in Arkansas, and as she had driven away, she could see me standing in the drive, crying and waving. She felt that it was only a random flashback, that somehow had seeped to my consciousness, as I had no recollection of it at all... She honestly didn't realize that what I'd been suffering all those past years with my dad and her had been what triggered that flashback. That's why I was so confused, as well. What we suffer in our childhood, the traumas we survive, do scar us and remain with us in our subconscious until something triggers a recall of that particular time. It's not unusual or anything to be ashamed of.
Well, you have someone to talk to now. I'm here. I'm a friend and I understand. I've been there, done that, and I know how it feels. I also know how it feels to get rid of all that poison that's built up inside and begin healing and feeling so much lighter and happier, more confident in ME as a person, and God as my healer. I'm sure you've experienced similar situations, yourself, or know someone who has acted out similarly and haven't understood. Now you know and you can find help. Talk to me, I'll do what I can to help you to.... "LET GO!!"