the Truth

Little girl, so innocent and naive...

Her body hijacked for years,

Murdered by a man before she ever fully existed...

Silent for years, her voice cast away as a distant memory...

...with each encounter her worth became void, her value morphed into an ever-rising price.

a young girl...10-11-12-13-14-15... ...she spent years fighting her way free from a man who was supposed to be frail, highly esteemed, honored, and trustworthy...

Everybody loved him...family, work, church, community...

No body knew his secret acts, his overpowering control, his evil eyes when she told him no...

No one else heard the threats of harm, or felt the fears the darkness brought every night...

She learned to hide the encounters, cover the evidence, and how to be silent...

While he hunted for his opportunities, she crumbled inside...

Attempts to be undesirable failed...hair cuts, masculine, weight gain... no matter what, she remained his grade A choice steak...taken raw with no sides or sauce every chance he had.

She hid herself away in the darkness... Grasping for protection and safety, but even full bottles of pain killers wouldn’t remove her from the prison he held her in...no matter all the times she tried...

in the end, light reveals the darkness...

Truth shined bright even though every adult tried to dim it, mute it, and even deny it...

...vindicated when trial was suggested and encouraged, “We would win. You’d get a decent sum...”

...she couldn’t live off of “whore money”...always feeling like she was fucked with each transaction...no charges were filed at her choice, her insistence....

...family, hungry for details they never got created lies to destroy her: ...she dressed for it...she threw herself at him...she wanted his money...even he defended his actions “anything we did, she wanted and liked every minute”....this was his final statement to the police...

...there’s no deeper rejection than from blood and no greater pain to feel when the very people meant to protect you, discard you away as though you were dead instead.

Volcanic anger destroyed her trust, her heart, her life, and any person she intersected with for years. Until one day, she woke up and decided there had to be something more...

Done hiding for protection, only to destroy herself more....

...he had taken enough from her....stolen her life, made her an orphan, destroyed her mind, robbed her power, and muted her voice...

Like a Phoenix rising from the ashes of the life before...

She rose again...fighting back like she would every time he’d try to get on top of her...

...she started uncovering the lies she believed with every action...

Her body didn’t betray her.

She didn’t ask for it.

There wasn’t a cosmic flaw within her to cause him to switch from a loving family member into a monster.

She didn’t deserve to be blamed.

She should have been believed and protected, but instead was tossed aside while he was elevated.

The truth cost her family...but healing reimbursed her with a tribe that always has her back.
The pain, hurt, and rejection fed...HOPE...HEALING...RESILIENCY. The volcano of anger went dormant...and in its place being calm and level has won out.
After decades of words shredding her value and worth...she made a vow...her words would never destroy...her words would never shred...her words would never bruise...

Setting out to break the cycle she was born into, separated from the two used to create her very existence....

....she rose high above the hell she was living in....morphing...transforming into who she was meant to be all along...She took back her power that was buried with him in his grave...

And now she stands...fully alive.

Little girl never more...

She is an empowered woman with a strength that is relentless.



Emma Leigh

4/2021

my experience of child abuse and overcoming it in adulthood.

shared in honor of child abuse awareness month

7 Years

Thanksgiving 2020 marks seven years binge-free. I remember when I started treatment for binge eating disorder, trying to imagine my life without a binge. One of my first questions my therapist and dietician asked me was, "What causes your binges?" I would get so annoyed with this question because binging was so automatic. Most of the time I wouldn't realize I had I had one until I had trash all around me. My eating disorder started at the age of 10 and I was 32 when I started treatment, so we're talkin 22 years straight of binge eating disorder. It was as automatic as taking a breath. I recall driving home after my group session one night and thinking what it would be like to not have to deal with my eating disorder. I remember thinking if I could get to seven years, there would be a shift in my mind. Now, here we are!

I used to eat to numb, but also stopped caring about what I ate intentionally to not look attractive, feminine, or fit the cultural standards of beauty. I thought if I gained weight, my sexual abuse that started at the same time as my eating disorder would stop. Instead, it went on for five years and numbing with food proved to be my secret weapon of survival. When I would binge, my anxiety would stop. If I had intense emotions that were too hard to process, I could eat to oblivian and have a food coma. If I had emotions of any kind, food was attached to them. There was not a single moment in my day where I wasn't obsessing about my next binge, food anxieties, and food scarcity. My thoughts were consumed with food and that created a lot of distraction and became hard to focus.

Treatment taught me how to feel and process emotions. It also gave me the ability to cope with life without having to numb. One of the realities of treatment I didn't like was being told my eating disorder would never be healed, a relapse was for certain, and I would never be able to try to lose weight so I had to accept my body and love it. Whenever I would push back at this, I was met with declarations of a relapse so intense it could land be back in treatment, but this time as an inpatient program. I finished treatment determined to prove them wrong and not be a statistic. Here I am seven years later with no relapses and about 90 pounds lighter!

I feel like seven years is huge. Seven means completion and perfection in biblical terms. While I feel this year truly is a shift for my mind, I am not ignorant to the fact I still have quirky food related struggles I have to constantly be aware of. I can eat faster than anyone, so I have to be conscious at every meal to slow down, keep pace with those around me, and savor my food. I have a tendancy to want to eat food when I feel something, so I always ask myself before I get something to eat what my hunger signals are. If I can't feel even one hunger signal, I wait to eat. When I experience a big emotion, like anger, sadness, anxiety, or fear, I never allow myself to eat until I have fully processed that moment. This year with the pandemic, I learned growing up with a low-income and large family influenced a lot of food fears I didn't realize I had. I was at the grocery store shopping for my friends while I was their live-in nanny and the aisles were so empty, I literally started shaking and felt so confused. It wasn't until later that night in my journal did I realize I was triggered and afraid to not be able to eat a full meal. My thought was, "I need to binge while I can!" It was hard to fight that urge, but I knew it wouldn't serve me in the long run. I still have moments like this during the pandemic, where I slightly panic about food scarcity, but I no longer think binging would be the great solution.

I am so thankful to have gotten so far in my recovery. Every day is a choice to maintain my recovery, feel emotions as they come, and live a balanced life. A few months ago, a friend told me, "You are SO strong." It was the first time someone said that to me in reference to what I have overcome and that my being strong and resilient is attractive, drawing you in more as a friend. It was like an anchor moment for me, showing me the truth of who I am versus being flawed, damaged, and undesirable for any form of connection--from friendship to a committed relationship. I really am so strong and I can be so proud of that this year! I made it this far and I know there is no limit to what is possible!

Resisting the Hard Season

Every fall, it's like clock work. At the start of October, I feel a shift within me. I realized the trend in therapy once after telling my therapist, Salley, that I feel like October comes with a dark shadow that effects me in a deeply physical way and it doesn't leave until February. This was the session I learned about body memories and how trauma survivors have physical memories within their body that can effect them for life. It was so eye-opening and affirming to know this was not me just being depressed, but actually my body releasing and processing some deep pain. It's been about 5 years since I learned about body memories and this is the first year that feels markably different.

Nothing magical really happened, except I started honoring my body. There are things I started incorporating regularly . . . exercising more than just walking at work, incorporating self-care routines to my days/weeks like face washes, bath nights, and hydration--it's amazing how physically cleansing drinking enough water can be for the mind and the body. Music has been incredibly helpful. I love to find songs that validate the struggle, but also are empowering and cross all genres. I find journaling to help a lot to get my thoughts out and to process them. I also take the time to honor how my body feels. For example, if I am tense I will do stretches and try to discover the reason for the tension. If I am struggling emotionally, I will honor my emotions and cope with them appropriately, and sit in the emotions instead of run from them, shove them away, or numb them like I used to. All this can sound very obvious to the average person, but when it comes to a trauma survivor the remainder of your life is spent learning how to process all the emotions, memories, and pain while functioning in a successful way. It's hard and, some days, I fail at it.

Last week, I realized that this has been 24 years since the first hard fall started. I wrote about it in a couple posts, "The Hard Season" and "The Cure for the Hard Season". This post is very much a part 3 on the subject. It surprises me to think of being 15 and face so much rejection in the span of 3 months that it still physically effects you 24 years later. When I think of the effects that remain from the trauma, it's very easy for me to choose anger. In fact, for a solid 10 years I was an angry, raging victim. I was on a fast track towards bitterness and had no single drop of kindness within me---even to strangers. It is a time of my life I'm not proud of and I have worked so hard to no longer continue to be that person. Therapy works, folks! A huge part of the reason anger came in hard and fast was the simple fact that I received so much rejection where I should have had protection and someone coming to my defense. Instead, I was met with disbelief, blame, rejection, abandonment, and disownment. I was 15 and this one season shaped me and who I would become far more than all the years before it had. Knowing this now, as I work in an at-risk high school full of kids the same age I was, who have stories similar or worse to mine, makes me burn with anger. It's not fair for any survivor to be blamed and abadoned for what they went through. And here I am, looking back to my 15 year old self and I can't believe I made it through this season.

March of 1996, my abuse I endured for five years was getting intense and much more horrific. I had reached the conclusion that it wasn't going to stop, ease up, and was going to get worse. I remember promising myself that if it got worse, I would be better off dead and I would end my life before I would let certain things happen. I didn't know how else to protect myself and I didn't have anyone to tell because I knew I wouldn't be believed . . . I would be called a liar and blamed, which is exactly what happened 6 months later. Everything came to a head in September when a friend I told my secret to in a letter got mad at me. To get me back, she showed my letter to her mom who happened to work for the county and was a mandated reporter. By October, it was all out in the open throughout the family and, since my abuser was a highly esteemed and loved family member, I was the one booted. It was easier to believe he never did anything to me and call me a liar than to accept this could have happened. I understand now why my family members struggled to believe and found rejecting me to be the easiest solution, but at the time my world crashed down around me in ways I never imagined. Deep down, I always knew I would be blamed, or thought a liar, but I never knew that would mean having my entire paternal side and some immediate family members blatantly reject me permantently. I was literally told, "You're dead to us now." Here I am 24 years later, still wounded by it and still no change from family. If I'm honest, I wouldn't accept their change of heart now anyways. I already worked through forgiving them, releasing them, but how do you heal a crushed heart? It still deeply effects me and I don't think it will ever completely heal. The pain is less every year, but the heart still aches for what was lost.

I attempted suicide in March 1996. I attempted three times in one week because I was so determined that death was better. Then, I went to a youth group lock-in and met Jesus. It sounds so simple, but to know someone loved me no matter what mattered. I was a good, Catholic girl who thought of being a nun at some point, ok? Believing in God was easy. Understanding Jesus died to save me and redeem me was never taught at my Catholic churches really. Most of the homilies were about politics, current events, and basic information. I don't recall ever hearing an actual sermon like I do in church now. I also don't recall ever being told Jesus died for me, but I was always told He died for the world and somehow I was included, yet not in a personal sense. If it weren't for this encounter with God, I know I would not have made it through the first hard season. This was when I discovered prayer being straight from the heart, I didn't have to pray something someone else once did, or something I memorized. I did some of my best praying in the shower, naked and ugly crying through the heartache. I remember feeling like it was just me and God most days, which it truly was. The rest of my high school life, I had no family in my corner and everyone in my small town knew it; so many stepped up to fill in roles that I never knew I needed.

This year, as I think about all this now . . . I realize that not much has ever changed. I am no contact with my parents for over 2 years now and it's been the best decision I ever made. I have a tribe here in Waco that has been there for me in ways I never knew I needed. In fact, just dealing with a recent surgery, I had so many people step up to surround and help me. I accepted the offer of a meal train for people to bring me meals, which for someone with an eating disorder background can be incredibly hard. This is the first time I ever said yes to such an offer. It was such a blessing and so incredibly healing for me in so many ways. It also helped me realize how much love and support I have here now between my friends, my church family, and BSF. I had friends texting me non-stop and putting up with my freak-out moments the one day I nearly lost it waiting for pathology results to come back. Other friends facetimed me and visited. I'm so thankful because this year it's so different with the hard season.

I know the hard season is here, I feel it still within me. Instead, I am able to resist the effects of it. I still honor my body and emotions, taking time to process them when I have to. I just know I don't have to give it 6 months of my year anymore. I don't have to feel it all so deeply that I am unable to thrive. I don't have to physically lay in bed because of the tension in my body. I don't have to sleep in because of the flashback nightmares that woke me up all night. And I don't have to eat away how I feel so that I am numb and able to function in the world. Instead, I feel the tension rising in my body and I do the stretches and trigger point rubs. I burst into tears this morning because I felt so much overwhelming stuff in the last couple of days and I didn't know what to do except cry. Once I realized I was angry and scared, I dealt with them head on also. This is one example of how I take the time to process my emotions, allowing them to take up a moment of my day and not half of my year. I don't need to borrow trouble from tomorrow today. Remembering this has helped the fears tremendously! I also don't need to choose anger anymore. So much of what happened to me in the past was unjust, wrong, and horrible but it doesn't help to stay focused on how unfair life is. Instead, I have chosen to forgive, release, and surrender...forgive those who need it, release them to God to deal with justly, and surrender my control and desire to make them suffer as deeply, or more than I did. A byproduct of choosing this path is I can now choose joy in place of the anger I once carried. It's not easy either! Some days I have to remind myself multiple times that anger is not where I want to be. Sometimes I have moments where it comes up and I have to rein it back in. Anger is not bad, but how you act within it, or how you deal with it is where bad actions can come. There's a fine line that can be very hard to navigate day to day, but I strive to find it and follow it.

Today I went on my nightly walk and remembered packing up to move to Waco. The only people supportive of this decision were my sister in Texas and my church friends. Everyone else told me a million reasons why this was the dumbest decision of my life, or would end up being a start of a horrible life. I know now they were panicked because they no longer could control me, or keep abusing me once I moved to Texas. It still took me 3 years to set boundaries that would stop this trend continuing. I was only able to do it because I was shown by God the love that surrounded me here in Texas. He also gave me my second momma, Lisa, whom I adore and love with my whole heart and has been such an amazing mother to me. Starting my Abraham Journey was the scariest thing I have ever done, but it was the best thing. I'm so thankful for the past 5.5 years here in Texas because they have brought out the most beautiful moments. As this year is #brave2020, I continue to move forward and choose brave. This year I refuse to let the hard season win. I will choose to be brave and still thrive during as time of year that brings about a lot of pain and heartache. I will choose to be kind and joyful, instead of partnering with anger for a season. And I will choose to live my best life because I know now living is worth every second you're given. I will continue to resist the hard season because I deserve more. . . more freedom and more thriving, living my best life.

#brave2020 . . . . . the last 100 days

Tomorrow starts the last 100 days of 2020, my year of 'brave'. I get to mark the milestone with a surgery for a lump I have had since I was a little girl. Only recently did it start rapidly growing and causing my thigh to ache. Normally, it would be just a simple procedure, but the imaging done on it shows it might be much more serious. After tomorrow, I wait two weeks for pathology to come back. It's funny to me how all my brave moments this year have combined my deepest fears with something I don't do well. In this case, my deepest fear is dying single, never meeting my person, and I also don't wait well. As a single woman, waiting has been a struggle historically. After some horrible relationships that included ending two engagements, I'm finally thriving in my single life and mostly content, but also hopeful for what is and could be blooming. Still, whenever I have a significant health concern, I'm reminded just how single I am. It also makes the thought of the next two weeks waiting a bit overwhelming. I'm thankful for my faith and the ability to trust God in moments like this, especially when so much is uncertain. Most of our lives are uncertain, so I'm thankful for the opportunity to focus on what truly matters in the next few weeks. It's a perfect launch to the last 100 days of 2020. When I think back to the beginning of the year, January was intense and a blur. After a critical, severe reaction to a medication that could have killed me, it took all of January and most of February to learn I was fully recovered with no other complications. Now here I am, 7 months later, at a point where my health is uncertain--never mind the in between months with a pandemic and all that goes with exposure, quarantining, and physical distancing! I join many folks who feel like 2020 has been incredibly challenging, unpredictable, and just plan hard AF. I'm excited for 2021, but I also feel that since this year isn't done, I can't count my chickens before they hatch. I still have 100 days to reach the goals I made in January. I still have 100 amazing days to face with highs and lows, laughter and tears, memory making moments, and life lessons. So. Here I am, in my coffee cup pajama shirt, sipping hot peppermint tea, and processing my thoughts and emotions with words. Today I only had two goals: get to the gym and write a blog entry. It's crazy! Years ago, I would be deep in a binge, self-isolating with so much anxiety. There's a lot of breakthrough and growth that has happened this year through my brave moments, even though they have been challenging. I finally have shed the deep lie of loneliness that has followed me since my last serious relationship ended. I have been able to maintain a weight loss of 85+, presently so close to 90 pounds lost--even during a pandemic! I have a network of close friends who have become so dear to my heart--including a super, chill roommate who is willing to get up early and take me to my surgery appointment (Anna, you're the best!). I have been able to overcome several areas of my insecurity, many of which had some deep roots. I have a lot of hope for the rest of the year, and beyond--where once I didn't think my life was worth living. The next 100 days are exciting to me. I don't want to miss what else is in store for 2020, even if it is hard. A beautiful diamond doesn't exist without intense pressure or tempture so I'm hopeful for how this year will continue to shape me, with God's help of course. Tomorrow I crack open my next devotional, "100 Days to Brave," and will finish this year stronger than I started it. Not sure I'll be a flawless diamond, but I'll settle for a unique diamond that's one of a kind.

#brave2020 Mid-Year

Every year, God gives me a word to guide me. I start the process after advent begins and the new year starts. This year, I really thought it would be something much more like "discipline," but He led me to brave. I had meant to write about it so much sooner, but I never came here to do so. And around the time I did, there was more and more unraveling in daily life that I was being challenged in. It's been six months with this word guiding me, and I had to record what God's been doing.

Last year my word was transform. Brave really has fit well to be a word following transformation. The goals I have made in January have been in a multitude of areas from standing in my true self, to goals for my future, and to continue to grow and transform. My worship song has been "You Make Me Brave" by Bethel Music. It's funny because worship has been a huge part of my year, continually being one way I feel connected, renewed, and stepping forward. My verse for the year has been Ephesians 6:10, "Be strong in the Lord and in His Mighty Power." These have all been guideposts along the journey this year, which has been so crazy.

In January, there was an end of a serving opportunity. I was surprised, but allowed God to work through this. I was shown that my yes in August was a reminder of my gifting and not to be complacent in using my gifts. I also stepped up instead of being asked to serve, which is totally opposite my personality. When this ended in January, I was confused at first and kept asking God why. And true to the way God speaks to me, He just smiled and reminded me that He has a perfect plan beyond I can imagine. There were also work struggles that happened in December that highlighted health struggles. I went to the doctor and was put on a medication that, a week later, landed me in the emergency room with a severe, potentially critical & fatal, allergic reaction. It was surprising because it was a medication I had taken previously decades ago and was a small dose. Every doctor I saw for the month of January from ER, primary, cardiologist, pharmacist and ob/gyn had the same response. It was shock, met with affirmation that if I hadn't gone to the ER and stopped the med immediately, I likely would have died, and I'm the healthiest I have ever been in my life now. I dealt with a season of anxiety that had me really calling out to God and battling for Truth to reign over my mind. It was part spiritual warfare and part biological response to the medications I was on, including the med I reacted to. During this time, I would step into brave with worship and praying in the Spirit because I didn't know what to say. God led me to start declaring, "At my lowest: God is my HOPE. At my darkest: God is my LIGHT. At my weakest: God is my STRENGTH. At my saddest: God is my COMFORTER. I also started taking the time to cultivate rest and what that looks like. For me, this connected to working on creating weekly. Creating regularly helps me to self-care and feel a renewal of energy. I've been thankful for this reminder that has been helping my year.

In February, God showed me the deepest form of His love by sending me snow. My roommate and I ran outside in our pajamas and acted like kids for a solid 30 minutes! I made the smallest snowman of my life, but it was a snowman and it brought me so much joy! I made plans to visit friends from my hometown this summer. This trip to Fairmont, MN will be the first trip there since I moved in 2015! There's a lot of travel precautions and things, but I'm excited to see people I love and have been able to stay connected to since I moved. This was also the month that God led me to join Canadians in celebrating Family Day. God has brought me to my tribe, which is my family. It runs beyond blood and deep into souls I sojourn with because we choose to love one another and be connected deeper than blood. It also includes my sisters, which has been a gift as well. God also highlighted the need to love myself and be myself. This is one of my goals this year, so it was not surprising 2 months into #brave2020 that I was faced with embracing myself more and learning my identity in Christ. I also have been facing my inner mean girl, self-accusatory statements that align with Satan, and working on renewing my mind. This has been a challenge, but it's one I have been thankful for.

In March, just before the world pandemic, God reminded me to pay attention to the fruit of the Spirit and what I'm sowing in the Spirit, especially in the field of my mind & the field of my behavior. God also led me to cultivate gratitude daily, which I have been doing since Texas went into quarantine mode March 16. During the pandemic process, I am intentionally sharing these daily five gifts as Instagram stories. It has helped me not to forget that gratitude transcends the hard feelings and anchors us in the solid ground. I also got an undercut hairstyle, which is something I have always wanted to do well before it was okay for a woman to do without being thought of as less feminine, or rebellious. I have always had a more fluid approach in how I dressed when it came to my femininity. As a kid, I had a solid decade of being more tomboy with my style than feminine. In college, I slowly embraced the feminine side with the help of a shopping spree with my lawyer sister. She told me, “I want to treat you for your birthday to new clothes. My one requirement is someone other than you has to approve the outfit. Myself, the salesperson....whomever.” So I said yes, to my birthday present. The favorite outfit of mine was a floral and paisley top with ruffles and a plunge neckline that I paired with a khaki skirt with shorts sewn underneath it. Neither would have ever been my pick because of three things I avoided before this shopping trip: 1) I got boobs. And honestly, even a t-shirt can’t conceal them. However, until this day I thought I had to try to emasculate my physique for the sake of modesty and not over-exaggerating their already enormous appearance. 2) I have thick thighs and hate shaving my legs. It’s not because of poor hygiene. I am plus-size, my belly is in the way, and my thighs are all of 23 inches so it turns into an aerobic and stretch exercise combined with core strengthening so as to avoid a broken hip or cracked skull while having fallen in the shower. Could you imagine the sight of me naked on my flooded bathroom floor unable to move and telling the paramedics to help me finish shaving the other thigh?! God forbid you are unevenly shaved, even in an emergency! But I wore that outfit as much as possible and shaved my legs more than I ever did prior because I felt beautiful in that ensemble. I have never felt as beautiful in an outfit prior to this except for my flower girl dress I wore at age 5 for my brother Brian’s first wedding and my Junior Prom dress. I wasn’t against wearing dresses when the occasion demanded it, but I had been against flaunting my body just because it was easily seen to be feminine at a quick glance. Being part Mexican, I had boobs sooner than I knew what puberty was, thick thighs at birth, and curves everywhere else—plus-size or not. I hated my body from the beginning of puberty and started slowly hiding the feminine physique. A few months later, it all spiraled down further when becoming a child who was sexually abused. Once that started, I mistakenly blamed my body as enticing and causing this devilman to torture me for five years. By the time the five years ended, I had a full eating disorder that caused my weight to balloon. My highest weight was 395 pounds and even then, I was afraid my body would bring unsolicited, harmful men into my life. The desire to first get an undercut came when my first engagement ended. Josh was gay and used our relationship as a cover so that all his family and friends wouldn’t judge him. And all I heard was my body wasn’t enough for him to find me attractive. I started dreaming of shaving my hair, dyeing it purple, and buying a men’s tux at a men’s store simply because I have always wanted to. I love wearing pants and it would be really cool to be dressed for a special occasion and not have to shave my legs! I also had long, thick untamed curly hair I never knew what to do with until 2019. All this hair is HOT no matter the weather!!! This was early 2000s when all the Christian circles were very much endorsing the belief being a girl or woman meant you had to be as feminine as possible. Well, the tomboy in me since a young child has always found this very annoying and silly. I am me. I am a woman. Who cares what I wear day to day? Besides, what could be more modest than pants forever?! I mean, anyone in a high school choir or band could tell you how stressful a dress or skirt is. You have to stand or sit a certain way to maintain your modesty when on a stage. But if we all just wore pants, the performance would be so much better for the audience as well. They would be hearing music and not seeing people. The band, or the choir would be one just like our sounds. Well, I decided for #brave2020 to do something I always wanted to and get an undercut. It just turns out I have a friend who is a hairstylist and barber! I booked my first appointment at a men’s barbershop and got the undercut of my Pinterest dreams! I have since gone back for another 3 months later. This is the first hairstyle I have been able to afford keeping. Everything else was once a year! For Christmas, I am considering buying myself a nice pantsuit because, why the hell not?! I would rock it with my undercut I think!

In April, my two week nanny adventure morphed into 49 days and the entire month of April. Due to the pandemic my friends asked me to help them with childcare. It was a no-brainer and I moved in the first weekend of the quarantine order in Waco. I didn’t move out until the first week of May. All of April I was loving kids who were not mine and surrounded by the most loving family I have ever met. My friends were not perfect, I was not perfect, and the kids didn’t behave perfectly either but it truly was perfect. It was as perfect as my four years of life in Arkansas were growing up. In those four years, while dysfunction junction continued I had friends, soared in school, and was the happiest I remember ever being. God used this little family to show me I had closed my heart off to love in all forms—friends, community, romantically. I was only capable of existing. They have become some of my dearest friends I never knew I needed and for that I’m grateful!

In May, I returned to my apartment and focused on my goals for 2020. I read more books, found a workout I loved, and realized that my Abraham Journey also includes my healing journey. This is something I have kept separate from this blog because I didn’t know it was okay to share all of me one this report of running away with Jesus to Waco. Honestly, while still ironing out my next leg of this journey, I realized God brought me here to heal and to grow. Isn’t that life? Always growing, always healing, and always becoming the best version of ourselves? You can expect more entries going forward, many of which will include my healing journey experiences as much as my spiritual.

And now we are in June. June has been hard. I have had to set boundaries in relationships which feels more clunky than smooth. I have friends disappear, even ghosting me entirely. I tried Bumble only to be reminded by God after the worst date of all worst dates that I don’t do online dating for a reason. Then, I found the cancel button. I found the cancel button to folks who don’t accept me for who I am, the cancel button for those who judge me for being a Christian, and the cancel button for those who refuse to allow differences of opinion without hatred, judgmental actions and words. My friends list on Facebook is well under 300 again and my Instagram is full of happy people who don’t ignore the imploding USA headlines, but who don’t post attacking, projecting rants to others disguised as facts either. I have started the summer book reading challenge at the local library, which is something I never desired to do as a kid! I’m so excited to be able to read and get prizes for it! I am also getting ready to go on my first adult vacation. My vacation will be in Minnesota! One week in my hometown, one week in Bemidji, and one week in the Twin Cities—the trifecta of my life’s existence. I’m excited and thankful for the chance to visit my friends and not have any guilt for being an adult on vacation. There’s some specific #brave2020 things I will be doing while I’m there. They will have their own blog posts, so I will withhold them for now.

These first six months have been challenging. Yet I know for a fact I am nothing like the person I was on 12/31/2019. Before #brave2020, I was a whole other person. I am thankful for this year. I am thankful for the person I am becoming and I can’t wait to see who I am on December 31, 2020.

The Cure for the Hard Season: Forgiveness

My church completed a series called 40 Days of Breakthrough a few weeks ago. Honestly, I loved the fact that my church took time out of the year for us to make space for God to MOVE. Now there’s nothing magical about the process. They did encourage us to do the 5 Ps: Prayer, Promise, People, Personal Change, and Praise. Prayer meant praying unto the area you were seeking breakthrough in, but I also prayed before hand for guidance on what area. God was very clear that I needed to address the fear of rejection and abandonment. The Promise meant finding a promise from the Word to carry you through the 40 Days. My promise was Psalm 27:10, “Although my father and mother have abandoned me, yet the Lord will take me up [adopt me as His child].” This is a verse from my life chapter and it really helped me when I felt a heightened sense of my fears during the 40 days. The people I relied on during the 40 days were the ladies in my discipleship group from my lifegroup, my mentor, and a couple of close friends. I made a point to update and share and also listen to their areas of breakthrough and prayed for them as well. This is important I think because you can get hung up on yourself and your focus can be too much on what you are dealing with, but lose sight of the body of Christ working together in this towards a breakthrough. I’m thankful my prayers helped my friends to receive breakthrough. The personal change I did was fasted from sweets for 14 days. I also daily worshiped and did some sort of quiet time with Jesus every day. For the worship, I went to encounter which is a worship night my church offers that is unscripted and totally guided by the Holy Spirit, spontaneous worship is pretty much a challenge for me if I’m honest. But I love the environment and atmosphere because I can easily connect with God and so I usually spend time completing a listening journal, which is writing down the dialogue back and forth from me and God when I pray. During the breakthrough, this time of encounter night was the revelation I needed! More on that later! Lastly, praise which is self-explanatory. But I will say, I praise God for the opportunity of a breakthrough, the promise of a breakthrough, and for who He was even if a breakthrough didn’t come during these 40 days. I knew I could still follow Him even if what I asked for never came.

I shared earlier in the last post about my hard season Sept-Feb every year. Well, this was the revelation God showed me at encounter: My hard season was directly linked to my fear of rejection and abandonment. Later during my Quiet time one day, God gave me a vision of me in a soybean field, cutting down weeds. But there was one huge and choking out the bean plants around it, so I realized I had to dig it out. I asked the Lord and He said, “There’s a bigger root issue you need to uproot and the breakthrough will come.” I couldn’t figure it out until I met with my mentor. When I explained it all, she was all, “I know what it is, but you’re not gonna like it.” I wanted to know as much as I didn’t want to know! But what she said was indeed the key to unlocking the breakthrough AND was the giant weed God told me to uproot so the breakthrough would come. Forgiveness.

I had forgiven a lot of my past and situations with folks. I had to in order to move forward in life. And in order to heal the pain of my traumatic past, forgiveness was necessary. My mentor told me to go back to the situation that caused my hard season, the time I was fully rejected by my family as a kid and disowned. And forgive every person involved. I spent time praying and asking God how, and I felt led to break it down on an individual basis using a guide my church made called “Tending your heart.” It’s a process of taking the situation, asking God what lies you believed, forgiving the person, asking forgiveness for the lies you believed, and asking God for a promise in exchange. Well, there were 13 people involved and they all had a connection to rejection & abandonment feelings. And as I forgave, 11 different lies were uncovered that I had believed since I was a kid!! Were are talking lies I believed for 28 years!

The time has come for me to, once again, embrace forgiveness. Many survivors deny the need for forgiveness, mostly because it's heavily misunderstood. It's often misunderstood because of what we misunderstand about God. According to the Bible, and my own personal encounters with God, He doesn't "forgive & forget" and He doesn't expect us to do so either. God is all-knowing as much as He is merciful and gracious. He calls us to be equally merciful and gracious while we have limited knowledge and understanding compared to Him. God forgives us "from the east is to the west," and "freely" because of Jesus. He no longer holds us to a weight of the sin, or the penalty it deserved because Jesus paid it. For us, we aren't charged to be Jesus to others, as Jesus alone can forgive deep wounds and bring a spiritual restoration. God does get to the place with us that, even though we have to reapproach Him for forgiveness, "He keeps no record of wrongs." He doesn't hold us accountable to what we did last year, or ten years ago. He holds us to today, this present moment, because before Him the past is the past. I believe He's all-knowing in that He knows my whole story, but when I face Him today He sees who I am today alone. This is what He requires of us as well. We need to be able to forgive the weight of what's deserved from the action someone else did.

When it comes to trauma, or abuse it feels like the abuser(s) get away with it. In my case, this has been the truth when you look at the laws in the USA during the time frame, as well as the old methods of the child welfare agencies who used to work more on family preservation than child protection, regardless of the welfare of the child. I felt for a long time I had every right to my anger, it was justifiable from a spiritual, moral, and humanitarian standard. However, I have learned that I can't just stay there in the place where I'm angry. Anger takes root to bitterness and bitterness creates a field of thistles and thorns for Satan to harvest. I was becoming mean, cruel, and unnecessarily harsh to others. In my twenties, I was putting up unhealthy boundaries and walls that didn't help me heal, but intensified the hurt I felt inside. When it comes to your trauma, believe me when I say it, you will NEVER forget. I have had it reappear as a factor in many places it shouldn't have to. There's times I have felt I already faced this layer of the onion and it has been chopped & sauteed in the fryer of healing, only to have it resurface in a new way. It can be so frustrating because it feels at times there's three steps backwards for every ten steps forward you take. Just because I remember it and have to work hard to heal daily doesn't mean that I'm unable to forgive, or shouldn't try to forgive. I forgive because I remember the pain and agony, along with all the hard work I went through to heal so I am the person I am today, in this moment. Just like back in my twenties, when I had to go back and forgive and release anger. God showed me I had to do this again to receive further breakthrough. If I don't forgive, my work is in vain because the hardened heart can't heal. This is where we are called to be like Christ in our forgiveness: to forget the offense in such a way that you no longer hold it against them, or seek to match it in equal pain. Just like God sees me every day, He knows my story and my life along with the failures and He chooses to see the blood of Christ over them and no longer hold them against me.

This blog post was first started in December and I have worked on it over the past week. It's funny looking back at it and see how much freedom remains 6 months later. Forgiveness was the cure and the way I received breakthrough over rejection and abandonment. The past 6 months have been HARD and that will come in further posts. However, I have been enveloped by the body of Christ. I have been placed in family, which is more than an earthly family. I have felt far from abandonment & rejection and I'm so thankful to God to be able to finish this post and have a record of what God has done! He's so faithful!

The Hard Season

There’s a time of year that is hard for me more than any other part and that is Sept-Feb. I have lots of reasons for this, but it mostly is because my life changed the most in this time period and I am still dealing with the after affects as an adult.

September was the month the “big secret” came out and exposed my abuser of 5 years. Since it was a family member, I was terrified and tried to hide it because I thought I would get into trouble. By October, I was disowned by my paternal side of the family. I was only 15 years old when one of my closest aunts told me to my face, “I don’t believe you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me and I want nothing to do with you.” And all other family closest to me said similar things. This was the beginning of being alone and rejected on every single holiday.

Thanksgiving was holiday my family celebrated by gathering together for a large meal. Aunts, uncles, cousins, my grandparents all in the paternal side, and my immediate family that still lived at home would gather together on this day. To suddenly have no where to go was a shock to my system and, as a kid, I filled in the blanks on the pieces missing. When I couldn’t understand why I was rejected by my extended family, I just heard the words they said and internalized them as an identity. From that moment I became a lot of things and hated was the best word that fit. What was even harder was when my own parents decided I wasn’t worth being with on the holiday either. Instead, they left me alone with a Banquet Turkey TV dinner. What I believed at this point was that I was not worth love and support, only rejection and abandonment. I remember vowing that if I ever had a child of my own, they would never know what this felt like, no matter what they did.

I grew up Catholic and in a very strict Diocese. At one point, I thought I would become a Nun, but that’s a different blog. My point is this upbringing started me seeking out my walk with God. My family went to mass on Christmas Eve at Midnight. We had a lot of traditions for Christmas and they all surrounded being together, presents, lots of food, and presents. The Santa present was the one thing you really wanted and was held back for Christmas Day. Sometimes we would also celebrate with the extended family as well. This was what we did when I was in high school. In December the exact same year of the September, October, and Thanksgiving I spoke up, it all changed. We no longer did presents as an immediate family on the holiday. Instead it was done sometime that week. We stopped going to Mass, so if I wanted to go I had to walk alone and go by myself. My parents, again, went to our extended family Christmas that I was not allowed to attend. Instead, my parents bought ham & cheese Oscar Meyer slices for me to make sandwiches with. With all these changes in December, I felt like my world had ended as I knew it just for telling the truth and of the nightmare I lived for 5 years. I decided to close off people and be a hermit. I decided that was better because if I couldn’t trust my own family to love and accept me, how could I trust anyone else. And while I loved to sing and cherished Christmas hymns and carols, they morphed into melodies of torture to my heart. Instead of remembering fondly a Christmas Eve mass at candlelight, I was fighting back tears unsuccessfully sitting alone as a 9th grader.

January and February were lost to trying to process what all happened the few months before. They were needed to be able to awaken to the Spring and the hope of a fresh perspective. They were used to help me redefine my life as an orphan, which is how I truly felt I had become especially since my maternal side of my family was miles and states away in California and we never did anything for any holiday with them. I found myself year after year hating the holidays and refusing to even decorate a Christmas tree.

Eventually, I have created my own traditions. I do 30 Days of Thankfulness in November to focus on what I do have and to be thankful in ALL things. I celebrate Advent in order to prepare my heart for Christmas and the coming Messiah. I usually will read a devotional, and light my Advent wreath each year. For Christmas Day celebration, I try to find something on Christmas Eve to go to that is a bit more traditional. I spend Dec 26-31 looking back on my year and preparing for the year to come. These traditions do not ever center around people, but deeply upon God and my faith journey because the holidays for me are less about the people I am with and more about the God Who has ALWAYS loved and accepted me.

Why am I writing this on a blog? Well, because I am nothing if not honest and vulnerable. The people who read this blog are people who know me personally, typically not strangers. And it seemed fitting because I am joining my church here in Waco on a series called “40 Days of Breakthrough” where we are each creating space for God to do a breakthrough in our lives.

One area of breakthrough I am contending for is the fear of rejection and abandonment. To learn the connection to this struggle dates back to 15 year old Emily means I have had this fear for 23 years! It was NOT an unjustifiable fear for me either! It was something that all ready played out with my relationships with blood family, the people who are to be the closest to you. It is no surprise then that this fear not only took root, but has been able to still be a strong fear in adulthood! The problem is it doesn’t serve me to cope with it by isolation, or lack of community like it once did. As I let go of those coping strategies that helped me make it through the worst days of my high school years, I was face to face with this fear still holding me back from what God had for me.

God promises us in 2 Timothy that He doesn’t give us a spirit of fear. He gives us LOVE, power, and self-discipline. As I realized this promise, I came face to face with a LOVE that welcomed me in and accepted me. In Isaiah 45, this same LOVE says that I am redeemed, called by my name, and God tells me sweetly, “You are MINE.” This hit me hard this week to realize the connection of my identity in Christ smashing this fear I had held onto for SO LONG. When I asked God to take this and give me something better, He sweetly, gently said, “I will gladly take this from you. And instead give you love and acceptance.” I can’t tell you the number of tears that I cried, but He collected everyone. And even though I know this wasn’t the end of the battle for this breakthrough, I made significant progress that I would not have ever made had I not allowed myself to finally “go there” and be open to changing a perspective and be open to this area of my heart to experience healing. God is faithful. Even the hard seasons have a purpose to connect you deeper to Him.