My Story

Did I have any good times in my childhood? Yes, I remember singing Christmas carols in our home in Virginia and the fun I had with my friends. Early on, Christmas was wonderful, and my parents gave me a dog when I was about five years old. I LOVED my little dog Frisky.

However, in kindergarten, mom started sleeping in, so I got ready for school by myself. I ate cereal and walked to school alone. That was scary. I became extremely responsible at a young age.

When I was about 8, I was ashamed of our unkempt house, so I never invited friends over. I don’t remember my parents having friends. I do remember them fighting.

My dad had become an alcoholic while in the military, and over time, his alcoholism got worse. When provoked by my mom, he got really angry, punching walls and overturning furniture. Mom was bitterly disappointed that dad never reached the potential she thought he should have -- she thought they would have more money. When I was about 12, she began drinking every night, but unlike my father, she got vicious – and violent. By dinner, she was like an oncoming train, spewing fury and profanity. My sister and I “walked on eggshells” to avoid becoming her target.

Later a counselor told me my mom was a “rageaholic” as well as an alcoholic. Psychiatric nurses who evaluated her also told me she had a borderline personality, possibly from sexual abuse in her childhood. My dad was passive, unable to protect my sister or me from my mom.

I was depressed but didn't realize it. I never told anyone about what was going on at home. I took comfort in fantasy. Before I went to sleep, I would imagine strong arms holding me, protecting me, and a voice telling me everything was going to be okay. Looking back, it really comforted me, and I believe this comfort was the presence of God.

As a teen-ager, I searched for meaning in life. I studied religions. I even experimented with witchcraft. I was searching for help, hope and truth. 

Once I left home, I thought I would feel better. I didn’t. I felt sad and depressed. ALL the time. Relationships were impossible. I was lonely. I ate to feel better. I drank alcohol. I had zero self-confidence at work — my face turned bright red when I talked with people. I was fearful of everything and could not tolerate conflict. As time went on, I descended into misery and despair.

But God sent help. In my first real job out of college, a work colleague reached out to me. Her name was Judy, and she was a Christian. She would say things like, “church was wonderful last night”!

I thought she was crazy. But she invited me to lunch with her, and I would go. I was so grateful for any kindness and friendship.

At lunch, Judy told me Bible stories and used the word of God in such a way that I began to listen.  She treated me like I was already a Christian, which I wasn’t, and which I thought was strange, but that approach worked with me. She invited me to church, but I didn’t go.

Then a couple of things happened that put me over the edge. My office went out for lunch to celebrate birthdays for the month. Well, it was my birthday too, but everyone left without me. I was devastated, which was an overreaction, but wounded people overreact. Then, an old boyfriend came into town. He made comments about some weight I had gained. I felt humiliated and asked him to leave.

I remember closing my apartment door and feeling the worst despair I had ever felt. I wanted to die — to end it. All the pain of my childhood flooded back. I was literally sobbing on the floor.

It was at that moment that I thought of Judy and how she was convinced that God was real. Good grief, she prayed for parking spaces and for God to help her find her keys. Impulsively, I got up from the floor on my knees and said out loud — “The God of Judy, if you are real, PLEASE help me.”

And a remarkable thing happened. I felt peace. Like someone had flipped a switch. I felt better, and I didn’t know why. This was amazing, given a few minutes ago, I had been hysterical. I stood up and was reminded that Judy had told me the best place to start reading the Bible was in the book of John. I went digging through my apartment to find a Bible.   

I opened to the book of 1 John, not realizing it wasn’t the gospel of John, and started reading.

I could never have imagined what happened next. As I read, I kept seeing the word “beloved.” And as I read it, I felt a huge wave of love wash over me — like chills and goosebumps all over. Like God was telling me He loved me!

Was it possible that God was real? Was it possible that He cared about me? It’s hard to convey how astonished I was!

I was thrilled to discover that God was real, but didn’t yet have the whole story. A few weeks later, as I was watching TV, I came across Billy Graham. He explained— with such clarity — that we are all separated from God by sin, but that Jesus, God’s son, had come to earth to pay that penalty for our sins by dying on the cross. All I had to do was repent of my sin and ask Him to be my Savior.

Well, what did I have to lose? I turned off my TV, lay on my bed and started talking to God. I asked Him to forgive me — and repented of all the sins I could think of.

I felt the love of God all around me. I began to cry, uncontrollably. I suddenly understood how much God loved me — enough to die for me. I wanted to shout!  I actually felt joy. I felt invincible. I didn’t tell Judy right away, but I eventually went to her church and went forward to accept Christ as my Savior. I met with the pastor and was baptized.

Knowing God did not mean instant healing for all my childhood wounds. It was a journey. Every night, I pressed in to know Him. Many nights I read the Bible for hours, and my mind began to renew. I gave up using foul language -- made a commitment not to lie.  For the first time in my life, I had hope and joy.

God began to replace the lies I learned from childhood with truth. I was precious (not worthless). God knew my every thought and He cared. My value was based on what He thought — not what others thought. God gave me a sound mind.  I dealt with anger and overcame fear. I worked to forgive my parents. I became aware of spiritual warfare. I started to heal.

I ended up living with two strong Christian roommates (Robyn and Sandy) who showed me how to work through conflict and communicate honestly. They prayed for me and encouraged me to tell them when I was upset, even with them. Once when Sandy and I were praying, I felt God reaching down and touching me. I can’t explain it, but He healed a place in me of deep brokenness. My depression was lifting.

I received life-changing counseling from Christian counselors. A woman counselor (Diana) mirrored God’s truth to me, knocking down more hateful lies that Satan had rooted in my heart. She helped me release my distorted images of God and of myself. During a session that I can only describe as supernatural, I forgave my mother from my heart. It was like releasing poison. I released her from being the mother I needed her to be and turned to God to meet all my needs.

Forgiveness is key to healing. It dramatically changed my relationship with my mom. I was no longer a cowering little girl. I was able to establish boundaries with her and no longer tolerated abuse. Ironically, I am fearless now when it comes to conflict. And I have learned to be grateful in all circumstances. I still cry out to God when I am afraid or in trouble.

Healing has been a life-long process. But I am not the same person I was at age 23. When people ask me how I am today, I tell them I still have scars, but the sting is gone, because my wounds have been healed.  Giving my life to Jesus was the best thing I have ever done.