Darkness enveloped me; fear permeated my heart and mind. Sleep was my enemy…eluding me, refusing to be captured. Body thrashing, inner eyes wide with terror, the cry of my heart was to run. RUN. I. couldn’t. do. this. any. more. With muscles tensed for flight, I quickly sat on the edge of the bed. “I have to run,” my breathlessly panicked voice said. There must be a way to escape.
Gently, quietly, oh so patiently, my husband spoke words of peace to my war torn soul. Reason slowly eased into my mind. I could not go; two beautiful young daughters needed me. And, I would not do to them what my mother had done to me. This had become my mantra…that which kept me going. I would not leave them as she had me, fleeing to a mental hospital, abandoning her child to inexpressible pain. I wept. How could I care for them when my own life was being sucked dry by endless sleepless nights and unknown consuming demons? Closing my sunken eyes which echoed the hollowness within, I restlessly waited for the dawn.
Godly counseling uncovered deep trauma inflicted by my mother and my tumultuous relationship with her. It was in that pain my Savior was working when my children were small. Only after His wise, deft hands had accomplished much mending in those areas of my heart, could He reveal to me the inner, festering wounds wreaked from the physical and emotional violence of my father. As I write, the Great Physician’s gentle voice again has whispered another hidden epiphany…I blamed my mother for what I perceived as one of the consequences of her abandonment, my dad’s sexual abuse, for when she returned in my sixth year it stopped. I must forgive. The anger gnawing at my heart must be released forever through the power of the shed blood of Jesus Christ my Lord. Then, and only then, is there room for Him to work into me more of His life giving healing.