Sixty-three and Finally Free...

"Do you remember coming to visit me when I had the abortion?"

That was the response I got when I asked my mom about a traumatic memory I was trying to process. Her response confirmed everything I suspected but never really wanted to know. I was finally, at almost sixty years old, trying to excavate some of the foundational trauma of my childhood.

This particular memory was never supposed to surface, and a lifetime of scapegoating kept it hidden deep in my subconscious. It was always there, right next to an even earlier betrayal. Both memories solidified by the consequences that followed. Both events resulted in a doctor's visit due to what occurred. Consequences that reinforced the shame and became like heavy boulders heaped onto the buried pain, keeping it hidden and holding me back.

My inner life was never normal after being molested by a group of older, neighbor girls in their closet. The consequence of that required medicine that made my urine orange to alleviate the pain. I was very young and still wet the bed, so the orange sheets reinforced the shame thrust upon me, and I never spoke of it until I began the process of full healing. Looking back and releasing all of this to heal fully has made everything so much clearer and easier to handle. It's no longer Shame I carry with me; but Priceless Treasure, refined by Fire.

The event I questioned my mom about was hazier than the earlier memory, even though I was older, but again, reinforced by the consequences. I was probably thirteen years old when I woke up in a dimly lit, dingy and strange bedroom with no windows. I was lying on a double bed, and the room was not like a hospital or facility. I woke up confused and cramping in my stomach. I was not quite lucid and got up and went into a bathroom, that was connected to the room. I was having severe stomach cramps and felt very outside of myself. I was scared and can remember myself sitting on the floor of the shower, crying with water pouring over me and blood running out of me.

The shower was a walk-in, made with small, square, yellow tiles. It reminds me of the bathrooms in Costa Rica where I had spent some of the most difficult times of my life. I don't know where this place was; it could have been in Costa Rica, or it could have been just about anywhere! My mom never went into detail to help me process the memory. She just asked me the question, and we exchanged a look that left everything unsaid, yet uncovered. Everything I knew to be true was finally revealed to me, in full consciousness. This allowed me to heal a deep mother wound and the pain of it no longer has a place in my bloodline. I proclaim it in the Name of Jesus Christ…🙏🏻

Weird things happened in Costa Rica. Shortly after turning twelve, I moved there with my mom and her new love, the man she had an affair with and destroyed our family for. I was like the unwanted baggage they had to take on their honeymoon. Always there but always forgotten; the latch left open and the contents exposed. I saw things I shouldn't have had to see, and my innocence was stolen.

He had five children and a wife of his own and there were four children in my family, so a total of nine kids had their lives dramatically altered because of their love affair. He took his wife back twice and so we were all thrust into chaos and confusion. I may have had my physical needs met but I can see now how I was in a constant state of high stress. So much so, that "Survival Mode" became my normal.

One evening, I was dressed in a pair of new, red jeans and they took me to a gringo bar with them. It was not a nice place, and we sat at the bar. There was a penis candle and other inappropriate things on the mirrored shelf behind the bar. At some point we moved to a booth, and I was passed a joint to smoke. I still can't believe that my mother subjected me to this; I was twelve at the time, but it is the truth. It is one of many suppressed memories that stayed buried all my life because reconciling it required me to accept the deep betrayal of my own mother, and others. Those who were supposed to look out for me and protect me, did the opposite.

I don't remember leaving the bar or going home. It was Costa Rica in the 70's so there's no telling what was really going on. It's all very convoluted and not something I could ever talk about until I knew that healing this foundational trauma was the only way to make sure, I didn't fail, again. I loved my mom, but we had a complicated relationship. I'm not sharing this now to shame her or anyone else. I am releasing the Truth of my life so that in doing so it can help others to have Hope! In releasing it, I don't have to carry someone else's Shame anymore. My own sins are covered by the Blood of Jesus...Praise God!

So, while I was sobbing on the shower floor, I began to cramp very bad, and I thought I had to go to the bathroom. I got up and sat on the toilet. Alone and in extreme pain, I felt something strange come out. There was a small fetus in the toilet bowl, and I do not remember anything after that. I must have passed out.

I don't know how I got there or how I left. I do remember having to go to a doctor later because I had developed PID, pelvic inflammatory disease. That is not something that a virgin usually gets, and I had no memory of ever having intercourse.

All these decades later, as I pondered my mom's response in my quest to heal and process the memories about the experience, the truth of what I never wanted to know became very apparent. I realized that I had to have been drugged so someone could have sex with me, as a child. Might have happened more than once, given some of the very inappropriate other memories I have. I was drugged and given a back-room abortion too. The only person capable of doing all of this was my mother and coming to terms with that was what I never wanted to do. I didn't want to believe that what I suspected was true but the look she gave and the question she asked, said it all. It had been easier to just believe my life was messed up because I wasn't good enough rather than to admit that the people I cared so much for were the monsters who hurt me the most.

I protected them and abandoned myself at a young age and now I'm Sixty-three and Finally Free! I no longer feel compelled to protect the people who tried to destroy me rather than help me heal. I forgave my mom long ago and accepted her as one of the Walking Wounded, like I have been most of my life. I See her with Grace because God has given me so much Grace to still be breathing;

I am now a Walking Warrior!

"And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." John 8:32

Several weeks before my mom passed away, she begged me to forgive her for all the evil she had done to me. Her words: she used the word 'evil' to describe what she had done.

And it was evil!

I didn't have the heart to dredge up the details; it didn't matter! She was accepting Jesus and facing her death. I wanted to ease her suffering, not cause her to relive the pain she caused me. I was just so glad that she had finally asked for and received the Lord's forgiveness. She cried repentant tears and her countenance visibly changed as she realized that God really was waiting on her and she had heard from Him. She felt it in her heart. It was amazing to witness. She was filled with Joy, and it was such a gift to be able to see her like that.

I took care of her in the last weeks of her life. It was important that I treat her like I would want to be treated, with great care. As her body declined, the veil between worlds thinned and she rapidly faded away, but I knew she had heard from God and He was waiting for her.

Since then, deep emotional healing has soothed the deep wounds that were repeatedly reopened throughout my life. I finally became strong enough, having faced the darkest realities of my life so I could live in the Reality of Truth. It's not just these big traumatic events; it's the insidious neglect and covert sabotage of a dysfunctional family that drags out the suffering and keeps the generations cursed.

Unload these hidden burdens to make room for more of God,

for such a time as this...

I truly believe that, with LOVE, anything can be overcome, and survivors can go on to live out their God given potential. The hardest part is going through it alone and never being allowed to talk about what happened, so healing gets delayed and neural pathways become hard-wired for dysfunction.

Being set free from Bondage has a way of changing a person. Chains no longer fit and a false covering no longer provides shelter. The Truth of who I am, in Christ Jesus, gives me the strength to live in the Truth of what made me who I am. I am a miracle, and I thank God for delivering me and creating in me, a pure heart.

clm

Grace Colored Glasses