Happy Anniversary?

It was one year ago today that the memory of my childhood sexual abuse surfaced and along with it the realization of what my childhood had actually been like. That day was the start of a long, slow crawl out of a very dark, depressing pit I had lived in for most of my life. I must admit to being a little confused as to how to treat this day. Do I mourn? Do I celebrate? I think what God wants me to do is a little of both.

What am I mourning on this day? I am grieving the loss of innocence that was taken away at a very early age. I am remembering the death of my childlike faith in a safe and nurturing world. I am feeling the hole that was created by the lack of protection and my loss of any sense of security. I am missing the memories of being cared for, cherished, and protected by people who love me. I am saddened by the feelings of fear, utter hopelessness and helplessness that are more a part of my childhood than any feelings of laughter, joy, and hope for the future. I am mourning for the life I could have had, the dreams I could have fulfilled, the joy and laughter I could have experienced had my past been different.

I don’t like to spend much time on these types of remembrances. My days out of the pit are far fewer than my days living in there. The lure of the pit becomes very tempting when I focus on the damage done, what lies were planted in my heart, and the experiences of my life that were distorted and corrupted, and the other people’s lives who were affected by my wounding. I begin to think about things like what it must feel like to be safe, deeply loved, and protected as a child and realize that I will never know those feelings. I ponder what it might have been like to marry for the right reasons instead of out of panic and despair and as a means of escaping an overwhelming situation. I can only guess at what raising children might have been like if I had not turned off my ability to feel so many years ago. How much did the selfish perverted acts of my uncle, the denial and the absence of adequate nurturing and protection by my parents cost me, my husband, my children and even my grandchildren? This is one of those questions for which I will never have an answer. I drive myself crazy with the “what ifs” when I allow these thoughts to creep into my head. God has shown me that I will never have a suitable answer for these questions this side of heaven and the only way to handle them is to give them to Him. He knows there isn’t an answer that will satisfy a wounded heart but He has shown me that He can satisfy my heart which makes the answer to those questions no longer important.

So much for the mourning on this day, what am I celebrating? I am celebrating true freedom from chains and bondage that were as real to me as any prison walls or bars. I am celebrating the change in my heart and my ability to feel all feelings, joy and pain. Yes, I am celebrating being able to feel pain because now the feelings of pain are appropriate to the wound or hurt and not distorted or magnified by lies and past damage. I am celebrating hope and the possibility of a victorious, abundant life and the awakening of a calling in my life to tell my story to other wounded people who are looking for a way out of their pit. Most of all, I am celebrating the knowledge of being a deeply loved and cherished daughter of the King of Kings. By facing and walking through the wounds of my past, I have been able to find my Savior and make Him my Lord. My life will never be the same. I guess I may even be celebrating the wound and the path I walked with my Savior to rescue and restore the damaged, overwhelmed, emotionally dead little girl that I had locked away so many years ago. Would I have found my way to Jesus without this wounding? I’m not sure but I do know that because of it, I did find Him and for that I will be eternally thankful. I can’t explain this and I won’t even try because I have learned that God’s way often don’t and never have to make sense. He is God and we’re not and that is enough for me.