i believe in poetry therapy

I was hiking with my family when I was about 14 years old and a group of college-aged kids joined us. It was kind of weird and I still don't know why these weirdos thought it would be fun to join a random family on a hike, but they did and I thank God for it.

One of the guys was walking with me and my mom, and he was talking mainly to her and he would ask me questions from time to time. He said to me, "You're being really quiet, you doing ok?"

And my mom answered for me, "Oh don't mind her, she's just shy!"

The guy became visibly upset and said to my mom, "Why would you put a label on her like that? She's not shy. If you keep saying she's shy, she'll believe that all her life."

I don't remember much of the conversation after that, all I remember was this new and welling force within me. I mulled over this stranger's words over and over again.

"She's not shy."

After the hike was over and we parted ways with the college kids, I remember my mom muttering angrily to my sister about what that guy said about me. Something like "It's not a bad thing to be shy, and he doesn't really know her, of course she's shy."

That was one of the first times I became aware of my mother's overwhelmingly controlling behavior. I realized she had been keeping me in a box. I was her "shy little girl" and that's what she was comfortable with. Whether she intended stunted growth and a poor grasp of self for me or not doesn't matter--what matters is: I saw the error in someone else's perspective of me for the first time.

And I look back and see that it was after that hike with that one weirdo that I really started to blossom.

Those yellow flowers were still in that crystal vase. The water had clouded. The stems were bent and the bright yellow turned a crispy brown. It's been over a year since you gave them to me. But in this dream I was still holding on.

I held on to the scraps of goodness you gave me because I thought it might somehow save me from the stones you hurled and the mud you slung. I minimized the damage because I was still smitten by the person you pretended to be at first.

I believed I could love the sickness out of you. But we all know what happens when you cater to a sick person--you get sick as well. And it's up to nobody but yourself to recover.

So out with the old, and in with the new.

I remember my 7th grade Bible class teacher talking about losing your virginity. She asked the class "Girls, do. you know what to be "defrauded" means?"

None of us knew what it meant, so after the silence she said "It means to lose your virginity." She said it like she was telling us the world was ending. And of course then she went on a schpeal about keeping yourself pure for your future husband because you'll get to be an untouched sex gift for him to voraciously unwrap on your wedding night.

And now I look back and realize that in a whole classroom of 7th grade girls, some of them most likely had already lost their virginities, whether through conscious choice or not. And how among Christian circles, girls are preached at as if they are no more than future sex objects for their husbands. There was no validating talk for victims of sexual abuse and no reassurance for girls who had already had consensual sex that they were still a treasure to behold and to cherish.

If you're a virgin, God loves you and you are beautiful and cherished.

If you're not because you were taken advantage of, God loves you and you are beautiful and cherished.

I didn't understand it

I was the one ignoring you this time

and in the back of my mind

I believed and figured that

you would have been rejoicing

because I knew you didn't care

you would have been happy

if I just dropped dead

I must have forgotten

that all this time

you were exempt

from all the rules

it was perfectly fine for you

to employ the silent treatment

and to neglect our friendship

for months at a time

but as soon as I made a choice

to ignore your texts

and social media bombing

I was the unreasonable one

I was the spiteful instigator

This gnawing

Maybe it's weakened

But the pressure

The blood loss

The infection

Is still there

when I was 17, my boyfriend was trying desperately to get me to give myself physically to him. He was begging for nudes, begging for intimate touch and begging me to rethink my boundaries. He was threatening a breakup if I didn’t give in to his wishes.

I had very clearly stated that I did not want to have sex until marriage and he made it very clear he that he didn’t like that about me. I remember staring at my phone in disbelief when he first brought it up via texting, and I was shaking. I was staying over at a friend’s house for her birthday and he was texting me at 2 in the morning, demanding nudes.

Now, Reader, you can probably see the blinding red flags. And you’re probably thinking “Nooooo, why would you even consider trying to keep that relationship, he obviously had zero respect for you!” So, I’ll tell you what I did. I told him, “That’s very disrespectful of me and my boundaries. I am a daughter of the most high King and I answer to Him. I’ve decided to keep myself pure and you are in direct opposition to my values and belief system. I’m not going to send you nudes.”

Are you cheering at this point? I know I was cheering myself on. I felt fierce, like no one could touch me.

I was also terrified of losing him.

And he apologized and with that came relief. He said he was so sorry and he didn’t mean to disrespect my beliefs. Then came the “but”… “but I just want you to feel loved, but I just want to give you the greatest feelings of pleasure a woman like you deserves to feel, I just want to get to know you deeply, mind body and soul. I want that innocent and raw connection between two people because I love you.”

I told him, “I am not ok with this. Goodnight.” And I turned off my phone.

But it wasn’t over for me. The next three months, it was him overwhelming me with hugs and kisses and constant PDA, even at school and even when I told him I was uncomfortable with it. It was him making remarks about my body and telling me how beautiful I was. It was him beginning to pressure me again, telling me he was losing sleep because I wouldn’t give it up. He just needed a little extra touch. Anything to keep him sane.

It was after three months that I got tired of saying no. I got tired of being constantly begged for my body. I was finished with it. But I didn’t want to lose him. After all, he made me feel wanted. And being wanted was good enough for me at the time. I’d completely forgotten about being loved. Being protected and nurtured. He’d deprived me of that. He’d isolated me from my friends and family. He’d littered my brain with lies about them and how they were out to get me and that he was the only person I could trust.

So I turned my back on myself, on my God, on my family and I gave in. I gave him everything I’d refused and I pushed back the sick feelings I got, I shoved my conscience aside for the sake of him getting his carnal fill because I believed I was worthless and my body was just for his entertainment, wasn’t it? I was made to be used and he had made that very clear to me.

I let another person’s toxicity cloud my view of myself. I’d let someone else dictate my worth. I lost all of my self esteem. I lost the trust of my parents. I lost some close friends. I lost my will to live.

Intervention was implemented for my self harm and the suicidal behavior that ensued after my parents found out about my sexual activity with my boyfriend. Therapy. Medication. Losing privileges. I was guilty. I was unforgivable because I saw no way out of this relationship and it was the only thing I knew anymore. I wasn’t worthy of trust anymore, I lacked insight and I didn’t deserve a good life. I didn’t deserve a clean conscience. I believed all those things about myself, so I delved into sin that I had never known before. I fell deep into porn addiction, I dabbled in witchcraft, I stayed up late watching videos about serial killers and gruesome unsolved murder cases, and everything that was dark and demonic was the focal point of my entertainment. I’d never felt the freedom to sate my curiosity for the dark and depraved before so I went deep. Some of those images I subjected myself to for curiosity’s sake still trouble my mind when I’m trying to sleep.

I was on a quick path to destruction. I was considering taking up drug use. I wanted to destroy myself because again, there was that guilt and that feeling that I deserved pain. Cutting was getting repetitive and didn’t produce the same feelings anymore. I wanted something strong. Something possibly fatal.

Before I could harm myself further, my family plucked me from my familiar home life and placed me in a therapy program. I didn’t have the strength or the means to end that toxic relationship by myself and because they loved me and saw my real worth, they stepped in.

I still missed and wanted my boyfriend. I didn’t lose all of my feelings for him until well after graduating from my therapy program. I didn’t remember my identity in Jesus until long after the whole ordeal either. I tried to find meaning in a friendship that was even more toxic than the relationship that sent me spiraling. I tried to find my worth in a new relationship then I quickly realized I fell into the same pattern of sin as my last relationship and this new boyfriend meant more to me than that. I valued him and myself and we confessed our sins and learned to love each other in a way that was pleasing to God. We struggled and felt shame and remorse when we gave into our sin. It was that conviction that reminded me I had to fight to honor God, my future husband and myself. It was that struggle with my sinful desires that made the end goal of living a life that was pleasing to God real.

Love became a battle against mind and body. We made mistakes but we didn’t give up the fight. Our goal was clear and at the end of the day, we valued each other more and more. After a series of sexual attacks brought on by the toxic friend I mentioned earlier who was attempting to sabotage our impending marriage, we got married. We got married and I did some reflection.

I realized I was quick to appease those who didn’t value me because of my fear of man. I realized I didn’t trust that God had a plan for me. I realized I was just as toxic to the other people in those toxic relationships by staying and enabling them to have their fill of destroying good things.

So now, I am stronger and I see my worth as a child of God. Now I have experience where I’d previously questioned why so many people struggle in those areas. I have reference when I urge someone to see the bigger picture and make the choice that reflects their identity in Christ and not what their emotional mind is feeling.

I know what I’m saying when I tell people that sex is not love and can never compare to it. That God intended sex as a gift to be shared within the bounds of marriage. I can confidently assure someone of their worth because I saw the wretch that I was and the same God who spoke the universe into being looked at me with compassion.

If I can look back and see His hand in everything that happened and know I was never alone even when I turned away and made sin my home, I can say the same for anyone who would believe. I can’t and I won’t try to convince anyone to see this story of my life the same way but if you are moved by the powerful grace I’ve been so lovingly blessed with, I urge you to seek it out for yourself.

God is listening and is inviting you to whole restoration with Him. If you seek His love, you will find it. You don’t have to strive to earn any sort of favor and you don’t have to do a thing but seek and receive. He did all the rest. He is faithful to answer.

God is trustworthy. I can’t say that about anyone or anything else. If He can take my brokenness and turn it into something beautiful, I know there is nothing He can’t do. He loves us and all He desires is for us to see that and receive it.

when I made friends with my abuser, I thought it was a God-send because we had both been to a similar therapy program at the same exact time, within 50 miles of each other.

I slowly found out what my abuser was and how we couldn't possibly be any more different. Yeah, we went to similar therapy programs, but I actually allowed my program to change me. She fought and lied her way through hers.

But last week, I ran into a God-sent friend. I know it's real this time because she too was abused. She knows my situation all too well and it's a bit uncanny.

She knows what it's like to be minding your own business when somebody who means well asks "Oh hey, do you know ____?" Or "How's _____ been?" And all you can do is tell them, "yep" and walk away or smile and say "I don't know." and try to forget what just happened, only to start shaking and feel your heart start beating violently while you try to gather your thoughts.

I made some friends in Cali when I was finishing up some high school credits at a charter school down there (school in Oregon sucks, to put it frankly) and I realized that sometimes I miss them more than some of my long-term friends at home.

They became a part of my life so fast and out of nowhere, but they were so accepting and nurturing. And they had no ugly ties to people in my life who've hurt me. The hardest part of keeping friends up here is knowing a lot of them know a different side of my story of abuse. The side where my abuser was the victim.

And you thought I wouldn't see them...

1. I knew all about your 'secret tumblr' where you posted about how my husband molested you. The thing is, you got him high. And you undressed. And you came onto him. In this situation, you were the perpetrator, molester and assaulter.

2. You claimed I said I didn't love you. You didn't put a name with the post, but it was right after I told you I was gone for good and you blocked me on Instagram. Bet you didn't know my other account was still following you. I never said I didn't love you. In fact, I was saying quite the opposite. I just started to love myself and decided putting up with constant lies and emotional abuse wasn't my cup of tea anymore.

How dare my husband be taken advantage of by you.

How dare I stand up for myself.

You really believe you were the victim all along though, don't you?

my father in law was the victim of a smear campaign among a small group of friends two years ago.

The same perpetrator who instigated the campaign just wrote a book. And guess who half of that book is about.

His name is at least changed in the book, but the hardest part is knowing thousands of her followers are eating her book up and believing every word of it.

People who had no business obtaining this false information are being misled further and are being duped into showering pity and attention onto a lying narcissistic monster.

The greatest injustice is that the rest of the book is about raising an adopted kid along with their own biological kid who are mere months apart.

Those kids are going to be abused, lied to, scapegoated, manipulated and emotionally drained for the next 18 years of their lives.