Life Before God

As it says in Psalms 51:17, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise,” God loves the brokenhearted, the ones who are enduring and persevering.

A broken heart is also a softened heart, at least until/if said person gets the chance to harden their heart. In my case, I had a softened heart until I was bullied by people I had considered to be friends. Their harsh words made me quiet and closed off from everyone, not willing to just put myself out there to meet new people/trust new people. My best friend and my mom were the ones I trusted with every fiber of my being, and I would’ve said the same about my dad until he went into his own spiral after my parent’s divorce was finalized, him taking his anger out on me. It was mostly just emotional and mental abuse, telling me that I was worthless, that no one would ever love me, that my opinions and my viewpoints were irrelevant, that he regretted having me as a daughter, etc. It became physical one night when he came home drunk. Normally, I’m asleep before he got home so that I could avoid the drunken mental abuse from him, but unfortunately, I had chosen this night to stay up a little longer. He was yelling my name aloud, over and over, until he finally got over to where I was sitting on the edge of the couch. He kept coming closer, so I backed away until I hit a wall, not able to go anywhere. He grabbed my arm and flung me across the room, causing me to slam hard enough into the wall that I blacked out. I don’t remember how long I was out, but when I finally came to and realized what had happened, he was asleep on his bed. I ran quietly to my room and called my mom to come pick me up, not filling her in on what happened.

Needless to say, I distanced myself to the point where I only spent time at my mom’s house rather than my dad’s. I think it was a week or two after the incident that he accused my mom of “brainwashing” me into staying away from him, which caused him to file a complaint against her which ended up taking her to court. When our date came up, the judge talked to all three of us and determined that it was my own decision to leave, but he told me in particular that he recommended a therapist. Therapy actually helped me a lot, giving me a person I could trust with all the details, letting me vent on my unspoken emotions instead of bottling them up like I had grown used to doing. I had told her about my self-harm and my three suicide attempts, her getting deeper into the cause of those specific dark times. My father abused me, I had put up a wall surrounding my heart ensuring that earning any trust was close to impossible, I was having friendship issues and getting adjusted to living with only my mom, not having a strong male presence in my life. My father was supposed to come on my last therapy session but he never showed, so I decided that I wasn’t going to reach out anymore, it would have to be him because I was sick of being the only one who seemed willing to spend time with him.

Basically, I had to grow up quicker than I would’ve liked, not really getting much of a normal childhood. I was very isolated, very insecure in myself, scared to trust anyone (especially if it was someone new) and I became independent. My brothers were cruel to each other, always fighting and sometimes even getting to the point of intense violence with each other. I had to see that, which meant I had to learn how to protect my nieces and nephews, to take care of them and make sure they didn’t have to see what I did. I never knew what was going to happen when I would get off the bus at the end of my driveway, if I’d have to lock myself in my room, to help my mom or my grandma diffuse an argument between my brothers, of if it would be a peaceful evening. My life was far from unicorns and rainbows; I was losing little bits of joy day-by-day, and losing who I had been growing into in pieces as well. I didn’t see how my life could get better, but little did I know, God had already set it into motion and was in the process of sending the wonderful women who would change my mom and I’s life for the better by one simple act of kindness: an invitation to something bigger than all of us.

Matthew 5:2-12: “And he opened his mouth and taught them, saying: ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons/daughters of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.’”