Jesus

The thing that blows my mind is that Jesus can save us from ourselves. I was very very very close to sleeping with someone last night. I haven't been digging into the word, and I have been gradually slipping closer to giving into sexual sin. It's my number one vice. I was using the language with him that I used to use, getting into the dark corner of my mind and not looking back. He fell asleep last night in his car and then we had an inappropriate conversation. Then he slept through when he was supposed to come over this morning. The sad thing is that I met him a week ago, and I didn't want to be more than friends, but he texted me and so I thought it was a great opportunity to have someone to snuggle with. My roommate has someone, so I thought it was okay for me. It is decidedly not, as I learned last night. I am so grateful for my friend Kari who knows the struggle. Luckily, this guy had work all day, and so I texted her and she was SO wise and SO sharp with me that I was finally jolted back to reality. God is working really hard on me right now. I am absolutely not doing anything to ruin what He has for me, and I am not gonna let some guy come in between us. He loves me so much, and He even died for this sin that I can't seem to shake. But IT NO LONGER HAS A HOLD OVER ME. And finally I am surrounded by people who would be affected if I fall. That's the thing about community. If one person falls, we all are affected and we all work to pick them up. God is bringing me into a place of beauty and leadership. I honestly dodged a bullet last night, and now I know this is a vice I can't beat on my own. I am like a spider, like a temptress who will not relent until she gets what she wants. Kari might be the only person who could have talked me out of it in a way that was relevant. I am so grateful for her. I am so grateful to God for putting her in my life. I am so grateful for the new life that I have in Jesus. I don't have to prove my worth to men. I don't have to identify myself by who I am in bed. I AM NOT A TEMPTRESS. I certainly used to be. There are former strippers and prostitutes who are serving the Lord. I am decidedly and 100% not that person anymore. I AM A CHILD OF GOD. I am tired of holding onto lies and identifying myself by who I WAS rather than who I AM in Christ. Praise His holy name. He is always always pursuing us even when we get ourselves into messes.

Dan

It hurts when you tell me that I have no meaning by not wanting to see me. What is your story now? It's been almost 3 months and I can't imagine how your life has changed. It's probably exactly the same, and I'm here wondering why things couldn't have been different. I'm missing you less and less. You're not in my life anymore, so it's getting easier to forget you. That's what I wanted in the first place. It's why I cut you out of my life. The pain was too great. Loving you sucked out my energy. I spent all that I had in my love stash on you. I am glad you're not here anymore. I am not sorry that I cared about you. Every time I see a black Mazda 3 I think about you and I wonder if it is you. I know that I saw you on Atherton a couple of weeks ago, and I almost turned around to follow you. I didn't think I could keep you out of my life for so long. Thanks for not trying to break down the door. I wanted you to. I wanted you to come crawling back on your hands and knees. I wanted you to understand how much pain it put me through to cut you out of my life. I want you to get why I had to do it. We were getting close, but it was too slow for me. You were never right for me. You never will be. I can't change you. I can change myself. I can't control or change another person. You are who you are. I didn't really like your personality very much. I thought you were boring. I feel like I am only saying that to lessen the pain a little bit, but it makes it worse. You are a good guy. You emanate goodness and character. I don't know why. I loved more than anything our dinner at the Italian restaurant in your town. That's the best time we've ever spent together. I was sick the last time you came. I was needy. I wanted to sleep with you so we did. I want to sit down at that restaurant again. I want to stay there. I want to pretend like we don't have lives outside of there. We can joke about the menu and the dress code for the waiters again. I can pretend that I don't want you to kiss me and offer your place for me to stay. But it will end like it always does, like it did. Our memories, our pasts are resigned to themselves. There's no possibility of changing it. The story stays the same every time I run it through my head. You were wearing a Penn State football jersey. I love your athletic side. I had your Nike jacket, and I gave it back. I love that jacket. There was no overt sexual tension. I wanted you to let me stay with you, but you didn't offer. I was leaving, and you asked for a hug. You. Asked. For. A. Hug. You who hate affection and any sort of care shown. You who don't like to hold hands or to be touched or to be hugged and loved on. I still love you, Dan. I think I always will. I don't know why. I am clingy and needy and we would never work. I think you're sturdy, but you don't care enough. You are lacking passion and tenderness. It would take years to get close. You were here for a week. I was tempted to crumple up into a ball when Mark told me that. I wanted to lay on the ground. I wanted to scream and cry. I ended us. I ended our friendship. Was it actually blossoming into something more, or was that just a delusion? I wanted it to keep going. I wanted you to love me. I still want you to love me. I want to hold you and take care of you when you're sick. You're not here anymore. Are you dating anyone? Do you think about me? The pain is sometimes so overwhelming, but I have to remember that you're a figment of my imagination as long as I can't see you. I wanted you to come by when you were here. I want you to fight for me. I want you to realize what an idiot you are for not running after me. I want you to stop in your tracks one day and realize that you want me back. But you won't ever do that. I don't think you ever wanted that. Intimacy scares you. I scare you. I cling to you. I wish our last visit had been better. I hope that we can speak soon. It has been almost 3 months. My blocking you will have expired. Thanks for being.

I Choose

I choose. These words have so much meaning and power. I am not subject to the whims of other people. I can decide what I do or don't do. I can quit my job if I want to. I can decide to be a street artist if I want to. I can move to New York. I can learn how to swim. I can write when I want to. I don't have to be solely a reactor. I don't have to wait for something to happen in order to come alive. I am alive. Everything within me is whole because of Jesus. I am not paralyzed. I am not controlled by my emotions. I am not only my emotions. I can choose to accept the joy and love that is already within me because of the Holy Spirit. I can choose to fight for what is right, not only if and when it makes me feel better. I can choose to love. I can choose to be sober for the rest of my life. It is my choice. I am choosing sobriety. I am choosing to not become involved in a relationship for at least another year. I am choosing to not let anything have a hold over me. The truth is that I am weak, and Jesus is the only one who can make these things completely true. I am choosing to rely on the Holy Spirit when I feel like I don't already have God's power within me. I am choosing to see myself as an heir with Christ. I am choosing to type right now. My fingers are making the motions with my brain interpreting which keys to hit. I am choosing to be honest with myself and with other people from now on. This does not mean that I need to confess to people. This does not mean that I need to admit all of my faults and tell people what I've done wrong. I can choose to carry myself like I'm a princess. I can choose to enter into pain with people, because I know that I can emerge out of it with a new lesson. I can choose to see beauty in pain. I miss my lip ring. I am choosing to trust that God is working out the Rwanda details. I am choosing to do breaststrokes through life rather than just floating by, going wherever it will take me. I choose my path. I choose my life. God created me. I am not perfect. I don't have to be perfect. I can choose.

He Keeps On Looking Out for Me

Man. I wish I could use this title more than once. This is from a really good Kirk Franklin song. God keeps pursuing me even when I don't want Him to :) I keep thinking that I am not worth helping, but God showed me tonight that I am so loved and being constantly pursued by Him. I can't explain how or why He chooses to bless me the way that He does, but I love Him for loving me!

Where to begin? I didn't have a bad day at work, but at the end of the day I started thinking about everything that I have to do for Rwanda and this weekend, and I got overwhelmed and had a meltdown. I called Mom crying hysterically, begging her to not let me live the rest of my life this way. On DUI weeks, I work 3 12-hour days in a row. I am thinking of quitting CHC. It is too much to be working human services all the time, and I am ready to move on to something new! I was lucky to be selected as a DUI instructor for this year. I think that this is the right decision for me right now. I am planning on applying to Wings Over Happy Valley, and I just applied to Kimchi Korean Restaurant to work as a server there. I don't know what I would do without CHC. Maybe I will just give up my paid shift and see if Gayle can cut down my shifts to one per week. I understand that other people work for more than 4 hours during the week, but I have a full-time job! It's becoming a burden. I think it's my time to leave, but I want to make sure that I have a plan before I resign. I am really excited for what God has for me. This is a whole new chapter in my life, full of fun and love and community.

I wrote my pastor an email asking him to pray for me and give me some guidance. It is very hard asking for help, because I think that I should have it all together because I'm a human services provider. This is absolutely not the case. I started crying right there at CHC, because I was so overwhelmed by everything when I was writing the email. I think it is hard to be vulnerable with other helping professionals, because I hate pretending like I have it all together but that seems to be the norm. I am always afraid that I will get fired or kicked out if I am real with my struggles in the field. I own up to my mistakes immediately, which is good, but it does not always feel like a free environment.

I left CHC and checked the AA website to see when the next meeting was, and lo and behold, it was in 7 minutes on the same street where my car was parked! That was totally God shouting at me! I went to the meeting still puffy-eyed from crying and met a nice guy on the way in. I went in and was originally going to sit in the back, but then I saw a woman who I recognized from when I was going to meetings in the fall (I haven't been in 4 or 5 months). So I moved up and sat a couple of seats away from her. There were tons of people there, and there was a speaker who did a wonderful job and talked about her sobriety and relapses and the journey of her life. I was very inspired by some of the things that she said. I liked one thing in particular. She said that she has a friend who always tells the truth, and so she is never boring :) I strive to be like that! It's crazy to think that my story can inspire people, because I often don't feel worth it. It's also hard to work at the center, because I feel like I have to stuff my story inside. I want to shout it from the rooftops! God is redeeming my life. I need to spend time in the Word. He has strategically placed people in my life. It's almost scary. I love people in Third Place so deeply that it hurts. Lois has asked me to be a leader, and I feel just so lucky to be valued and appreciated by a group of believers. I just want to give back in any way that I can! My heart is stirred by these people. My world is rocked by God and His grace that re-covers me every day (like a fine piece of upholstery!). I am rocked and shaken by how He is consistently showing me His love.

So I was at this AA meeting, and I cried almost the entire time. At first, my eyes started to well up and I got choked up. I tried to stifle the tears, but they just kept coming out, and I couldn't hide them anymore. I felt so guilty and overwhelmed and like a failure all at the same time. I hadn't been to a meeting in 4 or 5 months, and I realized that I really need to go to meetings. The woman in front of me held my hand for the entire last 20 minutes or so of the meeting. She saw that I was crying and asked me if I was okay. Of course I pretended that I was, but she didn't give up! At first it was embarrassing. I didn't want people to be focused on me! What good am I? Then she grabbed my hand and just held it right there. I had probably wiped my runny nose with that hand, and she held it still. She didn't let go until we clapped for a man who had 19 years of sobriety (that's almost as old as I am). She was steadfast and she was devoted to me. And God told me when I sat behind her that she was going to have an impact. I want her to be my sponsor. After the meeting, a group of beautiful women just rallied around me and encouraged me and blessed me. I told them that I didn't think I was worth their love, and they told me they'd been there. They've been there! They understand what it's like to feel worthless! They told me that they would love me even if I couldn't love myself right then. They gave me their phone numbers. I recognized some of the people that were in the room. Faithful attenders. People who I hadn't seen in months. And they accepted me back, just as if I had never left. I can't even express how much love was shown to me in that moment. And it wasn't about what I could give, because frankly I didn't have much to give in the midst of my blubbering and self-pity. But they cared enough to reach out to me. They didn't let me run out of the room like I wanted to. They didn't let me hide. They loved me right there where I was. They built me up. I can't really express the love that God has shown me over the past few months. I literally am speechless when I think about it.

Third Place is an amazing AMAZING support system. Lo and my life group have been so supportive of my struggle. I am planning on attending AA. If there are women who are capable of such love there who have struggled with addiction like I have, then I want to spend time with them. I was also so encouraged by getting to hang out with some people tonight from ThirdPlace. I had some great conversations with people who are following the Lord with all that they have. Yesica is being obedient to God and moving to California in a short period of time.

After that, I went over to a frat house with some young men from AA. I am afraid of men. I was afraid that I wouldn't know how to interact with just friends. But we had a great time. I brought over the leftover cake and tart from the party I went to before, and there was a bat in the house that we chased around! I was shaking. Bats are scary, and they can fly very quickly. It's a good thing that I don't have hair anymore! And we still don't know where it went. I told the one guy that I hoped the bat didn't end up sleeping next to him haha. Somehow hanging out with them in a completely platonic way reminded me of my Baby Bird. And it felt good to a. leave a frat house sober and b. leave a place with boys that I didn't try and hook up with or even flirt with. It was an incredible experience. I think God is going to bring guy friends into my life in order to learn to trust Him more. I asked Him to please get me out of a situation if I become tempted or anything. On some nights, the sex addiction is stronger than me. Those are the nights when I need to allow God to break down the wall around my heart and sweep up the dirt inside (it gets pretty filthy sometimes). God is so good, and I am so blessed to know Him :)

Blah

To be reminded everyday that I'm a survivor is difficult. I remember being open with it when I was in elementary school. We were in line coming in from recess and I told my friend who was behind me (loud enough for my crush in front of me to hear) that I had had sex. I guess even back then I was trying to put a positive spin on being sexually assaulted. My openness about it has definitely grown - there was a period in my life where I wouldn't talk about it at all. I still don't internally identify myself as a survivor - it's too painful to admit what happened was rape - but externally I'm all about it. It's almost a bragging right. Oh hey look what I've been through. I know pain. I know suffering because of that. I don't remember the actual event being physically painful. I do know that it taught me that there was something wrong with me. And I've gone my whole life trying to prove to myself that that's right. I really need to go over the notes from the ACCD conference because I think they would absolutely apply. I'm renowned for making promises to myself that I can't keep. I do this often. I do this with people too. It makes sense that I've tried to make myself right all of these years. A 4-year-old doesn't know that the world is capable of such evil, and so I thought that I was the problem. Other four-year-olds did not get rape. Other people my age didn't have that happen to them. What was different about me? What was wrong in me that made those 5 boys want to do that? Even now I don't know. I guess I was just friends with the wrong people. I hope that I have good discretion about who I let my kids play with. I guess there's no idea Mom could have known either. Maybe she didn't think that would happen. I turn it over in my head at least once a day now. I can't avoid thinking about it. It is always there, glaring at me, ready to point out any flaws in myself and use this event as a reason. "Well, I was sexually abused as a child.." "Oh. So that's why you're like that." I've had these conversations in my head many times. I think the scariest part about abuse is that it never leaves you. It is always there in the back of your mind, taunting you and convincing you that you're not good enough for anyone, that you somehow caused it. There are weeks when I think that the sexual abuse is cool - we're cool with that now. And then there are days when I wake up and just want to end it all, because now the problem is my mind. I can't escape my mind when it goes haywire and decides to attach every character flaw to the abuse. I suppose that there is a reason why it happened. I am more self-aware. I know pain. And it is helpful to know that "I am not alone," something I say to victims just about every day. I don't have to suffer on my own. I can talk about it. Most of the time, talking about it serves only to be an excuse for my behavior, a way for people to feel sorry for me. I don't attach it to myself, to my feelings. It is a way for people to excuse me for my failures. It's like a get-out-of-jail-free card. That's the only way I can be open about it. I can detach myself from it readily. I can minimize it quite easily by talking about it. At least then I can get it out and maybe have the other person feel bad for a while. It is hard to sit with all of this. It is hard to dissect a four-year-old brain and realize that I still have part of that brain. It is hard to recognize that there are areas where I seem not to have grown at all. Knowing why I think the way I do isn't helpful. Knowing HOW to change that would be invaluable. My ideas about this change everyday, however. One day I wake up and think that I am lucky to be alive. The next day I wake up not understanding why I was even born. I have no idea if it's normal to feel this way. I'd like to think I'm not the only one who wonders why they're still alive. I kill myself in different ways. I think they have changed as I have come to recognize some as poor coping mechanisms, but the things I am addicted to all serve the same purpose: to allow me to escape. I stay up too late because I think I'm waiting for my brain to change. I'm hoping that all of the junk in this old/young brain would be sucked out and deposited somewhere far away. I have been dealing with it for too long - 23 years. There should be some sort of junk-sucking brain vacuum cleaner. I would buy that for 4 easy payments of $19.95. I was thinking of writing an autobiography. It would be interesting and probably a good healing process. I am beginning to think that this "healing process" takes an entire lifetime. I wish I could forget that it happened. But that would be ignoring 23 years of responsive, survivor thinking. I am constantly in survival mode. I think that is called PTSD. I was gang raped. I suppose that's what it called. Mom couldn't call it rape. She used to say that I was molested. I understand why. "Rape" is a serious word. I think that people have begun to make jokes about it in our culture because they are trying to lessen its power. But it doesn't work. Rape is a powerful tool that's used to control someone. It's selfish. If I could separate the actual act from myself that would be ideal. If I could have not taken it so personally, that would have been great. I think that's why people dissociate. I kind of wish that I had. I wish that I could believe that it wasn't about me. Cat (my new favorite) said something that really struck me tonight. I am who I am. It is not helpful to keep thinking about who I would've been if that hadn't happened to me. It did happen to me. I was gang raped. The prospect of saying that out loud is making me emotional. It takes a lot for people to say that. I am pretty good at controlling people's responses. I can put on my pity voice so that people will feel sad for me. I hate that when therapists do it. I don't feel sad for myself. Too many people have done that. Mom felt guilty and waited on us growing up because of it. That did nothing to help me. I learned that my victimization could be used as a way for people to do things for me. "Oh poor Kristin. She doesn't have a father, and she was gang raped." I hate for people to feel sorry for me. That's why I dissociate it from myself when I tell people. That happened to somebody else in my brain. I was there and I remember it, but I don't connect that to myself when I am vocal about it. I don't want to admit how much it affected me. I want people to see me as strong. "Wow, you have really endured a lot." I have. It's my life. I was not handed easy cards, though I like to pretend that I was. It's so much easier. And I am so good at pretending to be naive. I did lead a pretty sheltered life. I don't think that there's anything wrong with me. I'm just covering all the good. I always do that. I always save the good parts of myself for special occasions. It's like saving a pair of lacy underwear to wear or wearing your favorite perfume only on special occasions. I only let myself come out when it's a special occasion or I think I'm going to get something out of it. I am very good at getting what I want - whether it's a feeling or a friend. I scare myself with this honest talk sometimes. I am capable of being abusive if I want to be, but I think I have too many problems to focus on controlling somebody else. Plus I never in a million years want to be like my father. I am so afraid of being abusive. I try very hard to be accountable for every wrong thing that I do. I need to be accountable for right things I do as well. I am just so used to focusing on the negative, that the idea of switching to positive thinking is mind-blowing. There are some days when I can do it, though usually not about my own life. I can hardly ever put a positive spin on that. I am working on it, though. This is definitely a journey. I feel so glad that I got all of this out. It has been eating away at me for months. There are a lot of things that I am valuable for. It's funny that my jobs are not bringing out any of those things. Maybe I am doing that on purpose. I have always been afraid of seeing what I'm capable of. Maybe I was having a great day when those boys raped me. Maybe I am afraid of that happening again. Maybe I think if I get too happy, I'll get raped. I don't ever want to get too comfortable. I always want the opportunity to escape. I used to tell my brother that he was happy like it was a bad thing. It used to be such a rare occurrence in myself that when I saw it in other people, I felt threatened. It's still a rare occurrence. The wheels are always turning against me in my head.