Why I chose Love over Hate
This could be triggering for abuse survivors...
Recently, someone told me "Thanks for sharing some of your story, that's awful being abused, there's 2 ways --- embitterment or worse, or someone who can feel deeply and is kind and caring, it's great you've taken the latter"
And I thought I would share my response here...As I mentioned at the end of this response, I have posted much of this here before over the years, so if it sounds familiar, this is why. The only stories I will post here that are adult will be the ones talking of my childhood abuse, and there won't be many of those. Yet, this is part of me, and I write about what is part of me.
My response, Well, I must admit you really gave me something to think about that took some introspection. Why did I decide to love instead of let hate become who I was? I have had so many psychologists and psychiatrists tell me that everything that happened to me should have made me unable to love anyone. I want to explain why to you, but I caution you that I will need to talk about Elohim and Yeshua to tell my story. I know that some people would not hear me because of this, but I truly believe you will listen even if you don't believe the same as I do. I don't ask you to believe in anything, but me to read my story. I hope you will.
When I was 1 year old, I almost died from pneumonia, and I think this deepened my connection to Heaven. When I was 3 years old, my mother left my brother and I with people who were supposed to adopt us. She wasn't ever going to come back for us. We were ritually abused there. This was the first time the angels came to help me. I will tell this as briefly as I can, but the reading of my story may have to be broken up into parts. I guess it is good that we only do this once a week. lol.
Upstairs at this farm, there was a room full of babies, and my little brother was added to the babies. He wouldn't stop crying for me, so they put me in there too, so he would shut up. Well, all the babies were so afraid and so neglected that I tried to take care of each one of them. I only had one bottle, so I did the best I could. There were probably 8 babies. When the bottle was of no use anymore, I would hold them and love them as best as a 3-year-old could. It didn't take too long for the people in charge to see they could use this against me.
They said they were teaching me Hebrew and I would sit in front of a board of Hebrew letters. They would tell me to touch such and such a letter, and if I was wrong, I would get shocked.. I think it was set up for me to lose because I was always getting shocked.
As I became numb to the shocks, they used the babies against me. Each afternoon after all morning of getting shocked, I would return to the room, and one baby would be gone. They told me it was my fault because I was too stupid to figure out the Hebrew alphabet. Day after day, this went on until my baby brother was the last one left. They told me they had killed all the babies ( I found this out to be a lie later). The last day, I failed, and they threw me into a dark room for what seemed like days. I cried and cried, until there wasn't anything left, and then I just drifted in and out of consciousness. After a while, I could see a small light in front of me, and then I could hear 2 angels. They were talking with Heaven, but I can't remember now what about.
Then, finally, I was returned to the bedroom upstairs, and my brother was gone. The lady told me they killed him, and it was my fault. I guess something kinda broke inside me then. Later that night, I was dressed up and taken downstairs. Important people came from somewhere to watch the ritual that was to take place. They had me recite something, I can't remember anymore, and told me to take a drink out of this goblet that they were handing me. They told me it was my brother's blood. I was so broken and beaten down that I reached for it. I would have drunk it, but the two angels that had been with me in the darkness were standing at my side, and as I reached for the goblet, the angel knocked it out of their hands. They couldn't see the angels and thought I did it.
Immediately, everyone started screaming at me and saying, "Kill her!!!" " Kill her!!" However, the woman from upstairs begged for my life. She said she couldn't stand to deal with the screaming, filthy babies, and since I had been there, she hadn't had to deal with them. This saved my life. My love of those babies saved my life. There is much more to this story, but I think this is enough to show how I started to realize how important love was. Over my life, Elohim has always sent me angels when I need them, and he has kept me close to him since my suicide attempt( and near-death experience) when I was 9 years old.
As I got older, I started to notice other things as well. When my mother's boyfriends or husbands would beat me(because they got off on it, especially spankings) or do other things to me, I was always very obliging and forgiving because they would treat my little brother better when I was like this. You see, for a girl, it is easy enough to become submissive and take whatever is handed out, but with a boy ( or at least for my little brother), it was harder. All the men in my mother's life always seemed to want to break my little brother, so I gave my body,( I had no choice anwyas, but I resited less, even when it hurt) I gave my love, I gave my forgiveness, I gave my obedience, I gave them whatever they wanted, to make them leave my little brother alone. I am not sure you can understand what I am trying to say, but I hope you can.
As I got even older, I began to see that the only control I had over my life was over myself. I started to feel a sense of power when I could take whatever was dished out and then tell my abuser I loved them, because I did. No, I didn't love the abuse; I loved what was still a small spark of good I could see in my abusers. When I showed them love, they showed me confusion. When I showed them love, they abused me less and didn't abuse my brother. I even had one step-brother who completely changed into what I saw inside of him, right in front of me. I offered him my body, and because he had changed, he said no, it would be wrong, and just held me gently. I was 6 when this happened, and he was 15. Before this point, he had wanted me greatly.
When I was 8 years old, a few months before my suicide attempt, I went to summer bible school, and I learned about Yeshua. Everything they taught me was somehow everything I already knew. Like a bolt of lightning from the sky, I knew the true way home, for me, and I have followed Yeshua ever since. Not the Christian beliefs, just the teachings of Yeshua. They are all about loving no matter what, and this is what I had been doing all my life. So, I still love, and I love everyone, because I have seen the true power of love. I have written about much of this on SW, over the times I have come and gone from the place, so if you have been here very long, you may recognize some of what I have written.
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Recently, someone told me "Thanks for sharing some of your story, that's awful being abused, there's 2 ways --- embitterment or worse, or someone who can feel deeply and is kind and caring, it's great you've taken the latter"
And I thought I would share my response here...As I mentioned at the end of this response, I have posted much of this here before over the years, so if it sounds familiar, this is why. The only stories I will post here that are adult will be the ones talking of my childhood abuse, and there won't be many of those. Yet, this is part of me, and I write about what is part of me.
My response, Well, I must admit you really gave me something to think about that took some introspection. Why did I decide to love instead of let hate become who I was? I have had so many psychologists and psychiatrists tell me that everything that happened to me should have made me unable to love anyone. I want to explain why to you, but I caution you that I will need to talk about Elohim and Yeshua to tell my story. I know that some people would not hear me because of this, but I truly believe you will listen even if you don't believe the same as I do. I don't ask you to believe in anything, but me to read my story. I hope you will.
When I was 1 year old, I almost died from pneumonia, and I think this deepened my connection to Heaven. When I was 3 years old, my mother left my brother and I with people who were supposed to adopt us. She wasn't ever going to come back for us. We were ritually abused there. This was the first time the angels came to help me. I will tell this as briefly as I can, but the reading of my story may have to be broken up into parts. I guess it is good that we only do this once a week. lol.
Upstairs at this farm, there was a room full of babies, and my little brother was added to the babies. He wouldn't stop crying for me, so they put me in there too, so he would shut up. Well, all the babies were so afraid and so neglected that I tried to take care of each one of them. I only had one bottle, so I did the best I could. There were probably 8 babies. When the bottle was of no use anymore, I would hold them and love them as best as a 3-year-old could. It didn't take too long for the people in charge to see they could use this against me.
They said they were teaching me Hebrew and I would sit in front of a board of Hebrew letters. They would tell me to touch such and such a letter, and if I was wrong, I would get shocked.. I think it was set up for me to lose because I was always getting shocked.
As I became numb to the shocks, they used the babies against me. Each afternoon after all morning of getting shocked, I would return to the room, and one baby would be gone. They told me it was my fault because I was too stupid to figure out the Hebrew alphabet. Day after day, this went on until my baby brother was the last one left. They told me they had killed all the babies ( I found this out to be a lie later). The last day, I failed, and they threw me into a dark room for what seemed like days. I cried and cried, until there wasn't anything left, and then I just drifted in and out of consciousness. After a while, I could see a small light in front of me, and then I could hear 2 angels. They were talking with Heaven, but I can't remember now what about.
Then, finally, I was returned to the bedroom upstairs, and my brother was gone. The lady told me they killed him, and it was my fault. I guess something kinda broke inside me then. Later that night, I was dressed up and taken downstairs. Important people came from somewhere to watch the ritual that was to take place. They had me recite something, I can't remember anymore, and told me to take a drink out of this goblet that they were handing me. They told me it was my brother's blood. I was so broken and beaten down that I reached for it. I would have drunk it, but the two angels that had been with me in the darkness were standing at my side, and as I reached for the goblet, the angel knocked it out of their hands. They couldn't see the angels and thought I did it.
Immediately, everyone started screaming at me and saying, "Kill her!!!" " Kill her!!" However, the woman from upstairs begged for my life. She said she couldn't stand to deal with the screaming, filthy babies, and since I had been there, she hadn't had to deal with them. This saved my life. My love of those babies saved my life. There is much more to this story, but I think this is enough to show how I started to realize how important love was. Over my life, Elohim has always sent me angels when I need them, and he has kept me close to him since my suicide attempt( and near-death experience) when I was 9 years old.
As I got older, I started to notice other things as well. When my mother's boyfriends or husbands would beat me(because they got off on it, especially spankings) or do other things to me, I was always very obliging and forgiving because they would treat my little brother better when I was like this. You see, for a girl, it is easy enough to become submissive and take whatever is handed out, but with a boy ( or at least for my little brother), it was harder. All the men in my mother's life always seemed to want to break my little brother, so I gave my body,( I had no choice anwyas, but I resited less, even when it hurt) I gave my love, I gave my forgiveness, I gave my obedience, I gave them whatever they wanted, to make them leave my little brother alone. I am not sure you can understand what I am trying to say, but I hope you can.
As I got even older, I began to see that the only control I had over my life was over myself. I started to feel a sense of power when I could take whatever was dished out and then tell my abuser I loved them, because I did. No, I didn't love the abuse; I loved what was still a small spark of good I could see in my abusers. When I showed them love, they showed me confusion. When I showed them love, they abused me less and didn't abuse my brother. I even had one step-brother who completely changed into what I saw inside of him, right in front of me. I offered him my body, and because he had changed, he said no, it would be wrong, and just held me gently. I was 6 when this happened, and he was 15. Before this point, he had wanted me greatly.
When I was 8 years old, a few months before my suicide attempt, I went to summer bible school, and I learned about Yeshua. Everything they taught me was somehow everything I already knew. Like a bolt of lightning from the sky, I knew the true way home, for me, and I have followed Yeshua ever since. Not the Christian beliefs, just the teachings of Yeshua. They are all about loving no matter what, and this is what I had been doing all my life. So, I still love, and I love everyone, because I have seen the true power of love. I have written about much of this on SW, over the times I have come and gone from the place, so if you have been here very long, you may recognize some of what I have written.
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