I’m going to fast-track this next part.  There are so many parts to my story, and I will share them all when appropriate. I definitely will revisit this next traumatic scene from the story that is my life, but for now – this is the portion that pertains to this post:

When I was about 8 years old, I was molested at church. I know right, church? I wish there were places that were truly a sanctuary from the most horrific things that can happen to a person but unfortunately, we live in a world where that isn’t true.  It would be years before I ever began to realize what was stolen from me on that day. During my mind’s frantic search to comprehend what happened, I essentially disconnected from the memory altogether, as if it had never happened. While I’m told that was a natural reaction, my experience remained “buried” inside my now adult mind and unwittingly guided my behaviors. I could recall it, if and when some trigger (hearing about another child being taken advantage of) sparked the memory.  However, it could never truly surface – I couldn’t remember all the details.  A hazy fog, like watching an old black and white film where the filmstrip has become distorted so you can’t see all the parts of the movie.  This THING though was dictating how I interacted with others, perceived my worth, AND how I behaved during sexual encounters.

There you have it.  The back-story.  Being called names for my outward appearance, feeling inferior, judged, and constantly criticized coupled with also feeling inadequate, unable to please, and rigid at times. Holding on to a chip on my shoulder, feelings of abandonment (put a pin in that), anger, anger and more anger and HATING to be alone!

So what did you do, Jamie?

I’m so glad you asked!
I was able to wear the most believable disguise. My mask of confidence fooled everyone. I knew what confident behavior was supposed to look like, so I just mimicked it. People would look at me and comment on how I was so “sure of myself” meanwhile, inside – there was this little girl hiding in the corner just pretending she felt as good as everyone THOUGHT she did.

I would walk into a room and immediately spot all the women I thought were prettier. The ones guys would actually want, I thought. Then I’d size them up and either befriend them or find something to criticize about them to take them down a notch. – SMH –  Not at all realizing that it just made me a bully. An insecure, judgmental bully. I was a mean bully too. I was very popular and known for not being nice.  I would fly off the handle at anyone, at anytime and for ANYthing.  I was miserable.  Being mad and mean a-a-a-and nasty was my go-to.

Again, for brevity sake I am going to try and speed some of this part up. I Love the Lord.  I believe that Jesus Christ is his son and that he died for my sins.  And as a believer, I started to listen to the countless people calling me mean and I sought out self-correction.  Through my self-work, which consisted of a prayer and some wishful thinking, I carried on for years under the guise that I had changed (provided no one said or did anything to bring back the old me). I want you to know Dear Reader, that nothing had actually changed.  I just buried more crap.  I needed a healing.  I would get approached for prayer. Like those truly walking with God knew there was something that needed to be broken.  I got good at avoiding that, or letting my mind wander while I was getting prayed for. Whew, I’m telling it all here. Distraction was my friend. 

That went on for year and then after having what I will only refer to as a “sucky” first marriage, I thought I was healed from the traumas of that relationship and ready for my forever husband.

…Then what happened?

I was the quintessential bag lady.  And man-oh-man was my bag heavy!  I carried insecurity, low self-esteem, and all that anger from before – then added to that, past hurt from the “sucky” first marriage that mostly manifested as jealousy and distrust for all men.  BUT, I whole-heartedly believed I was over all that.  I wasn’t bitter, I had put the past behind me and My new shiny husband was NOT the same man. *|* 

Now I could delve deeper into relationships and the ins and outs of my divorce but that isnt what this post is about so we will leave it at that. Post divorce I had arrived at this pivotal place in my life. A life-changing moment where I DECIDED to be different, to do different things, to get closer to God and figure out who the heck I was.  I was not found at who was looking back at me in the mirror. I had spent so many days mulling over the demise of my marriage. I didn’t have to go through this, I could have chosen another path.  A better one.  Did a better job at keeping God in the forefront of my marriage. The list of my could-of’s, should-of’s was vast!  And the behavior, linked to where I was, had to cease.  I was spiraling down to a very low place.  With the help of a very smart counselor and prayer, I began to look at my past and face hard truths about myself, about my marriage and about my future.

From there, I dug into what made me so angry.  Remember I told you, I had been holding on to that anger for a long time.  While all this was going on, I started doing Yoga at home. I lost 35lbs.  The more fit I became, I found myself finding confidence.  I did not know that working out regularly could build confidence.  My commitment to my health and wellness gave me something to look forward to.  Weight lifting increases physical strength. But, for some, for me, it can give psychological power, too. I would also use my time in Shavasana (yoga pose) to meditate and even pray.  Now I know Yoga can go into things that don’t exactly line up with my belief in God – there were no chants or charged stones.  Just me, lying on my mat crying out to God and lying still to hear his reply. I began to feel better.