The Valley of Decision

Oh, I’ve done so many things wrong I can hardly decide which one to talk about. In anger, I fought for my own way. I drank too much. I slept with men I didn’t even know. I harbored the desire for power and money. Secretly, I wanted revenge.

So, what did sleeping with a married man have to do with any of this? I don’t know but it felt good to work out some of my abuse any way I wanted to.

My desire was not to live wrong, actually quite the opposite. My deepest desire was to live free. The problem was the road map created through years of abuse had these built-in stops I didn’t see. I came to learn that these stops were hidden agendas for me.

There was a stop for alcoholism, a desire to overeat, a stop to please everyone around me but the strongest desire was to role play my abuse. That was a huge sticking point. I didn’t always find pleasure there but it felt right while I was acting it out.

These weren’t coping mechanisms, of which I had many. These stops were of a different kind. It was as if they were being dictated to me as a result of my abuse. Predestined. Many of my coping mechanisms, while still not good for me, didn’t have the same imprint that these did.

I’m thankful I didn’t role play the things my mother did too me. That would have just been mean. But, heck, what my dad and brother did, that was ok.

Right?

They loved me, didn’t they? Sex was just a part of that, right?

FUCK NO!

I had a hard decision to make. I had start calling the abuse out clearly and see it for what it was. There is no love in rape. I had to stop minimizing in order to change. The problem was that it was a twisted turn I often took because it was somehow easier to find sexual pleasure through this role play. I couldn’t climax with a man unless I was being a dirty little girl. I did not see sex as clean or any kind of bonding mechanism. It was playing out what had been done to me. My body responded to that.

I could use recalling the woman being raped in front of me as a point of recovery in my mind when I was having sex. If I let it play out in my memory, oddly I could be present and finish during intercourse.

So, was I being promiscuous as a result of nothing? I don’t think so.

It was built on the roadmap my abuse left in my back pocket.

Today, my decision is to look at the past with all it’s shattered dreams, dissect it enough to understand where it lead me and than change my direction.

That’s not an easy process.

I don’t hold myself in contempt for those years because I hold myself accountable to them. I try not to punishment myself through condemnation for the turmoil I seemed to impose on myself and my children. I forgive myself. I know God does too.

I try to live a life filled with grace for myself and others. I need grace just as much as my abusers do.