Wisdom from the Trenches

Twenty-five years ago, on Valentine’s Day of all days, I opened the door of my barracks room to joke with my roommate, who I thought was jiggling the door handle. It wasn’t my roommate at the door. A male acquaintance forced his way into my room and made my life a living hell. The death he spoke over me and the crime he chose to commit against me wounded my body, darkened my mind, and shattered my soul. I arrived at my permanent duty station months later to learn that I would share a co-ed bathroom with that monster. For two years, I lived in daily terror as I was stalked and attacked. I became a shell of a person, a breathing body void of life. I believed what was said to me and I became the lies he spoke into my life. I made choices I deeply regret. It took over a decade to come to a place where I was strong enough to face the trauma of that day. It took years of prayer and counseling to become the woman I am today.

I’m not going to lie…Valentine’s Day is one hell of a hard day for me. But with God’s help, I get right back up and keep moving closer to Him day after day after day because this doesn’t rule my life anymore. February 15th is a constant reminder to me that my world collapsed a bit, but did not end on Valentine’s Day. The day after, I escaped my barracks room and ran to the chow hall, where I sat in silence and stared at my breakfast. I had not been able to take a shower, but I was afraid to return to my room because he was still there. Someone walked up to speak with me. He was also a fellow soldier who, ironically, had the same first name as my rapist. Maybe he could see I needed help that morning or maybe he felt sorry for me because I looked like a total mess, but he invited me to church. I was still avoiding my room, so I reluctantly agreed to go – and bawled through the entire service. The man sat quietly by my side and then let me sit in his room and cry while he cleaned. He asked if I wanted to talk and when I said no, he gave me a safe space to grieve. On February 15th, God began to pick up the pieces of what someone’s poor use of free will had done to me through the kindness extended to me by another man with the same first name. On that day, without being asked, God began to heal me. These are three of the most important things I have learned in my healing journey:

1. God is real. I don’t know this because of a book or because it makes me feel better to think there’s more than this life or because I was taught this from childhood. I know this because He has told me truths I could never know on my own, revealed hurt places in me that fueled poor decisions, predicted things that always happened in my future, and gives me words that strengthen me when I am weak.
2. Things break down in this world. Godly people die of cancer, are horribly disfigured in car accidents, have Type I diabetes, live their entire lives in wheelchairs. Their conditions are not necessarily attributable to sin and the fact that they are not healed or saved from suffering or death is not evidence of a lack of faith. Likewise, people survive trauma and struggle with mental health issues. If you are looking for perfection in a believer to judge their standing with the Lord, take a moment to consider Jesus who, after being murdered and raised from the dead, still had HOLES in His hands, feet, and side. Things happen in this world. Your scars due to wounds that happened to you, whether physical or emotional, are not a sin and are not a lack of faith. They are simply evidence that you have lived.
3. Silence NEVER HEALS. Pain can bring you to your greatest purpose, if you are brave enough to speak up. This pain in my life has brought me to a place where I am able to speak with women who have gone through unimaginable sexual trauma. Together, we are able to encourage each other in our healing journeys. As we heal, we have begun to lift our voices and become agents of change in our circles of influence. I cannot imagine how lost entire generations would be if no one ever spoke out against the injustices in our world. If you are wrestling with something painful or overwhelming, find a support group for what you are going through. We were never meant to suffer alone.

As painful as life can be at times, this is the beauty of hindsight. I will never forget, but I know that I am no longer defined by my trauma and the poor choices I made in its aftermath. I am not my past. I am not held hostage by Valentine’s Day. I am the result of what began on February 15th and has continued to present day. Through this journey, I found my way out, I learned to listen to truth, and I began to consciously choose life every day.

I’m here to say: It has been an uphill battle much of the way, but it is possible to live a fulfilling life after trauma. Keep fighting the good fight one day at a time, my friends. You are loved. You are unique. You are necessary to this world. When you feel shattered, look around you for the quiet ways God is working to pick up the pieces and to clean up the mess others have made in your life.

That is real love.