In July I had a dream that helped me fully digest the identity I once carried. It’s a good place to start laying foundation for you to understand who I was and how I have arrived at reclaiming my throne as a bride of royalty. I have said it before and I will say it again; it is imperative you comprehend; I am not a queen born into a palace, no…I was born a slave into bondage. Only now, I am set free. This is part one of my journey of recovery by a retelling intermixed with the interpretation of my dream and the reality I lived within.
My Reality Confessed
A massive heaping mound of dirt, mud and garbage stretching as far as I can see across the horizon. Mostly the color of darkness; browns & blacks. It feels so heavy, insurmountable. The smell would make eyes water, noses would cringe & crinkle and sting. I liken the sight to death and destruction.
This was my life.
- no boundaries
I can sense that my body is in the center of this mound. I could never find enough strength to climb or pull myself out.
Many times, most times I would submit to the mound of darkness. Succumbing to defeat and allowing myself to sink down. Deep. To suffocate. To mingle and mix amongst the parts that make up this mound. Over time I began to intimately know & understand them all.
Pain. Lies. Torment. Humiliation. Chaos. Substances. Fear. Lack. Abuse. Insecurity. Hopelessness. Sorrow. Confusion. Sex. Anger. Instability. Uncertainty. Lack. Brokenness.
This became my identity. This became me. I consumed all the parts. Consumed by it all. These were the main parts of who I was. Sometimes integrated and sometimes at conflict with one another. It was how I felt. How I saw the world. What I believed. What I experienced. This is what I saw if a mirror stared back at my reflection. I walked around as though I existed; but I really was just a shell masquerading as a living person.
Life wasn’t all bad all the time. I just couldn’t seem to get away from the mound and the overwhelming parts that it consisted of. I used to really work hard at trivializing my experiences and emotions in order to make some sense of it all or to pass myself off as “normal” or “okay”. I knew that so many people had their own stories of trauma, abuse & tragedy. Some of which I never could have survived through. The truth I now understand is that we all have our own journey. We all experience trauma, tragedy & abuses. They just come in different packages.
I was around 9 or so when my consciousness began to discover the confines of the mound. I think that awareness was my logical minds reasoning for making a choice that would then set my life on an unexpected course driven by an amazing unstoppable force. My emotional self was probably more moved by the ideal of being part of something. The carrot dangling boasted I would be loved and feel loved. I remember the moment so vividly; even now, after all that I have tried to force myself to forget. I still remember that moment.
We weren’t supposed to open our eyes. But, I did. I opened my eyes and peered longing all around. I expected some sort of parting of the clouds moment; like where exactly was this Love that I supposedly just let into my heart…Yes. I was at Sunday School as it were in Santa Cruz, CA at Santa Cruz Bible Church. I don’t remember what the service was about that day and I was pretty sure I already knew Jesus; but I also knew that I didn’t have any awareness of a time where I said He could live in my heart. What did that mean anyways? I pictured a big red 3 dimensional heart…you know…like this—> ❤ but 3 dimensional. Then I saw a door open from the heart and imagined some little cartoon Jesus walking on in to chill on my heart’s couch. Or whatever He wanted to do in there. I just didn’t get it.
When I let Jesus in my heart that day, I was missing a huge piece of information. It’s really sad that the Church- not just that particular church as an organization but the entire body of Christ and those who claimed Christianity- they kinda missed the mark for well; probably decades. I didn’t know that at the time obviously and even if I had the missing link then, at 9 years old I’m not sure if I would have understood. See, that willful choice to open my heart to Christ was not just that He could now chill on my heart’s couch…what it meant, what it means is that I surrendered my life. When I gave my life to Christ I didn’t understand then, what I am beginning to see now. The images, the mound, my story and my identity all changed. In that moment.
I awoke from my dream to a picture of this past. This mound of darkness & destruction which was my life. My identity. Ultimately, my prison. The act of choosing Christ and surrendering my life to Him is the first shift in the scene. Consciously choosing with mind, heart & will to give Jesus permission to be Savior- to be my hero. This came to mind as I saw my hand stretch through the mound. Outward and upward to my King in heaven.
I see my pale cold skin as light begins to shine upon me. Stretching there from out of the center to find that I was not at the bottom as such I had thought. I was so near the top, I was quite shocked. It was not someone else whom I had really been waiting on. It was me. I was the delay. The simple choice becomes an action of faith. Immediately my position in life has changed.
From sewers to sunlight.
“And say, how have I hated instruction, and my heart despised reproof; And have not obeyed the voice of my teachers, nor inclined mine ear to them that instructed me! I was almost in all evil in the midst of the congregation and assembly.”