Tag: Sexual Addiction

You are Not Alone Tonight

With a sigh of relief, I whispered, “Thank you, for choosing to live.” I looked at the word document on my computer screen and felt a renewed sense of God’s presence. I sat in awe of God’s unconditional love for me.

Repost: I posted this blog nearly 3 years ago, but the last few weeks reminded me of the significance of the decision I made to live 46 years ago. Suicide is epidemic across the globe and reflects the hopelessness felt by so many. I wanted to share this part of my journey again today with the hope that it will help someone choose to live.

With a sigh of relief, I whispered, “Thank you, for choosing to live.” I looked at the word document on my computer screen and felt a renewed sense of God’s presence. I sat in awe of God’s unconditional love for me. I had forgotten the significance of divine intervention in my life. I realized that after years of healing, studying and recounting the details of my journey, I was spiritually complacent. The complacency crept in while I moved on with my life.  I spent years sorting through memories and putting together the enormous puzzle of my life. I created a program that blended faith and reason to navigate the psychological and spiritual aspects of healing, but tonight I rediscovered God’s touch.

I felt the power of His presence in my life that I have not experienced in a long time.

Tonight, as I completed the chapter in my memoir about one of the darkest, yet most significant moments in my adult life, I decided to write a letter to the young woman who decided to live. At age 22, I believed that God hated me because I couldn’t stop acting out sexually. The chapter details the events of that night, but my experience after recounting them is the subject of this post. I think I finally understand my 22-year-old self and the significance of God’s intervention. I wanted to thank my younger self for the choice she made after God stepped in.

I still had a choice even after my pastor prayed over me.

Perhaps, you have faced despair and considered taking your life or you know someone who faces that choice. I share the letter I wrote to my younger self in this post to share the new insight I gained from traveling back to the night I chose life. God did not beat me over the head with a burning bush experience, instead, he sent a messenger in the form of my pastor. My pastor did not know I was on the verge of suicide and I never told him. His purpose that night was to give me hope. I think sometimes a simple message of “I am here. You are not alone, tonight,” might be the key to saving a life.

I am thankful that my pastor listened to the prompting to call me that night.

The letter below reflects what I want to tell my 22-year-old self as I close another painful chapter in my life with renewed hope and faith in the power of divine intervention.

You are Not Alone Tonight, Charlie

Hello Beautiful,

You are beautiful, Charlie. You are more beautiful than you realize. Tonight, I agonized with you and felt the despair and hopelessness of a young woman who desperately searched for love. I cried with you as you pleaded with God to set you free. My heart broke tonight when you lost all hope and wanted to end your life. You don’t understand yet why God intervened tonight, but you will. You don’t know for sure that the love you feel from God right now will last, but you will. You wonder if you will ever be free from the torment of the emptiness in your soul, but you will.

You felt beautiful tonight for the first time in a long time. You felt God’s touch, and you remembered it from when you were a little girl. Although you don’t remember the details of the times Jesus held you in His arms, tonight you remembered how safe you felt. Those feelings are real memories. One day you will know all the times Jesus kept you from losing your soul. You are not evil. You are beautiful.

Tonight, I want you to rest and know that all is not lost. Tomorrow is a new day, Charlie. Sleep well and know that you are not alone tonight.

Love,

The Charlotte that you will become because you chose to live tonight.

The Hidden Child

Between my Sophomore and Junior year of college, my anxiety and depression grew more profound as did my compulsion to act out sexually. If I dated someone who was not interested in a sexual relationship, I broke up with them. I felt trapped and believed I must be evil.

Note: Writing sonnets helped me verbalize thoughts and emotions that were difficult to express any other way. In 2018, I told my story through a sonnet sequence as part of a class assignment in my Creative Writing course at Houston Baptist University. A lot has happened since I wrote the sonnet below, but reading it today reminded me of the journey to healing that included getting to know the hidden child.

Between my Sophomore and Junior year of college, my anxiety and depression grew more profound as did my compulsion to act out sexually. If I dated someone who was not interested in a sexual relationship, I broke up with them. I realize now, that my unconscious mind recalled my father’s threats and declarations that my purpose was pleasing him and anyone he brought to me. The problem was, I did not remember anything about the interactions with my father. I did not remember that he was the one who first ignited the flame that I could not extinguish. I felt trapped and believed I must be evil. I continued to feel the tug of the child in my dreams. I wondered whether the child held the answers to my questions. She remained hidden, but I believed that she might hold the key to my freedom.

The sonnet, “The Hidden Child,” describes the continuing battle between my conscious thoughts and the child who wanted me to listen. After the first quatrain, the sonnet is a list of questions that demonstrate the anguish I felt as hidden memories struggle to be set free. In the sonnet, I tentatively accept the existence of the child but am not certain what to do with her.

Why can’t I stop this all-consuming flame?

Oh Lord, I do not like who I’ve become.

I can’t contain what lurks within my brain.

Fire that won’t quit once it has begun.

Will I someday know who first struck the match?

Who ignited the flame that will not die?

Who’s words told me that love comes with a catch?

Does the child know why love must be a lie?

Who is the hidden child that screams for peace?

Who is the hidden child that haunts my dreams?

Who is the hidden child whose cries won’t cease?

Does the child hold the key to what love means?

Will she reveal what I don’t want to see?

Tell me, Lord, how can the child be set free?

Related Posts:

The Forgotten Fire

The Child Left Behind

You are Not Alone Tonight

With a sigh of relief, I whispered, “Thank you, for choosing to live.” I looked at the word document on my computer screen and felt a renewed sense of God’s presence. I sat in awe of God’s unconditional love for me.

With a sigh of relief, I whispered, “Thank you, for choosing to live.” I looked at the word document on my computer screen and felt a renewed sense of God’s presence. I sat in awe of God’s unconditional love for me. I had forgotten the significance of divine intervention in my life. I realized that after years of healing, studying and recounting the details of my journey, I was spiritually complacent. The complacency crept in while I moved on with my life.  I spent years sorting through memories and putting together the enormous puzzle of my life. I created a program that blended faith and reason to navigate the psychological and spiritual aspects of healing, but tonight I rediscovered God’s touch.

I felt the power of His presence in my life that I have not experienced in a long time.

Tonight, as I completed the chapter in my memoir about one of the darkest, yet most significant moments in my adult life, I decided to write a letter to the young woman who decided to live. At age 22, I believed that God hated me because I couldn’t stop acting out sexually. The chapter details the events of that night, but my experience after recounting them is the subject of this post. I think I finally understand my 22-year-old self and the significance of God’s intervention. I wanted to thank my younger self for the choice she made after God stepped in.

I still had a choice even after my pastor prayed over me.

Perhaps, you have faced despair and considered taking your life or you know someone who faces that choice. I share the letter I wrote to my younger self in this post to share the new insight I gained from traveling back to the night I chose life. God did not beat me over the head with a burning bush experience, instead, he sent a messenger in the form of my pastor. My pastor did not know I was on the verge of suicide and I never told him. His purpose that night was to give me hope. I think sometimes a simple message of “I am here. You are not alone, tonight,” might be the key to saving a life.

I am thankful that my pastor listened to the prompting to call me that night.

The letter below reflects what I want to tell my 22-year-old self as I close another painful chapter in my life with renewed hope and faith in the power of divine intervention.

You are Not Alone Tonight, Charlie

 

Hello Beautiful,

You are beautiful, Charlie. You are more beautiful than you realize. Tonight, I agonized with you and felt the despair and hopelessness of a young woman who desperately searched for love. I cried with you as you pleaded with God to set you free. My heart broke tonight when you lost all hope and wanted to end your life. You don’t understand yet why God intervened tonight, but you will. You don’t know for sure that the love you feel from God right now will last, but you will. You wonder if you will ever be free from the torment of the emptiness in your soul, but you will.

You felt beautiful tonight for the first time in a long time. You felt God’s touch, and you remembered it from when you were a little girl. Although you don’t remember the details of the times Jesus held you in His arms, tonight you remembered how safe you felt. Those feelings are real memories. One day you will know all the times Jesus kept you from losing your soul. You are not evil. You are beautiful.

Tonight, I want you to rest and know that all is not lost. Tomorrow is a new day, Charlie. Sleep well and know that you are not alone tonight.

Love,

The Charlotte that you will become because you chose to live tonight.

 

Believing the Lie

Between my Junior and Senior year of college, George, my childhood mentor, and father figure became my lover. I still had no idea how I understood how to react and how to please but being with him felt familiar and, in a distorted way, safe.

Over Thanksgiving break during my junior year of college, George, my childhood mentor, and father figure became my lover. I still had no idea how I understood how to react and how to please but being with him felt familiar and, in a distorted way, safe. However, I also felt extreme guilt because George was my best friend’s uncle and I sometimes babysat his children. George lived in Texas and I attended school in Iowa, so our encounters were infrequent. Between visits, I sought companionship with boys on campus and continued to reject anyone who refused my sexual advances.  As the year progressed, I sunk deeper and deeper into depression. I was unable to focus on my classes, hated who I was and was obsessed with George. He made me feel important and beautiful. I believed he loved me. I realize now that he groomed me for our affair by paying special attention to me when I was a child. I describe more about my relationship with George in “Letters of Hope- Part One.”

While I still believed in God, I wondered whether He loved me. I questioned whether God could forgive me.

“Believing the Lie” reveals the inner torment that I experienced as I navigated the confusion, guilt and a distorted view of love that were exacerbated by my relationship with George. Nothing in my life made sense. Believing that I was an evil person who was condemned by God seemed the most likely answer to my downward spiral.

Tell me, Lord, how can the child be set free?

Why are you silent when I call your name?

Am I condemned for all eternity?

Am I doomed? Must I live a life of shame?

Oh Lord, I tried to stop what seemed so wrong.

I ran to one I thought would understand.

He told me that my actions made me strong.

Then we played the game in the desert sand.

Thoughts of him consume me with no relief.

He has a wife. This is so wrong. With him

I both live and die. How can I believe

His love for me is more than just a whim?

Lord, tell me how can you forgive my sin?

How can I change? Tell me how to begin.

Related Posts:

The Hidden Child

The Child Left Behind

The Forgotten Fire

Letters of Hope- Part One

The Hidden Child

Between my Sophomore and Junior year of college, my anxiety and depression grew more profound as did my compulsion to act out sexually. If I dated someone who was not interested in a sexual relationship, I broke up with them. I felt trapped and believed I must be evil.

Between my Sophomore and Junior year of college, my anxiety and depression grew more profound as did my compulsion to act out sexually. If I dated someone who was not interested in a sexual relationship, I broke up with them. I realize now, that my unconscious mind recalled my father’s threats and declarations that my purpose was pleasing him and anyone he brought to me. The problem was, I did not remember anything about the interactions with my father. I did not remember that he was the one who first ignited the flame that I could not extinguish. I felt trapped and believed I must be evil. I continued to feel the tug of the child in my dreams. I wondered whether the child held the answers to my questions. She remained hidden, but I believed that she might hold the key to my freedom.

The sonnet, “The Hidden Child,” describes the continuing battle between my conscious thoughts and the child who wanted me to listen. After the first quatrain, the sonnet is a list of questions that demonstrate the anguish I felt as hidden memories struggle to be set free. In the sonnet, I tentatively accept the existence of the child but am not certain what to do with her.

Why can’t I stop this all-consuming flame?

Oh Lord, I do not like who I’ve become.

I can’t contain what lurks within my brain.

Fire that won’t quit once it has begun.

Will I someday know who first struck the match?

Who ignited the flame that will not die?

Who’s words told me that love comes with a catch?

Does the child know why love must be a lie?

Who is the hidden child that screams for peace?

Who is the hidden child that haunts my dreams?

Who is the hidden child whose cries won’t cease?

Does the child hold the key to what love means?

Will she reveal what I don’t want to see?

Tell me, Lord, how can the child be set free?

Related Posts:

The Forgotten Fire

The Child Left Behind

The Child Left Behind

Childhood trauma often causes the child to retreat emotionally and mentally into a safe place. Sometimes such mental retreats become a new reality for the individual. The child creates a new persona that is happy, playful and safe from harm. In cases of extreme abuse, the created safe place replaces the memory of the trauma for the child, particularly if the child leaves the abusive environment. However, as I pointed out in “The Forgotten Fire,” remnants of reality remain tucked away in the brain. Once ignited by a touch, a smell or sound, the remnants often surface with a vengeance. When that happens, sometimes years later, emotional chaos often ensues. The actual memory may remain hidden, which may lead to confusion, self-loathing and doubt. 

The Sonnet, “The Child Left Behind,” describes how I struggled to make sense out of my sexual acting out and desire that consumed me once the flame was ignited. I still had no memory of the abuse. Even as I felt the tug of a little girl who was frightened and angry as I yielded to old patterns, I rejected that child. I longed for control but lived in emotional chaos. I wanted answers, but none came.  The sonnet conveys the doubt, fear and questions that tortured me as I tried to make sense out of my life. The last quatrain sets the stage for the third sonnet in the series, “The Hidden Child.” 

 

Lord, who am I? Why do I act this way?

Can you douse the fire within my brain?

How do I know the tricks and how to play

The game that stifles fear yet causes pain?

I should not know what brings the boy delight.

I should not know what things ignite the flames.

I do not know how to can make this right.

I don’t know who I am or who to blame.

What’s wrong with me? What don’t I want to see?

Who is the frightened child that cries in pain?

This can’t be all I am. This can’t be me.

What child? What pain? No part of her remains.

Tell me, Jesus, am I the one to blame?

Why can’t I stop this all-consuming flame?

Related Posts:

The Forgotten Fire

How do I Change?

 

%d bloggers like this: