The Gift Waiting, When I Used My Voice
When I first began talking about my past, I was envious of those who did wrong in my life. It felt like they had all the power and I had none.
Their schemes were being played out right before my very eyes. My words, my Truth, did not seem to deter them. They were prosperous in those early days; they had good jobs, cars and family around them. People seemed to favor their version of events over mine.
I was all alone in my quest to move against them.
I began praying for freedom from this way of life in my 20’s. Having faith and praying was not easy for me. My father had taken my virginity and also taught me who his god was. It’s been a very long journey and sometimes I thought I was losing the war.
Nothing ever changed about my story but as I watched the others continue down the road, their lives didn’t go as well. They seemed to morph into something quite pathetic. Whether it was some façade of fake religion, a deeper dive into addiction or more grandiose lies, their stories and their lives were waning.
Their fan club seemed to diminish and they were still stuck with the truth that I had insisted on. Still stuck in the prison of lies they had built around their small, isolated lives.
It hasn’t gone well for any of the abusers that I’ve confronted. I haven’t received their apology nor have I received any kind of statement of the truth from them about the sexual abuse. They stay firmly placed in their armor of lies.
At first this terrified me, until I watched and continued on my own journey. I began to see, from a distance, the decay all around their lives. Their bubbles of deceit didn’t have room for true joy or happiness.
It took them more time to hide the truth than they had room left for living.
It didn’t bring me any kind of pleasure to see their lives barren of any good. It did, however, keep me on a path of seeking freedom from all the bullshit.
I have learned that their time does come to an end.
If I continued telling my story, believing in myself and trusting in a God I had found (that was not the god of my father) and was way bigger than any of the circumstances I saw with my eyes, it was working.
Their power over my life diminished. My need for their love waned as I fought for a love that was real.
The gift of believing in myself and fighting courageously to not be silenced is the only thing that changed my life.
Don’t ever believe there is no reward in telling the truth.
Originally published at http://prisonerbynocrimeofmyown.com on September 29, 2020.