Okay you guys, I am going to share my story with you all because I think there are some misconceptions about who I am and where I am at in life.
When I was a child, my mother was a very abusive, hateful person. She let me know every day how much she hated me and made her goal in life to make mine a living hell. She was a horrid, evil person, physically and emotionally abusive. I had my first suicidal thoughts at the age of five and by the time I was 11 I thought about killing myself constantly. My father had a gambling addiction and we were often on welfare. We moved constantly to escape his debts. My mom eventually left my dad and we lived in several different woman and children’s shelters.
At the age of 12 I met one of my aunts for the first time. She did not want to leave me with my mom so she took me to live with her family in another province. I have only seen my real family two times since.
My aunt was a good person but I didn’t stay there long because I turned rebellious. At the age of thirteen I was kicked out of school, drinking and doing every drug I could get my hands on including cocaine, sleeping around, and living with whoever would let me stay with them. I was placed in foster care and sent to live in group homes, and was locked up in psychiatric wards three times (twice after suicide attempts). I was beaten by cops (which I did deserve) and spent a night handcuffed on a cement floor in a jail cell, I was gang raped by strangers, and I was often beaten up. This was all at the age of thirteen.
What was interesting throughout all of this is that I really despised Christians. I hated them for being so stupid and blind. I loved to meet Christians so I could tear them to pieces.
So, during one of my psychiatric ward stays I was sitting in the smoking room, recovering from the night before when I had to get my stomach pumped because of a suicide attempt. Looking back at myself at that point I see a blackened heart full of pain and hate. Most of me just wanted to die, but a small part of me was afraid to. I also had no ability to trust anyone.
A man started talking to me. I didn’t know who he was, but I would later find him to be one of the most Godly men I have ever met. He started talking to me about God, which made me spit hateful comments back at him and try and trap him with what I thought were clever arguments. He asked me if he could pray for me. I was taken aback. I said: “sure, but it’s not going to change anything”.
We went to another room and he began to pray over me. For a long time nothing happened and I remembered thinking “this is so dumb”. But then all of a sudden, the whole room was filled with God’s Spirit. It swept through my whole body like a light pouring through it and I knew at that moment that there was a God and He was calling me. I had no choice but to accept Him. I went back to my room and found the little Gideon’s Bible in my bedside drawer and read the Gospels from start to finish.
My life was not instantly perfect after that. I served God the best I could through my teenage years but it took me a while to completely leave the drugs and other self destructive behaviors behind. I got to live in a wonderful Christian foster home for three years, and that really helped me to grow. I caught up on my missed year of school and graduated with honors.
At 18 I met and married my soul mate, a wonderful Christian man and we began our life together. For the next five years we both had great jobs, made good money, bought nice homes, did tons of political work and volunteer work, were active in the Church and community, had good friends, and went on nice vacations. I started to work out seriously and did a figure competition. Yet in my heart I knew that I was not really serving God, but serving my own ambitions. God chased me and prodded at my mind constantly, but I ignored Him, because I did not want to give up my dream life. At the same time, I struggled inwardly to deal with my Disthymnia, which is a chronic depression. I began to mask it with drinking. Most of my drinking was done in secret. To this day, most people do really believe I was an alcoholic.
After I had Malakai the depression became so bad I finally made the decision to go on anti depressants. Finally, the chemical imbalance in my brain was corrected and I felt great. But I still had an addiction to alcohol, and the addiction resurfaced after I gave birth. By the end of December I was drinking more than ever.
On January 1, I woke up and knew I had to choose between destroying my life with alcohol or never taking another drink. I chose to stop drinking and one of the first things I did was post on this board. I got an unbelievable amount of support from the people here, and I have not had a drink since.
A few weeks after I stopped drinking God began to prod at me again. For the first time in a long time I was able to come before Him without the desire to continue living in sin. I made a simple commitment to Him to serve him with all my heart. I was saved before, but I was not truly a disciple of Jesus. Now I am. He has filled me with so much joy, peace and purpose, there are no words to describe it. I am serving Jesus because this is my calling. I love Him and I am willing to give up my own desires and do whatever He asks. I have known in my Spirit since the day I was saved that this is my calling, but I spent 10 years running from it. I am now where I am supposed to be and I will not be going back.
This tattoo is an outward sign of the inward commitment I have made to my Lord.