The Scars On My Back
I will share about my life tonight.....It is complicted, but I am a living miracle. I wasborn in 1976 to a mother who was addicted to cocaine. I was born addicted to cocaine also. This afffected my development in many ways. I have heard about my biological father. He is some rich Italian that I am not interested in knowing. He was just a ***** donar. At age 2 I was sold to some drug dealers because my mom needed cocaine. They sold me to a couple who beat at sexually abused me until I was 8. I was placed in foster care at 8 and shuffeled for three years. Nobody wanted me I was a "retard." and because of central nervous system damage I was not walking properly. I rarely talked and I was afraid of everything. At age 11 I was adopted in a less than perfect family, but I had a family. By 12 I looked normal except for the scars on my back from being beat, they ran deeper than the flesh. But there was a rule around my new house. Just forget about the past it is gone. I wanted to but the beatings and sexual abuse haunted me. At school I had to study extra hard to make b's, but I was determined I would not be called a retard. I spent all of highschool trying to forget mymy past and striving to prove I was not stupid. I graduated the top of my class, but with very few friends and that was o.k. I went to chrch every time the doors were open so that filled my social needs. At 17 things fell apart fast. My church split and alot of events transpired. I decided I did not want anything to do with God if that was what he was about. Than my best friend moved and the memories of my past were tormenting me. The problem was I did not think I could talk to anyone. i did not want people to know the horrible things that happened and I did not want them to see the bruises. From ages 17-24 I began to use drugs and drink. ....dnd I ran. I moved accross the United states to get away from the memories.....but they still remained. I found one dysfunctional relationship after another that usually ended with restraining order's and some psycho going to jail. During this time I moved over 30 times, but change of location did not help. Relationships, drugs, alcohol and everything else just left me empty. I finnally ended up going to prison at 24 after a suicide attempt. I hated everyone and everything than. I spend my first two years in the hole, where I finnally told God I was ready to talk. I couldn't handle it anymore...I spilled it out to God. Over the next two years I prayed and talked to God and consolers tht reached out to me. All the secrets and hate were unburied and laid out in the open. Wehn I was released from prison I spent another year in astorial consoling and thatn married a man who wanted to be a pastor. Today I have graduated college and I am a therapist. Today the scars are still on my back, but the hate is not in my heart. I realized that my hate for those who hurt me held me a prisoner to my my abuser. That is what continually gave them power over me.
I wanted to share to give hope to the one who has been abused, assaulted or the one who just can not seem to let go. There is healing