When I recognize the inner voice that tells me to sabotage a relationship, or warns me to run away from a friendship, I stop the thought and replace it with scripture. Part of the process is identifying when I felt the same emotions or physical sensations

Although the sonnet below is a reflection of my recent journey down memory lane, I think it reflects the healing journey many survivors face as the wrestle with memories, triggers and flashbacks. If this is you, I hope my words bring comfort to your troubled heart and renew your faith that there is hope of redemption because of Jesus Christ. 

Writing a memoir is not easy. Over the past several weeks I have learned a great deal about the little girl who endured so much at the hand of those who should have loved and cared for her. The chapters of the memoir are told through the eyes of a child, but as the adult on the other side of the trauma, I feel compelled to write short reflections to that little girl to encourage and uplift her.

The sonnet below is a poetic version of last week’s blog. In the sonnet, I attempt to capture the emotional, physical and spiritual turmoil of the past few weeks. However, I also want to express the hope and courage I’m rediscovering as I write. The final couplet reaffirms God’s love for me and the child who’s tale I tell.

Writing the first few chapters of my memoir, What Kind of Love is This?-Finding God in the Darkness, was hard, much harder than I anticipated. I am exhausted physically, spiritually, and emotionally. While the memoir focuses more on hope, redemption, and faith rather than detailed descriptions of the abuse that I endured, it sometimes left me raw.

When I recognize the inner voice that tells me to sabotage a relationship, or warns me to run away from a friendship, I stop the thought and replace it with scripture. Part of the process is identifying when I felt the same emotions or physical sensations

as I embark on the task of telling my story in the form of a memoir, I wrote a letter to my younger self, Charlie. Charlie is the nickname given to me in the 7th grade. For some reason, I felt she needed reassurance that she is safe. Writing the letter eased my anxiety about starting the memoir and allowed me to voice my fears about the project.