Hello, everyone. Time for my second post. Woohoo, I might actually keep this going! For those of you who are wondering about the frequency of my entries, I’m planning on posting one every week.
Now then, on to the blogging!
(I would like to warn you that there is going to be some personal and uncomfortable content in this blog. Some of you may not want to read it, but I feel that it is necessary to share this. It is a very important part of my testimony and cannot be left out. If there are any children reading this please stop and let your parent(s) or guardian(s) read it first.)
So, I’ve told you about my rocky beginning, and some of the events that unfolded that rocky beginning as my life moved forward. Perhaps I shall tell you about even more unfolding of other events in my life. Well, the unfolding of some other rocky events began about six years ago when my parents set up some counseling appointments for me when they found out of a romantic/sexual relationship I had with another girl. Before everyone starts firing off their opinions about homosexuality and parental suffocation of freedoms/rights, I want you to know that I believe they were right to do it. Why? Because A) I do personally believe that homosexuality is wrong, and not solely because of my parents influence (though I would be lying if I said it wasn’t partially because of their influence). It is mainly because I made my own decision to trust my Lord and to trust that He is sovereign enough to make sure that what was written in His word was written exactly as He meant it to be. Romans 1:18-32 B) Because my relationship with my girlfriend was standing on the rickety foundation of old wounds, emotionally crippling anxieties, and false understandings of myself. And C.) I was fourteen years old. They would have been concerned about me being in a sexual relationship with anyone at that age; male or female.
So, in those counseling sessions I learned one very important thing about myself. I didn’t trust men. My counselor asked me questions about my past and my family life, and we had explored some of the ways that some of the males in my life had hurt me or had simply not treated me as well as they could have. That merely scratched the surface, but it was enough to get me to rethink why I was in that relationship… eventually. I was still pretty stubborn. The most important step I took in those counseling sessions was to allow myself to work through something that is hard for me to talk about even today. Sexual abuse.
When I was ten years old I was sexually abused by a close and trusted male. I am not going to elaborate any more on who that person was. Those of you who know, keep it to yourselves. I have forgiven this person and do not want to drag his name through the mud any more than I already have.
One of the things that I struggled with most was actually admitting that what happened was sexual abuse, because what happened wasn’t nearly as bad or traumatizing as what other women and children have gone through. It wasn’t rape, it was just some unwanted touching. Nothing that bad. Well, that was what I would tell myself. I felt as if I would be over reacting or undermining the seriousness of more severe acts of sexual abuse if I were to actually call it sexual abuse. As you can see, I use that term a lot now. I have really drilled into my head that what happened to me was not any less significant than what has happened to anyone else. It really helped me to overcome it. After all, how are you supposed to vault yourself over a ten-foot wall if you keep telling yourself that it’s only four feet; five feet tops.
Even in this metaphor calling it a ten foot wall seems like a bit much to me. I keep wanting to go back and type “seven-foot wall” or “eight-foot wall”. I keep wanting to go back and change the sentences before it, too. It still seems wrong to believe that what I’ve been through is equally as significant as what others have been through. I always feel like someone is going to get mad at me for believing that. This is one of the two extremes that Satan goes to. He either makes you believe that what has been done to you is WAY worse than it actually is, or he makes you think that you’re over reacting WAY too much to something that you were actually reacting quite reasonably to.
I think that this is all I should write this week. Hopefully I’ll have more to write next week. 🙂
~The best of teachers and the best of friends have two things in common. They make life’s lessons into life’s adventures, and they will tell you the God honest truth knowing that you might hate them for it.~