Dear World,

Sometimes when I sit around for a while, my mind drifts off. Now I sit upstairs in the cold darkness, smelling the too sweet scent of tomato soup, riddled with the savory smell of frying mushrooms.  Its a calming sensation, and I can’t help but thank God for the life he’s blessed upon me.

Today in Sunday school my teacher brought up something that pesters my mind occasionally on days like these.  He mentioned how unthinkably hard it is to grasp the fact that God has no beginning or end, He has always just been.

Now, a very inexperienced Christian like myself could just shrug this off and think that its a load of crap, but years of thought about this subject has lead me to this: If I was supposed to be able to understand everything God does, what is my purpose in living? why did he place me here…

Now’s the time  I come clean to you followers, the few I have accumulated…

Recent years have had troubles in my family, both financially and other ways, but the stress made things … well, very unbearably stressful, which lead to my father becoming too angry, and beating me beyond the point of tolerable punishment.

In fact, I’m going to include this, which I wrote about the situation:

“Finally it seems that I can breath without being criticized for doing it wrong.

I can’t count the years that I never seemed to be good enough for him.
Every time I walked in something about me was not acceptable, and I was punished for it.
I donned bruised and a broken heart for years, because I loved him.
He brought me into this world, and he was quickly letting it be known that he wasn’t above taking me out of it.

It all started when I was a baby, I guess. 
My mother and sister and I were leaving. Leaving him.
And there was an accident. Head on collision. Two fatalities.
Then it was just me, and him. I was to young to know any better.
But I was a mommy’s girl. Not a daddy’s girl, and I’m sure it showed then.
But years past and he was all I had, literally. 

Its called seclusion, and its what he did best.
All my life, he limited my contact with my mothers side of the family, probably because he was afraid the truth would come through to me. 
I was raised as his, and that meant that whoever he wanted me to be, I was.
It wasn’t until recently that I started to go against his wants, and become myself.
I guess that’s when it all really started.
At least, that’s when I noticed it.

If I wanted to go out, he always found something to keep me with him.
He always said that he wanted me to have a life, to live while I was young, like he didn’t get to, but every time I tried, he roped me in, and I was left feeling alone.
I started acting out, against him… Sneaking things behind his back. 
Seeing friends, talking to guys, and becoming the person I wanted to be.
Some levels were supported. He encouraged me to be different, to not let other people define who I was. 
But if I wanted to go to a concert that all my friends were going to, or a party that my best friend invited me to, he immediately said no.
I could be anyone I wanted to, as long as he wanted me to be that way.

Recent years, 8th 9th and 10th grade, seemed to be a wake up call for me.
If my grades fell below a high B, he screamed at me, and told me that I wasn’t going to amount to more than a common housewife. Not good for anything more than cooking and cleaning and tending to children.
And when I stressed about being screamed at, my grades fell lower, and that’s when he started to loose his temper.

2009.
Early 2009.
He beat me for the first time, that actually left a mark.
And throughout the year, mostly towards the end…
It got worse and worse, until I walked into school with a knot on my head, a severely bruised butt, legs, and back, and a deep hurt that seemed to separate me from all my friends.
I knew then that something was wrong with the picture perfect life I was made to think that I lived.

Of course, a part of myself tore at my heart, and convinced me that it wasn’t good for me to confess these actions to someone.
Its always been just us, and that’s what I felt safe with, even if I knew that truly, I didn’t feel safe anymore.
So I went about my day to day, getting yelled at almost every week.
I learned to hate Mondays. I learned to think that I wasn’t anything more than a grade-grubbing failure.
It was terrifying to me. 

The last time he beat me, something snapped inside me, and I knew that it was time for me to break the mold that had been forced around me. 
I told my best friends about it.
They held my hand as I told a counselor.
They held my hand while the tears of pain and hurt and betrayal poured out of my eyes.
And as I watched the day unfold, I talked to more people than I knew would care about me.
I poured my heart out to people that didn’t know me at all. People that told me constantly that this wasn’t my fault.
That I wasn’t in a normal situation, and that they were going to help me, to get me help that I needed. 


I haven’t talked to my father in a month.
Not on Christmas, not on New years.
But I am happy.
I am going to see a counselor, and I’m rebuilding my life.
While I am scared of becoming my father, I have people all around me, constantly supporting me, and helping me find the person I am under all the false beliefs I’ve lived with my whole life.
Do I see myself living with my father again?
No.
Do I forgive him?
Yes.
And still, with all my heart, I love him.
But now we’re both getting the help we need.”

And thats how it is… Well, was.

Another point brought up in Sunday school made this situation fresh in my mind.  God knows what is going to happen in our lives before we even exist.  Why did he let this happen to me?  I find that question in my head a lot.

And the answer is, because He loves me.  He wants me to use this situation to help me, not to dwell upon and hurt me.  I live with my friend and her family, and I’m more thankful to them than I have been to anyone.,  I am loved, and they show it…

If none of this would have happened… I wouldn’t have met a lot of people that I have.  One in particular has made me happier than I can imagine someone like me being.  I am so thankful for him, and I hope he realizes that he is one of the only reasons I’m still sane in all of this…

Thats all for now. Peace