Child Abuse Story of Healing and Recovery From Canadian Survivor
by Paul
Was it God?
I lived my childhood in an abusive home. My parents were alcoholics, depressed, and had a lot of psychological problems. We were very poor and Dad was very violent. There was a lot of meanness, intimidation, belittling, etc. Mom was beaten in front of us on a regular basis. In 1970, the police removed my dad, saying that they had to because, if they didn't, he would eventually kill one of us. I was a small, nervous and hyper child, afraid of everything, living almost constantly in fear. Although I had friends to play with, I often felt alone inside. I suffered from depression most of my life. While I often prayed to God, I was skeptical of His existence. After all, I often prayed to ask him to stop the abuse. He never answered. I think I felt rejected by Jesus. Later, I turned against God and religion. Often, I would scream at Him that I hated Him and his world. In the 1990s, I was often depressed out of my mind, thinking and feeling suicidal. I mildly tried to end my life six times, but just couldn't bring myself to do it. At that time, I was maintaining a diary. Diary entry dated January 24, 1991: "I am approaching 35. I often swore I wouldn't live past 34. I seem to have met and conquered my worst fears, tried to unscrew myself emotionally, but I've lost much interest in everything. I can't wait for the day that I will die. Eternal rest (hopefully). Relief from a long, hard battle only I can understand the real scope of. Like I said, I never wanted to live beyond 34. I'm going skiing for a week in February – before I turn 35. Perhaps I will have a freak accident and die there. I sort of hope so. If I do, then I firmly believe in everything I've read. We really do know our purpose here, and we leave when and how we choose. All the books seem to indicate this. I'm not afraid. And I'm at the point in my life where I don't believe in God or me anymore. I know it is time for me to leave." The ski trip turned out to be the best holiday I have ever had. Back Home: I came home on Friday. I was feeling very depressed because I had not met any potential girlfriend on the trip. Worse, it meant that I was going to work on Monday to do that job I just hated. Saturday Night - Feb/91: Drank two beers and went to bed around 10:00 or 11:00 p.m. Around two a.m., I started waking up. My body was vibrating (not shaking) inside fiercely, as if electricity was circulating in every part of my body. I felt like a rocket about to take off. In my mind, I could see across the street, as if I was standing near the window of my bedroom. I started to wonder if we were experiencing an earthquake. But I couldn't see anything outside that was shaking. Then, the vibrating of my entire body stopped. My eyes still closed, I started to analyze what had just happened. But then the vibrations started again. This time, in my mind, I could see down my staircase, as if I was actually standing at the top of the staircase, again wondering if an earthquake was happening. It seemed as though the front door was shaking. But my logical, rational mind determined that an earthquake couldn't be happening because, although my body was vibrating intensely, neither my bed nor my body was shaking. Once again, the vibrations stopped. I laid there for a moment, questioning what had just happened to me. Was it an earthquake? No. Was I experiencing what some called an "out of body" experience? Maybe. I don't know if it's true that we can. All of a sudden, I heard a voice in my mind. It said, "Act as if I was there." The vibrations started again, and after a few seconds they stopped. I asked myself, What the hell was that? What is going on here? The vibrations started again, and again I heard in my mind, "Act as if I was there." So I asked myself, Act as if "who" was there? – the 'Big Guy'???? The moment I said that, a full-blown, live, 3-D scene of the Calvary was playing in my mind. I could see Jesus, alive, nailed to the cross, and people were walking about. (It is important to state here that throughout this entire event, I was analyzing and questioning everything that was happening. I was as awake, as rational, logical and aware as I am at this moment.) I kept wondering what was happening to me. I was asking myself: What am I seeing here? Am I seeing myself in a 'previous life?' (I don't discount that maybe there could be such a thing as a previous life, but I don't believe in it.) Next, I could see three middle-aged women dressed in black, kneeling at the bottom of the cross. They were crying. So I then asked: Why am I seeing this? Was I one of these women in a previous life? Is that supposed to be me? The moment I asked the question...poof!...I was the one kneeling at the bottom of the cross. And now, I was crying, both at the foot of the cross, and in my bed. I then thought to myself: Why do they always hurt the things that I love? Then I heard Jesus' voice, not with my ears, but with my mind. "Pain is the measure of your love." Now, as weird as this story sounds, you must keep in mind that, while I am experiencing this event, the rational/logical side of me is analyzing everything, wondering what the hell was happening to me. But something else must be said here. Although I was rational and logical, I felt that, beyond the shadow of a doubt, I knew that this was really God talking to me. There was a quality to the whole experience that was more vivid than everyday life, and it wasn't like anything close to the thousands of dreams I had. I can't explain the event other than to say: I knew it could be no other than God. I can't explain the event because nothing like this has ever happened to me. Although I was at the foot of the cross, I could also see 'everything', as if I was an observer at a distance. And I saw Jesus, with his head turned to the right, screaming loudly in agony. I thought, Please don't ask me to look up at you. And I heard Jesus say: "Look up." I said: "I can't." Again He said, "Look up". Again I said, "I can't." I then saw Him turn his head to the center of the cross, then he looked down at me and said, not with his mouth, but with his mind: "You always said you did not want to live past 34. Is this still true?" By then I was crying. I replied to Him: "No. It's just that I am so tired of being alone." As soon as I said that, the whole experience in my mind stopped. But here I was, reciting out loud, and in French the prayer I believe in God Almighty... and I couldn't understand how I could possibly remember this prayer. I hadn't said it in over 25 to 30 years, and rarely spoke French. I knew I had to go to the bathroom really bad. I thought that, if someone or something was in my bedroom when I opened my eyes, I would die of a heart attack due to fear. But I didn't sense that anything was in the room. I opened my eyes. I saw nothing but my empty bedroom. Exactly 12 hours later...I turned 35. I was born around 2:00 p.m. It's a weird story – I know. But thought I'd share it. I've analyzed this over and over and will leave my conclusions out due to lack of space. Darlene's comments to this "Child Abuse Story From Canadian Survivor" can be found at Comments below this submission. Depending on system activity, there are sometimes delays in comments going live on my site; but rest assured, they do eventually appear. So if you don't yet see them, I hope you will return later to read what I, and possibly others, have written. I thank you for your patience and understanding. Email addresses, phone numbers, home addresses AND website/blog URLs in visitor comments are STRICTLY prohibited, and could result in being banned from making further comments on this site.
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