My Story Part 4

I couldn’t figure out a way to tell you about how Satan has worked in my life thus far in my story. I really don’t want to talk about Him. But He is a part of my story and I’m hoping and praying that this will be edifying to those who have struggled in similar ways. So I’m going to squeeze it in here. When I was three years old, I fell off a two story building. We lived in an apartment (at this time it was with my mom and birth father) on the second floor. I piled up all my toys on our balcony and saw my mom going into the building beneath me to do laundry. Well, I toppled over the railing as I tried to watch my mom enter the laundry room and fell to the ground. Amazingly, I only broke my femur. But was in traction for a few weeks. I do not remember any of this, but putting this incident together with my illness and almost dying in the hospital, I kinda feel like Satan wanted me dead! You might be wondering how I came to this conclusion. Well, on top of these two incidents, when my mom left my birth dad, we went to live at a friend’s house. The woman of the house watched my brother and me while my mom worked. It just so happens that this woman worshipped Satan. She was into spiritual writing and rituals, which my brother and I were exposed to on a regular basis. She ended up going crazy and was put in a hospital. I’m not sure how long we stayed with them, but it was long enough to make a lasting impression on me. Since that time, I had numerous dreams that Satan was trying to kill me. I will spare you the details, but for much of my life, Satan was more real than God to me. But this plan of his will eventually become his demise in my life. My God did not forget me. My God did not leave me. I will discover that my God can conquer evil with his baby finger. But more about that later because Satan showed his ugly face again later in my life.

I barely graduated high school, but never got to walk at my graduation. You guessed it, I ended up in the hospital again. This time for a major operation. They would try once again to fix my bladder . This would be my 6^th surgery. So as all my friends were having parties and going to Hawaii, I was stuck once again in my bed of pain. This was a very depressing time for me. I was so tired of the pain. My body was the source of that pain and it never left me alone. I felt like I couldn’t look forward to anything anymore. It seemed like my body was my enemy. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t get away from this body that tortured me. I hated it. I hated myself. I never knew when the pain would strike. During this time I began reading books by Joni Erickson Tada. She suffered from an accident and became paralyzed. I could relate to her. Her books were so encouraging to me. She gave me hope that God could use this in my life. That nothing is wasted. Even in this dark time, God was reaching out to me and saying “I’m here”!

Since I was “stupid”, I didn’t feel like I could fit in at college. I was really interested in the medical field and I went to Andon College where I became a medical assistant. I started working at 18yo and loved my job. I was extremely good with my patients. They all loved me. I understood their pain and had compassion for them. As I look back I was always very compassionate. I would constantly bring home stray animals and try to manipulate my parents to let me keep them. Most of the time, they allowed me to keep them. I always had this heart for the broken. The broken were beautiful to me. It’s amazing how I had so much love for the broken, but could not love myself. When my mom got mad at me, I would sit in my room as a child and think to myself “I am so bad. I don’t deserve to live.” Yet, it would bring me great joy to love the unlovable. I was still living in my parent’s house while I worked and it was still a place of tension because my brother was 16yo and in the thick of his rebellion. At this time I felt the need to move out. I had a friend, Brad, who wanted to move out as well. So I embarked on the journey called “living on your own” or as I like to call it, “the biggest mistake I ever made”. Ok, I know. We learn from our mistakes. But instead of making me happy and free, moving brought depression and fear. First of all, moving in with a boy was my first mistake. You, dear reader, probably already figured this out. He was messy and was never home so I was home alone most of the time with his mess all around me. At this same time, I had met a boy at camp over the summer before I turned 18yo and he lived in Southern California, but moved up to San Jose to be with me. He was my dream guy. He wrote poetry, was a musician and was super cute. He came up and rented a room so he could be with me. Then the controlling began. He began telling me where I could and couldn’t go. He would sometimes push me up against walls when I didn’t obey him. But I continued to stay in the relationship because of my shame and he just confirmed what I already knew….I was worth nothing. To be honest, I don’t remember much of this time because I was so lost in depression. We finally broke up and he moved back to his home. But his absence left a huge gap in my heart. He didn’t love me, but he was at least with me and sometimes would be kind and loving. Now I was utterly alone. I sat in my apartment and had a serious talk with myself. My life was going nowhere. I had a job I loved, but other than that I was stuck with little hope for my future. That’s when I decided to go home. I left the apartment of turmoil and went back to my parent’s house. I decided I would work and go to community college. So I enrolled at DeAnza College and started taking the “bonehead” classes for those who can’t even do basic math or English. I will never forget the day my teacher took me aside and told me that she felt I might have a gift for writing. I was shocked! It was the first time the thought ran through my mind that I might be smart. I loved her class and she didn’t know it, but a seed was planted deep in my soul that grew and is still growing to this day. I began taking other classes and I was doing well. I took a communications class where we needed to give a speech in front of the class. I was really nervous, but did really well. And my teacher in that class gave me an “A”. “Well”, I thought, “I think this belief that I’m stupid is actually a lie”. I thrived at school and couldn’t get enough. I then transferred to San Jose State and worked on getting my degree in Psychology. If you are a teacher reading this, please know that just one word from you can change a life.

After high school I fell away from the Lord. My Young Life leader was gone and so were the Bible studies. I was on my own and not sure how to proceed. So I hung out with friends and began to go to parties where there was drugs and alcohol. I have to tell you something weird about this. Although people around me were smoking pot and snorting cocaine, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I realized later that I was always high in the hospital on Morphine so I had no desire to do more drugs. This was a blessing from the Lord that I now see as His protection. Although I didn’t do drugs, I did start drinking alcohol. So I spent most weekends making out with boys and drinking. I was having the time of my life. Fun was my purpose in life. On top of that, the boys I liked had long hair and were in bands. I cannot tell you the places I ended up at listening to my latest “boyfriend” playing in his band. It was a miracle that I was not assaulted or raped. I am shocked now, as I look back at what I would do just to get a guy to pay attention to me. I learned that if I dressed sexy and flaunted it around enough times, a boy would take the bait. And I would reel him in and feel like I was loved for short periods of time. I also learned that beauty equaled power. I had never had power, so I used it with a vengeance. Even in this dark place God had His hand of protection on me. I could have gotten pregnant or a STD. I was looking for love. For worth. For hope. I was grasping for anything that would give my life meaning. But it eluded me.