Can you imagine me standing in front of a group of women and telling them that I used to be a whore and that I never finished junior high school? Or that I used to be a stripper…or a prostitute. No, I don’t have a college degree. I tell them that I used to eat out of dumpsters and stole clothes to wear. Or I used to ask people to give me the definitions of the big words they used. The fact that I do not know math and tipping is a struggle. What family would want their son or male family member to be with someone like me? Seriously!
The words that I used to define myself were “burden” or “unworthy”…
When people would ask me normal types of questions, I would hang my head down and mumble my answers, usually little white lies. I understood why I did everything I did to survive. God was my witness, God knew my heart… and I felt God understood me. He not only loved me, but really loved me not in spite, but because of it all. But humanity?!
I understand that God lives in us all… and God is wicked groovy.
But humanity has frequently been a mother#%cker in my life.
No one jumps for joy more than me when God works through humanity and brings out the best in people.
My guard generally does not come down and I keep people at arm’s length. I have lost the respect of wonderful women who just got sick and tired of inviting me to things that I rarely ever attended. So they stopped asking. That part of me is such a drag. My real friends get it and just keep asking.
I’ve done a lot of healing and forgiveness work but that doesn’t mean I have forgotten, or that I’m not permanently damaged…I am.
It was only when I truly (and I mean truly, not just lip service) accepted myself, my past and who I am as a result of my past, found a much deeper level of self acceptance, confidence, and inner peace.
When I could love, accept, and “own” all of me with honesty, humility and love, then others could accept me too. Not all, and that’s ok. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. No one is.
Some are not going to like you, but you might as well make good friends with you and then watch all the cool people that will show up.
The others won’t like you, but it won’t be devastating because you’re grounded in you – not their acceptance.
Make sense?
I still cringe when they say, “So…where did you go to school or what year did you graduate?” Truthfully, I feel bad that my husband has an ex-child-sex-trafficked wife instead of a Harvard grad rock star model with a huge inheritance like I would wish for him.
But all in all, I like me. It took a long time. It’s not fast or easy or inexpensive, but totally do-able.
Keep moving forward. I believe in you!!! You are stronger than whatever happened to you!
Love,
Catherine