Scars

Typically a scar is visible for most to see.  A scar shows where an injury or wound once was that wasn't able to fully heal to the original state.  As a child I developed a couple scars on various body parts after receiving stitches.  I was a little girl though and could have cared less about those scars, and was more concerned about healing, so I could get back out and play!  Later in elementary school, I was in an accident that left a lot of scar tissue on my upper lip.  I had the option of having plastic surgery to try to correct it, but I wanted nothing to do with it.  The scar was something I was asked about here or there (and still am) throughout my adolescence, maybe teased just a couple times, but it was never anything I was overly self-conscious about.  Then, into adult hood I accumulated several scars on my abdomen.  Between three c-sections and a few laparoscopic surgeries, the reminder of those procedures were there, but they weren't in a place many would see.  I didn't give too much thought to them.  Then, last year, when the biopsy from my upper arm came back as melanoma, my heart sank.  After the initial scary part of it had worn off, it was the scar I knew that I would have that began to weigh on my mind.  As it was described to me, it would be a pretty significant scar that would always be quite noticeable.  Sure, it wasn't smack dab on the middle of my face, so it could have certainly been worse, but as a girl living in FL, my arms are exposed quite often, and I cringed at the thought of a big red scar on my upper arm.  I convinced myself that I would swear off all tops that exposed my upper arms.  It didn't take long though to realize that was a crazy thought.  It's too dang hot in FL to keep my arms covered up all the time, and I also figured it meant about half my wardrobe was off limits, so I decided to just embrace it.  And guess what?  I wore sleeveless tops, answered peoples questions about it, and got over it.  Do I think about it?  Occasionally.   Am I self conscious about it?  Moderately.  Is it a reminder of something I overcame?  Absolutely!  I now think it's pretty ridiculous that I ever even thought about trying to cover it up for good. 

So, it got me to thinking.... for every scar on the outside that you can see, there are far more on the inside that you can't.  And aren't we all  probably like that for the most part?  Life is hard and messy and painful, and despite all the beauty and laughter and love that it brings, it also brings a lot of hurt.  That hurt causes scars, and many times we keep those scars buried.  But what if we were less concerned about covering them up or camouflaging them, and just embraced them for what they were?  What if we used them as a tool to bring about good, strengthen our relationships, remind ourselves of all we've overcome, and maybe even help someone else along the way? By far my biggest scar that I have kept hidden has been my rape.  That scar stayed hidden for over 20 years. Doing so served a purpose at various stages in my life I suppose.  I'll struggle with some regrets that I have about that for many years to come, I imagine.  One thing I do know though with certainty is that in these last few years of beginning to expose that scar, I have experienced a new peace and self-worth that I hadn't felt in a long time.  That's not to say it's easy, or pain free, or perfect by an stretch of the imagination.  In fact, it's been quite hard and emotional. But when I stopped worrying about covering the scar up and just began to show it, it lead to a lot of positive outcomes, and I know there are even more on the horizon. 

In the overall scheme of things, this scar on my arm is quite minor, but it I'm pretty sure it had a significant purpose in helping me embrace an inner scar that I also needed to stop hiding.  xoxo

Another Step

Small disclaimer:  please know that I only share this with a very small fraction of my FB "friends"....I am able to edit who sees my post, and have chosen to share with those closest to me in my life who I know don't pass judgement on me.  To go from telling no one to opening up to 150 people is HUGE for me, but it's an intimate and personal topic that I'm not ready to blast out there to just anyone, my professional circle, etc.  My ultimate goal is that others will know they are not alone and we may perhaps draw on each other for strength and comfort and share God's goodness in our lives.....


Just a few years ago, I never would have imagined myself sitting on a comfy couch in a therapist's office.  The thought of it alone sounded so foreign and uncomfortable.  It's never something I had felt like I "needed", although really deep down I knew it would be so beneficial.  Pushing forward, stuffing my memories and feelings down, or just trying to get through the waves when they'd come flooding back, and then carry on as normal seemed to be working okay for me I thought, so why take the time and money to put towards talking about something that felt so painful and shameful? 

But then I did.  Truly, it was all about fear.  Fear of saying out loud to someone what had happened to me.  Fear of being judged.  Fear of opening up wounds.  Fear of what others would think about me for even seeing a counselor.  Fear of the unknown.  To say I was nervous would be an understatement.  Overcoming that initial fear and scheduling that first appointment was a game changer though.  It was one of the hardest but most empowering things I have experienced.  So worth it!

 To quickly summarize, I've sought counsel at a few different places over the last couple years including a women's shelter, my church, and a recommended private practice.  Each have been so beneficial in their own way.  Most recently, I'd been regularly seeing a therapist in private practice and really felt like I was making so much progress, gaining perspective, drawing closer to God, etc.,  and of course like with most things, when you feel like you're in a better place, you stop working so hard at staying there.  I wasn't talking to God about it as much anymore, stopped writing (my outlet), and really in all honesty just got so busy with transitioning to working a full time job, keeping up with my kids and just life in general, that I didn't prioritize it as much as I had been. 

And just when I was skimming by, there comes the media.  That in my face reminder that I just can't ignore how incredibly raw and painful a trauma from over 20 years ago can still make me feel absolutely hopeless and alone.  It's not so much about my particular assault though as it's about how sexual assault is perceived.  And the particular trigger for me in this instance was that a woman who claimed she was assaulted was ridiculed and looked down upon because it took her so long to speak up.  Yes, I know there is sooo much more to this.  Please don't think I don't realize that.  I'm not here to argue if Ms. Ford was telling the truth or not, because I will never be privy to that information and won't pretend to have the ultimate truth.  I don't even want to talk about that at all.  What took my breath away though was to hear and read people ridicule and mock her over something I could so clearly see myself in.  And then, in my mind, it did become about me.  Like Ford, I didn't report anything.  Like Ford, I didn't tell anyone for a very long time.  Like her, I avoided seeking therapy for many years.  Like her, I can't remember so many details of the night, in particular who drove me home the next day.  My own insecurities over all of that are enough to deal with and one of the biggest things that I have come to recognize with much better perspective through counseling, but when I overheard a clip of the President of our country mocking a woman who couldn't remember "how she got home" and then I heard the crowd cheering and applauding, it was devastating.  Loneliness is the only word I know to sum it up.  Something that wasn't about me felt like it was all about me, and I wanted to crawl in a hole and avoid it all.  That fear was back.  The loneliness felt so heavy.  If people really knew my story would they say the exact same things about me?

So there I was just kind of sitting in that, and in the midst of it, it feels too painful to seek out help.  You know you need to talk to someone, but for me, I'm just not good at reaching out when I really feel in despair.  As the fog lifted though, I recognized the importance of trying to talk through these feelings with a professional.  Unfortunately, it became apparent though that I was no longer going to be able to see my therapist now that I was no longer on summer break.  She was amazing but stops seeing people by 1PM, and that didn't work for my schedule.  I reached out to a couple other options and they just weren't panning out as well, so I put it off a bit and kept pushing through, and the loneliness was heavy. 

And then when I let him, God pushed his way into my heart, like only He can.  His gentle reminder that he's always there.   It's the comfort that is unexplained with my words.  That reminder that He knows my story, that he is working out all the beautiful details to come from my story, and that I can rest in Him.   And to make a long story just a tad bit shorter, in those details it was arranged to share my heart with our caring pastor once again, and also my former therapist reached back out to me with someone she thought would be a good match for me and whose schedule could accommodate mine.

This is good news! So why I am here up late writing?  Because I meet with her in the morning for the first time, and my anxiety it kicked in to full throttle this afternoon.  Something I know is healthy, good, and will most likely have a great end result still makes me feel so dang nervous.  I'm reminded of that fear.  That fear that I know is silly, but is so prevalent.  It's the way that Satan inches his way in by whispering all those doubts that take over and keep me from reaching out.  I won't give in though.  I will take another step, take some deep breaths, and conquer this tiny hurdle remembering that He's got my back through it all. 

Fear

You know that saying that goes "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself?"  I'm not a big fan of that saying.  I mean what does it mean exactly anyways?  A little fear is healthy, right?  I mean, I want my kids to fear touching the hot stove or running out into the street.  I want them to fear a stranger who pulls up and offers them a ride.   Our parents help teach us those fears, and those kind of fears help protect us and keep us safe at times.

This year has been about me trying to face some of my fears.... most of them are fears that have nothing to do with my safety and everything to do with me just worrying too much or having self doubt.  I've wanted to try paddle boarding for years, but was fearful I'd just fall off the entire time and never be able to do it.  Finally made myself do it; LOVED it!  Getting a tattoo I was so scared of regretting it or it hurting too bad, but doing it has been a beautiful reminder of my worth in God.  I've wanted to dance again for years, but have been fearful of what an idiot I'd make of myself.  Tried it.  Probably did make an idiot of myself, but who cares...loved it, and am continuing to do it.  I'm tired of talking myself out of things before even giving myself a chance.  Those fears are silly, and tackling them feels amazing and empowering, and constantly reminds me of one of my very favorite bible verses, "I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me."  Another big fear that wasn't quite as light hearted, was finally talking to someone about my assault...for over 20 years I couldn't even force myself to say the word rape out loud. Writing/blogging about it certainly sounded crazy.  I mean I didn't even want anyone to know, much less starting to open up about the whole process...no thank you.  Going and talking to someone about it surely was high on my list of fears if not right at the very top.  I knew it was time though, and doing it has not been easy (it takes a pep talk and lots of prayer sometimes to just get out of the car),  but it has been life-changing, and I know it will continue to be.  I have grown in my faith, my self confidence, and made connections with other people who have also experienced similar things and have reached out to me in confidence after reading about my experience. 

This past week I've been experiencing some triggers that have really made me feel full of fear and anxiousness.  No need to go into all the detail, but it kind of hit me out of nowhere it felt like, and I have been hating the way it makes me feel.  The easiest way for me to really be in tune with how much something is affecting me is through my sleep.  When I can't sleep well, have night mares, experience flash backs, or just feel in such a state of fear, I know it's more than just a passing emotion.  It's one of my first times experiencing this intense of a trigger, or at least recognizing it, and I don't like the way it makes me feel weak and not in control.  I'm leaving for a trip tomorrow though and wanted to feel in a better place mentally and spiritually and was determined to try to do so.  Amidst working today and packing tonight, I've been listening to a favorite few songs over and over.  Music speaks to my soul so deeply!  I also received some wonderful bible verses and prayer to encourage me that have really touched me and brought a better sense of peace and confidence.  For me, there really is nothing like the word of God that can have such an impact on me, and I long for everyone I know and love to be able to experience that at some point in their lives.  It certainly doesn't make everything sunshine and rainbows.  I'm still feeling uneasy and sitting here awake writing when I know my alarm will be going off in three hours, but it's the best way I know to deal with it though.  So there you have it...my weakness, my heart, and my reminder that sometimes, Fear is a Liar...

One Little Step at a Time

It's been quite awhile since I sat down to write.  A new chapter began in my life, and although I am absolutely loving my new job as a full-time 3rd grade teacher, it has resulted in a big shift in managing my time, and most specifically finding time for anything that revolves around "me time", like  this blog.  Most often when I find a few minutes for myself, it involves taking a quick nap or catching up with a family member or friend.  I'm working on achieving a better balance with this, but as I know from past experiences, the beginning of the school year is always extremely busy, and I'm hopeful that I'm approaching a calmer and more balanced pattern very soon! 

As with most things in life though, I've learned that it's not a sprint, but yet it's a slow and steady pace.  I was reminded of that this morning while teaching the bible lesson to a group of four year olds.  Funny how God's sense of humor strikes like that.  ;)  The story was about Sarah and Abraham and how badly they wanted a family, and how much they believed in God's promise that they one day would have that family.  If you know the story, you know that they did indeed have their promised family one day...but our idea of how soon that family would take place, as well as Sarah and Abraham's idea I'm sure, was much different than God's plan.  His promise was absolutely fulfilled, but much patience and trusting in God took place in waiting for this promise.  The five years of infertility that Mat and I experienced feel like a speck of sand compared to Sarah and Abraham's wait, that's for sure!!!  The point though is that I was brought back to God's promise that I have felt in my life lately of healing this pain and fear in my heart...it's not a one stop shop.  It's not a quick cure, or a one prayer and I'm good to go.  It's my "thing" (we all have a "thing", right?!?) that I will most likely struggle with as a weakness, a heartache that I will continually seek Him through.  But that's okay, and I'm learning that I don't have to be "fixed" or perfect or strong all the time, because I'm making progress, and I'm overcoming my fears one step at a time, on my terms and through His strength, and this journey is hard and emotional and beautiful all at the same time, but there is no time frame for which it must be completed. 

In April or May, or whenever it was around that time frame that I first sought spiritual guidance and prayer in this area, my pastor recommended a resource to me.  It's a book and workbook called Healing the Wounded Heart.  I started reading it immediately and it was a perfect fit for me in many aspects.  I highly recommend it for anyone dealing with heartache around a wide array of sexual assault or abuse issues.  As I eagerly dove in though looking for encouragement and healing, I quickly realized this was going to take some work.  This was no quick fix.  You'd think I would have figured that out knowing that it was 20 years later that I'm actually facing this head on, but hey...I'm a slow learner, I guess.  As I began reading the first section I was was warned through the book to go slow, operate with no timetable, set aside time to write about the experience, and process it in short increments rather than intense bursts. The author, Dan Allender, even prepares you to experience nausea, fitful sleep (too late for that Mr. Allender), etc....the point was GO SLOW.  This really spoke to me because my most significant attempt at healing in the past and been more of an intense burst. I was ready to finally "get it over with."  It was extremely emotional in almost an overwhelming way, I dedicated a decent amount of time to it, felt I made some significant progress, but then within a few months afterwards I found myself back with a lot of the same doubts and fears.  Maybe I hadn't dealt with quite as much as I thought I had.  So in preparing for this journey, the book suggested an essential support system (therapist, spouse, church, friends), short increments that can be sustained, and a commitment to go longer and farther than seems possible or desirable.  In doing so though, I read to expect a life-giving, freeing and empowering journey, and that's exactly what I feel like I've been experiencing. 

Five months later, and I am still working through this book and workbook, and in all honesty it will probably be a couple more months until I complete it.  I read something though just recently that I felt could resonate with so many people in a variety of communities as we embrace each other and all of our imperfections...."This process is not going to be finished by one prayer, confession or renewal of the Spirit.  It comes when the war is truly faced and fought.  When the enemy is clearer and the bondage is named with appropriate grief and desire for liberation, the Spirit of the Holy God can take broken and courageous survivors of sexual abuse on the journey of their lives."  Whether your story is anything like mine, or something completely different, I am telling you what a liberating journey it is when you finally let down your guard and let God really enter your heart.  No timetable.  No agenda.  Just let Him in. 

Why Priceless?

We often think of the term "priceless" as referring to monetary value, but to me it's even so much more than that.  A quick search of the word will tell you that priceless is "to be so precious that its value can not be determined." I love that.  I repeat it to myself often.  I now read it on my own arm as I quickly glance down when my heart needs that reminder.  In God's eyes, I know I am priceless, even when I may doubt it in my own heart.

So many times in my life, I feel far from priceless.  This isn't just an overall feeling, but even day to day.  I mess up, I say things I wish I wouldn't have said, I overreact, and the list goes on.  Among all these little daily things though, there's been that one big thing that has made me question my worth for years, and that was my rape. Something I had valued was suddenly gone. A barely 17 year old girl who had believed she should save herself for marriage felt worthless.  A shame began to fill my heart without me even realizing it.  Sadness, anger, disgust, pain, resentment, fear...it all took away from self worth.  Not out loud to others, but in my own head, I put myself down.  My actions in the immediate after math of my rape demonstrated what I was feeling on the inside, but I did a good job of pretending I was fine.  In my mind though, I looked back on that night with so much regret and sadness that the guilt I carry often felt overwhelmingly painful and diminished the value I placed on myself. There is this voice inside that reminds me of what happened.  It whispers to me in my darkest moments.  It's in my flashbacks, my bad dreams, my inner most thoughts.  It quietly eats away at me sometimes. 

Greater though than all those voices is THE voice of TRUTH.  When I allow Him into my heart  and seek Him, He tells me the exact opposite. He's always been there, right by my side, just waiting for me to let Him in.  A sexual assault will never define me.  It does not determine my self worth or my value.  I will not give it that power.  I can't do it on my own though.  I don't have that strength.  I have tried, trust me, and it's just not there.  I struggled to turn this big thing in my life over to God, because for me, as silly as it sounds, it meant telling Him about it.  Of course I know that he knows, but I've had my moments of being too angry with him (I'll have to write about that soon), too shameful to pray about it, too painful to address, so I don't.  I have buried it and ignored it, and pretended it away, but it never works for long.  I'm still not 100% there to be totally honest.  It's something I am working on consistently.  I have come so so far though, and released a burden that I know is not mine to carry.  Doing so has brought a joy to my heart that was missing and a sense of peace that is hard to even put into words.  Opening my heart to His comfort, His love, and His value in me these past few months has been absolutely amazing, and something I look forward to sharing with others more and more. I believe it is my purpose through all this pain.

A couple years ago, I was introduced to the song "Priceless" by King and Country, and even more specifically the movie.  If you haven't seen or heard either, I highly recommend them both.  These brothers have turned the term "priceless" into an entire movement really.  Just to summarize it briefly,

"The Priceless Movement has been a snowballing part of for KING & COUNTRY over the past few years. Starting with the release of their Priceless necklaces and Respect & Honor bracelets, Joel and Luke wear the jewelry at every show and talk about how these pieces represent the respect and honor that women should be treated with. The necklace is a real Australian penny hanging from a simple chain that was designed to remind every woman she is worth more than all the money in the world. She is priceless. They want to remind men and women of this, not only for treatment in relationships, but to bring attention to the human trafficking that is going on all over the world."

I wear my Priceless necklace almost daily. 

The song really touches my heart, and I imagine speaks to so many women around the world for a variety of reasons. There are many videos of this song, but this is one of my very favorites because it's just simple and pure, and also at the beginning Joel explains the meaning behind the song/movement.

These lyrics are everything to me, and they bring me closer to God's word and remind me of my value in him.  

Mirror, mirror, mirror on the wall
Tellin' those lies, pointing out your flaws
That isn't who you are
That isn't who you are

It might be hard to hear
But let me tell you, dear
If you could see what I can see, I know you would believe
That isn't who you are
There's more to who you are

So when it's late
You're wide awake
Too much to take
Don't you dare forget that in the pain
You can be brave
Hear me say

I see you dressed in white
Every wrong made right
I see a rose in bloom
At the sight of you
Oh, so priceless
Irreplaceable, unmistakable, incomparable
Darling, it's beautiful
I see it all in you
Oh, so priceless

No matter what you've heard
This is what you're worth
More than all the money or the diamonds and pearls
Oh, this is who you are
Yeah, this is who you are

Shortly after I turned 39 a few months ago, I made a decision to make some changes in my life and begin taking better care of myself spiritually, mentally and physically.  It's a bit of a personal journey I feel that I am on this year to really experience personal growth in ways that I have been holding back for quite some time.  Although I am sure this journey won't feel complete by the time I turn 40, my goal is to have made significant progress and feel in a much better place overall than on the day I turned 39.  This is where the title of my blog came from.  :) I feel like these areas are all related, and in facing my fears I decided to get a tattoo that would be special, powerful, and meaningful of this journey.  I quickly decided to incorporate the term priceless while  reaffirming my faith and trust in Jesus.  This tattoo was strictly for me.  It's pretty unlike me honestly, but something I have been wanting to signify for years, and just too scared to do it.  Checked this one off though, and no looking back.  

Dear 17 Year-Old Girl

That April evening of 1996, I put myself in a poor situation.  It certainly wasn't the first time I was in a  vulnerable circumstance, but being a carefree teenager, I wasn't exactly really thinking my decisions through, and this particular evening I had pushed it to the max. I was starting to regret my choices.  I knew I was in over my head, I was feeling scared, and I called on someone who I thought would be a safer bet. For now, I will skip over how exactly it all played out, and jump to the fact that he did not prove to be a safer bet.  Here's the thing though...  I liked this guy, and I'd even say I had a crush on this guy. I kind of looked at him as my rescuer that evening.  I was flattered that he came when I called.  The night went all wrong though, and even though I have anger and blame and sadness and almost every difficult emotion that I can think to name that is directed at him and dare I even say God (working on that one daily), soooo much of it all comes back to me.  Me.  So much guilt, so much blame, so much shame, and ultimately so much disappointment.  No matter how many times someone tells me that nothing gives a person the right to rape you, I just struggle to truly get it through my thick skull.  I'm stubborn like that I guess. 

So the therapist I am seeing, who is pretty dang awesome, seems to see my biggest hang up as forgiving myself and letting go of this blame I place on myself.  She knows I enjoy writing, so she suggested I work on writing myself a letter of forgiveness.  I think she first suggested this around five weeks ago.  When I went back to meet with her  the first time after she'd suggested it, I hadn't done it.  She really encouraged me to do it again this last time, and I know when I see her in just a couple days she will ask if I have done this. I can't fail at this. Truth is, I've thought about doing it.  I've thought about it every single day, multiple times a day, but the task seems so daunting. I open my computer or pick up a pen, and I just don't know where to begin.  I know I'm hard on myself.  I'll always be my toughest critic.  Forgiving myself though seems like an incredible hurdle to overcome, so my prayer is that if I say it and read it to myself enough, it will eventually sink in, and I will feel it and believe it. 

So here it goes....

Dear 17 year-old Keli,

I see you, I feel your worry, and I forgive you for the poor choices you made during that time in your life.  I recognize that you were a kid, just barely even 17, and although you felt totally invincible, you were not. I will constantly remind you to look back on this through the lens of a 17 year old girl and not a grown woman. I forgive you for lying to your parents.  I forgive you for being under the influence.  I forgive you for calling the guy and being so dang naive.  I forgive you for following his lead.  I forgive you for reluctantly agreeing with him at first rather than standing firm.  I forgive your body for not being strong enough to fight him off.  I forgive your voice for not crying louder.  I forgive you for closing your eyes to this in the days that followed and not telling a soul.  Let go of your blame, let go of your shame.  You are free from that emotional pain when you release yourself from it and hand it over to God.  He has taken that all on for you if you will only let Him.  Please let go, and let Him.  You are Priceless.

Love,

39 year-old  Keli

In writing tonight, I couldn't help but think of the worship song by Mercy Me called Dear Younger Me.  There are so many songs that really speak to me in this journey, and that is certainly one of them.  My favorite lyrics of this song...

Dear younger me
It’s not your fault
You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross
Dear younger me

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed

Every mountain every valley
Thru each heartache you will see
Every moment brings you closer
To who you were meant to be
Dear younger me, dear younger me

God Winks

Webster's defines a wink as the shutting of one eye briefly as a signal.  It's kind of a joke in our family that I can only wink one eye, but not the other.  There have been had a handful of times around our family dinner table where the kids and Mat will each demonstrate their winking skills and then laugh at me as I try.  What can I say?  Our family excels in sarcasm and teasing, but that's no surprise to anyone who has met us...especially my husband and oldest son.  With all that being said though, I think of winking as a sign of endearment.  Since we began first dating, Mat and I have used winking at each other, albeit with my left eye only, to let one another know we are thinking about each other.  We often wink at each other across the room, over the dinner table, or in a situation where we know the other might be uncomfortable.  It's a gesture of affection, friendship, and even love in my mind. 

When I began seeing a therapist recently (which is a hard thing for me to even say, but that's a whole other blog post), and was sharing with her just how desperate I was feeling to hear and feel the voice of God, she told me about a book called When God Winks at You.  I was intrigued as she shared with me that it was full of short everyday circumstances where God often "winks" at us through what we might think of as a coincidence.  Because I have been doing a lot of reading and journaling, that I ranked of higher importance, I have not yet read this book, but there is a whole God Wink Series, by Squire Rushnell, that I really look forward to checking out in the very near future! 

This past week though, I experienced what is a total "God Wink" in my book, and I just had to share.  Not too long ago, I don't think I would have necessarily recognized God's hand in this, but he was certainly all over it, in my opinion.  Last Thursday, Mat and I went out to dinner along with our three children and one neighbor child.  We'd had a big thunder storm roll through late that afternoon, leaving us without power for awhile, we were stir crazy, not too motivated to make dinner, and just felt like doing something easy.  We took all the kids and went to a local pizza place.  It was so crowded though that there was quite a wait, but there were four open spots at the bar.  We plopped the kiddos on stools at the counter, and Mat and I stood behind them.  We really did have a great time....everyone was happy, we were laughing, being affectionate, and I mean really...when there is pizza, wine, and family it's a good trio of happiness, even if you are squished in a crowded restaurant!  I did happen to notice a man at the end of the counter who was by himself and appeared to be waiting on a to-go order.  He was standing, and I remember thinking poor guy has been there a long time, his food must really be taking forever.  That's all I remember though until a server came and let us know that a man who had left recently had paid for our entire meal.  He had given her his business card, as it pertained to their discussion apparently, and then she passed it on to us.  We had never experienced anything like this before, and we were both just really honored that he had done this.  I may have even shed a few happy tears right then and there...maybe.  ;)  I mean, really....to choose a group of 6 to pay for their meal and drinks is a pretty loving act in my book! 

Because we had his business card, I took the opportunity to email him the next day and just thank him for his act of kindness and briefly share with him how much it meant to us.  He responded the following day and completely out of the blue shared with me that he had recently retired from the sheriff's office after 28 years as a detective, most spent on sexual assault cases.  So this is where that part of me for a second thinks "wow, that's a crazy coincidence", and then my heart feels that little flutter and I know it's God's way of winking at me letting me know he sees me, he believes me, and he loves and cares for me.  This man could have not responded at all, or he could have just said a simple "you're welcome," or really anything at all, but for some reason he felt the need to share that with me and that when he saw my family and I that night that he felt like it was something he needed to do.  Those feelings happen to us for a reason, and I am so thankful he listened to that feeling last Thursday, because besides the obvious joy of a free meal, he really brought God's voice to life for me. 

Her Story and Genesis 50:20

In my last post, I shared that during my first week away at college, I was required to attend a freshmen convocation, which ended up being a speaker named Katie Koestner.  Her bravery was life changing for me. 

Katie Koestner 
Read a great, quick, overview of her here!  She was so influential in even bringing the term "date rape" to light, and if there's nothing else I take away from her, it's this...

While I was still in college, I started going to high schools and telling young people about what happened to me to try to save them from going through what I had. Then I just felt like I couldn't stop and I've kept going these past 25 years.

You should see their tears. They hug you, they write notes, they tell their secrets and that is all worth it. Every time I make myself tell my story, there are 10, 20, 30 more stories that are told.

I tell young people that they are the generation that can change the conversation. It must be, "I am never too important to ask for someone else's consent," and, "I must always expect respect from everyone I am with," so expect respect and ask for consent.

That was me.  I was one of those girls with the tears.  I was one of the girls that wrote her a letter, sharing my secret.  I never imagined I was just one of many, and although perhaps I wasn't ready to change the conversation out loud at the time, I was ready to change it in my head, and now here I am many, many years later ready to change it out loud as well.  

She's right though, in that for so long people have typically thought of rape as a woman attacked in a dark alley late at night by some total stranger dressed all in black.  And while that happens as well, and would be an absolutely terrifying and horrible event, date/acquaintance rape is happening at a much higher rate and the statistics are staggering.  By the age of 18, 1 in 3 women have been sexually assaulted.  Anyone reading this can think of a small handful of women they know and quickly figure the odds.  The thing about this particular type of sexual assault is that not only have you lost trust in another person, but you've also lost some trust in yourself.  The therapist I'm currently seeing helped me make this connection, and I really found it powerful.  When someone you know and thought you trusted breaks that for you on such an intimate and deep level, you question your own judgement.  "How did I let my guard down or trust someone like that?"  "What does that say about me??"  Questions I still struggle with to be honest.  

The night I posted my original blog post, I did so with a knot in my stomach.  It was completely me stepping out in faith with the nudging that someone, somewhere was meant to hear it.  It was meant to free me, in some way, from beginning to stop hiding this.  It was meant to be one step in the direction of rediscovering my worth, letting go of some shame, and praying that someone else needed me to step out and remind them they are not alone.  I won't lie....it took a little liquid courage to push that "publish" button.  I even woke up in a panic that night scared that I had said too much, and needed to take it down.  The results though, to me, were completely reassuring that God is stirring something deep inside and it's not to be ignored.  Their stories are not mine to tell, but I was quickly faced with the obvious realization, that I am not alone in this.  There are others, and I'm sure for each one that did reach out to me, there are several more that did not.  People are hurting and carrying a burden that was not ever meant to be theirs to be carried.  I am figuring this all out one step at a time.  I'm often weak and feel so far from brave myself, but if me sharing the ugly secrets of this can help one other person rediscover their worth and their relationship with God, and just remind them that they are not alone, then it will all be worth it.

Cut to the Chase

So, there's no proper etiquette that I know of for just dropping something like this, but I am just going to cut right to the chase as to why I have even started this blog.  I'll be sharing more of my story, its impact on my life, and why it's brought me to this point.  No need to beat around the bush though or try to draw it out.  I'm jumping in with a power and a purpose (if you stick it out with me), so here it goes...

A little over 20 years ago, I unfortunately experienced acquaintance rape.To be honest, I didn't even totally realize it at the time.  Down deep perhaps, but not at the surface level.  I was mostly scared, disappointed in myself, and not even really sure what to think or where to go from there.  I was in physical and emotional pain but pretended I wasn't, and moved forward.  The few months that followed are a bit of a blur.  I lived a carefree lifestyle as probably many 17 year olds do, with little regard to my feelings or sexuality, kept focused on school, dance, partying and getting into a college, and all while trying to wrap my head around (or maybe ignore) the fact that my mom was being diagnosed with cancer.  I'd been a pretty good and reliable kid up until this point, but not exactly daughter of the year by now.  Looking back, I know I was breaking inside, but from the outside it looked like I was living it up and doing it all with a smile on my face.

Fast forward even more, and about nine months after the assault, I met and began dating the man that would eventually become my husband.  We dated for about six months until I went off to college.  He was in Missouri, while I went away to Florida.  Helllo, long distance!  He was totally different than anyone I'd been interested in before, and he was my first serious long-term boyfriend.  I left for college feeling pretty positive that we could make it despite the miles.  My freshmen orientation week, the college required us to go listen to a speaker in the auditorium.  Her name was Katie Koestner.  I'll remember the sound of her voice forever.  She stood on the stage and told her story.  Tears were streaming down my face, as I sat quietly in my chair just listening.  I was completely overcome with emotion and surrounded by people I'd only met less than a week earlier.  Her story sounded all too familiar.  It was in that moment that I truly realized that I had been raped that horrible night over a year ago.  I went back to my dorm room, crying to my new roommate (God bless her, she probably wondered what she was in for), and then wrote my boyfriend a letter.  I had to tell someone, and remember how I mentioned I am soooo much better at writing than at speaking?  Well, there ya go...perfect example. I even remember the light blue stationary with the jagged edges on which I wrote it.  I don't remember if it was later that day, or the next day, but I remember reading my letter, over the phone, to my boyfriend and listening to him weep when I was done.  That was the start of something.  It was telling the person I loved the scariest, darkest thing about me that I could imagine ever sharing.  He was all of 21 years old at the time, but handled it amazingly well and never once doubted what I told him or made me feel loved one iota less.  For the most part though, my sharing stopped there.  I did write that speaker, Katie Koestner, who promptly wrote me back, and my Resident Advisor, who had picked up on my emotions that day and had sensed what happened to me also reached out to me, but that was pretty much it, and once again I buried it and moved forward.  It definitely had on impact on my life, but it was something I kept to myself for the most part.  I didn't see a counselor, report it, or confide in many others.  I chose to focus on college, my relationship with my boyfriend, my family and my overall future.  My lifestyle had most definitely calmed down by this stage, and overall things were going pretty well.

Another fast forward, and my twenties were all focused on my future.  I enjoyed my college experience, was looking forward to my career, and became very involved in my sorority.  I went on to become the president of the sorority, became engaged to my love, and graduated with honors.  Within a month of graduating, I married and then started focusing on my career as a teacher.  My twenties were spent advancing through my career and degree by adding my Master's and National Boards.  We moved a few times, tried to start a family unsuccessfully, and suffered with infertility. All throughout this period, my husband suggested that I should try talking to a professional.  There were times when I would just feel overcome with emotion, have flashbacks or bad dreams, etc. but overall  I kept thinking I was "fine", and that I could handle it on my own.

Then came my thirties.  Just a few weeks before turning 30, we finally had our first child.  We were elated to be a family. It has been a stressful journey followed by a very scary birth.  When he was only six months old, we made a cross country move, and our careers drastically changed.  The next several years were spent with focusing on our family.  I was either having babies, experiencing miscarriages, nursing babies, preparing to become a  foster parent, or reading about how to do this whole parenting-gig.  My feelings were quite low on my priority list, and life was about babies and raising little ones.  No regrets, as it was an exciting and exhausting time in our lives, and it's just kind of par for the course that your own well-being takes a back seat during this time.  Again, during this time period it would sneak up on me here or there.  I'd have some really low moments when I'd think about it a lot or feel compelled to speak up and speak out, but then I just didn't have the energy or the time, and once again I thought "I've got this."

At thirty-seven, I couldn't ignore it anymore.  We'd moved back to Florida, our family was feeling complete, we'd passed the baby phase, and I was begin to notice just how much this feeling wasn't going to leave me no matter how much I tried to ignore it.  Finally, I did what felt like one of the scariest things ever, and I called a local counseling center.  They specialize in free counseling for those that have experienced domestic violence or sexual assault.  I took Mat with me for my first appointment because I don't think I would have walked through the doors on my own.  He wasn't permitted to come back in with me though.  When it was over, we got in the car and we bawled like never before.  It was just such a release and so freeing, yet so painful.  I had taken this huge first step.  I continued to see her a few more times.  During this time period I once again wrote a letter and finally officially shared a glimpse of the experience with my parents, brother, and a couple best friends.  When I first met with her I told her that my overall goal was to step from victim to victory.  I wanted to be able to volunteer, to share my experience in order that others would learn from it.  We met a total of four times, and I was feeling much more positive. I felt like I had a pretty good grasp on things, and was fine just meeting with her as needed in the future.  I was hopeful that God would open up the right opportunity for me to volunteer or serve in some way while sharing my story.

That time didn't come, or if it did I was oblivious to it.  I wasn't feeling lead to discuss my story with much of anyone really.  I was feeling distant from God.  I was feeling like even though I had seen several opportunities to volunteer, every single one of them seemed way too scary to follow through with.  Fear.  So much fear set in.  It's hard to describe.  I felt like a failure if I called her and tried to go back and see her again.  As wonderful as she was, she didn't seem too willing to dive into the spiritual impact that my assault had on me, and I was beginning to realize that it was quite significant part of my trauma. Don't get me wrong, I will forever be thankful to her.  I couldn't even physically say the "R" word before working with her.  She taught me some wonderful coping skills and truly provided a renewed sense of hope and a positive outlook for me.  But when that dark time invaded again, I knew I needed something more but just didn't know where to turn.

I turned 39 a couple months ago.  It's the realization that 40 is approaching before long that motivated me to get serious about making some changes and addressing my fears.  I set goals for myself and decided that this is the year to take better care of myself!  I can't be all the things I want to be to my husband, children, parents, and students if I don't take better care of myself.  This includes physical, mental, and spiritual health.  I am determined that this is MY year, and I will not feel guilty or selfish in taking care of myself.  A few weeks after my birthday, I was sitting in church and listening to a sermon about Peter seeing Jesus walk on water.  The overall message of the sermon was about stepping out in faith and evaluating where in your life  you need to step out in faith.  I felt the strongest nudging inside.  I knew where I needed to step out in faith, but I knew it was going to be ugly and hard and full of emotions.  Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached out to my pastor and asked if we could meet soon.  Poor guy probably had no idea what he was in for, but of course he agreed, and we set up a time to meet a couple days later.  I couldn't eat a bite that day.  I was sweating just driving to the church, and I'm pretty sure I was visibly shaking as I told him the gist.  It felt foolish to be so dang emotional over something that happened over 20 years ago, but there I was.   I have SO many blessings.  Truly, I have a life that I adore.  But the sadness regarding this experience is just simply overwhelming at times.  I wasn't feeling God's presence and kind of just felt like He didn't really care to be brutally honest.  So, I sat there and exposed my weakness, and shared the parts that I felt lead to, and it was a renewed sense of hope and the start of this journey that brings me here now...

Writing is My Jam!

You know how sometimes doctor's offices or other various companies ask you what your preferred form of communication is? Text, phone call, email, etc?  Before texts were a thing or even email, I was always better at putting it out there in writing than in verbal form.  So chances are if I have something on my mind or want to relay my feelings, it's going to come out much better in written form.

Public speaking has always made me nervous and is saved as a last resort.  Put me in front of a group of kiddos, and I'll teach them all day.  Put me in front of a group of adults, and I'll second guess myself all day.  Who knows...it is what it is, and I've learned to just try and embrace it, challenge myself when I can, and use writing as my own form of therapy from time to time.  

I began a blog (Our Winding Road) several years ago when my husband and I began our journey through IVF.  It was a challenging topic to talk about and keep everyone updated on, so I chose a blog to communicate the process with our loved ones.  It turned into a blog that continued through years of  growing our family.  As much as I loved writing, I reached a point where I just felt keeping my blog updated was becoming too time consuming and had gotten away from what I'd originally intended.  Mat and I both still enjoy looking back over it though and re-reading the posts about that exciting time in our lives!  I find myself again approaching a topic that is challenging at times to verbalize, but I am learning that there's power in communicating it, so I am turning to what I am most comfortable with, and that is writing.  So, here goes nothing....  It's a journey for myself.  If anyone else chooses to follow along, even better!