I didn’t want to think about this. I didn’t want to write it. I didn’t want to share it. In fact I’ve been avoiding it for months. But God said do it, and he keeps bringing it up again and again so — now it’s my turn to share my story.
When I was little, my parents split up and as a result my Mom was left trying to raise 3 kids alone. Despite this, I had a pretty good childhood and have many fond memories. It wasn’t until several years later, that I began to resent my childhood and the circumstances around it*
I was 12/13 when I first struggled with feelings of hatred for my Dad. I was hurt, angry, frustrated, and felt completely unloved, unwanted, and alone. I figured if my own earthly father couldn’t and didn’t want me, then why would anyone else? For years I let these feelings bubble up inside of me, eventually reaching the point where I was so bitter and full of rage and hate that I let it define me. This was my life now, this is what I was like, and I had no idea how to live without it.
One day, somewhere in the middle of my Sophomore year in High School, I looked at my life and suddenly realized I was depressed, seriously depressed. My days were so monotonous; ride the bus to school while writing dark poetry, spend the day either blending into the background or with my nose stuck in a book, eat at the far end of the social outcast table (or skip it entirely and wander through the library), and do whatever it took to go the entire day without uttering a single word (I often succeeded). Once home I’d hide out in my room writing, losing myself in an alternate reality as I typed out page after page. And after living with all that anger & hate for so long, I grew numb. I forgot what it was like to be happy, forgot how to feel sad, and wouldn’t recognize love even if it hit me in the face.
As I continued down this road, with no one noticing that something was wrong, I began to feel invisible. Only proving my theory that I was unloved and unwanted. And so — I began to cut. And I did so quite publicly too. On the front row in class. In the backseat of the car. In the living room. In the Church cafe. All I wanted was for someone to notice the lines and not believe me when I offered up my pathetic excuse for how I got it.
This continued for a few years until I somehow ended up at the very same Bible School I swore I’d never go to. And despite sitting and listening to the Word of God for several hours each day — I was sinking further and further.
By now I had begun to use cutting as a reminder that I could in fact feel something, even if it was only pain. I had been numb for so long that it was beginning to freak me out a bit, was I still human? Whenever a situation arose that demanded an emotional reaction — and got none — I would cut. Just so I could feel, something, anything.
Half way through that 1st year at Bible College, my roommate took me to a local campground to hang out with friends. The sun quickly disappeared and everyone sat around the campfire chatting while I casually slipped off to a bench by the river. I sat there just out of ear shot of everyone, listening to the water and thought about how easy it would be to slip in and let the current carry me away. No one had noticed I had left the campfire, so by the time they found my body I’d be long dead. But who would care? Surely they’d all continue on with their lives just fine.
Before I could ponder it any longer my roommate suddenly appeared at my side and started talking my ear off, she left a good 20+ minutes later, only to be replaced by my cousin who sat with me for another 20+ minutes and then, just like that, it was time to return to our apartment.
What really gets me is how a Bible School Student could be so dark and twisted. I spent that entire 1st year cutting, contemplating suicide, skipping classes, avoiding church at all costs, calling into work “sick”, and hiding under blankets trying to pretend the real world didn’t exist.
In a moment of sanity I reached out to 2 of my roommates, writing them a letter sharing how I was feeling, what was going on in my world, and what I was using to cut. In a shocking turn of events, I even surrendered all of my cutting tools and promised my roommate I’d give her anything else I found. Sadly, I lied to them more often than not.
The school year came to an end and I returned to WI where I went through the worst 3 months of my life, and it can only be described as a my own kind of living hell. My nights were filled with nightmares, screams, sobbing, and pure terror as I was tormented in my sleep. My days were filled with hallucinations, paranoia, and the overwhelming fear that I was losing my mind. But who would believe me? Or worse, would they put me in the Insane Asylum? (This was a legitimate fear, and the very thing that kept me from confiding in someone)
I had reached rock bottom, and for the 1st time in my life I was genuinely terrified.
A few weeks into my 2nd year of Bible School, I heard about a holy spirit conference a few towns over. I had long passed the point of “Just make it stop! God help me!” and believed that this meeting would free me of my torment. So I packed up and disappeared for 2 days, and man oh man did God show up. That trip helped turn me around, free me of my torment, and get me back on the path God had for me.
It was almost as if God snapped his fingers and depression left, suicidal tendencies left, cutting left, along with all the fear and worry. I never had another nightmare or hallucination. I was free!
I started going to church again, and not just because I was scheduled to volunteer. I made an effort to attend each class, to quit trying to deceive the roommates, and to actually show up for work without calling in “sick”. I started reading my bible again, and talking with God on a somewhat regular basis. It wasn’t long before all the torment and pain of the previous year was long gone and I felt like a completely new person.
While attending Prayer School one day, God revealed to me his heart for Europe and showed me that missions wasn’t just something I was fond of, but that it was what he had planned for me. He reminded me of how I had once felt invisible to the world, but that I was never invisible to him. And that there are thousands of people around the world, that are “invisible” to those around them — but not to God. Suddenly, I found my heart breaking for people I had never met, for those around the world who hadn’t found the freedom I had found in God, and still felt invisible and unloved. I wanted to scoop up all the orphans of the world, all the hungry, all the sick, all the elderly, and put them all in a safe house where we could be one big loving family.
Since that weekend during my 2nd year of college, my life has never been the same. The amount of growth God has worked in me since then is unfathomable. Each new experience helps shape me into a stronger, happier, more confident person as I continue to seek after God and all he has for me.
The World Race? It’s just the beginning.
*Disclaimer: I am at peace with all aspects of my life, from childhood to the present. I no longer harbor any anger, hate, or resentment for the circumstances surrounding my childhood. This was not written in malice, but rather an effort to accurately portray how I felt in my early teen years.
