The Monster Within | Even A Girl Like Me

JCP-9884 I am amazed daily by the truth that God can and will use a girl like me…scarred and wretched. But on the mend.

I grew up a P.K. You know…Preacher’s Kid.
I was pretty darn “holy” and “good” until around age 13. With boys, hormones and the fact that I was filling out my bra, well, things changed.

I began to dream of living somewhere other than my small town. No one ever left that town! They grew up and worked for their dad. They all played the same part and I wanted to break away. I didn’t know exactly what that looked like, but it wasn’t to stay there and be a naive trophy wife! (No offense to arm candy. It just wasn’t for me)

So I set out on this quest to really “live”. You could not have prepared me for what I would encounter on this journey. I would not have believed you if you had told me the compromises I would make and lack of self-respect I would wear.

Yeah, I know you want all the gory details, but you’re going to have to settle for the abbreviated version and a decade jump forward.

After surviving a beating from the world. You know, that place where I wanted to “live” so much?! I had limited choices as to where to go next. So I finally surrendered.

I know, I know, surrender sounds like giving up. For me, it was not until I surrendered that I found true freedom.

I had grown up hearing about God. Heck, I’d been hearing about Him since the womb! The big Being in the sky, passed the clouds, waiting for us at church on Sunday? “Who is this God and why did I need to pursue a relationship with Him?!”

Little did I know, He was silently pursuing me.

At age 25, after getting knocked up, beat up, locked up (not necessarily in that order), abusing my body and mind through choices that I never thought I would make, getting divorced and growing sick of hearing myself ask, “Why am I even here?!”, I had to find a God that I could relate too.

You know, One who didn’t care if I was used and broken. One who would say, “In Me, you find rest…safety…eternal security.” I needed to be redeemed.

Did He even exist?

I am still seeking, but He shows me everyday, in tangible ways that He does in fact exist. He more than exist. He is working and moving in ways that completely blow my mind.

God willing, on October 19th, I will celebrate 9 years of sobriety. Not just from alcohol, but from many other substances and ism’s that I used to numb the pain.

When the substances, food, shopping, whatever, stopped working and the love of my life sat me down and encouraged me (through a pretty harsh reality check) to admit to myself that I was a hot mess and he was not going to join the “pity city” that I was trying to create, things began to change (slowly).

So, here I am, just turned 35, which I considered geezer age just a few years ago. And the most miraculous things have happened. The craziest of which, being that instead of waiting for a door to open, God has knocked down a wall.He is using my story of shame, in ways that I never thought possible.
I am doing workshops, radio interviews and talking to women from all backgrounds of life. I was the girl who hated other women! Now, I support them in their struggle. WHAT?! Only God.

Only a God who has been in the trenches with me… the bars and back alleys (don’t read into that) and bathroom floor at 4 a.m. and then turned me into a mother of 3, wife to a stud and a productive member of society. Only that kind of God could use a girl like me to bring others back to Him.

People want real…they want scarred…they want hope…even from a girl like me.

(This post was written on the 10th anniversary of that day in history that changed everything…)

While contemplating what my next profile pic will be for FB, this rush of self-awareness caught me a little off-guard.

“I did my part. I posted the American flag, even made it my profile picture for more than 24 hours and added some inspiring and well thought out statements about that awful day 10 years ago {now 11 years}. I cried on Sunday while watching the news channels rebroadcast that horrifying morning when minutes passed like hours. So now am I moving on? Did I remember or just acknowledge the happenings of that Tuesday morning? Did I truly honor the lives lost and impacted or did I do what I thought was “right” on a day when there were so many emotions?” I don’t know? Does it matter?

I think it does.

I’m the girl who has to constantly survey my motives in order to keep my ego in check. “Why am I doing this?” “Is it to make myself look better?” “Is it so that people will like me?” “Is it to get something that I think I am entitled too?” “Is it out of fear that I won’t go to Heaven if I don’t?” “Will this have a positive impact on anyone or am I speaking empty words followed by hollow actions?”

I would love to say that the answer to all of those questions is a resounding “NO.”
But, I would be lying.

To acknowledge something is not a bad thing…necessarily. It is recognizing that something has been or is.

Remembering, in my opinion, is reliving a moment…the way it felt and smelled and looked…it is taking time out to reflect and depending on the situation, give reverence to.

If I could give you a word picture this is what it would look like…
Acknowledge – Grey, forced, sterile.
Remember – Vivid colored streamers being waved around on those sticks (you know the ones), by people dressed in white linen with their hair flowing in the breeze, near the water, on a crystal clear day, with the sun reflecting off of the ripples.
(I didn’t give acknowledge a chance, did I? I’m just trying to give you a minuscule taste of how my mind works.)

I don’t want to just pick up where I left off on September 10th. I want to have a mental makeover. I want to carry the reverence for that day with me every day. I want the reminder that when this event occurred, I walked away thinking, “I want to do something that matters. I don’t want to just get by. I want to do something more.”

I want to remember until it hurts…until it evokes the kind of change in me that does not allow the lazy sentiment “Someone else will do it…If I don’t, someone will.” I want that someone to be me. And may all of the credit to go to my Savior, without whom, I could not draw another breath.

I would love to hear your thoughts on that day. On remembering vs. acknowledging. With all of the posts that will be going around today, what are your thoughts?

*Stock photos taken from google