More than a survivor

I slept on the hall floor when I was little. Not because we lacked space, but because my parents just didn’t want me. Eventually, I was allowed a bedroom, but the years brought abuse of all kinds: physical, sexual, and emotional. For most of my childhood and teen days, I moved in and out of darkness. Confusion, isolation, and loneliness overwhelmed me. And I didn’t know anyone who could possibly understand.

Often, the closest friends I had were two books that rested on my dresser—the Bible, andScience and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy. Both of these books spoke the spiritual truth of God and His creation in a way that made sense to me. They presented power as based on Spirit instead of matter and told of a love-filled, meaningful existence that was available to everyone.

I believed the promise those books offered, and I sought it earnestly, because inside, I yearned to do more than just survive. I wanted to thrive and live a normal life. And somehow I knew that the ideas in these books held the ticket to my journey out of abuse and into a brighter future.

My progress out of darkness and into light wasn’t made overnight. The abuse defined my childhood, and its aftereffects clouded my adult years. However, glimmers of truth along the way gave light to my path and made things more bearable. There were moments when I knew God’s love as a living, tangible power. And times, too, when I cried bitter tears and felt His comfort.

Studying Christian Science made God real to me, and I often turned to this Father-Mother for the encouragement, support, and inspiration I needed to keep going forward. Healing was a step-by-step process. The memories and ongoing experiences of a tragic and damaged life constantly challenged me to seek the spiritual truths of an identity defined only by God.

Like many abuse victims, I turned my anger inward. I often hurt myself intentionally, and even when I was a child, suicide was never far from my thoughts. On one difficult occasion, this Bible verse rescued me with its assurance of God’s nearness: “Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.” I loved the idea that God understood my innermost self. What hope that gave me!

Gradually, the desire to punish myself for other people’s wrongdoing diminished until, eventually, it was gone.

As a teen, I had wrestled daily with obsessive/compulsive behavior. Closing a door and going back to check it, washing my hands excessively, and other similar tendencies permeated my actions. My first efforts at ending this behavior were rooted in willpower. I tried to force myself to stop these pointless, repetitious motions. However, in studying Christian Science I was learning that God is not just the strongest power—He is the only power.

One day I was impelled to stand up to this absurd behavior with a bold “No!” I knew the power to do this came from God and not from me. Challenging the behavior with God’s authority was effective, and the compulsions began to fall away naturally. I was so relieved.

As the reality of a good, spiritual existence in God became clearer to me, other negative actions and reactions faded away. Many of my emotional problems were resolved by understanding that I had never been a material, mortal personality subject to evil.

Through these and other experiences, I discovered at a relatively young age that we always have the ability from God to deal with anything that confronts us. Evil can appear overwhelming, but it has no capacity to overcome God. That’s why it means so much to come to know God as our constant companion—our steady guide and support.

Because we cannot be separated from infinite Spirit, which is God, we cannot be separated from our ability to function responsibly and successfully. Science and Healthsays, “We must realize the ability of mental might to offset human misconceptions and to replace them with the life which is spiritual, not material.” “The ability of mental might” took hold in my mind. It became real to me, and my life became easier.

While I was growing up, the understanding of God I was getting through my study of Christian Science gave me enough insight to look beyond the abuse that was being done to me. It certainly wasn’t easy, but I never lost hope. And this helped me succeed academically, play sports, participate in extracurricular activities, and go on to attend a major university.

All of this was accomplished with God at my side and through my own prayer and study, since I chose not to tell anyone else about my experiences of being abused. The spiritual integrity that comes from prayer and trust in Spirit formed the essence of my character. And it was unstoppable.

But when I became an adult, despair filled me again. The sexual abuse I’d experienced had been severe and sometimes terribly painful, and the aftereffects of the mistreatment flooded in on me, a circuitous web of tangled thoughts and emotions. It hurt me to realize that I could not remember what my life had been like before the abuse. I longed to remember the innocence that had been there first, but that innocence seemed beyond reach.

Sometimes I looked to the wrong places for affection and warmth. I felt guilty, and instead of holding out for a higher sense of morality, I slept with my boyfriends and married the first time for the wrong reasons. However, none of that filled the lonely place inside me.

More than anything else, I yearned to feel the love of a mother. This desire did not diminish as I matured. After I had my own child, the longing intensified. I would shut my eyes and imagine what it would be like to be loved tenderly and unconditionally.

By this time, though, I was used to relying on God for all my needs. So, in a departure from the way I usually prayed, I simply got down on my knees and asked my Mother-God for help. I needed my concept of mother-love to move from something abstract to a spiritual principle that I could keep close in prayer.

I began talking to God more informally and listening for Her direction on a moment-by-moment basis, rather than going to Her only once a day in prayer. This is how I began to companion with my real Mother. She, after all, was the One who had really been looking after me.

Gradually, I began to understand that my spiritual identity was created and maintained by God alone, and that nothing could come between God and me. I saw that there were many aspects of my character that deserved to be cherished and respected. It was at this point that I made the essential transition from surviving to healing.

One of the great things about God is that there are endless ways for us to recognize Him. He is infinite, unlimited by any boundaries, and He values each of us. The more open I became to the reality of good from God, the more I discovered it all around me. Every good thing pointed to Him—the kindness of the postal clerk, the colorful flowers in the yard, a hug from my husband. Each of those represented some aspect of God’s love in my life.

The Mother-love of God can come from unexpected places. I’ve developed new and supportive relationships with individuals who think spiritually, with ideas similar to the ones I love. I’ve found an empathetic friend—the kind I had only dreamed about before—whose own background is similar to mine and to whom I can pour out my concerns.

In turn, I’ve become more unselfish with others, taking on leadership roles in my church and in the community. People who have suffered indignities similar to mine have asked me to pray for them. As I’ve done so, I’ve found that my own experience has given me a deep well of compassion.

For me, healing didn’t occur overnight. And there will always be more to discover about my spiritual innocence. But I can honestly say that my life today is rich and rewarding. I am so much more than an abuse survivor. I know with conviction that I have always been God’s beloved daughter. Anyone can turn to Love as I did—with even the most difficult personal challenges—and expect to find answers that satisfy the deepest needs of the heart.

The author’s name has been withheld upon request.