Raised in church
But chose the streets
Sex drugs and lies
Did whatever I pleased
But nothing could make me happy
No substance, no man
And the high satan promised
Was all just a sham
I lost it all twice
Then I fell to me knees
Forgiven straight from the bottom
Greatness destined to be.
Well my story begins like this...
I was raised in church and had a pretty well rounded, happy life, until one day I came home to find a moving truck in my driveway. I distinctly remember shouting "Hey! that's mine!" at my grandpa who was placing my wicker clothes hamper into the truck.
My mom came and took me into the house explaining to me that she was moving out... getting her own apartment. And I was going with her.
Soon after we moved into that apartment, her boyfriend (who is now my stepdad) moved in with her. I was only eight years old so I didn't fully understand all of what was going on or how it all had happend, but it felt like my whole world was crumbling. My mom didnt love my dad anymore, my parents were getting a divorce. I had to live in an apartment with a man who I felt didnt like me, instead of my big comfy house with my loving father. That much I knew.
After that things were ok. I still had a good life; We worked out a way for me to spend equal time with my mom and my dad-two weeks with mom, two weeks with dad. I lived like a gypsy, but I had both parents who loved me very much...and my relationship with my step dad began improving. I went to a Christian school, and went to church a few times a week and well, life went on.
Soon though I started putting on weight, I became pretty chunky! I hated it. I was made fun of occasionaly and I became super sensitive about not only my wieght but pretty much everything. I cried for no apparent reason all the time.
Now pass a few years...I'm twelve. I had an experience that changed the way I felt about men, and myself. I was sitting in a love seat with a grown man in my family and we were watching a movie I should not have been watching, and he began caressing my chest and slipped his hand down my shirt and began rubbing on my breast. I froze. I didnt say anything. Didn't say stop. I wanted to but I couldnt. All I could do was pretend to be asleep.
I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.
I didnt tell my mom untill years later. She never really confronted him. Atleast, she didn't do anything about it. She didnt believe me. That hurt, and it took a long time for me to forgive her for that. I never told my dad. I was too embarrassed. I had told myself that nothing too serious had happend and that I probably brought it on myself. I felt gross...
2 years later I tried meth for the first time. I wanted to lose weight. I was seeking acceptance and I found it.I had already been hanging around people of questionable morals who seemed to accept me just the way I was...and pretty soon started hanging around gangsters and druggies. I was totally addicted almost immediately. I used Meth, drank,and smoked for the next 10 years (occasionally did whatever other drugs were around) I partied hardy. I lived place to place, stayed in various motels, hung out in garages and bars...Once again, I was living like a gypsy.I had a hard time staying in one place. At first, I liked the lifestyle. At first, it was fun.
Now what people dont usually tell you, is that if the drugs dont kill you, the lifestyle will...eventually. Anyone who has lived this life can testify that along with drug use comes a scary world, a world of darkness and dispair, crime and scary- scanless people who are usually quick to use and abuse anyone who crosses thier path. I learned this for myself. I encountered it on a daily basis. That life stopped being fun, but I didnt stop living it.For some reason I couldnt. Or maybe I just wouldnt.
I've been in some ugly places and done so many ugly things. I had sex with many partners men and some women.I experimented in all sorts of sick and twisted ways I wouldnt dare put in writing. some of the men I didnt even want to have sex with. But at times I needed something (drugs, a place to stay etc.) and I so I wouldn't say no. Sometimes I just pretended to like them...most of the time I was simply numb. Indifferent.I put myself in bad situations and relationships and was abused physically and mentally because of it. When I was 22 I took a ride from some strangers after getting too drunk and being left at a Casino and was raped by a few young men. I never reported it of course.I blamed myself and pushed it to the back of my mind.
I would cut myself when I felt overwhelmed with sadness or frustration, but nothing eased my pain for long, not the cutting, not the drugs, not the sex, not even the alcohol. I have so many stories I could tell, but it all boiled down to one thing, I was lost...and I lived a very sad existence.
Every day revolved around drugs...doing or getting. All the while I was running from God. I heard his voice constantly. Sometimes I would become panic stricken that Jesus had returned and left me behind, so I would drive around and search the streets for small children (I figured Jesus wouldnt leave any children) I put my parents through hell, and for a certain period I even left my beautiful little girl who I adore to live with my mom. I was convicted daily. Cried all the time. I drank constantly because it was the only way I felt happy for a moment. But at the end of the day, I was miserable.
One day a friend of mine (who was a drug dealer mind you) picked me up and told me I had to go home. He had done this a couple of times, but I could tell he meant business this time. He told me that I needed to get clean and go home to my daughter. He actually scared the crap outta me (long story) but he told me if he ever caught me in the motels or in his nieghborhood again that he was going to tie me up and leave me in his trunk for a few days. We hung out with the same people so I knew he would find out... and I believed he would do it. He took me to a park where I found my dad waiting for me.
My dad took me home to a sort of intervention where I was told if I didnt get help I was going to lose my daughter. I knew that losing her was not an option. I knew I needed help.
The next day I took a bus to a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. I did that every day for a long time. It helped me to stay clean, but I was still drinking and relapsed occasionaly. I was still seeking acceptance from men...something was missing. I knew that something was God. Somehow I still didnt feel ready to give my life to him.
One day, I went to my aunts house upset, just seeking an ear to listen a shoulder to cry on. I had strange bruises on my hand that would not go away and I was convinced I had Hepititis or AIDs or something (I was with men who slammed Heroin and Meth ..-meaning they used needles-and I was with many partners never using protection) . But I was terrified of getting tested. It haunted me for years; Infact, I lived in constant fear.
My aunt prayed with me for healing and for God to heal my broken heart. Like they say, I was "tired of being tired". I couldn't run anymore.I gave my life to the Lord that day and felt as though a weight had been lifted off my chest and out of my heart. I decided that day that I would never be a drug addict again. Would never go back to the streets, and I havent. The bruises on my hand soon went away and I eventually got tested...everything came out negative, Thank the Lord!
Since then, I have struggled.I haven't lived a perfect life since I gave my life to him, but the times I've fallen down I've picked myself back up again as quickly as possible.When the devil tries to tell me that I'm a screw up or a loser for messing up, unworthy of God's love and forgiveness, I simply remind myself (and him, that liar!) of what the Bible says..."For a righteous man falls seven times, and rises again." Then I rise again, and try not to make the same mistakes.
The road to recovery is not always easy. I'm still dealing with certain issues, but I love the Lord and I strive to serve him. I teach my daughter about Jesus' love and I try my hardest to let his love shine through me. I have a heart for the broken hearted, for the sick, addicted and the abused. I really want to be involved in these types of ministries and I feel like I'm finally at a point where I have something real to give.
God saved not only my soul, but my life and my sanity! God restored me. Now, I am a righteous woman of God, I am drug and alcohol free, and I am truly blessed!!
"Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God" (1 Cor. 6:9-11).
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heather
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