The Author

This passage is explaining how God has touched me in my life. It may get long, and I apologize for that. Names of other people in this passage have been changed to protect their identity.

The radio blares in the distance to Warm 98 as I type this, my brain boggled and wired awake even though it's seven after midnight. I should be heading to bed instead of typing, but my conscience won't stop drifting aimlessly in my thoughts, so I am left to bleed. I am left to sit here and bleed these words out as the keyboard becomes my knife. Yes, it may seem twisted, but that's how writing is. It's a beautiful form of art that tortures you until you finally bring to life whatever it is you've been holding back. For me, I've been holding back so much and as a writer, you shouldn't do that. We create worlds with our words, but my words strike more fear into me than beauty, because my worlds are crooked forms of the truth. The stories I create contain more honesty than fiction, but maybe it's time I stop masking the truth of my pain with characters I've made up and the make believed cities I've created and just be raw as myself. Maybe it's time I cut past all the phony smiles and kill this feeling for good. Maybe it's time I stop hiding behind all these mystical stories and just tell mine. No edits, no lies, and no hiding. This is my story.


Vulnerability and intimacy were such dirty words to me. Not sexually dirty, but filthy in a different psychological way. To me, vulnerability was weakness; opening up to people and letting them into your corrupted ways of thinking, hopes, and dreams was a waste of time. To be intimate meant giving them a key into your conscience, to allow them to waltz around in your brain to "get to know" you better so they could just abandon you down the road. I wanted absolutely none of that, because I refused to be broken. I refused to be the weak link and snap under the heavy weight of my irritating emotions, so I tucked them all away deep within me where no one could find them. My goal was to be portrayed as cold and heartless and I constantly received confirmation whenever someone close to me would cry over heart wrenching circumstances and I wouldn't be caught shedding a single tear. In my eyes, that made me appear unbreakable, but even stone cracks.
At fifteen everything changed. I let my guard down and allowed myself to become mixed up with all these feelings I had blocked for so long. I spent countless nights sobbing and crying myself to sleep, tears staining my cheeks and soaking my pillows while this dark feeling twisted my gut. I had become weak...I had begun to let peoples' harsh words affect me and my self esteem began to plummet. I could feel my heart trying to open up for help, but I taped it shut and ignored it. And in the summer of 2009 I met a boy that (at the time I believed) I fell for. He was the polar opposite of me, but we also shared a common burden to contain our walls. It was a perfect disaster to begin with. We briefly dated, but I never told him what it was that I did to myself when I was upset, because I refused to tell someone who was supposed to be temporary. Jokes on me though -I have known him for six years now and he has yet to let his guard down. Do I love him? Yes, as a fellow human being, but I'm not in love with him. We are too toxic for one another in our own ways. I will give his this -never once did he disrespect me or intentionally hurt me. Still, he is a part of my past that I don't regret, but I do regret almost opening up to him. That would have been a mistake.
Anyhow, time came and went as the years faded into one another and suddenly I was seventeen. By that point my parents had found out what I had been doing to myself since I was fourteen, though I never told them I had been doing it for that length of time. I saw the pain in my mother's eyes when she looked at my wrists, her mind most likely branded with the image of her daughter's skin embedded with scabbed over scars and scratches. I remember seeing her cry, the agony in her tears as she looked at me. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt as she pulled me out of school that day and took me to a therapist. I hated every last second in that room, the therapist flashing a phony smile as she asked "and how does this make you feel?" She didn't get it, none of them did; I didn't want to feel! I wanted to be numb inside forever and never have to feel anything. I didn't want people to see my weakness and try to break me, so I had resorted to cutting. The first cut barely scratched the surface of my skin, but the second was deeper. Before I knew it, I was addicted. I craved going up to my room and just feeling the icy metal against my skin. I wanted to feel my flesh rip open and the deep red to flow out. I wanted the physical pain to wash away anything that was internal. I wanted to be emotionless, but I made a pinky promise with my father to never cut again. So I quit cold turkey.
I didn't go back to the therapist and I finished high school later that school year and just enjoyed my summer before college. That first year at UCBA was amazing; I was meeting new people, cracking my shell, and enjoying being eighteen/nineteen. I had total control over my emotions and feelings, but in my second year, something snapped. I began to not care about myself and became reckless. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. I had already come back to God shortly after the cutting incident, but I was beginning to feel empty and so angry. I constantly craved cutting, but I kept reminding myself that I had pinky promised and I didn't want to betray that promise. That was when I found a different way to self destruct. I won't go into details about it, but let's just say I found myself turning further and further away from the ideal of love and intimacy. I caught myself becoming this woman who didn't need a reason to do what it was that I had been doing -I just simply needed a place. Before I knew it, I became emotionally detached to the idea of love, marriage, and anything romantic. I wasn't looking for "Mr. Right" or Prince Charming (I still will never believe in such things, because no one is perfect) and began to just shut my heart down. I figured that I'd just be this woman who wouldn't trust a man with her heart and if ya can't beat em, join em. I know, I was heartless and didn't care.
Shortly after my newest destruction, I found myself talking to an oldish flame. I had met him about a year earlier, but it was rocky from the start. I won't go into detail, but let's just say I refuse to be talked down on by a hypocrite. I was verbally abused for the way my feelings had shifted over the course of that year. We weren't together anymore (though he wanted to be), but I had developed feelings for a new man whom was a breath of fresh air (and still hopefully has no idea how I feel for him). My old flame was furious and called me terrible names and claiming I was a broken promise. Don't get me wrong, I had messed up during the time I knew him -we budded heads constantly, fighting every other day it seemed, and my lack of empathy when he was upset left us to crumble. But that left no excuse for the things he called me and what he called all women in general, so he is forever out of my life. I will never tolerate a man talking to me that way again and I sure as hell refuse to let one control me.
I have since then stepped back and evaluated my life. Overall, God has brought me through some tough patches, most of which were not mentioned in this. He has begun the process of reconstruction, but old ways die hard. I still find myself relapsing in self harm and dealing with thoughts of suicide. My anxiety still overwhelms me at times, but I refuse to give up. God brought me through so much and I know He's not about to stop now. I know He has a plan that will exceed my expectations and mold me to be the woman I am meant to be to serve Him. It's been a painful journey as He knocks my walls down and softens my heart and I won't deny it, I've resisted. I've resisted Him tearing my walls down, because He already is fully welcomed into my heart, but He wants me to let others in as well. He wants them to see glimpses of what He already knows. He wants them to see me cry, He wants them to witness me opening up, and He wants me to trust them. And the people I'm speaking of are all amazing individuals I met at a place called Cincinnati House Group (HG), a group of adults all passionately in love with God and a goal to bring heaven to earth. I have grown so much more in my faith ever since God led me to these people. It's funny actually, because as I evaluated my past, I saw where God began introducing His plan.
Back in the end of my second year at UCBA, I was going through a time of frantic thoughts regarding the future and for certain reasons too. I was standing against a wall waiting for a friend when I looked up and saw a man staring at me. I was slightly freaked out, because I had never had a person just randomly stare at me, so I looked away when he approached me. He started with, "Hi, my name is Wally and I noticed you." My thoughts began to just race through my mind as I wondered what he wanted. I thought he was trying to sell me something, but then he added, "Can I pray for you?" That took me aback. In no possible way was I expecting a man I had never met before to ask me that, but I said yes and he prayed for me. It was odd for me at the time, but about sevenish months later another friend of mine and I stumbled across HG and we've been apart of it ever since. That random guy who prayed for me is one of the founding leaders of HG and is no longer a complete stranger to me. It's crazy, but God brought me to this community of Jesus followers, because He knows it's a safe place for me to let my guard down. Trust me, I've cried more in the past eight to nine months that I've been apart of HG than I have my entire life. These incredible people have seen me tear soaked, red puffy eyed, and snot nosed more than my own family has, and they're all extremely understanding of that. So many of these folks approach me with warm hearts, caring smiles, and a God seeking passion that just overtakes me. A few people have even been allowed glimpses into who I am and they have shown how proud they are to see the raw emotions I've hidden. Yes, I still have tough days just like everyone, but God is doing something great through this community. He brought me to them for a reason and I intend on allowing Him to show me.
Vulnerability and intimacy with others may always be a struggle I face, but as of now, God's working on me. He's fixing what needs to be fixed and addressing what I've postponed. He'll open my heart to feel and attached emotions again. He'll show me the way and maybe, just maybe, show me that one God loving man I'm meant to be with, but as of now, I'm letting God do His work. I'm allowing Him to heal all my wounds that I've only stitched and I'm patiently waiting to see how He uses me for His kingdom. My past will forever be a chapter in my life, but the Author from above is still writing.

Author's Note

Ignore any grammar please!