Whispersfrommyheart's Blog

Posts Tagged ‘depression

Many nights, throughout my life, were filled with deep sorrow, hours of shed tears, and my mouth open in silent screams. I didn’t know how to verbalize what I felt inside. Dead. Betrayed. Hurt. Shattered. Alone. Desperate. Needy. Just tears and silent screams. I don’t remember saying too much, except, “Oh, God.” But, God still heard me, and understood. It was during this time I wrote the following:

Whispers in the Dark
The darkest, quietness of night
In stillness as you lay;
The only sound or rhythm heard
Are words your mouth can’t say.

The tears that burn your sleepy eyes
A fist in anger clenched;
The cry that asks “Why me, Oh Lord?”
The soul, in anguish drenched.

And though it can’t be verbalized
Into a single word;
A whisper’s heard with every beat
Your heart is being heard.

God hears you, Beloved. Even though you think he has ignored you. Even when you think he doesn’t care. But wait, if you listen long enough, you can hear it. In the stillest, quietness of night, the heart will whisper the tale of its journey to its Creator. And, there in the darkness…God is whispering back.

Excerpt from, “Whispers From My Heart – Emotional and Spiritual Healing from Childhood Sexual Assault.


Photo Courtesy of 123RF          

           She watched the disgusting child molester as he stalked his next prey. He had been easy to find. All Grace had to do was hang around the park a few days a week and wait for him to show up. It only took a couple of weeks before Jacob Pine made his appearance. He made her stomach turn. She raked her arm with her fingernails in an attempt to quiet the crawling of her skin. Disgusting.  Grace waited patiently for Jacob to get back into his car to go home. She followed him at a safe distance to find out where he lived.

            Grace checked to see if she had all the tools she needed for when she went back to Jacob’s house. “He wouldn’t know what hit him! He was going to pay for his sins.” She would make sure of that. She had watched his house for several nights and knew Jacob would shut the lights off, and be in bed, by 10 p.m. She would wait until 11 p.m., just to make sure he was asleep before she broke in. She had waited for this day for so long, she was actually excited the day was finally here. She was feeling quite giddy.

            Scenes of her childhood played in the back of her mind. There he was. Jacob Pine. Sneaking across the hallway. She could still hear the sound of the floor creaking. The fear that threatened to choke her breath off. “Oh God! Help me. I shouldn’t be here! Why did daddy make me go”? Grace shook her head to clear the images threatening to overtake her. She had to keep her wits about her. She had a job to do. She couldn’t let memories distract her now. “I wonder if he will even remember me.” Grace checked her watch, eleven o’clock. Time to go.

 ~*~                              ~*~                              ~*~

            Jacob Pine snuggled down under the cover. A smile crossed his lips as he replayed the day. His granddaughter was getting so big. Watching her play at the park brought him so much joy. Because of his past, Jacob was not allowed to make any kind of contact with his grand daughter, but his daughter gave permission for him to watch her from a distance.

            He had grievously sinned in his life. So many children he had damaged. Sometimes, the guilt was so much he thought he would suffocate. Still. He has spent a little over 10 years in jail. He found forgiveness and eternal life, yet, to him, forgiveness had been given too easily. He didn’t deserve it so freely. He needed to grovel; to beg.

            He should have to crawl a mile on broken glass.

~*~                              ~*~                              ~*~

           Grace imagined how the scene would play out once she was inside Jacob’s house. Terrorizing him. Hurting him. Making him scream. Tape. Rope. A knife. A gun was too humane. Jacob didn’t deserve humane…

~*~                              ~*~                              ~*~

Although the names have been changed, the above scenario is based on a true story.


Hate. This extreme emotion nearly consumed the majority of my young life. Every day I fantasized about finding the man—the so-called friend of my father’s—who raped me when I was 7 years old. I dreamt of being able to torment him; to exact my revenge on his pathetic life. I yearned for just one moment of revenge when I could expose him for the pedophile he was. My turn to use him for my enjoyment while I ruined his entire life… just as he did mine.

I wanted him to be miserable because I was miserable. I was a mess; his life should be a wreck. I was lost in a dark hole of depression; he didn’t deserve to be happy. He deserved to suffer. I existed in circumstance; he shouldn’t be allowed to flourish.

I imagined searching for this man and inflicting so much pain on him that he would have to beg for his life. Of course, I would have to laugh at such a request. “An eye for an eye,” right? I wanted this man to fully understand that his pain brought me enjoyment. I wanted him to see that his fear and pain was not enough to deter me from what I planned to do. After all, the fear and pain he invoked in me wasn’t enough to deter him from the evil things he did to me. My tears never stopped him from exposing my nakedness, and my innocence, to his vile enjoyment. No, he didn’t deserve mercy.

The hate I felt for this man was real. It was a murderous spirit whispering in my ear. He doesn’t deserve to breathe. I wanted him dead, and I wanted to be the one who killed him. I spent so many years hating this man that plotting his demise is what kept me alive. It gave me a reason to keep marching forward in life. I didn’t think of killing and torturing him every day, but that hatred was always at the ready.

Counseling helped. I learned how to forgive. But letting go of my hatred wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy to let go of my hatred because that meant retribution was out of my hands. Letting go meant that my rapist’s punishment no longer up to me. The world said I had the right to carry my hatred.

Romans 12:19 says, “Dear friends, don’t try to get even. Let God take revenge. In the Scriptures the Lord says, ‘I am the one to take revenge and pay them back.’”

Is that something I really wanted to do, to put my need for revenge into God’s hands? To trust heaven’s King with the right of repayment I felt I was owed.

Would you?

Could you?

Hate has the ability to color your whole perception. It deadens your heart and poisons your soul. I remember the day God asked me to let go of my hate. I fought him. My heart continued to hurt until I obeyed. Oh, it didn’t happen overnight, but the process brought healing to my heart and peace to my mind

To this day, I do not know if my rapist has ever been caught. I don’t know if he has ever felt remorse, or if he has asked God to forgive him for the sins committed against me. That is between him and God. J.P. will have to answer for what he did.

I encourage you, though, if you are struggling with letting go of hate, obey God’s word and let vengeance remain with him. You will be glad you did.

Be Blessed and Walk In Truth Today.



Have you ever dressed up and felt like you were someone else?

When I was a little girl, I used to go upstairs in the attic of our house to play, “Make Pretend.” I would take my mother’s knee length (to her) wedding dress and put it on. I would find high heels to put on my feet. I put lipstick on and those earrings with the screw on post. I’d also get my mother’s make-up and mascara, and make my face look as beautiful as I could. When I finished, I would tease my hair and hairspray it in a bouffant hairdo before getting a tiara and placing it on my head. Then, I stood in front of the full length mirror I became someone else.

I became someone else.

Escaping reality. For a brief moment, as I twirled the full skirt of the wedding dress, I was a princess. I was loved. I was special. Soon, a prince, on a white stallion with a flowing mane and tail, would ride up and fall in love with me. The moment he saw me, he jumped off of his beautiful horse, get down on one knee and exclaimed his undying love for me. He would take my hand as he stood up and kiss me, on the lips. Then, sweep me off of my feet into his strong, muscular arms and we both rode off together, in the setting of the sun. We lived happily ever after. Just like in my favorite fairytale; Cinderella. Fate smiled down on an abused girl and sent her a rescuer.

Who would rescue me?

In my fairytale world, I wasn’t that little girl men used for their own sexual gratification. I wasn’t bullied and beat up by my classmates and siblings. No one caused my insides to break and bleed. Men didn’t take dirty pictures of me. Or lead me away from safety to rape me. In my own little make-believe world, I mattered. I was safe. Popular. My make believe friends heard the words I said, and noticed when something was not right.

I day dreamed a lot.


I found an old report card when I was in the first grade. My teacher had noted how I had gone from a friendly, smiling, outgoing, straight “A” student to a very quiet, withdrawn, sullen student with a tendency to daydream and stare out the window. I no longer participated in classroom discussions. I wasn’t doing my homework anymore. I was failing. My teacher was concerned. I don’t remember my parents being too concerned, though. Of course, my mother was dealing with 5 other children, mainly on her own. My father, since he was in the Navy, was gone a lot. He insisted that I needed to study more. Do my homework. Quit acting childish. Stop being stupid. But, really, I don’t blame my parents anymore.

My family was broken.

Back in the late 60’s and early 70’s, child rape and molestation weren’t topics anyone would discuss openly. Those were things that were swept under the rug. Hidden in a closet. Out of sight, out of mind—so they thought.

All of my siblings were sexually abused. Each of my three sisters, my two brothers and me.

My Parents were broken.

My parents separated, twice. Each time, because of their 6 children, my parents would reconcile. When they fought, my mother would provoke my father on to the point of smashing his fist through the bathroom door. He never hit my mother physically—though he wanted to. My mother verbally stabbed my father in the heart any time she could. She reduced his manhood in an angry statement. Once she got him good, she twisted it deep. My father usually reacted and when he did, my mother would condemn him for losing control. My father, I think, took some of his frustrations out on his children. Overreacting to simple things. Using his belt, roughly, to discipline for minor infractions. Slapping to prove his point.

Yes, we were fractured every which way.

So, I drifted into a day dream world every chance I got. At home. At school. During sexual abuse. When my parents argued. Anything was better than reality I was born into.

As I became an adult, my make believe world was transformed. I no longer played dress up, and I had long given up on a Prince riding up on any horse. My reality had not improved much since childhood. I was still broken. Now, I gravitated toward those things I hid from as a child. Anger. Hurtful words. Control. Fists. Sexual abuse. But, I still found myself drifting off, day dreaming away from reality.

I was still pretending.

I still did not want to be myself. Instead of putting on a pretty dress and lipstick, I now hid behind a smile and obesity. I dressed myself up as happy. The world saw a happy, albeit large, extremely sweet person with a dazzling smile.


But, if someone had taken the time to research the look in my eyes, I’m sure they would have found the brokenness inside. Messed up. Hurting. Dying.

What does your smile hide?

Counseling has helped. Allowing Jesus Christ access into the caverns of my heart, and letting him expose the wounds so that I could deal with the issues, has also helped. I’ve grown since my first session. I’m no longer that scared little girl. I now understand how much I am loved even when I am alone. And, I understand who my enemy really is. I know that way back in the late 60’s and early 70’s, Satan tried to steal my heart and soul away.

And, I know Satan has tried to steal your heart and soul away.

I Peter 5:8 “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” NIV

But, Jesus is greater and we no longer need to fear what he tries to do.

I John 4:4 “You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.”

Be blessed and walk in truth today.


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