But as a ten year old girl who had been through so much pain and suffering I didn’t really feel like sticking up for God. Actually I hated Him. I had been a Christian for four years, and oh how I had LOVED the Lord. I was so bold in my faith I wanted everyone to know who He was! Until four years later when I got into my grandmother’s car to head back to Humboldt County, where she lived and where I was born. As we headed on the path to my “new” home I had no idea I was also heading into a trap set up by the enemy. I got into a lot of weird things down there that I am not proud of. I just wanted to make God feel the same pain as I had. My grandmother was verbally and at one point physically abusive. She had overdosed me on my medication for depression more than once just because she didn’t want to deal with me. I was so lost and I didn’t know who to turn to; I had nobody. All my friends had left me because of my outbursts and I would sit alone in my bedroom and listen to music. I wanted to be a singer. So I started to sing in my grandmother’s church choir. Everyone had thought I was good except her. Don’t forget the verbal abuse I suffered from her. I was never good enough. And apparently to her I was just like my mother. Everything I had tried not to be was all for nothing because in the end I was like her, so why should I still be here? I told myself. Soon life itself became too overwhelming. I started to google the easiest ways to kill yourself. I would grab knifes from the kitchen and point it at my chest daily. I wanted things to end. But I never could do it.Apparently my dad had been living in Arcata which is a town about 20 min away from mine. He had called me one day asking to see me. I had a brief memory of him and had made up a fairytale version of him in my head, He was supposed to be this great guy who would take me out to ice cream and buy me a puppy.
"He was supposed to be this Great guy who would buy me a puppy"
So I said “Of course I would love to see you!” I wish I could go back in time to that moment and rip the phone line out. I had made a terrible mistake. On my way to see him I tried to remember what he looked like, and then I saw him. I could have just looked straight in a mirror because we looked almost exactly alike. We sat down in a park and he pushed me on the swings and the image of him I had made in my head had started to become clearer. After that months went by and I hadn’t heard from him. I called and called but no answer. What I didn’t know was that this was going to be a recurring problem. His voice on his voice mail would soon be the only thing I hear from him. Then out of the blue he called me back and said he wanted to see me again. So the process started all over. But this time he wanted me to see his new house, his house that had a back room full of marijuana plants and a storage room full of guns. I was too young to understand that he was dealing drugs and selling guns. A few months after that I went back and saw that he was now a pimp daddy and his “girlfriends” were actually prostitutes. My dad was not the person I thought he was, and I was crushed to find this out. Soon I had decided I was done seeing him and I told him that. I told him to get his life together if he wanted to see me. That never happened so I never saw him again after that.
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