Who Cries?

Who Cries for the Hurting?
"Please, Daddy, let me out! Please unlock the door, Daddy!"
Muffled scams irrupted from my skinny, terrified seven year old frame as I pounded and clawed at my daddy. Pencil-size welts criss-crossed my back, buttocks and legs. Pain and panic had caused me to wet my pants, as I cowered in the dark recesses of an attic in my head.
I had become accustomed to my father's violent anger. As a toddler, I had instinctively learned to sleep under my bed, not in it, to try to avoid my drunken father's middle-of-the-night beating. It didn't work. He still would find me.
Although my entire family was abused, I always had been singled out as my father's favorite target. The sadistic arsenal of curse word, angry fists, belts, sticks, yardsticks and heavy boots always found their mark.
I was mystified as to why I seem to be the black sheep of the family. I wondered if it could be that I really was garbage, you'll never-amount-to-anything, piece of trash they said I was. I had eyes of a tormented old woman and people would say looking into them was like staring into a darkened house where nobody was home.
I was physically, mentally and sexually abused. I heard how bad, how stupid and how ugly I was. Never hugged, held on a lap or kissed goodnight. I felt like an enemy living under the same roof or like a limb grafted onto their body which they rejected by cutting off the flow of any life-sustaining nourishment in the hopes the unwanted limb would die, rot and fall off. Emotional abuse was simply a way of life so I buried my emotions.
Upstairs in my room, I cringed as I heard the front door slam shut. The ritual was beginning, I crept to the top of the stairs and peered over the railing as my father shoved my mother and began battering her terrified face with his fists. But my mother needed help. I had to save her. I stiffened, bracing myself for the beating and ran to her rescue. He would become so enraged with me, that it would cause him to release her.
Finally, unable to cry away the pain, I sat up in bed and stared out the window into a night as shadowy and as cold as my own soul. "Why was I ever born? Why did I have to come into this world and cause my mother so much pain? I'm a horrible person, a mistake that never should have happened..."
Once I had the courage to invite a friend home. I was awkward, nervously laughing with my friend as we walked things through the front door of my house, my heart was beating in my throat. My stepfather was home...he made sexual advances at my friend and I never brought anyone home nor did I try to make any friends anymore.
When I met the L-rd and came into His presence I began to weep. Tears bottled inside, all those years started spilling out. "L-rd," I sobbed, "I don't even know what a calling is, but I know you are calling one. I'm just garbage, but if you can use garbage, I'll give you my life." I sought divine direction and pleaded for healing from the never-ending pain of rejection that had gnawed like a starving rat at my insides all through my life.
I became a woman of great faith. I knew what G-d could do for people, healing, finances and guidance. I knew that I knew that I knew, and in my faith I could stand in the gap for them. But there was no faith for me. My brain washing ran too deep, after all, I was to be used and thrown away. I served no purpose.
I would have had a complete breakdown, emotionally and physically but I was terrified to even tell anyone of my fear lest I be rejected. I must stay in control; I will survive. I was still in search of a loving father.
For the previous 22 years, I had worked as hard as any human being could work in a ministry. Although I told myself it was because of my passion for G-d, deep in my heart I knew it was also the driven little girl inside still crying out for acceptance that never comes. Feeling inferior to the other preachers and people I shrank from intimate relationships, always avoiding opening up and being real. Longing for the approval I had never had and believing that worth and significance had to be earned by performance, production and perfection. I strove for achievement. Driving myself eighteen hours a day, seven days a week. I felt sinful if I rested and even apologized for being tired.
But now, as scalding tears trickled down my cheeks and life monitored every beat of my heart, I knew I must confide in someone, my beloved savior. I lifted my hands to G-d and pleaded for the grace I would need to be honest with His Family. Warm tears gushed uncontrollably and an indescribable peace descended.
It took most of the night, but sob by sob, hurt by hurt, I told G-d everything. Then I confessed my failures and fears to G-d, asking His forgiveness. "Will you let Me set you free from the destructive soul ties between you, your stepfather, your father, uncles, etc?" I sensed the L-rd asking. "Will you release your forgiveness?"
The healing process is continuing as G-d and I have worked steadily to demolish the big lie. The constant stabbing pain of rejection is slowly diminishing to a mere twinge now and then. My old negative self-talk is being replaced with what G-d's Word say about me as His child. I am increasing by comprehending that it is me - - myself - - not what my pride and compulsive workaholic nature can produce - that G-d values.
My wish is to dare to share the story of the atrocities I once endured; the story of a frightened, rejected little girl's terrible suffering to be used to bring healing and hope to G-d's hurting people. People struggling for perfection, performance and praise; people with plastic smiles on their faces and gaping holes in their souls. People of all ages and from all strata of society who so desperately need to hear that a smiling Savior with nail-scarred hands and loving eyes, accepts and values them and has a wonderful plan for their lives.
I still suffer in a love atmosphere. I don't know how to handle or totally accept it and love makes me cry. I battle unworthiness of such a gift I can't perceive. But the L-rd will free me of this too one day. It's a healing process of long-buried seeds of abuse and healing is painful.
Each case of abuse is individual, since the long term effects of abuse vary, based on the severity and frequency of the abused, the amount of trauma each victim experiences, and the internal strength of the victim.
G-d seems to bring up long-buried fears or memories surfacing in my consciousness as an illustration or insight unearths and unpleasant experience from my past.
Remembering can be unpleasant. It may even hurt. Recognizing, rebuilding and redirecting damaged emotions, attitudes, thought processes and behavior patterns can be painful and scary, but in the end the hurting will lead to wholeness. Thus promises the L-rd, "Wholeness is not doomed to play the melody of life in a sad, haunting minor key, continually battling with obesity depression and nightmares."
Getting my thoughts and feelings into written form is serving as a tremendous release and healing force.
I was a helpless little girl living with a ticking time bomb ready to explode any moment. My mother, the one person who could rescue me chose to ignore the danger. I lost the ability to trust, obey any form of authority figure and related to G-d or others out of love instead of fear.
Anger. Fear. Confusion. Shame. Mistrust. Hopelessness. Rejection. The choking weeds and thorny problems surrounding me seems to invade every aspect of my life. Now there is a need for me to come eventually to some resolution to make peace with my past and move on. I haven't opened up to anyone so there was no one to walk me through this but G-d.
I cannot be released from my offenders or from the anger-arousing, shame-evoking, esteem-shattering memories connected with his or her offenses against me until I accept wholeheartedly G-d's way of forgiveness. Forgiveness is a releasing, transforming experience. Learning that forgiveness is not an emotion; it is an act of the will. I must allow myself all the time and effort it takes to work through the stages of grief. Eventually, I hope, my emotion will fall into line with my decision to forgive others and most of all myself.
If you are experiencing pain because of rejection and past hurts, please don't suppress and hide them any longer. Take all your pain to Y’Shua. He understands. He allowed His own body to be broken so that we, who are broken, could be made whole.
G-d is greater than our abusers. He can overrule and reverse the consequences of the offenses committed against us. He can give beauty for ashes. He can bring the miraculous out of the ridiculous.