Telling your story brings healing.
It brings a kind of strange relief.
It is like coming out.
I got married at 18 without my parents blessing. I was rebellious. I wanted to live life my own way so not only did I rebel against them, I also left my childhood God behind.
I ended up in domestic violence and abuse so brutal that it hurt my child growing inside of me.
I gave birth to a premature baby boy at 7 months pregnancy following a beating. After struggling to live for a few months in the hospital, he died bidding me goodbye in a dream.
There had been many days and hours I wanted to die, contemplated and planned suicide, lived like a zombie.
He beat me more, his mother gave him belt, but I felt already dead inside, their beatings did not hurt me.
My days blended into nights and I felt nothing. They beat me, kicked me, belted me and starved me, but they couldn’t kill what God has planted inside of me.
Even the days where it was impossible to get out of bed, I was pulled out because they thought they owned me.
Nights I laid awake wishing I was dead. Life was overwhelming. Being a wife, a daughter in law was challenging. I longed to be held, to be loved but all I saw was drunkenness and abuse.
I thought of my choices, my actions that led me here and I was afraid of my future.
I felt broken, invisible and had low self-esteem. There were days when all I wanted was to be left alone and the demands and expectations placed on me were overwhelming. I lived in fear and dread everyday.
I did not know marriage was scary, that love could turn into a monster. The fun loving, high achiever girl, God loving girl was gone. Skeleton, amaciated, big scary eyed girl looked back at me in the mirror.
My moments, days were filled with regrets. I wanted to end my internal pain and death seemed the only way.
I was in a deep dark hole of depression. Anxiety was my middle name. There was no steps that led me out of this dark hole. There was no escape, no way out. No light came in. I was cold and numb, helpless and scared. I was lost. I wanted someone to find me. But no one came to get me out.
I was trapped in the false love. This wasnt love. Love does not hurt.
I wanted to kill my abuser, I wanted to kill myself, I hated the whole world, my thoughts were dark and distorted. I felt so empty.
People ask how are you, but they don’t stop to listen. I screamed but no one heard.
People told me to move on, build a bridge, life goes on, but no one understood that life had stood still for me. There was no way out.
God had forgotten me.
But God had not forgotten me. Even in the dark hole of depression, He was beside me. I could not see Him, feel Him but He knew where I was.
Asking me if I was okay was not enough, because I was not okay. They said they were praying for me, but I didn’t need prayer. I wanted help. I wanted a hug. I wanted someone to care. I wanted someone to see me, to feel me.
See around you my Christian brothers and sisters because there on the seat at the back is me sitting looking okay but I’m not okay. My heart is breaking, my mind is clogged, my thoughts are distorted and God seems far. I came because I wanted a hug, I wanted to hear someone say they cared, I wanted someone to see me, feel me.
I don’t want to hear that God loved me, that all was going to be okay, to be brave, to be strong because non of those empty words touch my broken soul.
I’m too far gone. I need help, I need you to see me, to feel me, to simply hug me and not say a word. Just hold me and let me cry. Just let me be me. Just let me cry.
Just hold me and not say a word.