The abuse I suffered at the hands of my mother, was duplicated by my schoolmates and in between fear and pain, there were those crystallizing moments of family time when my parent’s hatred of one another exploded into rage. My parent’s marriage was held together by financial necessity and the social conventions of the time. There was no love, there was no tenderness and I cannot remember a family time that was not marred by their contempt of one another.
I had prayed for God to take my life every night and it had not worked. And, when I had tried to end my own existence, there was always a hand of fate that stepped in to make sure that I got back on track. At 11 there was no escaping the fact that I was a hostage of my situation, and that the only way to get past and through it was to believe that I could use my experiences to become a better person, to learn whom I never wanted to become and to ultimately find a way to become independent and free of abuse and chaos.
The peace I would seek, I would find in a spiritual communion with my Higher Power. At a young age, I believed fervently that there was a God, that there must be a greater reason my life was difficult and that these difficulties were before me to teach me to be a better human being. I vowed never to close my heart, never to give up my values, I vowed to find a way to survive with my head, heart and soul in tact. My vow, my pact became entrenched in my heart and mind and would ultimately be an anchor that would allow me to survive very difficult challenges I could not begin to imagine at age 11. Challenges that would put my life, my faith, my hope and my last breath on the line.
I found joy in tiny moments of peace, I discovered awe while searching for beauty amid the darkness that surrounded me. Awe has remained something that can touch my heart and my mind with as little as the warmth of a beautiful ray of sunshine warming my skin. I learned to appreciate every and any beautiful moment that was available to me; it was a lesson that served me well in surviving my childhood and in ultimately building a very successful and fulfilling career.
At age 11, I discovered the ‘Power of Awe‘, the power of seeking and finding joy in small things. While I remember being convinced that I knew everything about suffering. I was wrong. The worst pain I would endure was yet to come.
Thankfully, I had found my spiritual anchor, my faith was restored in tender moments of communion and appreciation of the beauty that surrounded me.
Author – Jane Doe
Beyond Pandora’s Box-From Trauma to Triumph
A true story, a book in blog postings describing one woman’s journey from trauma and loss to triumph. Subscribe to the blog, send your comments or write to the blogger at firstname.lastname@example.org
A Spiritual Epiphany Amid Abuse
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