reality.

last year i had the opportunity to spend a whole week of my summer vacation with my best friend.

and a bunch of junior highers. 

i was asked to tag along that week because her church was short a camp counselor.

knowing, selfishly that i would get some quality time with my best friend and with Lord, i said YES.

i dont think it hit me till a couple days before that i was not only going to get quality time with my best friend and with the Lord BUT also with a bunch of crazy, energetic...junior highers. 

enough said right??

but i figured the quality time out-weighed everything.

i was kinda excited to see what it would be like to share a cabin for a whole week for six junior high girls.

i was also very excited for the time they allowed the camp counselors to have their time with the Lord.

i took advantage of every free second i had to do the two things that i LOVE to do and usually don't get a lot of time to do....

i spent time with the Lord AND with my best friend! 

it was great.

at this season in my life...i knew i needed to talk about my story and learn to accept it but i wasnt ready too. 

my best friend knew my story...well she knew part of my story. for the same reason why i didn't tell anyone else.

i didn't want pity.

i think the second night of chapel our guest speaker (who was AMAZING!) was telling us about his family. who he was. etc.

he told us this amazing story about this beautiful little girl.

he told us her story.

i cried.

he showed us a picture of her before and after.

before him and his wife adopted her and after they adopted her.

again. i cried.

later that night as me and my girls were walking back to our cabin.

all my girls were laughing. 

talking.

planning what they were going to wear when the cabin time was over.

i walked in complete silence.

completely heart-broken for that little girl.

i looked over and saw another group of girls walking back to their cabin.

they from the same church as us and were right next store to our cabin.

i could hear one of the girls crying and all the girls talking about what just happened in chapel.

i went back with my girls. 

tried to connect with them about what happened in chapel and make the most of our cabin time but my girls were not in the mood to have cabin time.

so i told the girls i would be back and i went next store.

not knowing what i would say.

but knowing that i needed to check on the girls.

(their counselor wasn't in the cabin)

i knocked and walked in.

the girls were still upset.

i asked how everyone was doing and they began to open up about how hard it was to listen to that beautiful little girl's story.

i remember in that moment of trying to comfort these girls. that i don't know.

i told the girls this...

"you just have to remember that even though something SO ugly happened to this little girl our Savior is going to make something SO beautiful out of it!"

not knowing where that came from i wasn't sure that would do anything but the girls tears went away and they thanked me for checking on them.

to this day i remember that exact conversation with them and they trusted me when i reassured them that our Savior will not leave that ugly mark on that sweet little girl.

and yet on a bad day i struggle to trust that the Lord will do just that.

He will take that ugly mark off of me and make my story beautiful.

a continuous prayer is that i be reminded to put my hope in God.

to understand that even though something SO ugly happened to me,  the  Lord will make me new and make my story into something so beautiful. 

He will use it for his glory.

i wanted to leave this post with a few statistics.

-a report of child abuse is reported every TEN seconds.

-more than five children EVERY day die from child abuse.

-more than 90% of juvenile sexual abuse victims know their perpetuator in some way.

-child sexual abuse is report more than 80,000 times EVERY YEAR.

-its estimated that two out of every ten girls and one out of every ten boys are sexually abused by the end of their 13th year.

lastly.

Sexual abuse is unwanted sexual activity, with perpetrators using force, making threats or taking advantage of victims not able to give consent. Most victims and perpetrators know each other. Immediate reactions to sexual abuse include shock, fear or disbelief. Long-term symptoms include anxiety, fear or post-traumatic stress disorder. While efforts to treat sex offenders remain unpromising, psychological interventions for survivors — especially group therapy — appears effective.

provided by: American Psychological Association 

every time i read sexual abuse statistics my heart breaks. 

 the truth is hard to understand sometimes. its hard to believe that their are people who live in the same world we do and could do such a thing.

my story.

my story is a little crazy with a splash of blessings on the side and a squirt of disappointment. 

when i was four years old i was taken away from my biological "birth"mom. i am one of the five kids she gave birth to. i am number four. 

number one is my sister.

 i never really had a relationship with her. she is 9 years older than me.

number two is my brother. 

we are close. he has always been protective. extremely. 

number three is another brother.

we are very close. he was my rock. he was my strength somedays. he gave me hope. he also always picked on me.

number five is my "little" brother. 

he is huge. super tall. i am just now starting to build a relationship with me. he also is protective of me.

here it goes.............

the night that cps (child protective services) and the cops came flooding into our two bedroom apartment still seems like it happened just yesterday. 

i was four.

it was late.

number one was gone.

number two was playing with number five.

number three was doing his homework at a table and using a candle for light.

he used the candle for light because we didnt have electricity. 

number four (me) was standing in the dining room area watching.

my birth mom was not home. 

her boyfriend was.

in the midst of hearing number five laugh.

number two make fun of number three we heard a huge bang on the door.

my birth mom's boyfriend jumped over. 

as he was looking through the peep hole the door was knocked in.

all i remember at that moment was running to number two. 

number two holding me. telling me he would keep me safe.

as a flood of police officers tackle my birth mom's boyfriend and handcuffed him. 

there was an army of other police officers with bright flash lights...........

knocking doors down. 

pulling everything out of every cabinet. 

flipping every mattress.

as the dust began to settle i dont remember that much.

by this time number two was still holding me and still reassuring me that he would protect me.

and there was an officer. a big officer. pushing a dinosaur in my face and making weird facial expressions all awhile trying to make me laugh.

if i had a cookie to give to him i probably would have given it to him, at least for trying to make me feel better. 

but the truth was all i wanted was for number two to hold me and for people to stop pitying us.

we were finally told to go outside. 

again, number two is still holding me. i was clinging onto him for dear life.

we walk outside and there stood two of my aunts and a van that we were told to get into.

we were taken to a local foster home. 

we were there for about 6-8months. 

i loved it there. 

it was so much fun.

they had food available for every meal.

i thought i was getting spoiled.

they had a room full of clothes for girls.

the only downside was that they kept boys on one completely different side than the girls.

which is completely understandable. except i had always slept next to or in the same room as my brothers as long as i could remember.

so the nights were EXTREMELY long. 

it was like christmas morning EVERY time i got to see my brothers.

i started getting used to my "new home."

then we were told that we were going to move in with my "Aunt Lue" and "Uncle Moe."

i was excited.

then i realized that me and number three were only going to Aunt Lue's house. 

and number two and number five were going with my "Aunt Sin."

i was disappointed. kinda mad. and really sad.

we moved in with Aunt Lue and the fun began. 

we had our own bed.

i felt so spoiled.

we were able to sleep in the same room.

loved.

we had meals at every mealtime. 

even though i got in trouble each mealtime because i was a picky eater. 

 i still felt loved. i felt so spoiled.

we took baths.

we were clean.

and most of all my Aunt Lue tucked me into bed each night and gave me a huge hug.

again i felt so spoiled.

after living with them for a few years my Uncle Moe got sick. 

he needed a transplant.

so my Aunt Lue and Uncle Moe decided that me and number three needed to move out.

we ended up moving in with our grandparents in coalinga.

these grandparents were my dad's parents.

we lived with them for about 6 months before my grandpa started coming into my bed and sexually abusing me.

i remember the first night it happened. i felt so numb. dead. empty. scared. betrayed.

after he left i went to my brothers room. (number three)

we never said anything to each other that night.

i walked in and stood next to his bed. i was sobbing. 

he rolled over. looked at me. pulled his blankets back and i crawled in bed with him.

still sobbing. he covered me. put his arm around. 

the next morning my grandma (a drunk) came into his room. saw us sleeping and called me a whore. slut. tramp. 

she said only dirty girls sleep in beds with their brothers. 

that was when i realized what i needed to do to survive. 

i became very numb. i learned how to "protect" myself emotionally.

i put a HUGE wall up.

when number three left for the weekend. it was WAY easier for my grandpa. 

 because my brother who would protect me was gone. 

my grandma was so drunk she was passed out.

me and my brother (number three) would take turns spending the weekend with our dad.

after about a month of when my grandpa started coming into my room. 

number two gave up his weekends with our dad.

to save me.

after about three or four years of living with my grandparents.

we moved in with my dad. 

it was the best day ever.

i had my own room.

it was decorated.

i had a huge bed.

most of all number two came to live with us!! 

it was christmas morning.

we lived with our dad for about two years then he was arrested.

number two took the reigns and took care of us until he legally couldnt anymore.

we moved back in with our grandparents.

worst.feeling.ever.

we lived with them for about 5 or 6 months then we were asked to spend Christmas with my Aunt Lue and Uncle Moe. 

after spending a couple days with them. they realized something was wrong.

i was extremely underweight.

my Aunt Lue and Aunt Sin pulled my brother aside. (number 3)

they asked him if we would like to move back in with them.

he said no.

he said he didnt want to because he was in high school and had a lot of friends.

BUT he did say, "take my sister. she isnt doing good. i cant protect her anymore."

being the noisy little sister i was listening outside the bedroom door and began weeping. 

after saying bye to my best friend. my brother.

i moved in with my cousin Kenya and her husband Ramon.

after about 6 months of starting to feel comfortable her husband, Ramon  started coming into my room at night and sexually abusing me.

i love to write. well i used to. i kept a journal. i wrote everything down. every detail of what he would do to me. i would question why i wasnt strong enough to over power him. 

it was my outlet.

till one day Kenya found my journal and asked me about it.

i remember feeling so relieved. 

and before i could say help me and yes your husband is a dirty pervert....

she said, "you have an inappropriate crush on my husband."

literally within hours i was moving back in with my Aunt Lue and Uncle Moe.

i felt lonely.

not having any of my brothers around.

started to feel comfortable.

and about a year after moving in with them my Uncle Moe started sexually abusing me.

he started sexually abusing me my freshman year of high school and didnt stop till i moved out of their house when i was 20. 

once i finally moved out my life began to feel normal. but its when my life starts to feel normal that its when my world begans to fall apart.

through all of this ugliness. disgust. pain. 

i know that this is MY story. there is a purpose for the ugliness. disgust. and pain that i went through. 

and i WILL be made new. not by myself. not by my friends.

not by my fiance. not by books. not by counselors.

but my Savior. 

my prayer for my friends who are reading this blog is that you would not become overwhelmed with guilt. 

guilt that you should have know.

guilt that you should have done something.

guilt that you saw the signs.

guilt that you were a good friend and didnt know. 

but that you would be overwhelmed by the reassurance that my Savior is healing me.

is teaching me.

and that he will make me new. 

i can put my hope in that.

and my prayer is that you can too. 

being engaged.

as of january 28.....i am engaged. praise the lord! there is nothing more exciting (besides the actual marriage part) than being engaged. especially when you are blessed with an amazing fiance.

 he is easily my favorite person. he challenges me. calls me out. loves me. protects me. is patient with me.

being engaged is exciting for multiple reasons. but the most important is that you get to plan two things. 

one the actual wedding day! two the honeymoon.

as nerve wracking as it is to walk down the aisle by myself while concentrating on not tripping or letting my bouquet slip out of my hand because my hands are so sweaty. with all eyes on me. 

im kind of excited. not excited for all eyes on me. or walking down the aisle by myself but excited to marry the one person who shows me what it feels like to feel LOVED.

now the honeymoon is a completely different nervous feeling. 

i am SO excited that we are going to disneyland. and in my head when i think of us going on our honeymoon thats where my excitement goes. 

my head begins to spin. my hands sweat WAY more than usual. my stomach starts to hurt. 

all of which happen when i begin to think about the purpose of the honeymoon. 

i have heard multiple people tell me thats completely normal. 

all people feel that way.

it will be fun.

you will be excited.

its healthy. 

blah. blah. blah.

im not saying that all of above is not true because i know its somewhat true. but to think that my honeymoon experience will not be normal thats the part that is hard for me to wrap my head around.

my heart begins to flood with guilt. knowing that my husband was not the only one to touch me in those intimate ways. 

i want nothing but the best for my future husband.

 knowing that he is stuck with me.

knowing that he will not have the honeymoon that he deserves. kills me.

the guilt of knowing that his future bride is wounded. kills me. 

i have to turn my brain off sometimes because i overwhelm myself with guilt.

guilt that the Lord blessed me with him. 

and blessed him with me.

he was blessed with a wounded person?

thats fair?

really?

obviously i know that every part of my story was created for reason. just like every part of his story was created for a reason. and that in those reasons the Lord has blessed the both of us with each other. 

we just feel those blessings differently. 

my prayer for this week is that among finding peace and working on trusting relationships in my life.

that i would understand why i was blessed with such an amazing person to spend the rest of my life.

i dont understand many things that the Lord does.

i dont understand his timing.

i dont understand how he can watch something so terrible happen to one of his own.

i dont understand.

but what i do understand is that at the end of the day i am still drowning in the GRACE that the Lord shows me.

having a wounded heart. not broken.

i started going through a book that was recommended to me by the counseling department of my church. the book was my first step to accepting that i was a victim of sexual abuse. 

the hard part with the first step is that i never considered myself a victim.

 i hated the word. the classification. the vulnerability. 

 i would have tried for the rest of my life to keep that dirty secret pushed under the carpet.

that is if i wanted or planned on being single for the rest of my life...or never wanted a close relationship with anyone. 

september/october i finally became overwhelmed with everything.

 overwhelmed with triggers. struggling to understand God's timing. and finding myself angry with my Savior for allowing such ugly things to happen to me. 

it was starting to take a toll on me. my relationships with friends. and my "intimate" relationship with my boyfriend. 

finally after many prayers and many coffee dates with much wiser women in my life, the timing seemed right to expose my dirty secret with the one person i trusted more than anyone. my boyfriend. my favorite person in the world. 

i still remember that night. we sat on my couch. i told him how i needed him to react. that i was probably going to cry. and that i needed him to not pity me. to not try to comfort me. to just listen.

he did just that. 

we spent that whole next week processing. praying. talking. praying. processing. praying. with a few angry moments. a few confused moments. a few emotional moments. 

by the end of the week we sat down and talked through what needed to happen next. to help me heal and to move on.

my boyfriend's first reaction was to take me away from all the unhealthiness in my life. start counseling. and help him process and understand my pain.

at the end of the week we sat down with his parents. we talked about ways to keep me safe. what i needed to do. what my boyfriend needed to do. and how they can make sure that would never happen to me again.

there was nothing that i wanted more than to pray for a list that would have all the answers i needed to be healed. to be made new. to understand. and to be able to check them all off as i go. 

unfortunately thats not how it works. 

my heart is constantly under attack. 

at times i feel broken. hopeless. completely shattered. angry.

angry that my Savior would allow something so disgusting in my life. angry that my own family members who knew something was wrong, wouldn't stand up for me. angry that my Savior would intrust my family to protect me. angry that my Savior still shows as much grace to those men as he does to me. angry that i am left to pick all of the pieces. 

angry that my fiance is left with whats left of me. angry that his future bride is wounded. 

each day is a battle.

each day is a constant reminder that even though i feel broken. 

im not. 

i am wounded. 

but that is for now.  

i  pray each day that Lord will help me find peace. i pray that the Lord will help me get through the day.