When I was a little girl, I was often full of anxiety due to the constant turmoil of a home plagued with alcoholism, domestic violence and neglect. Both of my parents were extremely young, self absorbed and ill-equipped to raise the three little girls they had been entrusted to them. One of my earliest memories in childhood marked a turning point in my life and has shaped me in ways that I could never fully describe.
One particular evening, I was struggling with thoughts of death and the question of being alone forever after death…I remember being very afraid. Perhaps I felt some degree of impending doom, and it followed me into my dreams that evening. I dreamt that I was crying out in the darkness, separated from all that I knew and loved, when this giant hand reached down to me. I knew immediately in my heart that this was God, coming to my rescue, comforting me. I hugged the hand as tight as I could and was drawn up out of the darkness. Then I woke up.
I was not raised in a Christian home, nor was I involved in church, or even talk of God. From the moment I awoke, a deeply rooted faith in God had taken hold in my heart. I believed, without a single doubt, that God was (and is) real, cares deeply for me and will not leave me alone in darkness. I woke up with a new hope and foundation for living my life. I have carried that faith and dream with me since that moment.
I wish that I could say that from that defining moment life got better for me or easier, but it didn't. Life was never promised to be easy or struggle free. I grew up battling severe depression throughout most of my childhood, building to an inescapable climax during my teenage years. When I was 16 years old I felt especially crippled under the weight of my emotions, and the deep wounds I'd collected as a child. I was melancholic, sad, angry but despite my emotions I lashed out in unpredicted ways. I strove for perfection in everything I did, and tormented myself endlessly whenever I fell short.
I reached a point of darkness where I believed it would have been better if I had never been born. I frequently struggled with images in my mind of my life ending. I didn't want death, I wanted release…I just wanted a mind free of pain and anguish. One evening, while my family went about their normal activities I collected all the medicine from my mother's medicine cabinet. Trembling, I swallowed the pills. I wept quietly as I felt my pain washing me over like tidal waves, and mourned the life that I hoped would soon leave me.
After swallowing the pills, I laid in my bed and prayed to God to forgive me, and I cried out for Him to save me. As quickly as I had given my life away I wanted it back. I begged and pleaded with Him to not take my life, but to give me a second chance. I poured out my heart before Him and the weight of the load I was carrying was laid before His feet. I cried until I drifted to sleep, unsure if I'd taken my last breaths. Miraculously I awoke. Never had I been so grateful to have air in my lungs.
I survived to make a promise to God that I would never devalue my life again. Instead of drowning in the despair I felt, I would resolve to rise above all that I had been through. I made a choice that I would never give up, and I would fight every obstacle that stood in my way to being wholly healed from the pain of my childhood. I wouldn't end up another statistic of a broken home. I would be the curse breaker and I would go on to live a "normal" existence. Mostly, I just wanted to do more than survive.
I live today as a different person. While I can't say that I am completely healed of the pain of my past, each day is a little bit better than the last. Each day that God gives me the power to breath, is a day where I am actively pursuing wholeness in my life. I have been blessed with a beautiful life. I have a remarkable man by my side to hold me when I need to be reassured that life is indeed good, a spirited daughter to fill my heart with songs of joy and laughter and a God who, as promised, has never left me alone in my darkness.
