TW: Topic of sexual assalt

Part two of my tell all journey. Join me in my soul process of healing by talking into a microphone. I discuss my deconstruction of my relationship with church and how I'm putting it back together, my sexual assalt, and self love.

Essay #3:

What is missing?

Normalcy- what is normal anymore?

Consistency- what could be normal gets derailed by covid.

Who I used to be before...


In the past, I had all this zest and zeal. I had excitement and fervor. I felt
like a pop of color in life. These days I feel like a wet rag sitting in muddy
water. And I know, that’s a depressing analogy. It's self deprecating but I'm
working on self love. But I feel like my excitement turns into anxiety and then
anger. My zest is bitter now and I don’t want a lot on my plate. I miss who I
used to be. That girl was so ready. She was an amazing mom. She didn’t lose it
at her kids this often. She didn’t crumble so easily.


I had all these dreams and I had plans to turn them into reality. I wanted to
influence and lead. I wanted to speak and teach. I wanted to “do it all” and I
nearly killed myself attempting that. I’m not exaggerating. It hurts because I
felt like my desires were from God and I chased them with everything inside of
me, at times no matter the cost. Now, it seems like a distant time that I was
like that. I don’t ever see anything like I dreamed of happening ever coming to
reality, and I don’t want it to anymore.


The price of what my dreams cost were too damn high. I wanted a platform. I
wanted travel. I wanted a career. But it stole from my family. It stole from
me, and all it really did was stand in the way of my coming face to face with
my trauma. It was like my escape. It was where I went to run away and hide. If
I buried myself as deeply as possible into these dreams, then I’d never have to
come out and face the music that someone had sexually assaulted me.


Heck, I was so good at digging and burying that I even forgot it happened
sometimes. That was my goal, right? And it worked. It worked beautifully until
my personal Roman Empire fell. And in that fall, more trauma took place that
has crippled me since.


I spent my time last year being so angry. Why couldn’t I just have the dream??
Why couldn’t it have played out the way I wanted? Why do other people get to do
the things I felt I was born to do, that I’m good at doing? I proved myself to
be a viable candidate. I did shit I didn’t want to do to climb a ladder that
was being cut down behind me as I climbed without me knowing. I thought I was
so high up but when I turned around to look at my progress, I was still on the
ground. People I trusted betrayed me. Plain and simple. And it’s unthinkable
to me to ever put myself out there like that ever again. I could never put my
trust in someone to help me climb up to reach my dreams like I needed them to.


This wasn’t my failure.


All I know is that after this fall, I turned completely into my family to give
them everything of me that they deserve. They deserve way more than what I
give, but I just have hope that I can keep healing and keep putting myself back
together and that they have patience for me while I sift through the rubble of
who I am right now. I'm rebuilding from the ground up.


Things that once were so firm are shaken. I'm figuring out how to operate from
scratch. The whole system I took part in chewed me up and spat me out.


But I know I was running and now my feet have rest. I was digging and now my
arms are still. God came in and took my shovel, he removed my shoes and made me
sit. I fought him but he gently held me. Im resistless now, but I'm still tired
from what I did to survive and the trauma of sexual assault I experienced on
top of that.


The mountain of pain I have to heal is steep.