Tag: forgiveness

Father’s Day-A Reflection

Father’s Day is sometimes difficult for me. Most years I ignore the multitude of Father’s Day posts that fill my social media News Feed, but some years, the words of praise and love bring tears of sorrow and anger to my heart.
The intensity of the emotion surprises me because I forgave my father years ago. Today, I want to revisit a post I wrote a few years ago. Perhaps my words will comfort other survivors who struggle with the celebrating Father’s Day.

**Repost of my thoughts on Father’s Day.

Father’s Day is sometimes difficult for me. Most years I ignore the multitude of Father’s Day posts that fill my social media News Feed, but some years, the words of praise and love bring tears of sorrow and anger to my heart. I want to scream, “I don’t miss my Dad! I don’t have anything good to say about him!” Perhaps others who experienced abuse have similar thoughts on the day that honors fathers. The intensity of the emotion surprises me because I forgave my father years ago. Today, I want to revisit a post I wrote a few years ago. Perhaps my words will comfort other survivors who struggle with the celebrating Father’s Day.

Forgiveness not Acceptance

My father stole my childhood and my innocence from me at a very young age. The abuse continued until I left home at age 18 to go to college. My father cared about only one thing-making certain I knew he was the only person who would “love me.” I was his property and his toy.

In his later years, my father was broken, disabled and senile. He never asked me to forgive him, but I did forgive him. I turned him over to God and let go of my need for revenge or retribution. The act of forgiveness came after I allowed myself to experience the anger, sadness, and loss of my childhood. Forgiving him did not mean I welcomed him back into my life. I did not.

In Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis writes, “I would much rather say that every time you make a choice you’re turning a central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before… slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature.”[1] As the years passed by, I saw my father turn into a shriveled, broken hellish creature who lost his grip on reality. I think there came a point when he relinquished his humanity for the pleasures of the flesh and he was lost for eternity. He died alone in a West Texas nursing home.

God was the consistent thread.

How do I celebrate Father’s Day with such a father? I always knew God was present in my life, but that may not be true for others. I am thankful for the prayers of many that kept me safe from death on more than one occasion. My father could not take away my faith. My heavenly father somehow always showed up when I needed Him most. I did not always understand God’s methods in my trials but looking back He was always there to save my life, direct my path or provide a comforting word. God’s actions modeled what my father should have done. He knew what I needed, and did His best to provide for me, not always in the way that I wanted or thought He should, but as a faithful parent. My journey was long and difficult, but the consistent element was the presence of God and Christ.

I believe I can celebrate Father’s Day because I do have a Heavenly Father who cares for me and loves me unconditionally. However, for some, celebrating this Hallmark holiday feels forced and uncomfortable. For others, the day triggers feelings of anger, fear, and resentment. For those individuals, I want you to know that it is okay not to celebrate a day that honors fathers. However, I invite you to consider the idea that there is a heavenly father who loves his children.

[1] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1952), 86.

Father’s Day-A Reflection

I just completed the draft of my memoir. Writing about my father brought the pain and sorrow to the surface once again. With Father’s Day approaching this weekend, I want to revisit a post I wrote two years ago. Perhaps my words will comfort other survivors who struggle with the celebrating Father’s Day.

Father’s Day is sometimes difficult for me. Most years I ignore the multitude of Father’s Day posts that fill my social media News Feed, but some years, the words of praise and love bring tears of sorrow and anger to my heart. I want to scream, “I don’t miss my Dad! I don’t have anything good to say about him!” Perhaps others who experienced abuse have similar thoughts on the day that honors fathers. The intensity of the emotion surprises me because I forgave my father years ago. Most likely the feelings resurfaced this year because I just completed the draft of my memoir. Writing about my father brought the pain and sorrow to the surface once again. With Father’s Day approaching this weekend, I want to revisit a post I wrote two years ago. Perhaps my words will comfort other survivors who struggle with the celebrating Father’s Day.

Forgiveness not Acceptance

My father stole my childhood and my innocence from me at a very young age. The abuse continued until I left home at age 18 to go to college. My father cared about only one thing-making certain I knew he was the only person who would “love me.” I was his property and his toy.

In his later years, my father was broken, disabled and senile. He never asked me to forgive him, but I did forgive him. I turned him over to God and let go of my need for revenge or retribution. The act of forgiveness came after I allowed myself to experience the anger, sadness, and loss of my childhood. Forgiving him did not mean I welcomed him back into my life. I did not.

In Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis writes, “I would much rather say that every time you make a choice you’re turning a central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before… slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature.”[1] As the years passed by, I saw my father turn into a shriveled, broken hellish creature who lost his grip on reality. I think there came a point when he relinquished his humanity for the pleasures of the flesh and he was lost for eternity. He died alone in a West Texas nursing home.

God was the consistent thread.

How do I celebrate Father’s Day with such a father? I always knew God was present in my life, but that may not be true for others. I am thankful for the prayers of many that kept me safe from death on more than one occasion. My father could not take away my faith. My heavenly father somehow always showed up when I needed Him most. I did not always understand God’s methods in my trials but looking back He was always there to save my life, direct my path or provide a comforting word. God’s actions modeled what my father should have done. He knew what I needed, and did His best to provide for me, not always in the way that I wanted or thought He should, but as a faithful parent. My journey was long and difficult, but the consistent element was the presence of God and Christ.

I believe I can celebrate Father’s Day because I do have a Heavenly Father who cares for me and loves me unconditionally. However, for some, celebrating this Hallmark holiday feels forced and uncomfortable. For others, the day triggers feelings of anger, fear, and resentment. For those individuals, I want you to know that it is okay not to celebrate a day that honors fathers. However, I invite you to consider the idea that there is a heavenly father who loves his children.

[1] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1952), 86.

At Last I Stand Approved

Writing the sonnets helped me put a lifetime into a few lines of poetry and laid the foundation for writing my memoir. As I near the end of the first revision of my draft and prepare to send copies to beta readers, I decided to repost the last sonnet of the sequence because it expresses the hope I want my readers to experience when they read my story.

“Sonnet V-At Last I Stand Approved” illustrates my acceptance of my true worth.

Introduction

My first posts to this site included a sonnet sequence that I wrote as part of a graduate course at Houston Baptist University in 2017. As I considered what to post this week, I thought about my current project and the sonnet sequence came to my mind. The sequence chronicles my journey to understand love in a five sonnet sequence. Writing the sonnets helped me put a lifetime into a few lines of poetry and laid the foundation for writing my memoir. As I near the end of the first revision of my draft and prepare to send copies to beta readers, I decided to repost the last sonnet of the sequence because it expresses the hope I want my readers to experience when they read my story.

“Sonnet V-At Last I Stand Approved” illustrates my acceptance of my true worth. In this sonnet, I look back at my marriage to John to show how the relationship with him helped me accept how God views me and finally rejects my father’s lies. Through the imagery in the first few lines, I describe my inner transformation and acceptance of a different meaning of love.  The last quatrain describes my current understanding of love. I begin with the disclosure that I am a widow, but the loss does not change the truth. Line ten answers the question asked at the end of Sonnet I.  The declarations found in the remaining two lines of the quatrain provide a transition from earthly love to Divine Love. The final couplet confirms that the language distortion no longer controls my thinking and I know the true meaning of love.

 

The truth revealed, now I know what love is.

At sixty-five, I can finally say

I knew the kind of love that could dismiss

Distorted views of love that led astray.

For eight short years, we shared one soul, one heart.

He made me laugh at times when life was tough.

He taught me how to love and draw apart

To understand that God’s love is enough.

I am a widow now, and still, I know

That Daddy’s words were lies and not the truth.

When I feel the tempter’s frightening blow

I stand my ground and say, “I know my worth!”

And, by His crimson blood, my stains removed.

Transformed, and white as snow I stand approved.

 

Related Posts:

What Kind of Love is This? Part III Sonnets

Sonnet I -Are Daddy’s Words the Truth or Does He Lie?

Sonnet II- Does Love Reside Where I Cannot See?

Sonnet III. How Can I Make It Right?

Sonnet IV. The Truth Revealed

What Kind of Love is This?

When I originally posted this blog, I had no idea that one year later, I would be writing my memoir about my journey to accept God’s, unconditional love. My relationship with my daughter played a critical role in my understanding of unconditional love and how God views His creation.

Understanding and accepting God’s unconditional love is difficult for survivors of childhood trauma. When I originally posted this blog, I had no idea that one year later, I would be writing my memoir about my journey to accept God’s, unconditional love. My relationship with my daughter played a critical role in my understanding of unconditional love and how God views His creation. This post takes on new meaning as I write about my years as a single parent trying to express love my child amid my own turmoil.

A Letter to Heaven

My husband,John, helped me resolve the distorted view of love my parents created through abuse. I felt loved for who I am, not what I could offer him.  I decided that posting my latest letter to heaven I might help someone realize there is hope even amid tragedy.

Every day at noon my husband, John, and I communicated via text messages.  The conversations always began with “how u be?” While the discussions lasted only a few minutes, they were our unique way of sharing our day with each other.  The conversations varied from short words of affection to venting frustrations.  John’s texts grounded me, made me laugh or sometimes the text messages helped us resolve a conflict or misunderstanding.   While John was a man of few words, his well-chosen text messages conveyed affection, support, and love each day at noon.

On August 23, 2013, that changed forever when John passed away in his sleep.  Ten days earlier, John, suffered a major heart attack which severely damaged his heart. There were no more text messages, emails or other electronic communication that had become such an intricate part of our life together.  Since his death, I periodically write letters to him, not because I expect an answer or that I think he reads them. I write the letters because through the short notes I feel connected to him. The letters have also been a way for me to document my grief journey.

John helped me resolve the distorted view of love my parents created through abuse. I felt loved for who I am, not what I could offer him.  I decided that posting my latest letter to heaven I might help someone realize there is hope even amid tragedy.

A Letter to Heaven

My love,

I haven’t written to you for a very long time. I sometimes feel silly that I even think about writing a letter to you. I know that you do not see me or hear me, but somehow writing a letter now and then brings me peace. Yesterday was the fifth anniversary of the heart attack that eventually took you from me. Five years seems like forever, but today it seems like yesterday. My mind races back to the day with so many questions that I cannot count them all. “Why didn’t you call 911 when you knew something was wrong? Why didn’t you tell me the minute I walked in from work that you thought you were having a heart attack?” These and so many more questions haunt me on this anniversary. There are no answers, but the questions remain.

You Would be Proud

I do want to let you know that I am happy, well content anyway. I don’t miss you every day anymore. I miss you when I watch the Texas Rangers play. I don’t cry at the thought of you not being here to watch the game with me. The things that once caused tears to flow now bring a smile to my face. I now enjoy the memories of our life together, but I get sad sometimes when I think of the things you are missing.

Angel graduated from high school in May and just moved into the college dorm. She is all grown up, my love, and you would be so proud of the young woman our granddaughter has become. Korine is teaching High School English and just received a Master’s in Apologetics. Isaac has a girlfriend!

Grief Observed

I have learned something this week, my love. Rationally, I know that you are happy, content and enjoying the company of God. I know that to wish you were still in my life is a selfish thought because you are where you are supposed to be. However, I finally understand in my heart that to want to bring you back is unfair to you. C. S. Lewis reflects in A Grief Observed, “I want her back as an ingredient in the restoration of my past. Could I have wished her anything worse? Having got once through death, to come back and then, at some later date, have all her dying to do over again?”[1] Those words seemed harsh when I read them two years ago. Now, they ring true. I would not wish such sorrow on you. I can’t restore the past.

I miss you, my love, but I realize that our life together would have been so different because of the changes in your health. You were not a good patient, my love. You often got impatient when your body did not allow you to do what you loved. After the heart attack, your activity level changed. Of course, I don’t know how much progress you might have made over time because you died before the first follow up with your doctor.

Moving On

My love, for the first time since you died, I am not overwhelmed with tears as the anniversary of your death approaches. I am reflective, but not sad. I’ve always understood that grief is not an event, but a journey. Lewis describes it best, “Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.”[2] I think I have rounded a new bend that reveals newness, peace, and contentment that I have not experienced for a very long time.

I look forward to the day when we meet again, but I no longer yearn for the memories of our life together. Remembering you now brings a soft smile to my lips.

All My Love,

Me

[1] C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (London: CrossReach Publications, 2016), 25.

[2]Ibid, 45.

Related Posts

Sonnet IV. The Truth Revealed

At Last I Stand Approved

“Sonnet V-At Last I Stand Approved” is the result of splitting the original Sonnet IV from the “What Kind of Love is This” Sonnet series into two Sonnets.

Introduction

“Sonnet V-At Last I Stand Approved” is the result of splitting the original Sonnet IV from the “What Kind of Love is This” Sonnet series into two Sonnets. The original Sonnet was written for a Modern/Post Modern course at Houston Baptist University Master of Arts in Apologetics program. The assignment limited me to four Sonnets for the final project. I wanted to tell as much of the story of language distortion as possible within the confines of the course requirements, but doing so resulted in a compressed timeline in Sonnet IV.

I reworked the original Sonnet IV to address age fifty-five when I met my second husband, John. You can read the revision here.

Sonnet V-At Last I Stand Approved illustrates my acceptance of my true worth. In this sonnet, I look back at my marriage to John to show how the relationship with him helped me accept how God views me and finally reject my father lies. Through the imagery in the first few lines, I describe my inner transformation and acceptance of a different meaning of love.  The last quatrain describes my current understanding of love. I begin with the disclosure that I am a widow, but the loss does not change the truth. Line ten answers the question asked at the end of Sonnet I.  The declarations found in the remaining two lines of the quatrain provide transition from earthly love to Divine Love. The final couplet confirms that the language distortion no longer controls my thinking and I know the true meaning of love.

 

The truth revealed, now I know what love is.

At sixty-five, I can finally say

I knew the kind of love that could dismiss

Distorted views of love that led astray.

For eight short years, we shared one soul, one heart.

He made me laugh at times when life was tough.

He taught me how to love and draw apart

To understand that God’s love is enough.

I am a widow now, and still, I know

That Daddy’s words were lies and not the truth.

When I feel the tempter’s frightening blow

I stand my ground and say, “I know my worth!”

And, by His crimson blood, my stains removed.

Transformed, and white as snow I stand approved.

 

Related Posts:

What Kind of Love is This? Part III Sonnets

Sonnet I -Are Daddy’s Words the Truth or Does He Lie?

Sonnet II- Does Love Reside Where I Cannot See?

Sonnet III. How Can I Make It Right?

Sonnet IV. The Truth Revealed

Letter to the Betrayed Spouse

I addressed the first two letters in this series to my younger self at two specific times when my distorted thinking led to involvement with married men. In those letters, I spoke directly to the young woman who desperately sought comfort and solace in the arms of men who could not provide what she needed. (What I needed) The final letter speaks to the betrayed spouse.

I addressed the first two letters( Letters of Hope- Part One, Letter of Hope-Part II ) to my younger self at two specific times when my distorted thinking led to involvement with married men. In those letters, I spoke directly to the young woman who desperately sought comfort and solace in the arms of men who could not provide what she needed. (What I needed) The final letter speaks to the betrayed spouse.

The pain and emptiness I felt for most of my life often engulfed me like a raging fire that consumes everything in its path. The flames were fueled continuously by repeated betrayal, deception and by the anger within my very soul. Occasionally, God would send someone to douse the fire temporarily.  However, I often directed the anger inward. I hated who I became. From my perspective, God could not love me. After all, I repeatedly committed adultery and did not see how to end the cycle. I was a repeat offender. God never gave up on me. I am a living example of God’s unconditional love and grace. Perhaps a woman will read this letter and find solace in my words. I cannot imagine her pain. I can only describe what I believed during my encounters with married men.

Hello,

I am reasonably sure that I am the last person you expected to write you a letter. I am surprised that I found the courage to speak to you. I want to tell you what I believed about you and your marriage during the months I slept with your spouse. I want to tell you what I felt and what he said that made the relationship less disgusting to me, less disgusting because I always felt dirty and wrong when your spouse left my side to return to you. I lived in constant fear that you would find out who I was and would come after me. You were powerful. You may not feel powerful, but you are very powerful. You hold his heart in your hands. He came to me to live out a fantasy, but you were always present.

He always talked about you.

I believed his lies when he said you didn’t care about him. Sometimes he convinced me that you were cold and harsh, but then I saw the gentleness in his eyes when he thought about you. I pretended he could love me, but I didn’t want him to love me. I was angry and wanted to be in control. If I loved him or he loved me, I was no longer in control. I believed that sex and love were equal. So, when he said you didn’t like sex, I convinced myself that you didn’t love him. I was wrong.

I longed for someone to fill the void in my soul and thought perhaps your spouse could fill the bottomless pit that became my life. I wanted to believe that you were horrible because that made what I did not so wrong. I convinced myself that you would never find out so you would not be hurt. I was wrong. It doesn’t matter whether you knew, I was wrong.

I did not set out to betray anyone.

I did not think about anyone but me most of the time. I was in so much pain from what my father did to me that I thought the only way to show love was sex. Being with your spouse did not take away the pain. Instead, it confused me even more. I mistook his affection for genuine caring. However, when I let down my guard, he broke my heart. I trusted him to care for me. He did not. He loved you, and in the end, he went back to you. I do not know if he stayed with you or if he ever told you about me, but I know I never heard from him again.

I don’t think you did anything to cause your spouse to stray to my arms. He is responsible for his behavior, and if there were issues, it was his responsibility to address them with you. Running to another woman is not the answer, ever. We all have weaknesses, and we are all sexually dysfunctional in some way. I think it is the curse of our culture. No matter what preceded the affair, your spouse’s behavior was wrong. My willingness to participate was wrong.

It takes time to forgive, and you never forget.

Forgiveness is a hard thing. It takes time to forgive, and you never forget. I don’t know you, but I hope you can forgive your spouse and me for our betrayal. I hope you have someone you can talk to who will listen to your raw emotion so you can heal. I hope you have God and Christ in your life and understand His grace. Without God’s grace, I would not be here. I hope my words bring comfort. The words are hard to write but more difficult for you to read. Perhaps this letter will help you understand that I am not a monster that wanted to destroy you. Hopefully, you can see me as a person who behaved wrongly, believed lies and pretended all was well with the world when I was with your spouse.

Asking for forgiveness,

The other woman

Related Posts:

Letters of Hope- Part One

Letter of Hope-Part II

Sonnet III. How Can I Make It Right?

Father’s Day-A Reflection

Father’s Day was difficult for me this year. I experienced emotions that I have not experienced for years. I was angry, sad, and confused for most of the day. As I viewed the myriad of Father’s Day posts on my newsfeed, I wanted to scream, “I don’t miss my Dad!” I don’t have anything good to say about him!” Perhaps others who experienced abuse have similar thoughts on the day that honors fathers. The intensity of the emotion surprised me this year. I forgave my father years ago, but this year some of the old anger resurfaced. Most likely the feelings reared their ugly head because I am writing about the abuse I experienced. Whatever the reason, I wanted to share some of the thoughts that came throughout the day.

Forgiveness not Acceptance

My father stole my childhood and my innocence from me at a very young age. The abuse continued until I left home at age 18 to go to college. My father cared about only one thing-making certain I knew he was the only person who would “love me.” I was his property and his toy.

In his later years, my father was broken, disabled and senile. He never asked me to forgive him, but I did forgive him. I turned him over to God and let go of my need for revenge or retribution. The act of forgiveness came after I allowed myself to experience the anger, sadness, and loss of my childhood. Forgiving him did not mean I welcomed him back into my life. I did not.

In Mere Christianity, C. S. Lewis writes, “I would much rather say that every time you make a choice you’re turning a central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different from what it was before… slowly turning this central thing either into a heavenly creature or into a hellish creature.”[1] As the years passed by, I saw my father turn into a shriveled, broken hellish creature who lost his grip on reality. I think there came a point when he relinquished his humanity for the pleasures of the flesh and he was lost for eternity. He died alone in a West Texas nursing home.

God was the consistent thread.

How do I celebrate Father’s Day with such a father? I always knew God was present in my life, but that may not be true for others. I am thankful for the prayers of many that kept me safe from death on more than one occasion. My father could not take away my faith. My heavenly father somehow always showed up when I needed Him most. I did not always understand God’s methods in my trials but looking back He was always there to save my life, direct my path or provide a comforting word. God’s actions modeled what my father should have done. He knew what I needed, and did His best to provide for me, not always in the way that I wanted or thought He should, but as a faithful parent. My journey was long and difficult, but the consistent element was the presence of God and Christ.

I believe I can celebrate Father’s Day because I do have a Heavenly Father who cares for me and loves me unconditionally. However, for some, celebrating this Hallmark holiday feels forced and uncomfortable. For others, the day triggers feelings of anger, fear, and resentment. For those individuals, I want you to know that it is okay not to celebrate a day that honors fathers. However, I invite you to consider the idea that there is a heavenly father who loves his children.

[1] C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1952), 86.

Hello Beautiful

The second letter tells the story of a young woman who wanted to change, lost her way, and turned to married men to meet unmet needs. By using the voice of an older adult speaking to a younger person, I hope the words will bring peace, comfort, and reassurance to another young woman who experienced similar distortions and exhibited similar behavior as a result.

After a few weeks of struggling, I decided to write the second letter in this series to my 30-40-year-old self. The letter only addresses one aspect of my journey. As I navigated the path through the darkness of recovering from childhood sexual abuse toward peace and joy, I encountered many twists and turns. At each turn, I chose which way to walk. While the choices were mine, I often based my choices on negative experiences which distorted my view of myself, my circumstances and God. As I considered the second letter in my series, I wondered where to begin the next letter. While I wrote the first letter in this series to my young adult self, the second letter tells the story of a young woman who wanted to change, lost her way, and turned to married men to meet unmet needs. By using the voice of an older adult speaking to a younger person, I hope the words will bring peace, comfort, and reassurance to another young woman who experienced similar distortions and exhibited similar behavior as a result.

Hello, again beautiful,

A lot has happened since I wrote you last. You married someone who you thought would fill your empty heart. Instead, the hole grew larger as love proved no match for the anger your husband expressed. Eventually, you left him, but not before you had a beautiful daughter. While you were married, you never strayed to other men. In fact, the thought never crossed your mind. You believed that your husband’s anger and lack of desire was God’s punishment.  Yes, God saved your life, but at a cost that confused you. Why did God allow your apartment manager to rape you? Why did God lead you to an angry man who did not understand the struggle you faced? God must not love you at all. He must want to torment you. At least that is what you thought.

Life had shown you that love equaled pain.

After eleven years, you were strong enough to leave the marriage. You thought that you could do what you wanted without fear. Still, you didn’t want to be involved with anyone again. Life had shown you that love equaled pain. Love and sex were the same things, but sex was power, not affection. You vowed that you would be in control and never again would you give your heart away. You would be the one in charge. No one would hurt you or deceive you again.

You believed the lie that you were unlovable and only good for one thing- bringing pleasure to men. You were confused, hurt and sometimes you wondered if life was worth living. You got professional help, but your soul remained empty. You were angry, very angry and wanted to prove you were strong. You wanted to show that men were your pawns. You returned to your old ways, but now there was a new twist. You discovered the anonymity of internet chat. You felt in control, but, you were out of control. At the click of a button, you could end an encounter. You got great satisfaction in leaving someone in the middle of an intense chat. However, you were leading a double life. You hated yourself because you sometimes gave in and met the men in person.

Going out with married men was the norm for you because, in a distorted way, they were safe.

You could imagine that you were important to them. You could enjoy the company, but leave anytime you chose. You could pretend they were not married to assuage your guilt. You created a fantasy life when you were with them. However, when they left, you were once again alone. They went home to their family, but you were alone. The emptiness remained after each encounter. You desperately wanted to feel whole but did not know how to achieve that goal.

Enter King George II (AKA David)

Then you met David. David advertised on an adult dating site that he wanted a companion for motorcycle trips. You were hooked! Although you did not realize it at the time, David reminded you of George. After a few weeks of chatting an emailing, you met David. He was perfect! He was funny, mature, and treated you like a queen!  He was 20 years older than you, but you did not care. In fact, David’s age was part of the appeal. Over the next several months you lived a fantasy. You believed that David loved you. You believed that his wife must be horrible to deny him physical intimacy. Sometimes you pretended that he was not married. You believed the fantasy would never end. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the relationship ended. You were devastated! You let down your guard and once again, your heart was broken! Once again, you vowed no one would hurt you like that again. You vowed never to love anyone again.

The internal conflict between anger and loneliness led you to seek God for answers. You wanted something different. You wanted to behave differently, but you did not understand how that was possible. You prayed, read scripture, and begged God to help you change. Deep within your soul, you cried out, “Why do you hate me, God?”  You answered the question, “You hate me because Daddy was right, I am damaged goods that no one will ever love.”

God had other ideas though, beautiful one.

He gently guided you, showed you how to capture your thoughts, and helped you understand that Daddy’s definition of love was wrong. Slowly, you practiced taking your thoughts captive. You were not always good at doing so, but you tried. God helped you realize that you could only get better through practicing a new way of thinking. The first step was accepting that your worth was not defined by what Daddy did to you nor by what he told you. Your worth came from God before you were born. You struggled with this first step. In your mind, you knew God loved you, after all, He saved you from death more than once. However, believing you were loved was difficult for your heart to accept.

Beautiful one, I still occasionally struggle with how God could love me. The struggle is less intense, but writing to you reminds me that our mind is a powerful thing. You worked very hard to understand and believe that you are “Fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139) I am the woman I am because of your courage. For that, I am eternally grateful. The tools that you allowed God to show you not only saved your life but have helped countless others understand and believe that they too are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” I no longer believe that sex and love are the same. I no longer feel compelled to fill the void with physical pleasure.

The journey continues beautiful one; I try to capture my thoughts daily. I try to recognize the lies in my mind before they become my truth. When a new trigger occurs, I try to remember to understand the source of the trigger and replace a negative thought with truth from scripture.

Beautiful one, this letter is not the end of the story. In fact, the letter is not even most of the story. I hope you understand that you acted how you were taught by those who should have loved and protected you. I know the truth, and hopefully, you also see the truth. God loves you.

Related Posts:

Letters of Hope- Part One

Sonnet III. How Can I Make It Right?

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

A Different Kind of Love

The most challenging experiences for me as I share my story are the times that I was “the other woman.”  Each time, I was seeking something that alluded me.  The letters that follow will hopefully speak to the young woman who finds herself in a similar position. Each letter in the 3 part series is written for a unique audience.  The first letter speaks to the young girl who was lost and confused and did not understand her environment. 

A Letter to my Younger Self

The most challenging experiences for me as I share my story are the times that I was “the other woman.”  Each time, I was seeking something that alluded me.  The letters that follow will hopefully speak to the young woman who finds herself in a similar position. Each letter in the 3 part series is written for a unique audience.  The first letter speaks to the young girl who was lost and confused and did not understand her environment.

Dear Beautiful One,

Yes, you are beautiful. You may not recognize your beauty, but it is there. I remember you very well, but now that I am all grown up, I think I need to let you know what I remember about you. Your life was hard and cruel. When you should have been playing with dolls, you were Daddy’s plaything. When you should have been full of laughter and joy, you cried in pain.

You were taught that you were only good at one thing and that was giving pleasure to Daddy and his friends. The friends laughed at you when you cried and called you weak and ugly when you screamed in pain. You learned to pretend that it didn’t hurt. You learned to expect them to come and secretly plotted that someday you would make them pay. Daddy told you that your worth was only in doing what he wanted you to do. He convinced you that no one would love you because he marked you as his. You believed him.

Then You Met George

Finally, one man, George, treated you like you mattered. He laughed with you, not at you. He taught you how to drive and helped you when you needed help. He smiled at you and told you were smart. He made you feel likable. You wondered why he didn’t want to have sex with you. He was 25 years older than you, so it did not make sense to you. Still, you felt safe with him.

Then one day when you were no longer a child, he told you how much he wanted you. He gave you books to read that made what he wanted sound right. He said his wife didn’t want to be with him and all he could think about was you. You felt something for him, but you didn’t understand what it was.

The interaction was a catalyst for you that led to disaster. You became desperate to be with George and sacrificed friendships to make it happen. You rejected a young man who truly cared for you because he was unwilling to have sex. It felt like a dam was broken in your soul that only sex could fix. You knew your behavior was wrong, but you couldn’t stop. Guilt and shame were your daily companions, but you couldn’t live without George. So the affair continued.

You Learned You were Not the Only One

George was kind, but he manipulated you. You learned that you were not the only one he”loved” the way he loved you. You learned that his world did not revolve around you. You were devastated, but you found ways to fill the void in your heart. It was surprisingly easy to find men who would be with you. I don’t remember how you found most of them. I do remember feeling horrible after each encounter. In your mind, no one could ease your pain the way George did.

Finally, you made the decision to end the relationship with George. You couldn’t live with the guilt and shame any longer. After you ended the relationship, you got down on your knees and made a promise to God. You promised Him that your days of promiscuity were over. You begged God for forgiveness. The problem was you couldn’t forgive yourself.

A Way Out

The next day the apartment manager approached you about your overdue rent. He said he could work something out and would come by later. When he arrived, you let him in, and he told you his plan. He wanted to have sex with you for the rent. You said “no,” trying to keep your promise, but he didn’t take no for an answer. He raped you, then left without a word. In your mind, the rape felt like God saying, “I don’t care about you, and I can’t forgive you.”

You cried and yelled at God for most of the night. You felt abandoned and hopeless. At the moment, you decided to take your life. You were alone in a city of strangers.  No one would care or even miss you. You bought two bottles of sleeping pills, called in sick to work, and sat on the edge of your bed with tears streaming down your cheeks. Just as you reached for the bottle of pills, the phone rang. You almost didn’t answer it, but something inside you told you to pick up the phone. Stifling the tears, you whispered, “hello.”

The next words saved your life. Your pastor was in town. He and his wife stopped in town on the way to see their son. They stopped at a hotel on the north side of the city. He said, “I was ready to call it a day, but I felt I needed to call you. We’ve been praying for you. Can we come by and pray with you and serve you communion?” You could barely speak through your tears, but you said yes.

A New Start, Maybe…

You see, beautiful one, God, did care, He sent someone to tell you that He had not forgotten you. Yes, I know you still doubted that, but you lived. You didn’t change entirely and continued to struggle with understanding what love meant.

You left George’s city to work in Iowa. You wanted someone to like you for you and not for your body, but you didn’t know how to do that. You knew how to please men. You took risks that could have killed you, but nothing filled the empty space in your soul.

You thought what you felt for George was love, but love doesn’t require performance. You didn’t know that. You didn’t understand how to be loved. You made choices based on what your perception of love. Unfortunately, you often made unhealthy choices.
What I want you to hear, Charlotte is you always knew that something was not right. You knew there had to be something different. You never forgot that God was there. He honored that. He didn’t take your pain away, but he intervened so you could live.

There’s another letter to write, but it is for an older Charlotte. So for now, I want to thank you for not giving up and for believing that there was hope for your future. Most of all, I want you to know you are beautiful and I want you to forgive yourself.

Love you,
Your older self

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