Confronting My Abuser Before God and All the Patrons at Irwin’s Lunch Counter

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I used to wonder what I would feel when my stepfather died. On June 8th, around 2:30 am, I received the call that he had passed.

My mother was asleep in the room next to ours. I had picked her up earlier that Sunday. Before going to my house she asked me if I would mind taking her by the nursing home for a quick visit. There were times that I would have made an excuse not to, but on this day I easily obliged. She was in and out within 15 minutes, and was concerned because she could not wake him and he hadn’t yet eaten his food. I made dinner and we watched a movie, but all night she kept saying that it didn’t seem right that she could not do anything to rouse him from sleep.

My mother does not spend the night often. The fact that she was here, where I could immediately console her and take care of all the things that needed to be done was no coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences. It was divine timing. It was God, angels, and loved ones gone before us that ordered the events that unfolded, and it was an answer to prayer.

I had forgiven him and come to the place where I didn’t wish for him to linger, suffering. He had asked for my forgiveness throughout the years. I know it didn’t change who he was, but it did help me in terms of learning to release the pain and trauma that my body was constantly reminding me of.

I felt peace. I felt a huge burden had been lifted, and the air I was breathing seemed new and energizing, as opposed to recycled from a painful time in my past.

My CPTSD attacks  have lessened dramatically, and when depression or anxiety creep up, I surrender through prayer and meditation, asking what it is I am intended to learn through it. God has rewarded me for my faith by bringing me to this new place of hope and strength from which I can confidently march through these valleys, knowing that new blessings and opportunities are coming my way.

Time used to pass differently when I was young. Whenever I was overlooked or mistreated at work  I always knew that something bigger and better would come around, and it always did. Soon into my 2nd failed marriage, time seemed to stand still, and I was hanging by a thread. I didn’t see it then, but I was falling back into the same victim/perpetrator dynamic so familiar to me, and I spent the next 20 years in survival mode.

The level of dissociation and sheer madness and sorrow reached its apex this past spring, and as I began to see my way out of the darkness, I was also more acutely aware of the spiritual signs that were harnessing what was left of my faith, as I let go of the judgements of others and graciously accepted the long months of poverty, and paralyzation, instead recognizing them as a time for gentle healing, to relinquish my fears and just “be” Valerie.

Ed’s death had given me closure.

This week there has been a full moon in Aquarius and something major happening astrologically, called the 8/8 Lions Gate Portal. It is a time of increased cosmic energy flowing between the physical and spiritual realms. It has been observed and honored since Ancient Egypt as a time of great energetic influx and activation. I have experienced the greatest amount of sustained peace and joy I have ever felt. I have been brought to my knees in tears over the manifestation of my heart’s longings, and just as quickly, bitch-slapped by potentially triggering circumstances. The difference between how I used to react, (waiting for the other shoe to drop-syndrome) and how I have, instead, responded to these incidents, is also divinely guided. I have felt the presence of angels and such intense heavenly love, through a voice connected to a beckoning in my heart.

It is for that reason that the situation I am about to show a recording of occurred.

I was having lunch with my mother at our favorite spot when a man walked in. He looked straight at me. There was a vague familiarity about him. Part of me wanted to dismiss what I quickly realized, that this was the stepbrother who had molested me. He absolutely pretended not to see my mother and I as he bellied up to the lunch counter. I was overcome with intense emotion, knowing that this was ordained. I have never, ever, “bumped” into him before. The fact that this was happening in the midst of so much enexpected good fortune, made it easy to muster the strength needed to confront him. I am still reeling, trying to process my feelings around it.

I captured it with my phone. I am sharing it with the hope that it will empower others to step out of the shadows and break their silence. To pretend it never happened, to feel muted by other’s insistence that they simply “get over it”; to self-sabotage out of the deep shame felt over having no control of the abuse, is to give victory to the perpetrator. A part of the confrontation that cannot be heard was my stepbrother telling me that I was “just like (his sister) Lorraine, who refused to get over it and move on.”

What Lorraine refused to “get over” was being raped and impregnated by her own biological father and dealing with an abortion as a young teen.

I am putting this man’s shame out for the world to see, with no regrets or fear of retaliation. I would love to see him try to silence me.

For years I brushed his abuse aside and pretended my wounds were healed, going so far as to invite him to my wedding. It wasn’t until my CPTSD manifested after the stunning realization that I had married yet another toxic man, that I sought justice after learning from a counselor that there is no statute of limitations on sexual abuse in the state of VA. Twice I attempted to file charges, feeling so empowered. Twice I had to graphically re-call what had been done to me, and both times, though this man works for the City of Virginia Beach, I was told that they could not get in touch with him for a response. I even had a phone conversation with my stepfather recorded by the police, where he admitted to abusing me, and allowing his son to get away with it as well. I was forced to let it go, until Friday afternoon, August 16, 2019.

This is what unfolded –

Here is a replay, in case you missed what he did upon acknowledging me-20190817_115231

“We see your rants and everything on the computer.”

“We” being himself and his fiance’/girlfriend of 40 years, who is allegedly a virgin, saving herself for marriage. They don’t even live together. They are both approaching or beyond 60. She is somewhere between believing that I am a liar, and a seductive child-whore. I am not friends with them on social media. My mother is, likely, but that is a whole other issue. My point is that in order for either of them to see anything of mine, it would take some active stalking. I’m willing to lay money on which one of them is doing that.  But I digress.

Forgiveness is empowering because it releases you from the burden of hatred and resentment, but it is an ongoing process. Just because I have forgiven does not mean that I will ever forget the hell I’ve endured. It means that I acknowledge that nobody is exempt from making horrible mistakes that hurt others, and I pardon the trespasses of others, as I too ask to be pardoned from my own. I know the Lord’s Prayer, and I live it daily. There is no escape in denial. It is like the wolf in sheep’s clothing, and it creates layer after layer of continuously mounting lies; lies so ingrained that a person actually feels emboldened enough to proclaim that God will judge the unrighteous, without even recognizing that person as himself. 

I have no need to stutter or nervously use scripture as a shield to defend myself. And truly, God does know who the liar is.

To all the people who have taken advantage of me, who have projected their bitterness and insecurity, taking delight in my failures, disregarding my Phoenix-like strength to rise above any attempts to cause me undue strife:

DO NOT FUCK WITH ME.

I hereby proclaim myself to be unfuckwithable.

It is a glorious day, indeed.

Choosing Your Door

I remember sitting in the Baptist church that I occasionally attended in my early 20’s and the intense feelings that would come over me during the altar call. It was like my body heated up and there were bees buzzing through my veins. Not an uncomfortable sensation, it was an urgency within my spirit, a magnetic pull toward something that I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, I was destined to accept.  It held no judgement or condemnation, in that I knew I would not be punished by God if I rejected the call as I had done so many times before. I simply knew that this was a door behind which stood a lightness of being, a loving hand of guidance toward fulfilling my mission in life, and though I could choose to ignore it, I knew that to do so would make my journey all the more arduous.

This became the foundation of my spiritual journey. I let Jesus into my heart, a decision that was not made hastily. Later I would realize that He had never not been there, but I needed to be reminded of who and what I was, and God in His/Her infinite wisdom knew exactly when and where to meet me. I am now blessed with knowing where and through whom the light of Christ shines, and more importantly taking that light and shining it where there is the greatest need. I believe that we are all equal, sovereign beings, and that love is the greatest universal source for change in this broken world. I have immeasurable love for those outside the realm of religious acceptance. I think that religions have their own bad apples, that many have unwittingly given themselves over to the “wolf in sheep’s clothing”, which is why I trust only the discernment of my heart. When the heart is rooted in unconditional love, you will Commune with God in many different languages, and also with others who may do so in a way that you have falsely been led to believe is wrong.

I am reminded of 1 John; 12 No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.

And prior to this verse it is written, GOD IS LOVE. Humans have been making it complicated in a manner that sets nation against nation, breeding hatred and contempt since the beginning of time. They have also been using the Bible as a weapon to defend these acts, while blind to their own abomination and deceit. Man has perverted the Truth of God to maintain false patriarchal governorship.

Today is 11:11. There is much information to be found by searching the significance of repeated number sequences. It is said that men have been getting more in touch with their feminine side and that the power of Love is balancing out the feminine and the masculine, restoring peace and allowing a collective rebirth of our world as we know it. If more of us unite in love, we will destroy the secret cabul, the darkness that drives our bitter divide and seeks to gain power and wealth while annihilating anyone who does not step in line with their agenda. 11:11 is like a door behind which the lightness of being, and loving hand of guidance not only restores unity amongst mankind, but lifts the veil of deceit that has bound us to the slavery we have unwittingly been shackled to.

Just as with the unfolding of a spiritual path seeking Truth and Divine guidance, we know when we are being called to awaken. Many are caught in the web of fear that has been carefully woven for the very purpose of distraction and mind control. All you need to do to break this bondage is focus on LOVE. Love your neighbor, forgive those who are blind, go out of your way to show love to a stranger every day, even if it is only with a smile. Love is the only weapon that will ever conquer. If we are practicing it, God is with us; the Universal Source of all energy and existence. You don’t have to believe in God to love, but you will be guided toward blessings and answers to questions you didn’t even know you had if you do. It really is that simple. Screenshot_20181111-125227_Facebook

Threads

A secret place tucked away in the woods
Where I would sit alone
A tree-shaped arbor as a door
Small pool to a stream with a waterfall
And a mossy green rock, my throne
Soothed by the wonder
Of birds and trees
A child torn asunder
Learned to call nature her home.

Faith was never a thing I was indoctrinated into, but an inner “knowing” that resided in my heart as far back as I can remember. Even as a confused, angry, sad, and fearful victim of sexual abuse since the age of three, at the hands of my stepfather, I always felt a presence that felt instinctively familiar to me. Born into this human flesh from the heavenly spirit realm, or “God ’s pocket” as children are often told, is something that has just recently, after half a century of life, been made very clear to me. It is as if all of my experiences are laid out on a long scroll-like tapestry since birth, with pinpoints mapping out my journey; little snippets of memories in the form of any and all senses, that somehow connect in a meaningful way. I call these connections, Threads.

I was so fortunate to be brought up in a small town surrounded by deep woods, at a time when small children were set free in the mornings to explore the world, and return at leisure until the streetlights came on. For me, there was more fear in my home than outside of it. I found my solace in nature.

One day, one of many, where I would pack the same bag with the same items I deemed necessary to survive, and dramatically announce that I was running away, while slamming the door several times, I set off into the woods. My histrionic display having gone ignored, I felt desperately sad and could not control my sobbing as I ambled down the same path of the well-worn trail so familiar. This time I decided to veer off, as if being summoned through the brush, and discovered a magical place that immediately captivated me. The sound of faintly trickling water drew me to a natural arbor through which was displayed a small pool of water leading to a winding stream, surrounded by beautiful moss-covered rocks, one of which made a perfect little seat. I spent hours there, well beyond the loud calling of my name to near sunset. I felt like I was a suckling babe at the bosom of pure LOVE, being nourished and fortified to withstand the world I had no choice but to survive. It became my haven, the place I would run to when I needed to escape. Even when we moved far away, I held the golden memory of it in my heart, and always searched for a new special place.

Fast forward 44 years. After two failed, abusive marriages, struggling to heal and navigating my way through Depression, Complex PTSD and Anxiety, I have finally found a place for my weary heart to call home. I reconnected with my first love who will be my last love, who is my best friend and eternal twin flame. He has taken in me, my precious daughter, 3 cats, and one blind dog, giving us a wonderful new beginning in our new house. As I have uprooted the demons of my past I have begun to make great strides in taking back my power and utilizing healthy tools with which to rebuild the joyful life I so desire. One of these tools is my daily walk which takes me to a glorious park called The Botanical Gardens.

The Gardens are surrounded by a lake with many meandering paths through woods, azaleas, and beautifully landscaped flowerbeds with fountains, footbridges, and statues. There are gazebos and many benches dedicated in loving memory throughout the park. One day I turned a corner to find something I had never seen before, as I was still exploring it all. A sensation of weightless euphoria and nostalgia swept over me as I approached it, and upon arrival, tears of joy. It was a small pool with a waterfall leading to a meandering stream, and there before me, a perfect rock to sit on.

I was no longer escaping, running away in fear, but walking in glorious freedom and strength, and I had come to a place in my life where the memory I had tucked away in my heart had at long last brought me to my haven, both within and outside of myself. This was what I thought of as I reveled in how far and winding my road that had led me back to this familiar place. I am only just now realizing, as I write this, the symbolism of the rock (God). Before I tie it into my story, it even further illustrates what I have been trying to explain about Threads.

A bible verse I had committed to memory sometime in my twenties, to comfort me in times of fear, was Psalms 27:v1 which says:

The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength (rock) of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?

And so it is that these little things, seemingly unrelated to anything at the time we experience them, become Threads that we can see much later, have been woven together very specifically to teach us about ourselves, life, and our place in this world. These many threads weave the tapestry of our lives.