Ok, so now this is more real. I have started a blog to tell my story. Typically, at this point, I would run for the hills. I would do everything in my power to shut people out so they couldn't get close - so they wouldn't see who I really was/am. I would shut down my blog and build my wall again. But this time...well, that's not an option. I am scared...but...I am sensing a call on my life that is bigger than me and my insecurities (I say this humbly, as God can do all things for His purpose/plan/will to be done). Once again, I say, "Satan, move behind me", and run toward freedom from the blanket of darkness that was cast on me a long time ago.
NOTE: My age in these stories are questionable. I have no scale for age, so I am guessing on what I have been told.
Jesus did save me that day at the truckstop. He protected me. I don't have any recollection of what happened during those 13 hours alone, but I have peace knowing that my Daddy held me as my bio mom abandoned me.
Once the social worker picked me up, I was taken to my bio mom's sisters house. I will call her Aunt B. As soon as the social worker left, she stripped off all of my clothes and started burning me with cigarettes. I never understood what I did to deserve the things she did to me, but I supposed that I was just in denial over the horrible child I was. Aunt B. was addicted to drugs and maybe that was what made her do as she did. In order to get drugs, I was "traded". Favors for drugs. Not quite 5 years old. This season of life is something that has completely escaped my thoughts. God's protection maybe...or my denial. I don't remember details. My mind just skips over that chapter of my life.
Aunt B. hated me with everything inside of her, but so did her kids. I remember dying...or thinking I was going to die. Her kids "hung" me from the top bunk of their bunkbed (my neck was hanging between the bed and the wall). Luckily, someone came in and rescued me before I passed out.
When I wasn't the object of Aunt B's (or her kids') wrath, she locked me in a closet for days at a time. She didn't feed me, I didn't have anything to do. But, at least I was safe in there.
I don't know how it happened (my mind has no recollection yet), but I was taken away from her and put into a hospital for a very long time (I have heard a year). I was in the hospital for malnutrition. Makes sense when you aren't fed. Think of one of those kiddo's on the St Jude commercials. Belly protruding. Yep. That was me. My only visitor was my mom who I now call mom. She brought me a doll that played sounds.
I was happy in the hospital. The nurses loved me. Christmas went by and I got little gifts and candies. Easter went by and I got to meet the Easter bunny.
I would get so excited for the attention that I took advantage that my nurses would be there all the time. I remember hitting the "call" button to tell them all about the TV show I was watching. They scolded me that I could only use the button for something serious. I had nose bleeds so bad (still not sure why) that I would wake up and my entire bed would be covered in blood. One morning I woke up and the entire bed was soaked in blood. Smugly, knowing I had an excuse to call my favorite ladies, I hit the "call" button. My nurse came in and immediately started weeping. I wasn't sure why she was crying, but I thought I had upset her. I didn't hit the "call" button after that.
...to be continued