“Who are you to tell our story? Incest is a family secret. You have no right to share it.” These are the voices of the clowns that try to impede my path to healing.
“You’re fat and you should worry about that! You’re sick because of what you came from; that will never change.” On and on, the mocking voices attempt to derail me.
My mother looked me in the eyes and said, “Good thing God made you beautiful because after all you’ve gone through, nobody would want to love you.” As I pause and think on her statement, I can see where it all began. She was making a mockery out of my pain and abuse. Pain and abuse she help ladle into my life.
I have encountered many enemies on this focused journey to find my way out. Steady is my goal to bring redemptive love to my life, but the mockers attempt to derail me time and time again.
As I’ve faced this giant time and time again, I have learned how to deflate the influence of it’s stinging nettles. I fight back with the truth. I cannot change my past nor can I undo the harm that was forced upon my body. What I can do is choose every day to tell myself I am good enough and to keep telling my story.
What the hell does my weight have to do with my worth? Or my beauty or lack thereof? I determine my worth by a much higher standard. The standards of love and peace. Forgiveness and grace adorn my head as I stretch my belief that I am a child of the living King.
I battle on. War scars have dictated some much needed rest but I refuse to give in or give up. The mockers need to go find another haunt. This territory has been taken.