It's 1:11 and I am writing my first official blog. Again, THANK YOU to those who are following me on here...it means a lot to me that you will be reading about my life. This is not a blog for sugar coating or vain conversations. There will be things I say on here that are extremely personal, painful, and it may be hard for some of my loved ones to read...but I believe God is going to use my trials and pain to better the lives of others.
Most of you know me...some don't. Here's a run down of me. I was born in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil on August 4, 1983. I lived in Brazil for the better part of my childhood. My parents were missionaries for YWAM and honestly when I think of days in Brazil I rarely see them in my memories. My mother married when she was very young and had me when she was only 18! I can't even imagine what that was like for her to be so young and deal with the heartaches of a failed marriage and a child. We'll get back to that a little later. While my parents were missionaries and out on the mission field I was at home with my grandmother...at least that is how I remember it. I then didn't understand, and it took many years for me to understand. I know a lot of people can relate to growing up feeling alone like I did. I by no means hold any anger or ill feelings towards my parents TODAY. However, back then it was a different story. I just didn't understand. I loved my mother but I hardly saw her, and when I did she was showering street children with love and caring for them. In my little child size brain I was asking "What about ME?!"I carried that question in my mind throughout my adolescence and even into my adulthood.
It wasn't until March of 2010 that I finally understood. That I finally was able to make sense of it all. My parents weren't pushing me off to the side...no, instead they were being the hands and feet of Christ. Some of you may understand what that means...others wont. I didn't. They sacrificed their worldly pleasures to fulfil a greater purpose. I believe they knew that if they stayed faithful to God that in due time they would see the harvest come.
The feelings of being alone followed me throughout my entire life. It was like a constant reminder day in and day out of my lack of love (or so I thought). Even after my parents left the mission field my loneliness continued. The spirit of depression took a hold of me like no other. To the point that I couldn't even face it. I would lay in bed and when I felt depression approaching me I would just close my eyes, cry, and be immediately defeated. I had no fight in me. I didn't know how to fight. I sometimes would pretend that I wasn't depressed, but in time not even the fake smiles could hide what I was feeling inside. I would try to heal myself; I'm sure most of us have attempted to medicate ourselves in hopes that maybe we'll figure it out. We'll find the cure for the depression, or hurt, or anger...or whatever it was that we felt. We think that maybe if we cure ourselves before it's too late, then no one will ever know the truth about the pain we feel.
The obvious solution for me was men. Big surprise right? What young girl hasn't tried to cure her loneliness or depression with men?? At a very young age I tried that prescription. What I can tell you is that no matter what you try to cure yourself with, whether it's men, women, drugs, alcohol, friends, work, parties, or anything that will take your mind away from the pain...the results will only be temporary. More likely than not, you'll end up hurting more than before. It took me years of hurt, men after men, friend after friend, party after party to finally stop and let go. The burden of carrying depression or hurt with you will eventually break you. By this time I had a failed marriage under my belt at 27, I had sexual abuse from when I was a child, I had rape, I had physical abuse, and a whole lot of "junk" that was used against me my entire life to keep me in my depressive state. Our human bodies can only take so much. For me, I had that break down moment in March of 2010. Some of my girl friends may remember this incident very well.
I planned a small gathering to watch a UFC fight. It was going to be GREAT! I had my best girlfriends coming, I had my medicine on the way (being a man from my church), I had food and drinks all set out. I had been looking forward to this for weeks! Come the night of the party and everything is going to plan...except for one thing. My medicine called me and canceled. To me this was the worse news I could get, it was the last straw that broke the camels back. How could I go through a night without my medicine? What would I do?? I felt very exposed at that moment. It was a scary feeling, panic almost. So what did I do? I prescribed myself the next best thing...alcohol. I drank, and drank, and drank until I couldn't feel the loneliness anymore. Sadly for me, by the time my depression went numb...so did the rest of my body! I could barely walk! As I'm trying to lift myself up, in comes the medicine I was originally expecting. He took one look at me, shock I'm sure was what he was feeling. I was humiliated, depressed, literately falling apart at the seams. The rest of the night was very colorful, a lot of crying, yelling, vomiting, all leading to the grand finale of me chasing after a car I thought held the remedy for all my pain...nude. Yes, nude. I had hit rock bottom. There was no way I could salvage anything at that point. I picked myself up from the concrete ground and took myself to bed. I couldn't think of anything else to do but to sleep away the night and hope that it was all a dream.
The next morning I woke up to realize that all of this could have been avoided. All the heartache from bad relationships, the drunken nights, the loneliness...yes ALL of it could have been avoided had I just stopped trying to fix things myself. I went to church the following day and lay it all down. I got on my knees and cried out to God. What other option did I have at this point? I clearly wasn't helping myself. I said to God these exact words "I can't do this anymore, please take this pain from me. I lay it at your feet and beg for your mercy" The moment I prayed that it was like a hand reached into my heart and pulled out every sad thought, every depressed memory, and every hurt I ever had. I let out a loud cry and then immediately my tears stopped. I felt kind of embarrassed b/c one moment I was weeping being suffocated by my pain, then the next I felt nothing. I felt like me again. Not ever had I felt that way. Never after going to years of counseling, taking anti-depression pills, never after the men I had, or the parties I went to. Never. I quietly got up and went to my seat. I was set free. The moment I gave up battling my pain alone and gave it to God, He took it from me. I now can see my parents for the beautiful people they are, I am able to smile from within, I am able to help other people...all from taking the first step, which was giving all my "junk" to God. Giving full control to the Creator of the Universe. The God who gave me life and saved me from myself. The next few months transformed me, I pray you take the time to read my next post about the sacrifices I had to make and all of the rewards I gained from making them.
God heals all...God saves all...the only thing you have to do...is trust in Him. Amen. xoxoxo
