My Story

I understand your story now. Thanks.

I ended up moving in with my best friend from high school and our apartment became party central. I had nothing to lose anymore. As I saw it my virginity had been stolen, so... what's does it matter anyway? I wanted so desperately for someone to see me. ME. Not a piece of meat. I finally decided to try dating around the end of my 20th year. The pizza guy. It was so cute when he called after his shift ended.

He was all nervous and stuff. He had kept my number after delivering our pizza and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. I never really "looked" in the mirror. I was always kind of afraid I would see myself how I thought everyone else saw me. Ugly. Pathetic. Maybe we don't always realize what is going on subconsciously when it's happening, but I know my vision of myself has never been close to the real thing.

It's all still pretty confusing in some ways because there are so many new discoveries I am making along the way here as some pieces fall into place. For a pizza guy he must have made decent tips because he took me out to some nice places. He always treated me good and was very respectful. Then after three months of dating I went out to the bar one night, got kicked out, and raped later that evening. When I called him to tell him he just said he had to go and stopped talking to me completely.

Until three months later when he was moving to GA and wanted to know if I would go with him if he paid me $1500 a month to be his "personal assistant". lol Uhhhh. NO. Thanks anyway. That was such a hard time for me. For two weeks straight after being raped my best friends boyfriend told me daily what a failure I was. How everything was my fault. My being raped, the rent being late, no world peace... you name it, it was my fault somehow.

Since the police were involved this time I decided I had to tell my parents before they saw it in the paper or something. I was horrified at the idea, but I did it anyway. My mom never said a word and my step dad told me he hoped I learned my lesson... and they left. After a few more days of verbal assault from Lori’s boyfriend with her sitting by not saying a word I decided he must be right. I must be worthless and this must be all my fault.

At that point I still believed my paternal father had rejected me before I was even born. My mom told me at the age of nine, that when he found out she was pregnant with me he had wanted her to have an abortion. No one wanted me. I honestly believed that, and had all the proof in the world at the time. So I took ¾ of a bottle of Tylenol, laid down on my bed and waited to die. I expected I would just fall asleep and not wake up.

I couldn’t fall asleep though. Eventually everything became kind of… foggy… distant… and Lori came home. I suddenly realized that death was permanent and for some reason I just didn’t want to die. So I told her what I did and she rushed me to the E.R. I was in the hospital for four days. They said if it had been another 45 minutes I would have died.

My first night there was pretty foggy. Pretty much the only thing I still remember from the initial time in the E.R. was throwing up every 10 minutes for four hours, until I was so weak, so completely exhausted, I was almost wishing they would have just let me die. I think they wanted to teach me a lesson. By the time they finally gave me the antidote to stop throwing up I had no strength left in me and fell asleep.

When I woke up the room was dark, and I was alone. I could hear hushed voices in the hallway… talking about me… and I remembered hearing the doctor saying something about me having a babysitter round the clock. I thought, “Oh great.” In comes this big black lady, who to me looked quite intimidating. I was terrified as I watched her plop down in the chair next to my bed. Waiting for a verbal onslaught about how foolish I am.

How stupid it was to do that and who knows what else. But no. She smiled and said to me, “Listen here little lady. I don’t know who you are, or why you did what you did, but I am here to tell you there is a God in heaven who loves you. Who sees you. Who knows you.” She opened her bible and went on to read Jeremiah 29:11 to me. We talked through-out most of the night and I was so relieved she wasn’t angry at me.

That God wasn’t angry at me and still loved me. Sandee heard about what I had done and came to visit me, with the band, in the hospital the next day. I was so excited after the encounter the previous night! I was finally ready to come back to church and once again was met with doubt. When I told them what happened one of them piped up and said, “Yeah, we’ve heard that before.”

Lori and I went our separate ways shortly after I left the hospital and I was homeless once again. Once again… Sandee to the rescue... This church she was going to had a home for homeless women to help them get back on their feet. I moved in and started attending the church. Jobless, broke, no vehicle. When I first moved in someone gave me two cups of instant soup and I had stashed them away until I was REALLY hungry since I didn’t know where my next meal would come from.

For the first two weeks I slept probably 21 hours a day… mostly to avoid the hunger, and having to watch other people eat. In the three hours I was awake I was either at church or walking around looking for a job and picking up cans to return to buy dog food for my dog. . That was about all the energy I could muster up at that point. No one would hire me though because by the time I was 21 I had already had 23 jobs. One day I was walking through a park on the way to fill out an application and I noticed a homeless man lying under a tree.

I instantly felt compassion for the man and decided if he was still there when I came back I would make both cups of soup and bring one to him. He was there so I rushed home and made the soup. When I came back though I couldn’t find him. I wandered around until I found him curled up under a bush at the far end of the park. As I approached I realized there was another man there with him. I won’t lie. I was disappointed, but I did what my heart told me to do at that time. I gave them both a cup of soup and went home hungry. At least I had a roof over my head right?

Two days later after the Wednesday evening service a young man approached me and told me he had felt drawn to talk to me. Out of the blue he asked if I was hungry. The very first person who had asked me that since I had been there. I said yes. He bought me a sub, he bought me food to keep at the house, he bought food for my dog. He got me a job where he worked. I was able to get on general assistance from the state and moved into my own apartment. Once I got a job though I started drinking again.

There was so much confusion in my life at that time about where I stood with the Lord. In the midst of all of that Dan, my mentor since I had gotten saved, decided to write me off because I had tried to kill myself. He said I had shamed and mocked the Lord with the attempt and he was "wiping the dust from his feet." He has never spoken to me again. Even refused a Facebook friend request 10 + years later.

That led to me stumbling on this scripture in Hebrews 6 a few weeks later:
4 For it is impossible for those who were once enlightened, and have tasted the heavenly gift, and have become partakers of the Holy Spirit, 5 and have tasted the good word of God and the powers of the age to come, 6 if they fall away, to renew them again to repentance, since they crucify again for themselves the Son of God, and put Him to an open shame.

As well as the fact that after I had shared a dream I had with the pastor the entire congregations attitude towards me had changed. They were now whispering and looking at me from a distance more than actually talking to me. Some of them began to question me about why I didn’t speak in tongues, and then telling me that I must not be filled with the Holy Spirit. Suddenly I realized maybe Dan was right. I had thrown away the gift. It was too late for me.

So when I moved out I left the church and resumed drinking. It had just barely been six months since the last rape and I was raped yet again. This time by my landlords buddy. I didn’t fight that time. As a matter a fact, I haven’t fought once since then. I got tired of fighting because it never helped. By this point I had pretty much decided this was my destiny. To be raped repeatedly the rest of my life. I told no one of that rape. Not even Brian, the one who had helped me with food in the beginning and was still my friend.

I just went on… as always. I got falsely accused of stealing from the job with Brian and was fired, which was a devastating blow because I didn’t steal anything, but had been set up by another co worker. Brian proved my innocence but the owner would not allow the manager to hire me back. I was going to night school to get my diploma at the time because I had dropped out my last month of high school.

Going back to school had earned enough trust from my step father Joe that he stuck his neck out for me and got me a job working for a company a friend of his owned. I didn’t want to screw it up so I worked HARD for two years. Anytime, anywhere, anyhow, please just don’t fire me. I didn’t want to disappoint my dad anymore than I already had. I didn’t want to be homeless again.

About six months into it I almost got raped again and finally realized that perhaps drinking with men I didn’t know was not such a good idea after all. From that point on I drank alone. Believe it or not throughout the next year and a half I still read my bible sometimes. Threw up a prayer here and there. Tried out several different churches. Not with much hope that I could be saved, but so far my life outside of it had been pretty darn miserable too.

As I said before music has played a very big part in every part of my journey. During those two years I would drive around, alone at night in Brian's car, crying and listening to that song "Place in this World" by Michael W. Smith over and over. Wishing I could make some sort of sense of this life. That I could find a place I "fit". Then the song, "Hold On" by Wilson Phillips came out. I was working at this job detailing cars.

We had to do these 18 hour, long haul, detailing jobs for a big name delivery service and it was a bear, and my life sucked, and this song would come on and for about three and a half minutes I would feel like for once, I wasn't alone in my feelings, in my struggles. That maybe if I kept hanging on, maybe someday... someday... it would all make sense. It would all somehow... matter... to someone.

Anyone.

Years later I heard the song "Moments" by Emerson Drive. Kinda sums up how I have felt, most of my life. Moments. If not for those I may not be here now. None of us may. I know we've all had them. No matter how hard a life... there are just those moments... I call them defining moments, when suddenly despite the desperation you can go back to that moment... something great... that you did... YOU did... and then find the strength and encouragement you need to push forward... even if you don't understand what is happening or why.

After having been told when I was 19 I could not have children I completely abandoned taking all the pills I was suppose to be taking. Shortly after I graduated (three years later) my mom insisted I go to the doctor to have my hormone levels checked since I wasn't taking anything I was suppose to. She offtered to pay for the visit because I could not afford insurance. I will never forget the look on that Doctor's face when I walked in that room. He tried to introduce himself but was stumbling all over his words. It took him a minute to sputter out a complete sentence.

You see, he had gone through my file... my ginormous... thick as an encyclopedia file and was shocked beyond words when I walked in the room. According to him I should not have been walking anywhere. I should have been in the hospital. Especially without taking the hydrocortizone and thyroid pills. He was flabbergasted, to say the least. So miffed in fact, that he didn't even check my hormone levels at all. He just said, “Well gee, obviously you don't need the other two any more... so...you were on these doses of estrogen and progesterone, I will just put you back on the same doses and we will see what happens... lol... yeah... let's just see what happens... boy did some things happen!

I went full on PMS for like three months straight before poor Sandee begged me to go get my hormone levels checked and get on the right doses again. Naaaaaa. I just stopped taking them again. It's not like it was doing any good and not taking them was a lot cheaper. $6 an hour didn't really stretch too far. At that point Sandee and I were roommates in an apartment in the upstairs of her parents house. I forgot to mention this... About six months or so after the “exorcism” she was involved we met up just to hang out, I guess. We hadn't really talked since it all had happened.

I told her I had faked it and was fully expecting her wrath in return. But no. She cried and apologized. She felt so bad for putting me through that. The dynamic duo heard I faked it too... their response? Yeah, I bet if you asked them today they would probably say I have at least 20 or 30 demons possessing me by now. So, Sandee started going to this new church and she kept talking non stop about it and asking me to go. Well, it was a break off of the church I had left where I stayed in their womens recovery house. See, that dream I had was about the church splitting.

I did not know that at the time. The church split about six months after I left apparently. I went to the pastor because it was such a vivid intense dream and I didn't understand it. His response to me when I shared it was something about me being “full of myself”. Then, like I said, everyone in the congregation except Sandee began treating me different. So NO, I did not want to go to this church with her. Absolutely not. I had a lot of ill feelings towards everyone except her that went to that church. I think it took her about a month or more of incessent nagging before I finally said I would go.

Just to get her off my back really. I was certain that as soon as I entered the doors of that “church” the condemnation and judgment would begin. People whispering about what a backslidden heathen I was. I figured easy in... easy out. No problemo... But they weren't whispering... they weren't looking down on me... they were all actually... kinda nice. I thought, “Gee, that wasn't so bad.” So I went again the next Sunday... Here is where I should probably break in and let ya'll know... just in case ya wanna... it's about time to break out the tinfoil hats... LOL Sorry... couldn't resist!

In all seriousness though, I have always heard God's voice. I just didn't understand for a lot of years that's what I was hearing. I'm not saying that because I think I am special, or better than anyone else, and certainly not because I deserve it. I'm not proclaiming to be a prophet, or a Jesus wanna be. It just is what it is. It wasn't until shortly after the next experience that I started hearing His still small voice... in my heart. That's where He speaks the loudest, and unfortunately the place we often times listen the least. I hope that I can clarify that a little better as I share more of my story. I know it's hard to understand, or even perhaps to comprehend for some.

I respect that. I really do, but I have to share my heart. It's all I've got anymore, so I guess if that's all I got left to give I will give it too. He is worth it. So the following Sunday I went again to this “church”. I really liked the worship, but how could I not? Lol I just love music. After the service they had an alter call, and I decided to give this “christianity” thing one more shot. I went up to rededicate my life. When they prayed for me Scott prayed over me and prophesied.

It was my first experience with prophecy and it was kinda nuts. This guy I didn't really know started speaking all these things... things that were in my heart that only God knew about. The tireless hours of driving around crying and wishing for a place in this world. The running away full speed whenever someone got “too close”. Just an unbelievable amount of things I thought no one could see. No one. That is the day that I knew for the first time that God could actually see me... for whatever reason.

Part of the “word” he shared with me was that it was time for me to settled down, get some roots in somewhere and stop being a tumbleweed so I could grow into what God had planned for me... Indeed... I was a tumbleweed. Shoot... I probably lived almost as many places as jobs I've had in my life! So, I started attending this church regularly after that. The pastor had a very kind and gentle spirit. He always seemed to have an encouraging word for me, as I was quite moody... almost always. Lol

I volunteered to start cleaning the church after about a month, and through that had many opportunities to speak with Pastor Bob about questions I had. He was never judgmental or condemning in his responses. Just always encouraging. After about three months of attending the church the worship was especially good that Sunday. As I was basking in the music I so loved, because our piano player was very gifted, he (the piano player) had a “word”. He said he was sensing that there was someone in the congregation who had struggled with a profound sense of “aloneness” their entire life, and God wanted to set them free.

I was shaking from head to toe because I knew it was me... but was afraid it was me... and that it wasn't me too... hard to explain. He kept playing and I waited hoping someone else would go up. Anyone. No one went... soooo... I did. They started praying for me and I literally broke that day. Inside and out. See, I'm not a cryer. Never have been one for crying in front of anyone... like ever... if it is at all humanly possible to avoid it. Ever since that incident where I got kicked off the bus and my parents told me to stop being a baby when I came home crying.

I cried for three months straight. Any time I walked in that church, opened the bible, or attempted to pray. I just couldn't stop. It was terrifying at first. I hated being vulnerable in front of anyone. I'm still not extremely fond of it to be honest... lol It's a funny thing though. All this stuff was flooding through me when I would pray. All the fear, anxiety, and rage the things I had gone through to that point had caused in me. But as it was surfacing... it was getting taken away... I had to experience the pain again... but then it was gone... like for real... just gone.

My problems weren't all gone, by any means, but the things that were causing the decisions that were causing some of those problems were finally going away. I started getting understanding about things I never would have even thought to consider before. Like one day I was sitting on the lawn out front of where I worked, enjoying the sunshine, and warm summer breeze, eating my lunch. I had an apple and as I was eating it I noticed the fruit got brown afterwards and I realized God put the skin on it to protect the fruit until it was time to be eaten.

Probably sounds silly to some, but I was like... wow... that's kinda thought out. I was reading and praying on a very regular basis and counseling with Scott and his wife who were elders in the church. The problem was neither one of them had ever even so much as been touched by much of anything bad in their lives, so they were clueless. Their hearts were in it to try and help me, but neither of them honestly had a clue how to do that. Unfortunately, Scott more often than not did more harm than good. All he ever had to offer me were “pat” answers.

Like, “Just do it.”... “Just get over it”... “Just move on, Geez Robin.” Then one day when I was talking to him I told him how happy I was to finally know and understand that God loves me and needs me. He said to me, “Robin, God doesn’t need you. He’s never needed you and never will. Sure, He WANTS you, but He doesn’t need you. If you don’t fulfill the call He has placed on your life, He has someone waiting in the sidelines to take your place.” Well… needless to say, that one threw me for a loop.

Not yet understanding the filters that the abuse I had been through had put on my brain I took that completely wrong and was stifled spiritually for many years due to that ignorant comment. I left that conversation believing God knew I was going to fail so He already had someone waiting to take my place. It's like... just when I would start feeling like I was getting on my feet... attempting to even stand... someone would come along and sock me in the stomach and knock me down again.

It was about this time that the nightmare started. I had it for six years, every single time I would lay down for an afternoon nap. The first couple of times I had it were pretty mild in comparison to how it all ended. The first time as I was in that half asleep, half not state I started hearing this noise. The best I can describe it would be to say it was a whooshing noise. Kinda like a ball swinging in a circle, it makes that whooshing noise as it wizzes by. Normally something like that would be alarming for me and woulcd cause me to wake up. But not this time for some reason. I just sank deeper into this dream. It's the best way I can describe it. I suddenly began feeling like there was someone on top of me, pressing me down.

I could barely breathe and I opened my eyes and no one was there. I just couldn't move. So I began to try to struggle, but the more I did that the more pressure I felt on me and the harder it was to breathe or even try to move anything. As I began to struggle the whooshing noise got louder. The harder I struggled the louder it got. I began praying in my mind. Asking God to help me... to make it stop. Let me wake up. Something... anything... I started whipping out anything I could, that I had learned over the years... anything I could think of. Scriptures... claiming God's protection... you name it... all the religious stuff. Nothing worked. Nothing at all.

Then as quick as it came... it was gone. I sat up on my bed gasping for air thinking, “Holy crap! What the heck just happened to me??!!” I had some difficulty sleeping for a few nights, and was NOT taking a nap again anytime soon. But after a few nights of not having the dream I started to relax a little. After about four days of not getting much “good” sleep I started drifting off to sleep watching tv in the afternoon. I was in that half awake half asleep state again and heard the whooshing noise. I thought, “Oh God, no. Please. No.” and it all happened all over again.

Only this time I struggled a whole lot harder and as a result the whooshing noise got so loud I felt like my eardrums might burst. I had an ear ache for two and a half hours after I woke up that time. Then the next time it happened I heard the noise, thought, “Oh God.” and then instead of just falling into the dream I felt actually pulled into it. The fact that it only happened in the afternoon became apparent pretty quickly, so night time sleep wasn't a problem anymore. But I sure tried not to take any afternoon naps!

I had always been a really hard worker after the second time of being homeless, so when I worked... I WORKED, and therefore was quite exhausted when I came home usually. So unfortunately I would slip off into sleep watching tv some afternoons, no matter how hard I tried not to. This went on for three years before I even began to question why it was happening. It occurred to me one day after having a quick flash back to that incident when I was six with my previous step father, that perhaps the two were linked somehow. Like my subconscious was kind of finally letting this thing... come to the surface. So what now?

I had no idea what to do. I talked to my pastor... he was clueless. I talked to friends. They were clueless. I couldn't afford to go to see a counselor... So, what now? I did what I always do. I just kept pressing forward, hoping some day it would all end somehow. It would all be ok. Maybe if I just worked hard enough. Somehow became good enough. Maybe... someday it would all just matter somehow. I think I had been in the church about 2 years when I had that conversation with Scott about God not needing me. I actually remembered that it was also about a year or two before I started cleaning the church too.

I was reading my bible and praying every day at that point and trying to work through the emotional stuff that was going on. Trying to understand something. Make sense of something at least. One day I was reading 2 Timothy Chapter Three I suddenly realized the absolute misery those three men that raped me must be living in and I began to weep. I didn't want them to be as unhappy or more so even than me. I wanted them to know this mysterious, unexplainable love I had found. This place of acceptance I hadn't believed existed until I actually experienced it myself.

This love for the church began to grow in me after I started cleaning it. I had a key and the Pastor had told me I could always come there. Even if I wasn't cleaning and just needed to get away from everything. It became my hiding place. I started getting up and 4 am every morning to walk the five or six blocks to the church to pray. I would pray for four hours. Greet Pastor Bob on my way out the door and on my way to work. Sometimes we would have conversations. It was always nice. I really enjoyed talking to him. As time passed though he started coming to the church later and later.

Walking a little slower. Not looking so healthy. I began to question him if he was alright. He had, at that point, become like a father to me. Someone I really trusted and respected. He would tell me he was fine, though it was obvious he really wasn't. Then one day he just didn't show up at all. Almost a week went by of him not showing up before they made an announcement at Church that he had gone to the doctor and been diagnoses with cancer. They requested no one call or visit, so as to not overwhelm him or the family.

The elders wife I counselled with was the Pastors daughter. He didn't come back to Church for months. We were given updates on Sundays. My heart was so broken. I loved this man so much and wasn't even allowed to talk to him or see him. Then one day he finally came to church. They told us not to even attempt to speak to him. He looked so old. So frail. Just a shell of the man I had met for the first time three years prior. I knew somehow that was the last time I would ever see him. I was so sad that I would not even get to tell him goodbye, since we weren't allowed to speak to him. Despite the family urging him forward he stopped when he got to me. Looked me right in the eye and said, “Robin. Don't give up. God has a plan for you.”

I don't remember the exact words. It seems like there might have been more, but that is what always pops up when I think about it. He died a few weeks later and none of us were allowed to go to the funeral and there was no memorial service held for the congregation. It's funny. I have been rolling a few things around in my brain today. In talking about this I think I finally discovered the root of the bitterness I have struggled with for years towards that man.

This was it. I think I kinda blamed him, because he knew how close the Pastor and I were, and still they refused to let me even speak to him. I have known for a long time I felt somewhat abused by him emotionally. I have come to terms with that. Meaning that I now understand that sure, he did and said a lot of things that hurt me during those eight years, but not one bit of it was intentional. He was actually trying to help me. Pat answers never helped me though.

Telling me to “just get over it” about something I didn't understand why it had happened to me. I didn't understand all the emotions it had caused inside of me. I didn't understand how much those emotions influenced my behavior. That's what I needed to know. Those were the questions I couldn't ask, because I didn't know how. I honestly, just didn't know how or even that I needed those questions answered. So there was a lot of unnecessary confusion, and hurt sometimes, which eventually turned into anger and bitterness.

After the Pastor died Scott took over the church. Power is not a tool that should ever be put in the hand of someone who is weak minded. It's dangerous. Please know, I am not trying to talk down about Scott, or make him look bad. Over all as a person he was very funny, and light hearted. Loved to be silly. We actually had some things in common. But after he took over the church it stopped feeling like church and started feeling like a dictatorship. No joke.

All these “rules” started getting put into place. Previous to the pastor dying I had expressed an interest in being on the worship team. The “leadership team” discussed it and decided I would be allowed to practice with them only until I quit smoking cigarettes. They felt it would be a bad example for the congregation to see me up there singing. I still can't quite wrap my brain around that one, but ok. Whatever. I was happy to be able to practice with them.

I honestly don't think Scott was ever in agreement with that decision, and he was on the “leadership team” The funny thing is the more I was allowed to practice with them, the more I wanted to sing on Sunday's too, and the more I wanted to quit smoking. It just worked for me for some reason. So I quit. Cold turkey. Man was that hard! I got through it by listening to worship music on my walkman almost non-top for about a month to distract myself from thinking about wanting to smoke.

I got to sing for two months and it was wonderful. I absolutely loved it. Then my 26th birthday rolled around. Birthday's were always a big deal in this church. We were primarily singles so we all hung out all the time. There had to have been 15 to 20 of us, and like clockwork every single year for every single birthday, every single one of us would all go out to lunch to celebrate after church on the Sunday before or after. This year every single one of them forgot my birthday. No joke. Lol

I felt like chicken little... “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” It really felt at that moment like the sky was literally falling on me. I was so hurt. So angry. So beside myself even... I went out and bought a 40 oz beer, a pack of cigarettes, and found a parking lot to go celebrate my birthday by myself in. You see, while I may have “settled down” so to speak, and stopped being such a tumbleweed for the last five or six years... My heart was always still ready to run. Always. I was always waiting for the hammer to fall, because it always did. At the most inopportune times it seemed it would always fall and cruch my happiness. Stealing everything I felt I had worked so hard for. It was frustrating... but never completely surprising really. I left the church for six months that time.

Nice writing.

Thank you. I have been practicing my whole life.

And so you left them for half a year for not knowing or forgetting your B-day? Birthdays have never meant anything to me, maybe because my 'family' never made a big deal of them (or anything else). But you were hurt by that. What happened next?

In one of my darkest hours, I got drunk and went flying. (it was too dangerous to drive :-) . It saved my life. What did you do?

It is not about the importance of birthdays, it is about being told that you are not one of the herd, "you are not one of us". One of my last employers was like that, favored people got recognized on their birthdays, the rest did not.

Ya, that smarts.

Yes it does. It's tough learning that 'you are not of this world'. But I'm glad I did.

Oh heavens yes! For the first time in my life I felt like a part of something. Like I mattered. Like people cared about me. It meant the world to me that these people INSISTED on celebrating it for the five years prior. Believe me... I was hardly social when I first started going to that church! Then all at once... every single one of them... Including Sandee of all people! Just forget. But still deep inside I was afraid I really didn't matter too.

That this was just another mirage in the desert.. a hammer would fall soon so I would know that happiness could only be temporary for me... fleeting... It could just never stick. And because at that time to me God was, for the most part, what people displayed to me. If they loved me... He must love me too. If they were angry at me... He must be angry at me too... and so on. So... they forgot my birthday, which screamed to me that I was suddenly unimportant to them, So well... I must not be important to God either. Always... always ready to run, I was. lol



You're gonna have to wait til tomorrow for that. It has been a long couple of weeks. A lot of running, doing oil changes, cleaning cars, cleaning houses... I'm exhausted, no more writing after this for me tonight!



Say WHAT?! No you didn't! Bwahahahaha! That was a funny image in my head though!

See, I kept running because deep down inside, as much as I wanted to believe that something in me was "lovable", I just really had a difficult time believing that. So when people disappointed me, such as on my 26th birthday, I took it quite personally. Rejection was the theme of my life at that time. No matter where I turned it felt like I was getting rejected. It was nothing new. I actually expected it at that point.

I remember one specific thought that used to play itself over and over in my brain through out most of my life... It's only good for so long. People only keep you around until they get what they want, whatever that may be... and then they leave you sitting alone on the curb... like everyone else before them has. So it made perfect sense to me to withdraw at that time. It was just the cycle of my life repeating itself again. Another trip around the mountain of insecurity that ruled my life.

I resumed attempting to drinking again. At the age of 23 I had decided to become abstinent and had really made a firm decision to do everything in my power to make my life better somehow., so I stopped drinking too. By the age of 26 people in our church had all started to marry off. Each other... sometimes outside of the church. And here I was going to wedding after wedding, believing in my heart mine would never come because I would never be good enough. I couldn't have children. I smoked cigarettes.

Smoking alone caused me countless instances of grief within the religious setting over the years. My first run in with it was actually shortly after I got saved. Sandee had convinced me to go to this "Christian Concert" and because we had been hanging out with a little no name band that all seemed pretty cool I decided to go. It was this up and coming band in the "christian" arena. They were playing at a church near by and the place was jam packed. I was really nervous as I didn't like being in big crowds.

About half way through the concert I went out to smoke a cigarette. I went waaaaay over to the other side of the parking lot because by this time I knew there were a lot of "christains" who disapproved of it. When I was about half way done this guy came out of the front doors of the church. He came marching across the parking lot right towards me, and at first I was almost excited. I thought maybe he had seen me go out and wanted to see if I was ok or something. That was the furthest thing from the truth.

He marched right up to me, looming over me like a very intimidating giant, and began chewing me out for being in the parking lot of this church smoking. Telling me how bad it made them (the band) look. How disappointed in me God was that I would even do such a thing. A whole lot more... I tend to shut down once the intensity of a conversation rises to a certain level. Then I don't hear nothing. All I know is that by the time that guy was done with me I was balling, and too ashamed to even go back inside because I thought they had actually stopped the entire concert for him to come outside and chew me out.

I never have, and never may buy a single CD from that band. They were still nobody's at that point. I tried to give them a chance again a few years later at some local event they played at... a fair or something... Sandee wanted to stand in line to get their autographs. I didn't, but I hung with her until she got up there. Paranoid or not, I am not sure... but they were quite friendly to her, and quite rude to me. It could have been because they asked if I wanted their autograph and I told them no though... lol

It wasn't until last year when I saw an article about the manager of their band abandoning ship... as in band, God, and all if I remember correctly, that I realized that HE was the guy from the parking lot. For some reason I had thought it was actually one of the band members who stopped the entire show to come out and ream me. They are "famous" now. Their songs have even been in movies, and I still just can't see beyond that religious front of theirs enough to consider spending money to buy one of their CD's. Maybe someday.

I feel a bit self righteous in even saying this but I still feel they owe me an apology, and then I remember that the manager did that and they may not have even heard about it. They may have... but they may not have... so who knows. Time will tell I guess. I am only human after all. All I know is that by the time I was 26 it had become abundantly clear to me that no christian man was going to want to date me if I was smoking. That was only one of two strikes. Secretly in my heart I feared that if a man did come along who would look beyond that, once they found out I couldn't have children it was all over anyway, so why even try?

I spent those six months trying to go back to how I was living prior to all the changes that those five years had brought about in me as a person. I tried to forget. I tried... well everything. Nothing worked. I just wasn't happy. Somewhere in my subconscious I knew I didn't want to be raped again and that's the exact path I was on... but I was, and still am, quite stubborn. I was mad and hurt, and secretly hoped my absence in church felt like a punishment to them. All those evil... birthday forgetting christians! LOL It really did take me a long time to mature emotionally, mostly because I didn't have a whole lot of real help along the way.

After about six months Sandee called me to tell me about this new song that had come out. It was called "Love Song" by Third Day. She said she thought I would like it. Yeah whatever. She was just trying to suck me back in, is what I thought. Suck me back into that non stop rejection zone, that's where I wanna be... NOT. I resisted for a week or so, but finally listened to it one day. I like it so much, and was having a terribly difficult time sleeping by that point, so I recorded it over and over on one side of a blank tape and would listen to that to help me fall asleep.

A few nights later...

That is exactly where I stopped typing last night. I wanted to post more of the story because I didn't want to leave it hanging right here... kind of an odd place to leave it hanging. But I am struggling a little bit with this part of the story. This is where for some I know it is gonna be really hokey. I have spent the better part of today mulling this over. What to say. How to say it. So, I will just say it. It is what it is and I can't change what's happened, how, or even why. Though I still haven't figured out the why of the deal, dagnabit. lol

A few nights later I was lying in my bed crying. So lonely. Wishing so badly that God would give me another chance, yet feeling as though He wouldn’t because I had failed yet again. Just like Scott said. God knew I was gonna fail. The song started over for like the fifth time, only this time it was as if Jesus Himself were kneeling beside that bed, holding my hand, and singing that song to ME. The room filled with this… this love… that was almost tangible. And He began speaking to my heart. Telling me that His love for me was like that of a husband.

To honor, to cherish. To love and protect. To guide and to heal. He talked about covenant relationship and how important to Him it was. I drifted off to sleep and woke up the next morning fully refreshed, fully excited, and ready to go back to church. I felt very strongly that I wanted to do something to symbolize an understanding of the things He had shown me the night before.
So I went out and bought a wedding band, and decided that until the Lord said otherwise I was off the market.

Married to Him. Of course all of my friends thought I was nuts, as I am sure many others have and will... lol Man did I face a lot of ridicule over that! It seemed to come from everywhere. After a few weeks I began to doubt my decision and started wondering if I really was just being foolish, like everyone said. Sandee and I went to see a visiting preacher at the church I had left with the shelter for women, of all places.

He preached a very powerful sermon and then had a call for prayer. Me and about 75 other people went up while he was still up there talking and as I stood there with my hands in the air praying, it was as if God had opened the floodgates of His love and was pouring it out on me. I was standing there crying, praying inwardly and asking God what to do, how to move on, who to believe and suddenly the preacher stopped talking. He put down his mic and literally ran off the stage straight to me.

I was shocked. He looked me up and down then grabbed my ring finger and asked, “Are you having problems in this relationship?” I said no. I’m not married. That is my ring symbolizing my relationship with the Lord. He immediately looked sad, got down on one knee and bowed his head. He said, “Lord, please forgive me for not being obedient to You in the first place.” Then he continued on with, “I Jesus, Take you Robin, to be my wife…” I wore the ring from that day forward. Until I got married nine years later.

I would love to tell you that I hopped on a unicorn and cantered off into the sunset, towards the rainbow and a pot of gold waiting for me. lol Sorry. Didn't happen. A whole lot happened after that and it wasn't all this super spiritual heeby jeeby stuff. Though there was a lot of that going on around me at the time. The reality of it was I still had a lot of inside stuff that needed to be dealt with... brought to the surface even... just so it could be dealt with. I have always been a complicated, multi-surfaced, person.

Many, many layers yet to go. Yet in the not too distant future I would come to the realization I had a much grander vision of myself than I should have... However, in that same 26th year my mom came to visit me for the first and only time in my entire life she would actually come to me. During that time before my abrupt disappearance my mom had felt at complete liberty to go through all of my room, top to bottom, at any given moment, on any give day... trying to find a clue to what was going on, I guess.

So with this in the back of my mind I hid my book of songs and poems. I knew there were things in there I didn't want her to see. I put it under several books and files in the bottom drawer of my desk, hours before she arrived. While at work for the first day since she arrived she went through my things and found that little book. She left it sitting on the kitchen counter to let me know. It took me a minute, but I realized it was an opportunity to talk to her about some questions I had.

So we did. We talked. This is where things get tough for me though. I would really like to share the song she read that upset her so much. The one I knew would, but I can't. It's all in storage... buried too deep to even think about trying to find until we get our own place. Which will be soon, I think. But it's stopped me on some of the writing for my book as well. There are journals in there I need too. I found a few... but not much more than enough to piece things together up to this point right here. There are time frames my brain still has kinda messed up.

But I know that was the day I began to consider the possibility that my mother was in fact the one who considered the abortion, not my father. After crushing my one single thread of hope that she cared about me by telling me she left the step father who raped me because he molested my sister, and still could not even acknowledge that anything had even happened to me... She preceded to tell me, quite resentfully, that she HAD to breast feed me because I was too little to take a bottle when I was born.

I was still quite confused at that time, as I still didn't really "know" what exactly HAD happened to me by that man. Just that one memory. And the dream was still going on. This is one of the spots things get fuzzy on the timing of things so I will just tell you what I remember happening, though I can't guarantee the order is correct. lol The dream... Over the six years of having it, the intensity of it had grown quite a bit... It even happened while I was wide awake twice.

I was at a loss as to what to do so one day when I was completely fed up with it all, when it all started happening again instead of fighting, struggling. praying and shouting scriptures in my brain... since that OBVIOUSLY wasn't working... I just said, "God, I want to see what is doing this to me." Somehow I found the strength in me to pull myself off the bed, into a sitting position, and open one eye... just one.

In the doorway to my bathroom was a large dark figure that took up almost all of the doorway itself. I thought, "Oh god, I did not want to see THAT!" and I flopped back down on the bed. Suddenly it was like this wet blanket was getting pulled off of me... like a wet sleeping bag... I could feel it... and when it was gone... it was gone... I have never had that dream again since that day. I was still so squeamish about all things labeled "demonic" at that point. I really just never understood what the difference was between oppression and possession.

That incident helped me to understand a little better. I believe that happened shortly before God healed me physically. Healed the scars from the abuse when I was six. I have recently been having some flashbacks about that actually... it's been kinda tough, I won't lie. But anyway, there are a few important things I forgot to mention earlier. Like, I was 23 years old when I discovered I should probably wash my feet in the shower... ???... Did no one teach me to shower? How does that happen?

For real... I had no clue. One day I just looked down and thought, "My god my feet are dirty... I should wash them... why did I not know that before?" A few years later is about the time I realized I was buying shoes that were too small for me because instead of growing straight my toenails curved and grew back into my toes and I had some serious hammer toes. I went into see a foot doctor about several ingrown toenails... (who by the way told me I had THE CLEANEST feet he had EVER seen... lol)

I realized I had some serious foot issues going on. My feet are short, wide, and excruciatingly high arches. Almost looked like feet that had bindings on them, like the Chinese used to do to make the women's feet be smaller. It is very difficult for me to even find shoes that work, and if I can't find any life get's very painful now a days. I screwed my arches up pretty bad about 8 years ago... lol... I'll get there... but not tonight. Long day... long week. Sometimes it feels life is moving so fast I can barely keep track. Soon I will have more time I hope. Soon.

I found the apple revelation! lol Ok, so what I mean is, I was digging through my journals hoping beyond all hope I could find a copy of that song I wanted to share. I knew there was more to the apple story than I was remembering and I found it. In August of my 23rd year. Here it is:

8-25---

I've been soooo busy lately. I have so much I want to get done and there just doesn't seem to be enough time to do it all. (Apparently I have ALWAYS felt like that! lol) Well, while I was eating lunch yesterday God gave me a revelation. I was eating my apple when I stopped to look at it and realized that all the parts I'd eaten the skin off of were turning brown. And I thought, "Wow, God even cares so much that He put the skin around this apple so the juicy fruit inside would stay good."

I kept pondering this concept and asked God to show me how this related to me as a person. And He did! Philippians 4:6,7 popped into my head, which are: Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests me made known to God, and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hears and minds through Christ Jesus.

God showed me how important it is to seek Him daily. I believe, not only through prayer, but also reading the word, because His peace is what guards our hearts and minds the same way the skin of the apple serves to protect the fruit inside. And when we are not guarded by His peace we immediately (whether we realize it or not) begin to be corrupted, much the way the apple begins to rot without it's skin.

It's kind of strange to read through some of this and to see how little my process of thinking has changed. The thinking itself has changed in a lot of ways, but the process remains the same. Here's another one from November of that same year:

11-25---

I had a good day today. I spent the night with Sandee last night and then we went to her parents house for dinner. We watched a movie last night, I didn't really like it. Sandee and I had a really good talk this morning. We just talked about life, old times, and family. God gave me a revelation this morning about why I have such a problem with feeling rejected. He showed me where it started. Sandee pointed out to me that she had always thought I'd been kind of neglected as a child because I never talked about things I did with my mom. And I realized she was right. I look back and I honestly can't remember my mom spending much time with us kids.

It seems like she was never there. We were always at a babysitters or my sister babysat us when she got old enough. I remember when my mom told me that my dad had wanted her to have an abortion when he found out she was pregnant with me. I know that sounds like it was directed at me as a person, but that's how I feel. Rejected by my own father before I was even born. As long as I live I'll never understand why my mother told me that. I think she was trying to use it as a tool to turn me against my father.

And it worked for 12 long years. I hated him. And that day my mother planted a seed that grew enormously over the years. I know now that even though I didn't realize it, that played a huge part in all the relationships that followed. I had been afraid all these years of letting anyone in because I was afraid that I would find out somewhere along the line that they never really wanted or loved me at all... (as a friend, girlfriend, etc...) Like I did with my father. I had spent all those years thinking he loved me and then boom... it just all disappeared.

And that's why I've had such a hard time coming to God. He is a Father figure and after all that happened with my dad, it's no wonder I wasn't able to believe He loved me. As much as this hurts, I'm really glad God showed me. Because by showing me He gave me the key to open a new door that goes to a new realm in His love and acceptance that I was never able to reach before. It's strange, there's this thought that keeps going through my head. That even though my father might have rejected me while still in my mother's womb, my one true Father, God called out my name even before I was born.

It was June 15th of my 27th year that God healed me physically. I thought it best to just share the journal entry I found about it rather than re-writing things I have already written. Of course excluding the entirely tooooo much information parts... lol

7-1---

June 15th 19-- Something amazing happened and I can't believe I went this long without writing about it in my journal! My goodness! what was I thinking? I was at church and Greg was giving the sermon. He spoke about Father's day and about God being our eternal Father. I was very moved. His wife also shares dome things that were really good. Afterwards they had a time of ministry and I went ut to get prayed for, because I really felt like Greg's wife had something to impart to me. Well, I waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and they never prayed for me. A couplf of other church members did and God really touched me.

Suddenly I noticed that there wasn't the sound of anyone being prayed for anymore , so I opened my eyes and looked around and sure enough most everyone was walking around doing their own thing. All the sudden this rage came over me, I grabbed my purse and bible and stormed out the door. I was screaming and crying all the way home to God about how everyone always over looks me and I was sick and tired of it. (I really did that kind of thing a lot for a while) Then I got home and it was like reliving my 26th birthday all over again. I felt completely abandoned, like nobody cared. It was intense!

I didn't know what to do with myself. But I remembered something Alicia had told me about what happened on my 26th birthday. She said she felt like there was something that God had wanted to work out of me through what had happened, but I didn't stick around long enough to let Him do it. Which is true. So I prayed. I told God that I was hurt, but I didn't care what I had to go through to be free from what ever this was, because all I know is that I don't want to go through what I did when I rean away from Him.

And I asked Him to reveal to me what was really happening beyond the outward circumstances of not getting prayed for. Well, I went to bed that night and God began to show me some things about my childhood. He showed me how, with different baby sitters we had, when I did something wrong my punishment was almost always to be separated from the other kids. And He showed me all these different ways that the enemy has been working on keeping me separated from relationship with others even since I was a child.

And then , I started thinking about the time we spent when my mom was married to Neils, and how I could remember everything about the outside of the house, the yard, the barn, but I had little to no memory of the inside of the house. Now, I have often wondered if Neils had molested me, but I could never remember it happening. But the Lord brought back a memory to me of when I was 12 and I was looking through this book called "Our bodies, Our lives" and it this book they encouraged you to not be afraid to look at your body.

They showed a picture of the feminine personal parts and encouraged you to look at yourself, so I did and mine did not look at all like the picture. I remember wondering for a while why that was, but then I just wrote it off as everybody's different, so oh well. As I was lying there thinking about this, a horrible thought of, "What if he raped me?" came across my mind, and I started wondering if I was really remembering that memory right. So to settle all the doubt I got up , went to the bathroom and looked.

The scars told the whole story. There is no other way the scars could have been what they were. I went back to bed and asked the Lord, "He raped me, repeatedly didn't he?" and there were some tears, (didn't write it down then but it was 2 and a half hours worth of tears actually) and my Father comforted me, and the Lord gave me the heart to forgive Neils for what he did to me. And as I was drifting off to sleep I began to itch down there and I ask the Lord why it was itching so bad all the sudden and He said, "Sometimes when wounds are healing it itches." I was kind of like, "oh, ok." and I fell asleep.

But when I woke up the next morning I remembered what the Lord told me so I ran to the bathroom and looked to see if it was really true that He had healed me. He did! He did! He did! No scars! Nothing! I love God so much and I am so in awe that He cares so much about me to heal something that no one else will ever see.

I called Alicia the next day to ask her why God would even bother healing me at that point. Why it even mattered. Her answer to me was this, "Robin, I think God healed you on the outside first to show you He can heal you on the inside too." That woman had a lot of wisdom. I always appreciated her viewpoint on things... even if I didn't always understand it. lol

I think that about sums it up for tonight.

The Lord really began to move in my life after that preacher had come and said those vows to me. It was during the time that revivals were popping up all over the place so there was some hokey pokey going on. Some of it was God… some of it was people caught up in their emotions at the moment. As I read my bible and prayed more though God was drawing me in. I felt led to read Song of Solomon over and over for the longest time.

At times it was tedious and I was like, “Why God why? What am I missing here that I have to keep reading this over and over?” Through time He began to reveal the importance of understanding the covenant relationship we are in with Him. On a personal level at first, and eventually on a corporate level, as in “THE Church”. I started having dreams and visions, writing songs. I would take them to my Pastor and he’d mock me. Tell me I was arrogant for thinking God would speak to ME about those things. Even when God confirmed everything I had just told him…

He still couldn’t see. I was so sad at the view this man had of me. Then God started talking to me about reconciling my relationship with my parents. I resisted at first. We’d had a pretty rough bout of things from early on. But Joe had gone out of his way to reach out to me for the last couple of years. Especially after he realized I was considering reaching out to my paternal father. My brother had been telling me for years that Roger wanted a relationship with me but I didn’t believe him. I had believed my mom and as far as I knew Roger had never tried to call me again after I decided not to talk to him anymore at the age of nine.

I would try to reach out sometimes over the years in my 20’s, then run away because I was scared and if Rogers name was ever even mentioned my mom would flip out completely. Sending me on this guilt trip. Reminding me how HE didn’t want me. HE never called me. HE wasn’t there for me. Like SHE was. Finally one day I had enough. I was 29 when I told my mother she had no say in whether or not I choose to have a relationship with my paternal father and if she was going to hate me because of it… well so be it. I have a right to know him. Period.

That’s when God started talking to me about reconciling my relationship with them too. I fought for several months with the Lord on that. I FINALLY had a stable job. I FINALLY was rooted somewhere and had a sense of safety in my life. Predictability. And God… well He wanted me to move to Florida. By this point I had learned that when God wants something He confirms it. I was very busy for a while avoiding all avenues of confirmation possible, but the Lord just wouldn’t let up about it.

So finally I went to Scott and told him, fully expecting the normal, “Yeah right. God doesn’t speak to you like that Robin.” Speel that I usually got. Heh. No. He says, “Oh wow. I didn’t think it was you.” I was like what? He said, “Yeah, God’s been speaking to Alicia and I both about someone He was getting ready to move. We thought it was Kris... But you… wow… I’m going to have to pray about this.” You see, ever since my 26th birthday when I backslid he had never acted the same or treated me the same.

I was no longer allowed to sing, or even practice with the worship team because I had started smoking again. I explained to him how much it had helped motivate me to quit when I was allowed to at least practice with them, and he told me I was just using that as an excuse and trying to manipulate him to get back on the worship team. I never asked again. So eventually he decided I must actually be hearing God and gave me their blessing. I was just about ready to leave for Florida when Roger called and asked if we could meet before I left.

We had met a few times prior. It was always somewhat awkward, but yes. I wanted to see him again. We met at Bob Evans for breakfast. When we were done and about to say goodbye he asked me to hold on for a minute while he went out to the van. He came back in with this thick envelop, plopped it down, and told me to open it. When I did I discovered 18 savings bonds. One bought by him every year on my birthday for me from the day I was born until my 18th birthday. He had saved them all these years for me.

I had been suspicious for a few years that my mom had been lying to me about him, so I told him what mom told me and how hurt I had been that he had never tried to call. It’s the only time I ever saw my dad tear up. He had tried to call FOR YEARS and was told I was sleeping, playing, busy. She had been lying to me about him my whole life, but I had kind of known that already. My dad and I grew a lot closer after that. I was able to see him several times over the next several years. The Sunday before I was leaving for Florida everyone in the leadership team at church laid hands and prayed for me… to “send me out” I guess.

They prophesied all these great things the Lord was going to do, in me and through me. How He had laid out the path before me. He already had a church for me there. A church family. Friends. You name it. God’s blessings were going to fall all over me. If you haven’t guessed it yet… that is the exact opposite of what really happened. Don’t get me wrong… God did some good things in those years, but little did I know or even think about the fact of what life would be like if their words weren’t actually what God’s plan was.

To be honest it felt a lot like being blindsided, and I was angry for a lot of years about that. A year or so prior to moving down there my Mom and Joe had gotten saved and began attending a Baptist church. This was thrilling and disappointing to me all at the same time. I loved that they got saved, but I did not like Baptist churches at all. Over the years I had many many run ins with Baptists. My attempts to avoid them felt like they were in vain because at times it honestly felt like I was the prey and they were the predators out for my blood.

I thought, “Oh God please… please don’t let my parents turn into those kind of people!” No worries, He didn’t! Just a few months prior to my arrival the Pastor of their church had been filled with the Holy Spirit at a pastor’s conference he had attended, and was now leading his congregation in the same direction. Well, attempting to anyway. As I am sure you can imagine his teachings caused quite a stir and with so much going on amongst their friends at church my parents turned to me for answers. I had the privilege of teaching them about the Holy Spirit and a few months after I got down there they both got filled.

It was amazing! In the meantime I was looking for a church of my own… assuming it was just going to fall in my lap or something. I went to the first church. I was invisible. I swear. I sat in a pew by myself. People just walked right by. Not one person gave any sort of friendly vibe. The few who did stop and look at me were more eyeballing me than anything because I was sitting in their pew. Not one person sat in that pew with me. Not ONE. I was so confused, honestly afraid I had B.O or something. I mean geez, I felt like a leper.

After the service was over I walked out. Not one person acknowledged me on the way out either. I went home quite discouraged, to be honest. I cried. It hurt pretty bad and the Lord told me, “Don’t give up.” So, the next week came and I found a church that had a breakfast prior to the service. I thought, “Ah ha! I will go to the breakfast and surely I could meet someone there so maybe I don’t have to sit alone this time.” I went in, sat at a table that seated 8 because the place was so crowded it was the only one available.

It was a complete repeat of the week prior at the other church. Walked by and ignored, or glared at because I was taking a table they could be using… but they sure weren’t going to sit with me. Well, this went on for about six weeks with the same result every time. In the meantime I am struggling severely with home sickness. Missing the safety I felt at my old church. The Lord began to show me some things about myself at that time though.

He reminded me of all the times new people had walked into our church and fallen through the cracks because we were so focused on our relationships with each other there didn’t appear to be room for one more. From the outside looking in. Oh my heart was grieved. I hated the way I was feeling at that time. So rejected and lonely. I would never do that intentionally to make anyone feel that way, which told me they probably didn’t mean to make me feel that way either.

They just couldn’t see what they were doing, like I hadn’t been able to up to that point. I was starting to panic though because all eight years I had been at the other church, submitting to this man who was unintentionally hurting me on a regular basis, God taught me the importance of submitting to all forms of authority and the blessing that comes from doing it. The importance of being under the covering of the church, and the leadership that God has placed there.

I felt naked and alone, even when I did find a church. I can’t remember why I left that one. I know there was some hokey stuff going on and I knew it from the first time I walked in the door. I didn’t know “what” specifically, but spiritually the climate was just different. I had started to doubt my decision to move down there after about a month though. Every job I had applied for just didn’t feel “right”.

A little history here: Shortly after getting saved (at the age of 19), while diving by a group of teenagers cruising the strip on a Friday night the Holy Spirit spoke to me and said, “One day you are going to work with teenagers.” I was like, “HECK NO. You must be nuts Lord. Not me!” I was pretty much terrified of kids in the high school age group because of the bullying I had suffered in school. I didn’t even like talking to teenagers! Never mind the fact that I had already been working with kids every summer since I was 16 and too old to attend the camp myself!

But see, I didn't look at it like that then. For me the camp had be a safe haven. A place to get away from my own troubles. It wasn't about working with the kids, it was about me escaping, even just temporarily, my own ugly reality of life. Well, I found an ad for a Youth Care Specialist and remembered what the Lord had said and told the Lord after a month of job and church hunting, “I want to go home. I am tired of it here. No churches like me, I can’t find a job. I don’t feel safe. Why won’t You just let me go home?! So FINE. You want me to stay here God? I want THAT job then. You said I was going to work with teenagers some day? So fine. Just do it then.”

I had no idea what I was getting myself into! I applied and got hired immediately. It was there I met the best boss I have ever had in my life. Get this… He was a Baptist!!! Bwaaaaaahahaha! Tell me God doesn’t have a sense of humor! I won’t believe you! My first six months were HORRIBLE. Oh my gosh. Those boys were so mean to me! They called me fat, ugly, and made fun of my facial hair. (Long story why I had some… not much facial hair.) I would go home crying every night.

But every day when I returned my boss was right there with an encouraging word. Teaching me how to thicken up my skin a little. He worked side by side with me for months. He had a very kind and gentle spirit. Something I was not accustomed to with Baptists and I began to realize it’s not so much about the sect of religion you are affiliated with, as much as it is your heart before God because of “knowing” Him. Well, one day I had enough of being bullied by these little stinkers so when one of them came up to me and made a comment about my so called mustache in front of everyone.

I just smiled and said, “Awww… you’re just jealous cause I have more facial hair than you!” Everyone busted out laughing… including him…. And they never tried to bully me again. The cottage parents I worked with were Christians too, and God began to do some amazing things with those boys, and me. He was teaching me about myself and helping me to understand more fully the impact the abuse I had been through had on my life as I was working with these kids.

I want to back up a few steps here. After writing last night I started thinking about that time I did have with my dad. Able to smile at those memories now, which is kind of a miracle within itself. A few years after I moved my brother decided to get married. He wanted the whole family there. My mom and dad both. Not Joe so much. Him and Joe never got along because he saw right through my brother from day one. There were a few moments of panic when he first brought it up. It had been few years since I stood up to my mom about having a relationship with my dad, but I wasn't sure if she was quite ready for all that.

My goodness. lol He wanted ME to ask her. It took some convincing but she agreed to go to the wedding. It was actually a pleasant affair. No bickering. Just a friendly hello to each other. I think at one point later in the evening at the reception they actually talked for a few minutes. That night was very special for me as well. I had requested a song and asked Roger to dance with me. It was "Hello" by Lionel Richie. It's funny, but this year when the anniversary of his death came around I remembered a part of this I had forgotten. I remember that while it was pleasant to share that dance with my dad he had seemed a little distant.

I had always wondered why. Then I remembered... He teared up that night too. He "got it". The song I requested. What I was trying to say. He got it. It brought this sense of peace to my heart to finally realize that. After a few months of being at this youth care job I was talking to my boss about one of the boys. He was very distant from everyone. Never really talked. And he gave off the angriest vibe I have ever felt from anyone in my life. For real. My boss asked me to start working with him kind of individually. We had a really set schedule for the kids.

They got a recreation time every night. This is one of those times this boy would sit alone. Not participate. Walk alone out and back to the cottage. My boss wanted me to just hang back... wait for him specifically, then ask him how he was doing. Show some interest. Try to draw him out of his shell some. Ummmm. NO. This kid scared me. Seriously scared me. So I didn't do it. A few days later he asked how it went and I told him I didn't do it. He instructed me again to do it. Again, I didn't. So the third time he gave me an option, do it or get written up and possibly fired.

So I did it. lol Every day that was the time I would spend just a few minutes with him while he was sitting alone beside the basketball court. Walk in and out with him. He began responding. Loosening up. He started playing basketball with all of us... back when I had that kind of energy... lol He started getting along with the other kids. One day I went into the office for something. I overheard his therapist talking about him... right there in the middle of the main office. Telling another therapist how there was really no hope for this kid.

He wouldn't open up to her. He wouldn't talk to her about anything. She said "There are some kids we get that it's just too late when we get them." Holy cow did I want to explode on that woman. I was watching a transformation take place in the boy daily, I knew she was wrong. This kind of thinking was common place in this company though by all the therapists. I worked at that facility for three and a half years and continued to apply those same things to all the kids that came. I can't tell you even how many there were that they actually shipped away labeling them as hopeless just because THEY couldn't seem to make any progress.

The problem was that their formula for "progress" was somehow wrong. They were making great "progress" in the cottages. In their peer relations. Even in their adult relations with the cottage parents. It broke my heart again... and again... and again... As the boys would open up to me I would hear these terrible stories... horrifying in some cases... of the abuses they had suffered not only at the hands of their family... but at the hands of every foster parent they had been to too. That's why they landed in a residential treatment facility. There was no where else for them.

No one else wanted them. That's when my anger towards CPS began. Near the end of my time there they began sending us kids we were not equipped to handle. Kids that were born with mental disabilities because of their mother using drugs while she was pregnant. Kids that were prone to be violent. It became about filling beds and less about actually helping the kids. I began to see some inside things too because the last six months I was there I decided to work in the office as my new bosses assistant. Ack. That was not a job for me! lol I am so not an office girl.

But I learned a lot. I saw a lot, and the things I saw are what eventually caused me to decide to move to a new location. Being in the office I got to see how often the kids actually had a session with their therapists. It didn't happen half as much as it was supposed to... but boy those therapists were sure still collecting big fat paychecks. I started doing dictation for the psychiatrist that came in once a month to see the boys. I witness over and over that he would have a ten minute meeting with each kid, then charge medicare for a full hour for each one.

The more I saw the angrier I got. I finally told my boss one day that what they were doing was wrong and I was not going to continue helping them do it. They were all a bit miffed, but man... No. Not doing it. We had been short staffed for a while at that point so they would pull staff from other locations to come work sometimes. About that time they pulled a few employee's from a camp they had in a different location. They told me about their job, I thought it sounded cool, I interviewed and took the job.

In the meantime during the three years prior after six months at the one tolerable church I had found, I left. I don’t remember why exactly. Oh wait. Yes I do remember now. When I finally got “involved” God started showing me things about the breakdown of the leadership in this church. Every Sunday during worship He would speak to me about specific things that were wrong that were going on, to pray about and I did. He was also teaching me what to look for in right leadership through it. For six months this went on and then I think I just gave up. Frustrated because nothing was changing, and because I didn’t understand why God was even showing me that anyway.

Over the years, even before I left for FL things had been changing for me spiritually. I had a very intense reading, studying, and praying schedule. Not because I felt I had to, but because I actually wanted to. I loved being in the presence of God. I loved feeling close to Him. I had finally conquered enough barriers to really begin to understand Him as my Father. As the One who saw me when no one else seemed to be able to or want to. As the One who actually cared about me and wanted me here. So for the last year or so before I left I would be praying before church and during that time He would show me... the entire sermon that was about to be preached.

At first I was blown away. Like... What the heck man?! This is REALLY weird. I didn't dare mention it to anyone though. Heavens no. I always hated it when Scott would get snippy with me. I hated rejection and that's how it always felt. I didn't ask for this... what's that saying... don't shoot the messenger... lol Then I was confused because I really didn't understand why that was happening to me. It even continued at the churches after I moved. It was nuts I'm telling you. I began to wonder... geez... what's the point of even going to church if all I have to do is pray and You will show me what they're gonna preach anyway?

I found another church, but this one was HUGE. 1500 people per service and there were three services. It was a mega church. I was certain I would be invisible there. Yet for some reason from the very first time I walked in that door God brought me to the Pastor and the Dance team leaders attention. Every Sunday without fail they both went out of their way to talk to me. Even walking away from someone who was talking to them if they saw me leaving without saying hello. But once again, during worship the Lord started showing me things. I was like, “Argh. God. I don’t want to know this! Aren’t we suppose to aspire to lead a quiet life and mind our own business?” So I would just pray about the things He was showing me, and God taught me more.

After a few weeks of attending this church I got involved in some little ministry things I was allowed to do. Since I was still a smoker I didn’t dare ask to join the worship or dance team because I knew the rejection that would bring, I stuck with little stuff, because they had some pretty big ministries going on. During worship one Sunday the Lord told me He wanted me to go to the cafeteria for lunch after the service. I was like, Nope. We argued. Well I did. He just kept telling me to do it and I kept resisting until I was so frustrated from being too busy trying to argue to actually enjoy the worship. So I was like fine!

But with such insistence there was a spark of hope that maybe if I obeyed I would actually get to meet someone and have a friend. I was lonely. I just wanted a friend, I tell ya. So I went and again sat at the only table available that seated eight. For an hour and a half I sat at that table alone watching people go by and sit in their little cliques. It really didn’t bother me though. I just kept waiting, almost expecting that surely someone… anyone… would sit with me. I walked nonchalantly out of the door, completely unnoticed by anyone.

About half way across the parking lot it hit though. I started crying as I climbed into my car and asked Jesus, “Now, why did You make me do that? Why?” I started to drive away, but had to pull off to the side of the road when He responded because of the sheer weight of the words that He spoke to me. He said, “I asked you to do that Robin because I wanted you to see how I feel.” I had such a burden for that Pastor after that. One of the things I didn’t like about that church was 10 minutes before every service were spent practically begging for money to support all these ministries they had.

I knew it wasn’t right and the Lord had shown me the Pastors heart. That, while he had started them with good intentions, and was running them with good intentions, they were all struggling because He got too far out in front of God. He got over ambitious and instead of waiting for God’s timing he had just run out and done all these things in his own strength. I honestly felt as if I was suppose to tell him that too. I never did though. I was so afraid of trying to speak about anything because it was always met by rejection.

In the process of the three months I was there the Lord had also begun to stir up an interest in street ministry in me. I had wanted to go to theirs but had been afraid and chosen not to. About two weeks after the cafeteria incident I worked up some courage and decided just to go to at least see what it was like. The worship was really good, and I was so excited to be there to maybe help someone who was going through what I had been through before.

Much to my dismay when the worship ended the person who was going to preach got up there and for 10 minutes talked to these homeless people about tithing, and how it was THEIR job to give of whatever little they did have to help support this ministry so God would bless them. I was FURIOUS. So furious I was having a hard time sitting still. Then they started passing out the tithe buckets to these poor… homeless… people. I just sat there fuming. When the lady came to me with the tithe bucket I just looked at her and shook my head that I didn’t have anything to give.

She continued standing there… glaring at me… and shoved the bucket in my face. I got up and left. I never went back to that church. My heart still hurts just thinking about it and I am struggling a little with regret now, remembering that. Wishing that I would have had the courage to tell the Pastor what God was showing me. Instead of just judging them and walking away.

I've really been struggling since the last post. This whole arena right here... Apparently I had some buried feelings I didn't realize were still there... So I diverted from those things that were coming up that I didn't understand just yet. I am not sure I fully understand it just yet, but I am comfortable enough to share it at least now... lol

So, Needless to say at that point I was pretty well beyond frustrated with the whole "church" thing. The next Sunday morning rolled around and I was up early to pray with no intentions of going back to that church. I was angry and I told God, “You know what? I’ve had it. I’m tired of this. These people. No one down here cares about You God. About what You want. What am I suppose to do? No one sees me. I am invisible. I want to be back under Your covering darn it! How can I submit to leadership that doesn’t listen to You? What do You want from me God?! I’m not doing this anymore. You either give me a good church to go to TODAY or I am moving back home. I’m done.”

With that I opened the phone book to the church listings, closed my eyes, and put down my finger on one of them. I did a mapquest to get me there and when I walked in the door the Lord said to me, “I don’t want you to sit on a chair. I want you to sit on the floor in the front.” I was like, SAY WHAT?! Prior to this I always sat in the back. Easy in, easy out. That had become my theory. As well as everyone knows that the front row is reserved for the really important people… like the pastors wife, family, relatives, and close friends. At least that’s how it had always been at my old church.

It was hard, but I did it, trembling from the inside out. Everyone just kind of looked at me funny. I tried to ignore it, but inside I was terrified. Waiting for someone to come yell at me for sitting there and tell me to move. Then the pastor came out on the stage. He looked at me curiously, smiled, then said, “Ya’ll are really lucky you know that?” I was like, huh? He continued, “When I was in my prayer time this morning the Lord showed me how comfortable we’ve grown in our comfy little church, our comfy little chairs, our comfy seating arrangements.

If I would have had the time this morning I would have come in early and replaced all the chairs with tree stumps to see how many of you would have actually stayed to hear the sermon.” As time had been passing I had begun to establish this firm belief that when Jesus said, “Go out into all the world and preach the gospel” He really meant it. That it’s not about the building we’re in, the nice cushy chairs, or having this great social network in our “church family”. That putting on big shows of pageantry to draw people in is going about it all wrong. He said GO. Not sit and wait for them to come to us. GO. So my heart nearly leaped out of my chest because FINALLY here was someone who understood the same things God was telling me. Someone else was hearing it too. I wasn’t crazy.

I stayed at that church for two years, until the Lord moved me again. During that two years God did some pretty amazing things. After a several months of being there He began to stir up this desire in me to go into town at night, walk the streets, and pray for the city. Not out loud, as if to draw attention to myself, but just inwardly pray. I was really scared at first, but after realizing how much I had already been through and how He had always somehow been with me, I decided if He told me to do it, He surely wouldn’t abandon me in the process. After a few days of doing this I began to meet people. Homeless people. Their curiosity was peaked because here I was, this little girl, just walking the streets alone at night.

They would ask what I was doing, and I told them I was praying for the city. God started opening doors for me to minister to people. To pray for them. Love on them. Hear their stories. After a few weeks I decided I was tired of doing it alone. I told the Pastor about it and he made an announcement to see if anyone wanted to join me. Only one person volunteered. He was terrified his first night too. We prayed together first and God reminded me how He stopped the mouths of the lions and assured me He would protect us from harm. I shared it with him and boom… faith arose and God really started to move.

We met this homeless man. He knew God had a call for his life but had chosen to be homeless in a futile attempt to run away from it because he was scared he would fail. He rededicated his life to Christ, got off the streets, cleaned himself up, got a job, and then came back to the streets to help others find their way out. That was quite exciting, so we started going out to other cities close by to pray there too and were having the same results. It was so cool! About this time I was sensing the Lord was getting ready to move me again.

Things had come along quite well in my relationship with my mom and Joe. Mostly Joe, as I still had a lot of pent up anger towards my mom buried deep down inside of me and didn’t really realize it. Marty (I changed his name as well was everyone else's btw), the one doing street ministry with me, had taken so well to it all he had found a local bakery that was willing to donate their day old items to him to give to the homeless people we were ministering to. Man this guy was ON FIRE! I was offered a position working at a camp for the same company that had an anti bullying program for local youths throughout the school year.

I was a part of the “prayer team” of that church and shortly after making the decision to take that job I had a vision during one of our prayer meetings. I had no clue what it meant and since I had always been poo pood when I tried to tell anyone anything I felt the Lord was showing me, I just kept it to myself. Here’s the vision:

I was standing on the beach ankle deep in the water, alone, just watching the waves roll in and out and the sun set. Feeling relaxed. At peace. Suddenly I noticed the water was withdrawing. Going further and further back, instead of sending more waves in. I was confused so I looked up and looming over me was this HUGE tidal wave. My heart stopped for a moment and I thought, “Oh my God, I am going to die.” Just then the wall of water hit me with a force that is indescribable. It was pushing and pushing and pushing me backwards to the point I felt like I might break in half and then be dragged off into the ocean to drown when the wave began to withdraw.

It felt like it went on for a long time, then it just… stopped, and I could feel the water slowly receding around my ankles. I was still standing. I was like, wow and stuck it away in my heart somewhere, afraid of what it might mean. I moved across the state to this camp and began working there. I loved that job. I learned so many group building games and teaching techniques. They had 12 horses there that were only used for two months in the summer for summer camp. For the other 10 months I realized, much to my own horror, they were pretty much neglected and forgotten out there in the pasture.

Fed only IF the staff felt like doing it when they were told. Man was I angry. See, when God was bringing me through all that stuff in my 20’s I had really struggled with the horse issue. I loved them. I wanted one, 10, 1000. However many a person can have and still eat too. At one point in my late teens/early 20’s I had really wanted to be a racehorse trainer, until I realized how much abuse there is to the horses in the racing community. So I secretly sought a way to somehow get into the horse industry, but eventually God just said no.

That’s not what He wanted me to do. So I gave it up. I was heartbroken about it for years. Then suddenly here I was… with HORSES!!! I was so angry about how the horses were getting treated I went to the camp director and told him I was taking over the care of the horses since no one else wanted to do it.
I started feeding the horses regularly, cleaning up the barn, rebuilding the broken down stalls, working with the horses every day in my free time. I was riding again and it was a phenomenal bonus to my job. Not work at all to me.

There wasn’t much to do around there and our job was pretty much 24/7 if kids were there. I rarely got out to go to church even. Which was perfectly fine with me at that point because the few I did attend in that area were more cultish than any churches I had been to previously. I prayed and read my bible every single day anyway. So in the little spare time I had I would watch movies. I rented the Horse Whisperer one night and was in awe at the gift this man had with horses. I had seen it once a few years prior and remembered wishing something like that was real.

Well, when I rented it that time I actually saw the “based on a true story” part. I was SO excited I started researching horse whispering and the different techniques it offers. I started using those techniques with the horses because after such a long time with little to no human attention they were a bit unruly to say the least. I couldn’t imagine how it was that they had been putting inner city kids, with zero horse experience, on these crazy horses and no one had gotten killed!

Right before summer camp they dropped a bomb on me that they were due for their certification evaluation for the horse program and someone would be coming by the camp to inspect everything. I was like, oh crap, because to me things still weren’t even close to up to par. Well, they got a 100% on that inspection for the first time in the 15 years they had been open. Then about two weeks before summer camp all these police officers started showing up to the barn to work with the horses. I was so confused at first.

They were confused too because by this time I had every single one of those buggers cooperating very nicely with anyone who rode them. They thought they were there for a rodeo, because in the past that is how they had always done it. Leave the horses sit for almost 10 months, then two weeks before they were going to put kids on them they would all come out and have a rodeo of sorts to get the horses into shape to be ridden again.

Then they stayed the rest of the summer to volunteer with the summer camp programs because these were inner city kids. The cool thing though was it also exposed me to a few of the horse trainers from the police department who taught me some more new techniques for working with horses. It seemed like the more I learned how to train the horses, the more I learned about myself as well. God used that time to deal with some more of the deep hurts I still had inside.

Yes, some of this is copy and pasted. I have written much of this... many times before, but only now I have a new insight into things. This is where things get tough. During this time I bonded with all the horses but there was this cocky little mother trucker up at the main Ranch... about 10 years younger than me, who apparently thought he knew everything and couldn't stand me... for some odd reason. Now look, I have always tried to be non confrontational on every front in my life. I do NOT like confrontation. I just don't.

This guy lived for it and always wanted to confront me about crap he didn't understand. Like... it's hard to explain. He thought he knew everything, but somewhere deep inside knew he didn't, then got mad at me when I pointed out something other than what he "knew". Thing is though, I was still learning at that time... I knew what I knew, but I didn't necessarily understand it just yet... One of the horses we had was a mare named Delta. This is where the heartbreak begins and ends. She was a tough cookie to break. Man. Mares... they really can be such bitches.

She really was too. But I stayed consistent and persistent with her. That is what the horse whispering stuff was teaching me. It took months but we bonded, me and her. On a level I wouldn't understand until... maybe a week ago. It was such a heartbreak that whole situation. I loved her so much. She is one of two horses I am certain I bonded strongly enough with that I could have rode her bareback, with no saddle or bridle and she would have done anything I asked anyway. I didn't even know that was possible until just recently.

Here's where the heartbreak comes in. I had been there a year an a half. It was the year FL got hit by six hurricanes and we got hit with four or five of them. Over and over and over... we'd get hit, then try to rebuild, then get hit, then try to rebuild... and so on. After the third or fourth one I gave up. I was tired. I was the only one even attempting to clean up anymore. On top of that I had hit peri (pre) menopause and had no flipping idea what was happening to me. Just that after life seemed to be pretty ok for a while, suddenly one day I woke up and NOTHING... I mean NOTHING was ok anymore.

I was angry. ALL kinds of angry. I hated my job, my life, everyone in it... I mean... it really was this "queer" thing that was happening to me absolutely out of the blue. So... I went to a psychiatrist. After a couple of months of meeting with me he informed me that he didn't feel right taking money from me anymore since he wasn't technically "helping" me. I was so confused... Like... huh? See the thing is... I think a lot. I mean A LOT. I analyse and process every bit of information that crosses my path... at some point.

What was happening was I would ask him a question... then think about it for a few minutes and then answer my own question, or sometimes even answer the question AS I was asking it. He rarely even talked... lol So, he felt that he wasn't "helping"me I guess. What he didn't understand is being a sounding board was actually a huge help to me. Maybe just what I needed at the moment... and yet I walked away from that feeling distinctly rejected... yet again....

The worst part is that for each hurricane that hit the damage to the camp grew... and eventually the horses had to be moved to the main ranch... with the douche bag... who hated me and wanted to make my life miserable for no apparent reason... At least that is how it felt at the time. Delta and I...man...we just bonded. I moved to the main ranch to work shortly before they were supposed to move all the horses there. In the meantime they were still at the camp, now resuming trying to get used to getting fed whenever someone "felt like" doing it. Me and Mr. Douchebag had run a few rounds at this point.

I had also acquired a mini as well through the camp, after about a year of being there. The camp director wanted to show her appreciation for all I had done for them so when "Little Bit" (that's what I named him) was donated to the main ranch she immediately snatched him up for me and had him brought out to the camp. He was such a cute little dude. lol Well, Mr. Douchebag knew how much both of those horses meant to me and was on a mission to make sure I did not get to keep either one. Little Bit was moved to the main ranch around the same time I was and he wouldn't let me see him.

He did everything in his power to keep me away from all the horses, and because he was the Program Director for the horse program he pretty much got to do and say whatever he wanted. He laughed in my face several times, telling me when they moved Delta up there he was going to put her and Little Bit in the auction and sell them off, but because I was an employee I couldn't buy any horses from the auction. That was probably a lie. I don't know why I never thought to ask anyone else... Argh.

After about a few months of being up there it was decided that none of the horses from the camp were coming up there and they were all in essence given away, to anyone who wanted them. Except me. But after being gone for about a month I drove back to see Delta. Get this... she was MAD at me. Literally MAD. When she first saw me coming in the pasture she just stood there and looked at me while all the other horses came running up, actually happy to see me. lol I figured she would get jealous and come over... but nope. She was mad.

So after a few minutes with the other horses I approached her. She laid her ears back... pinned them really, and bared her teeth at me before turning to walk away. I began walking parallel to her, about five feet between us, and she glared at me, pinned her ears again and stomped her back right foot at me, like if I tried to get any closer she would kick me. I just stopped, and the tears just started flowing. I was so hurt that I had abandoned her, didn't have a choice about it. I wanted her to be mine so badly. As I stood there crying she stopped.

Dropped her head and came back to me. She pressed her head up against my chest and sighed a deep sigh. She let me pet her for about two minutes, then just as suddenly drew away, put her ears back again, glared at me and walked away. I never saw her again. I was devastated when they told me they were shutting down the horse program at the camp and giving the horses away. I had become really good friends with one of the sheriff's horse trainers, and luckily she found a good home for Delta. She lived out the rest of her life on a farm with a family who really loved her. I used to call and check on her every so often.

But Little Bit... Well, I don't know what happened to him. Mr. Douchebag trained him and another mini to pull a cart and when they had big events for the community he would give rides to the potential donors. Like six adults in the wagon at a time. Far too much weight for two little mini's to pull. I got to see him a few times while I was there. I would sneak down to the barn when I knew Mr. Douchebag wasn't around. Then after being turned down for several positions I was more than qualified for because I didn't have a degree I decided it was time to move on. The last time I saw Little Bit was my last day of working there.

He was pulling that big ol cart with a bunch of people in it and he looked miserable, tired, not at all the vibrant little eight month old mini I had trained. It was heartbreaking to have to walk away from him too. Back tracking just a little here... We had a little more free time during summer camp so that was when my karaoke career began. Though I was terrified to sing in front of people, for fear of rejection, I forced myself to do it because I thought, “If I’m not good enough to sing at church, I can at least sing here at a bar and no one will judge me.” It became a regular routine to sing karaoke every weekend we could after that.

Then the hurricanes hit... Every time we would start to rebuild and repair another one would come blazing through. Eventually, the fencing, barn, and trails were all so damaged they had to remove the horses temporarily until it could be repaired. They were up at the main ranch with Mr. Douchebag for about two months and it was like pulling teeth to get them back. The hurricanes just kept coming though. We had one or two more after I got all the horses but Little Bit back. I gave up after the fourth hurricane. I was exhausted emotionally from everything I didn’t understand that was going on inside of me, and the whole continuous fight with Mr. Douchebag.

Well the reality of it was that it had gotten back to the vice president of the company that I was miserable and wanting to quit. He pulled me aside one day when he had come out to help us clean up after one of the hurricanes. He asked me what was wrong and if it was true I wanted to quit. I told him I didn’t know why I was so miserable, but yes, I wanted to quit. He encouraged me to stay. Telling me that I only had a year and a half left until my IRA was fully vested. That was a shock. The whole time I had been working there I had no clue they were putting aside money for me. So I sucked it up and asked for the transfer instead of quitting.

Secretly hoping I could find a way to get Delta and Little Bit. I had no idea Mr. Douchebag was going to close down the horse program at the camp and give all the horses away. I moved up there and was very pleased at first and considering staying longer than my five years when I realized how many advancement opportunities there really were in this company. I started bidding on open positions and kept getting turned down. I had been with the company for four years at this point and couldn’t understand why they wouldn’t promote me.

I was a hard worker. I always showed up, was on time, and even worked extra any time they needed it without complaining. Once I wasn’t living where I worked anymore the emotional outbursts from the peri menopause were no longer an issue because I just dealt with my stuff as best as I could at home and left it there. Finally one day I asked why they wouldn’t promote me. I was told it was because I didn’t have a degree in anything. I had never gone to college. This was the day after they hired someone for a position I was more than qualified for because of the training the company itself had provided over the years.

She had no experience working with troubled kids what so ever. Her degree was in nothing related to anything that had to do with that job. But it was a piece of paper in her hands and that’s what mattered. So, I decided then when my five years was over, so was my relationship with this company. I started making plans of what I was going to do afterwards. I had it all planned out see. Since I didn’t know where God wanted me and they were going to hand me a big fat 12,000 check I decided I would use a little to buy a small travel trailer and travel around the U.S. a little bit to figure out where God wanted to take me.

I was very excited about this. My mom and Joe had sold everything and done that when I was in my 20’s and I had always wanted to do it too. Mostly because Joe would call me almost every week and tell me about all their great adventures. I was struggling though because I wanted so badly to get married. Because I smoked most Christian men wouldn’t even give me a second look, let alone want to date me. I also had this fear hidden deep inside of me that no one would ever want me. Partially because of the past, but mostly because after finding out when I was 19 I would never be able to have children and they didn’t know why, I was certain no man would ever want to marry me. Knowing I couldn’t bear him any children. So I joined a few online dating sites and met "the ex" and found A2K for the first time.

There is a famous quote " I write so that I will know what I think" which kinda gets to that. But it is good to know things. I just got done writing a 55k word memoir, and I have spent a lot of time thinking about my childhood over the years , but somehow the act of deep thinking and/or deep remembering and the act of writing the story down helped me to make connections that I never had before, it was very helpful. That you got knocked back some means that you are doing some good soul work. This is a good thing, not pain no gain right?

Absolutely!

So, I was re reading what I wrote earlier and realized several things... First, I was at the first location for that job for just over two years... not three and a half... Second there was a lot of weird spiritual stuff that happened in that time too that I had wanted to share. One of the things I remembered when re reading it was that back when I had first gotten saved I had an encounter with an angel. The band that Sandee hand introduced me to lived a couple of miles away from me and they generally practiced later at night in the garage where they lived.

I would walk there alone as late as 10 pm without a second thought. When I was growing up you didn't have to worry about that kind of thing at all. One night I was walking and it was around 10 pm. I was on this long stretch of road where there was nothing. A field on one side, and on the other closed offices and an apartment complex where the apartment doors were all inside a huge building. I lived in a college town and so there were plenty of bars in the area, and plenty of young, drunk, people driving around to run into trouble. I just didn't realize it at the time.

So, I'm walking along, all excited to go watch the band rehearse and this red car pulls up next to me with three drunk guys in it. They slowed down and the guy on the passenger side rolls down his window and yells, "Hey! What are YOU doing?" I said, "Nothing. Just walking to see some friends." He said, "Well, why don't you come party with us instead?" I was like, "No thanks, they are expecting me and I am almost there." He looked kind of miffed and they sped up, I thought to drive away, and instead pulled in the drive of an empty office parking lot, blocking the sidewalk so I had nowhere to go.

I was like, "Oh S***!" I had NOWHERE to go. Literally. That apartment complex... yeah... not happening... too far away... didn't know if you needed a security code to get in the door even... I began to panic and SUDDENLY... Heh... I love those "and suddenly's" of life... lol This police car comes out of nowhere... nowhere I tell you. There was nowhere for them to even be sitting watching all this unfold... He comes flying towards me, does a U-turn on the road and pulls up next to me. In the meantime the guys whipped out of where they were parked and sped away.

The cop says to me, "Hey, are you ok?" I, with a very shaky voice said, "Yeeeeees." He said, "Do you want a ride to where you are going?" Again with a very shaky voice said, "Yeeeeesss." He opened the door and let me ride in the front with him. He drove me the half a mile to my destination. Smiled, wished me well, and drove away. Problem is, I watched him begin to drive away. It wasn't even 2/10 of a mile to the intersection of the house I was at to the main road he had just picked me up on. I looked away for just a second to look at the sky and thank God for rescuing me somehow. When I looked back he was gone. Disappeared literally. Just... poof... What the heck?

Then another memory that popped out at me was one of the other boys at the ranch I got hired into initially. Listen, I'm not huge into demonology. Kinda still shy away from it actually. But unexplainable things happen sometimes, and they are worth mentioning, I think. This boy... whoa nellie... if I ever have met someone who was actually "possessed" it would be him, no doubt. This kid was something else I tell ya. It didn't start out like that, but it did start out rough. Within my first week of working there he picked up a vacuum and threatened to throw it at me.

I didn't understand the whole power of choice thing at that point, and due to my upbringing was still quite controlling in ways I didn't even realize. I didn't understand the concept of "giving space" either. So, I asked him to vacuum his room, he didn't do it in a timely fashion, as I saw it, I went to harass him about it, and was met with a vacuum cleaner dangling over my head. My heart stopped for a moment as I thought, "Gee, this might hurt a little."

Then he dropped it to the floor, laughed, and said, "Scared ya a little, didn't I?" I told the cottage parents what happened, they made a phone call, and the very next morning, at 4 am he was woke up and told to get in the van. He was then promptly taken to "boot camp" for three days. I don't know what they did to that poor boy while he was gone. He only shared bits and pieces, but when he came back he cried... literally balled... apologized, and promised to never... ever... do that... or even THINK about doing that to me again. He never did... However, around somewhere around 32 I had suddenly been given this hope that I could have a child.

That medicine had advanced and now they could actually... possibly give me a hormone to cause my ovaries to release the eggs and I could get pregnant... and have those twins I had always dreamed about. Just prior I had this really queer, strange surge of hormones that was so intense that me... misses been raped repeated;y, doesn't like sex, gonna be abstinent till I'm married... would be sitting in a staff meeting with this complete jack wagon I wanted to punch in the face because he was such an arrogant prick... and yet I wanted to hop on him and ride him like a train that was going nowhere. For real. It was crazy... lol

But I honestly wanted to keep my commitment to stay abstinent til I got married and I did, but my god it was hard. I wanted to have a baby. I swear I did. I didn't want to want to... but I did anyway, and it sucked. Because I just couldn't find it in myself to hook up with just another douche bag just to have a baby. That would have been unfair. So I didn't despite the struggles I was having. Yet during that time I would almost literally travail during prayer at times about why... why God why? Why can't I just have a baby? What have I done to deserve being denied this privilege? I was hurt, and discouraged.

One morning before work I was travailing particularly intensely in prayer about the issue that day... and when I got into work and woke this boy up, without skipping a beat when he came out of his room he got right in my face, looked me right in the eye, and said, "You will never be wanted Ms. Robin. No one will ever want YOU." Those words rang in my ears for many years after the incident and my time had passed to "safely" have a baby. It wasn't "him" that day. I promise you, but I could see it in his eyes... it just wasn't "him". It scared me because at the time I had this mentor.

I had met him... somehow... still can't quite remember how... Shortly after I first moved to FL. He was an older man. Older than my mom even. He used to tell me all the time, "God want's you to see Robin. He wants to show you the spiritual things no one else can see." I was like, "Ummmm... heck no... no thank you... not interested... already been accused of being demon possessed and then faking my way through an exorcism.... once in a lifetime is enough for any person isn't it?" So I refused. Literally told God straight up... I don't care if it's there... I DON'T WANT to see it unless I absolutely have to... BTW... PLEASE don't make me absolutely have to. Thanks."

Well... there it was... where did it come from? What possessed this 15 year old boy to look at a 30+ year old woman and say to her, "No one will ever want you?" When that was the exact thing I had been travailing about in prayer less than two hours prior... what? Get this though... it doesn't just end there... He found me on facebook 10+ years later and had the balls to ask me if I would "hook up" with him now that he was "older". Ummmm. Yeah... NO. Strangely, maybe a way of me psychologically replacing my lack of being able to have children of my own, I saw him and every kid during that time and since him... as one of my own.

I figured, damn... their parents don't even want them, what's so wrong with me wanting them? It's not a crime right? I would like to think I could have bore them and raised them right... though at the time they were born I knew I couldn't have... but now... as in then... I wanted them. If I could have figured out how to pull off a Michael Jackson and build a fairy land of my own like he did I probably would have... but it was pure heart motivation at that point. Because it tore me up more than anyone could ever know that these kids were unwanted... while I couldn't even have a child of my own.

As much as I wanted it to though I couldn't just make it happen for real. The fact still remained that they weren't "my kids" and I would never have any real say in their lives... except for the short time they were with us. Some were years... some were months... So I just did the best I could with what I had in that time. Which was a lot of confusion... lol I think that's it for now.... lol

Man, I tell ya... the more I talk about this stuff it seems the more hell breaks loose in my life. Just one thing after another lately. This is the best I have felt in almost a week. It was after I realized something important I had forgotten that it finally felt like the weight of some of these circumstances was beginning to lift. What I realized was my husband and I had fallen back into the victim way of doing and looking at things as the intensity of these circumstances is increasing. We naturally both seem to fall into this way of perceiving things from the bottom side of things.

Our first reaction to things of this nature tends to be, "Oh my God it's happening again. Here we go... getting lied to, taken advantage of... and so on. Nothing is ever going to change... blah blah blah blah blah." Getting pissed, and walking away with nothing... as always. It seems to have been a bit of a pattern for us for the last three years we've been together. I try to stay positive all the time... I honestly do, but man... some days it's hard. Real hard. So, I started thinking, "Well Gee, how does this particular situation look from the top?" A whole lot different you see. Because that is where we really are here...

On the top. We aren't the ones who have done anything wrong, so why act like we are being punished? Instead... for the very first time ever... we are going to confront the issue head on... together. I talked to my husband about all this this afternoon and yep... we got this. I'm not living on the bottom of stuff no more. I don't like it down here. lol So anyway... moving on.... I think it was about eight months before I was quitting my job at the ranch that I started looking at the online dating stuff. I was pretty skeptical. Back when I had first moved to FL and got my first laptop ever I had joined a few chat rooms.

Found out real quick the cyber world is full of a lot of sickos. Man, there are some scary people out there. Actually though, the whole chat room world lead to me eventually being asked to lead a bible study in a christian one I frequented. That was quite a surprise to me, to be asked to do that. Boy I learned a lot during that time though. And what I lacked socially in the physical world I found in doing the bible study in the chat room. It was nice to feel wanted. I certainly didn't at any of the churches I went to for the first six months! It was when my eyes really began to be opened about how wrong the "church" has been about some things...

A lot of things actually. When I started reading and studying my bible myself, instead of just listening to what was being said from the behind the pulpit and believing it, merely because it was said apparently, I suddenly started seeing things completely differently than I had ever been taught. It was very confusing, and now that I am thinking about it I realize it also left me feeling that much more betrayed by my previous church than I already did after realizing their "prophecies" were bunk too. I didn't blame God for this stuff. I've tried actually to blame Him, but I just can't when I know He didn't do those things to me. People did. Misled people. Like me, but just in a different way I guess.

Anyway, I actually tried eharmony first. I had toyed with it here and there but they were always so funky on how they charged you. I actually went through all the rigamaroar they make you do... The personality test, the wants test... crap, I don't even remember it all... just straight up page after page of questions. I went through the whole process with this one guy to get to where we were talking on messenger and could talk on the phone if we wanted. The entire thing with eharmony is a process. A long... torturous process... Anyway, I wasn't quite ready to talk on the phone with him just yet. There was just something about him... something... that wasn't quite lining up.

I told him that I wasn't ready and he said it was fine. We said goodnight and the next morning he greeted me on messenger with a big hello, smiley face, my phone number, and address and asked if he could call me yet. Yeah... I was livid. I went off on him and basically told him to go fly a kite if he wasn't going to respect my wishes. I then went to the account he had gotten all the info from and changed everything. Unfortunately I was in such a panic when I changed my birth date and everything I made it so I was temporarily blocked from most everything I needed to access on yahoo because I put in a birth year that made me like 14... lol

Man fixing all that was a mess! Needless to say... lesson learned. Nothing on any of my public profiles is correct information about me. That was darn scary. Now that I'm remembering this... that incident was actually a few years prior. That is what caused me to stop looking all together again for a while. However... my skull is a bit thick sometimes, and sadly more often than not it took me a few trips around a mountain to actually "get it" so I could move on. lol So, avoiding eharmony this time I chose a different christian dating sight. I talked to a few people, but man, everyone just seemed so... desperate... I was desperate on the inside to not be alone, yes. But not desperate enough to intentionally hook up with a weirdo.

I am a weirdo magnet. lol FOR REAL! Just didn't realize it at the time. A lot has changed since I realized that... So I met the ex. We talked for quite a while before I agreed to meet him. We were quite a distance apart. The nice thing is going to FL had really helped grow me up a bit. I was actually quite responsible at the time. I had exceptional credit by this time too. So I had money tucked away, as well as the big fat check I was gonna get. He said he was a christian. I believed him. He really did put on a good show. He was a member of the band in his church. He loved his family. He had two kids from his previous marriage. He loved the Lord and wanted all the same things in life I did.

He didn't care that I couldn't have children, which to me was a flipping miracle of God in itself. Man I was still so naive at that point. And he moved fast. I think we got married five months after meeting for the first time, and only three or four other visits in between that. Not short visits. Like week or two long visits of one of us going to see the other. Still not nearly enough time spent to really get to know each other. Hind sight is always 20/20 right? And definitely not enough time for him to have to be "real" in any way shape or form. Problem is... I have always had a hard time not being real, which has opened me up for so so much garbage in my life.

All that aside, My family saw right through him. From day one, but I... being thick skulled and lonely would not listen. So I went through the whole ordeal of getting invitations, sending them out to all my family and friends, the decorations, the reception... all of it. It wasn't really fancy or expensive, but definitely a lot of work. It was actually a very simple beach wedding... Pretty soon I started getting declined invitation after declined invitation. It was heartbreaking. The only reason my mom and step dad were there was because I agreed to do it where they lived. Only because they told me they weren't coming if I didn't.

My best friend from high school flew out to be my maid of honor, and all the boys from the cottage I worked at came with the cottage parents. They stood up for him, because no one in his circle of family or friends was coming either. But it was really for me too. We literally didn't even have to put out any chairs at the wedding. I have to share this... Like I said, this was not an expensive wedding. The total I paid for my dress was $5 at a local thrift store. My mom paid $120 to have it fitted for me. It was lavender my favorite color, not white. lol My mom totally spazzed on that one. I don't like rules or tradition. Never really have to be honest. So.... I wanted to get married in a lavender dress and I did.

So the morning of I woke up not even slightly nervous. He had said all the right things the whole way and had me completely convinced he was "the one". Then as we were in the car on the way to the beach "Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx came on the radio and I got quiet. My step dad and Lori both assumed I was nervous and started picking on me about it to try and cheer me up, but I wasn't. I was realizing I really shouldn't be marrying this man because in my heart I knew I didn't connect with him like I should be. But what now? Literally, what now?

I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best. Ummmm... yeah... that didn't work out so well for me. I really should have just walked away when I had the chance. The minute that ring was on my finger he pulled a switcharoo... Complete Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide. The bottle and his attitude went up and my needs went right on down the toilet. He became argumentative, demeaning, cold, and distant. He was a complete and absolute "mama's boy". We had moved in with his parents temporarily until we could get on our feet. Every single time we would get in a disagreement he would go running to mommy, whining to her about it, then come back and share with me her opinion about the situation... and me.

He began using sex as a tool to manipulate me. See, I had been abstinent for 12 years prior to marrying him and was pretty excited about that part of it. I had this Hollywood, fairy tale, idea of how all that was going to play out see. You know... how great it would be to finally find out what it's like to really "love" someone and have that kind of intimacy with them. Only suddenly... he didn't want to have sex. I honestly can't even remember if we consummated our marriage on our wedding night, which tells me we probably didn't. So, when I would ask him what was going on he would tell me it was my fault.

I wasn't "trying" hard enough. I wasn't acting interested enough, (ummm I was asking for it a LOT) He would tell me, "Well... if you do this... I would be turned on." I'd do it, he'd reject me, then blame me for not doing it right. So then he'd say, ''Well, do this then." I'd do it, he'd reject me, then blame me again. It was this really sick, twisted game he was playing with me. He finally got a job... I had one lined up before I even moved... and things only got worse. Now he'd come home from work every day to tell me what a great salesman he was, a great father, a great husband... blah blah blah... but what a horrible wife I am for not recognizing his greatness, and a terrible step mom, and a terrible.. well whatever crossed his mind at the moment.

Oh, yes, and there were still daily phone calls to his mommy after we moved out to keep her updated on our relationship. Well, by this point I was a complete emotional ball of mess. Didn't even know which way was up anymore. One night after about a month of being married we were lying in bed and he started crying. I asked him what was wrong and he said he didn't want to tell me because he knew I would be mad at him. I told him I loved him and would forgive him no matter what it was. So he told me. Of course he didn't word it quite like this, but the short and long of it was he had cheated on me while we were engaged and not physically together with his brothers ex wife.

Who his brother had also slept with within a two week period and now she was pregnant. He was afraid the baby was his. His brother was also remarried at the time. Total Jerry Springer moment in my life. For real. I forgave him. I was serious about the commitment I had made. I meant my vows. I don't say things or commit to things unless I have every intention of following through with it until the end. I really tried. I'm not an arguer either. I hate arguing and I told him that from the very beginning. It's useless to argue. When you're arguing you aren't listening to each other because you're too busy trying to prove you are right and they are wrong.

So how can you solve anything? There's no "discussion". Just verbal swords... that hurt. So for a very long time I have chosen not to argue. To instead walk away, cool down, look at it from a healthier, non mad, perspective, figure out my responsibility for my part in it, THEN talk about it. It really is much more productive that way. Not for him though. Oh heavens no. Near the end of those looooong dragged out four months we were together he began picking fights with me. Pushing buttons to set me off intentionally, and then laughing at and mocking me when I finally did. He got me so mad one night I actually hit the oven. Thought I broke my hand. He just laughed.

This is by far my favorite story to tell and I attribute it to A2K and certain old timers (Set) who really helped me sharpen my "debating" skills in that time. lol See, I am not sure at what point in that monstrous mess I entered the A2K scene, but boy he hated it. HATED it. He would try to throw all his lines of crap at me and suddenly started getting met with a whole new "me". A me that had something to say. That would throw things out there so fast and so on point it left him speechless at times. So one day, near the end of this disaster, he decided to literally have a temper tantrum.

We were in the kitchen and he started stomping back and forth, swinging his arms dramatically as he was walking, looking up at the sky saying, "When to "I" get to be the "man" in this relationship??!?! When do "I" get to wear the pants in this family?!?!" I just looked at him and said, "Well, gee honey, you can wear the pants just as soon as you take off that skirt you're wearing." BWAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHA! Now THAT was funny stuff maynard! The look on his face was priceless! If I remember correctly he then stomped off to the bedroom to pout for a while. That's what he did when he didn't know what to say to me.

So, as the intensity grew with the emotional stuff I began to withdraw. I stopped asking for or even offering sex. I wasn't even interested in it anymore at that point. Once he realized that though it became his mission to get me to do it. I kept refusing, and finally one night he got mad, picked me up off the couch, took me into the bedroom, and raped me. Strange as this may sound I still stayed with him for two weeks. I was fried at that point. Emotionally, mentally, physically. I didn't even know what to do. I had gone to the pastor of his church to request marital counseling prior to that incident and had been sent away. Told he was too busy.

So, at that point I just felt I had nowhere to turn. I avoided him for the two weeks as much as humanly possible. I spent all of my time at home on the computer, on A2k, just trying to stay alive emotionally somehow. To find some value in my myself... somewhere... because my self esteem was shrinking quickly with all the stuff he was doing. After two weeks I finally worked up the courage and told him to get out because I no longer felt safe around him. That's all I knew at that point. I just never felt safe if he was anywhere near me and he was hurting me every single day, but I couldn't even put it into words how. He actually left too.

Mostly because he was in a state of shock I think. Things turned sadistic shortly there after. He tried coming back several times. Begging, pleading, and what not. When that didn't work he called me one Sunday after church he asked if he could come over to "talk". He told me, with big ol alligator tears in his eyes, God had given him a "revelation" on how badly he had treated me. How sorry he was and blah blah blah. I was sitting on the couch and he was on his knees on the floor next to me telling me this "story". So I rolled my eyes as he was talking and said, "Why are you here? What do you want?" Because I didn't believe one word he was saying to me.

He said, "I want to come home." I said. "No. I told you before, I no longer feel safe around you. That is not going to just disappear. If you want to fix it we can find somewhere to get some marital counselling and once we have worked through some things we can TALK about you moving back in. Until then... NOT happening." Holy Moly. It was like someone set a bomb off underneath him. That man jumped to his feet, began screaming at me about how I was the one who needed counseling NOT him. He cussed me up one side and down the other, then straight up refused to leave. Plopped right down on the couch and said, "Well, whatcha gonna do now?"

I didn't say a word. I walked into the bedroom, grabbed an armload of cloths out of the closet and took them out to my truck. Came back in, did it again, and about the third trip he stood up and asked what I was doing. I just looked at him, smiled, and said, "Well, if you want to stay that's just fine! I will go back to FL and YOU can take over following through with the lease and YOU can take over paying all the bills you've never helped me pay anyway!" Oh heck no. He was having none of that. He got right up and walked right out the door. Only thing is he didn't actually leave. I didn't know that.

He had started the car, turned on the lights, then shut it all off and just sat there watching me for about 10 minutes. I didn't go back outside to get my stuff right away because I was still quite shaken up at that point. I was terrified of him at this point. Then after about 10 minutes he calls me, tells me all the stuff I had been doing for the last 10 minutes, and then he said something. I don't remember exactly what it was he had said, but whatever it was... it terrified me immediately. He then started up the car again, turned on the lights, laughed the most evil laugh I have ever heard and drove away. We lived on a dirt road and for two weeks straight, every single time a car drove down our road, any time... day or night, I would jump up and run to the windows to see if he was back. Terrified he was back.

Then one day after about two weeks he calls me crying. Telling me he's in jail. I guess he thought I might feel sorry for him or something. However I didn't. He then proceeded to tell me how it was all my fault he was in jail you see. Because he had been so upset after the incident at the house he had been drinking relentlessly. Well, the night before he called me while attempting to park at his brothers house while drunk he hit another car and messed up something on his car. So he drove it down the road a little bit to try to figure out what he did to it. Then stopped in the middle of the road to climb out and under the car, to realize he had done something to the drive shaft?

Anyway, when he climbed back out from underneath it a cop was standing there waiting for him. lol Yep. That was my ex. The sad part is, I still waited three months before finally giving up and moving back to FL. I still hoped he would come to counseling with me to try to work things out. If he would have tried... I would have stayed. I made a commitment. However, after three months it became abundantly clear that was not going to happen, and it was probably for the best anyway. The jail conversation was pretty much the last conversation we had before I moved.