T
I'm Tiffany, and here we go... sorry if I get off track, back track, and even befriend bunny trails.
I never thought I'd be able to put God first in my life and it all started when I was 5 years old. Every weekend I asked God into my heart again because I didn't feel any different. I watched a line of people before me be "slain in the spirit" until I fell so I wouldn't be the last one standing. From that moment I had a skewed idea of what God was like, and it was that he was there for everyone else except me. Within months of adopting this idea of a distanced God, I lost the only man I was ever able to call daddy which ignited a burning hate for my mother's promiscuity. This was the beginning of a pattern that later ended 5 more marriages and sparked a 7th. Even at a young age, every conversation with my mother ended in "You'll never be married unless..."
At that point, I had already been exposed to twisted sexual behavior as I was molested by two adults from 3-4 years old. The memories I have from such a young age brought on a shame I didn't know how to deal with, but it didn't stop there. Up until my teens I was exposed to sexual abuse by step brothers, step fathers, and a boyfriend as well in high school. Despite the condition of life I was forced to grow up in, my mental state was pretty normal up until I turned 12 years old. One night I found my mom after she had consumed her bottle of sleeping pills. She kept saying over and over as if I couldn't hear her that she just wanted to go to sleep, in my heart I really wanted to believe her, but I knew what she did. She was in the hospital for two weeks until I found out that she was gone. She took off and left the state to marry a man...a heroin addict. That is when I broke. When my mom wrote a note signing over her rights to me and leaving a blank spot for a name should anyone want to take me in. I cried out to God.
I don't remember what I said, or if He said anything back, but I cried out to him. Two months later my mom came back for me after I begged her to get me, and then everything just got worse.
My mental state declined to a place I didn't know was possible. I hated the woman who gave birth to me, and was quick to show it. There was one time that took me many years to even forgive myself, where she had a panic attack while we were fighting and she was paralyzed for 45 minutes. She cried out from the kitchen floor for my help and I left her there. I sat on my bed and cried because she wouldn't stop calling out for me and I could feel the pain she was feeling. I knew it all too well, but I couldn't will myself out of the room. To this day it is still painful to think about.
I cried out again to God to please hear me and deliver us from the heroin addict. That is the first time I ever recognized God's hand in my life. Within the month me and my mom were in a women's protection home, and while we were in there, an aunt I hadn't seen since 10 years prior had reached out to us. She wanted to pay for us to visit her for Christmas so we did...and we never left. At that point I knew God was real, and that he somehow managed to hear me, but I knew there was no way I could put him before everything else in my life. Every church visit was "Put God first!" That was the first thing I heard every time I stepped into a church, and so I automatically shut my heart down because I knew it was pointless.
Now, by the age of 14 I was starting to feel normal again until I had another encounter with sexual abuse by a boyfriend. I fell into a deep depression which involved self mutilation. The word spread and the bullying began. I was in intense therapy which also included my school counselor to help keep an eye on me. My mom was trying everything to keep me from being put in a mental hospital. I thank God that I wasn't admitted because I know I wouldn't have made it at that point. All I wanted was for no one to know. The more people focused on it, the worse it became. I was isolated from other students due to the bullying. I couldn't attend a class without another student reporting me to a teacher for mutilation to get me pulled from class. The halls and even classrooms echo'd with "Kill yourself already." Even teachers held back uncomfortable laughs while other's joked about "emo" people just wanting attention.
I attempted going to a church as well but couldn't even socialize anymore. I stopped talking for the most part of a year. My mom had told the youth pastor about my circumstances and he pulled me out of the hall (with other kids about 50 ft away) and told me to take my jacket off and show him. I couldn't do it, I just froze in fear. He then told me he couldn't help me if I didn't show him, and then walked away. I never went back and never planned to step foot in a church again after that. My mom had other plans though. She reached out to a leader in another church who had her own success story of a girl she took in off a farm who dealt with self mutilation. She not only counseled me (read my journals since I wouldn't speak and gave some feedback) but she used this success story as my mentor. They tried, but my heart was penetrable and after a couple months, the counselor told me I wasn't giving it to God and she couldn't counsel me anymore. So I believed something else about God and that was even he can't fix me.
God then answered another prayer to deliver me, and I was given the opportunity to move a thousand miles away and spend my senior year back in Texas. It was odd being back as we lived in the exact same apartment building as the one my mom attempted suicide in. It felt like walking past a ghost when I passed the other side of the building. It was a fresh start for me and within a month, the self mutilation had stopped completely, but then the drugs began. It started with hanging out at the bar and grills, then the gateway drugs, then partying, and then... I ran away. I met a guy who was insane. He gave me all his meds and I took them. I should have died. I remember saying the exact same thing as my mom. I just wanted to sleep. It was my excuse for every combo of drugs and alcohol...what ever would make me pass out and quick. This carried on for a couple years until I was pregnant with my son.
God started really pulling on my heart and I didn't know it was him. I started listening to Cd's my mom and step dad had gotten from a church in Oklahoma. One night, while cleaning the apt like crazy getting ready for the birth of my son, a thought popped in my head. Why not read the bible after I'm done cleaning? I just kinda said okay and went on cleaning. It was 11:30 pm when I plopped down on the couch finally finished and proud of the job well done. Suddenly, a sadness came over me. It was so odd. I didn't understand it and could only relate it to a sense of guilt. That is when God reminded me that I had said I'd read the bible (which I had no clue it was God at the time). So I layed down on my bed and opened it up to Job. I read the entire book and couldn't stop reading. I then read Revelations backwards book for book. When my son's father got home around 2:30 am I stopped him and read Revelation to him. I couldn't stop reading it and talking about everything I had read before. A passion started awakening in me that I didn't know could even exist. That week I had my son, and a week after that, we were kicked out of his father's apartment, who then moved another woman in. My heart broke, and I had to move in with my mother...who had no bed for me. I slept on the wooden floor for months, unable to provide for myself as the cost of childcare was too much to generate any income. Needless to say, I became a heavier alcoholic than I was before.
Every chance to leave, I was gone. Every chance to drink and pass out was taken. I again, just wanted to sleep. So many drunken nights were spent sitting outside my mom's home, playing guitar and asking God why he didn't love me. Why he couldn't just hug me. I just wanted something tangible and couldn't understand why he couldn't give me that. God was pulling on my heart still, even in the madness I was allowing myself to live in. I wanted to go to a certain church. My cousin would go there and I started bringing him and I would sit in the cafe while I waited for him to get out. People would come up to me and try to talk to me and even though I didn't want to talk to them, I loved that they actually reached out. I was determined to go there on a weekend. My only problem...my drinking wouldn't calm down enough for me to visit. I tried going still drunk once and my family wouldn't let me go. They all left me at home with my brother in law. I cried and cried. I couldn't understand why a church wouldn't accept me into their church even if I was drunk. Wouldn't they like to get another drunk off the streets? At least I made somewhat of a case in my argument. When my family left my brother in law came to me and said "You don't need God, just come and smoke with me." That was the point in which I had recognized a lie I'd bought into my whole life. I don't need God, because he doesn't need me. It completely changed the position of my heart.
The next weekend I vowed to make it to church and I did. Given I was hungover, but I still made it. The message changed my life forever. It wasn't about putting God first which is what I had expected when I got there. It was "One act of obedience" and how that would open a door for God to bless us with him being proud of us and overwhelm our hearts with loving joy. I knew I was changed when I left there. My heart was penetrated by God for the first time in my life. I applied that message and for the first time was able to experience what a true Father was. He wasn't distant nor deaf to my calls. He was there with open arms and it was like "You're finally home!" Though I still struggled with substance abuse, God was with me in each and every step forward and backward. I'm sober, and now am a mother of two beautiful children that I enjoy spending my time with. I want to give them the best life I possibly can have. My life has changed dramatically in these last 4 years. I'm not the same person I was. I'm nothing like her. I still struggle, but God is here in each step.
I don't know if my testimony will have any power in anyone else's life but I just want to get one thing out there that God has taught me through the life I've lived. Satan will hit us hard. He will come after us and keep on charging us. The calling God has for us is something so great that Satan will do what ever it takes to make sure we do not live out the plans he has for us. If he can't kill us, then he will attempt to kill our ability to see who God truly is. Our circumstances will reveal what is already in our hearts and we have a choice to make at all times. We can become bitter victims of this world, or we can strengthen ourselves in the Lord. My past isn't so bad because He is so good, and He is good to me.
I never thought I'd be able to put God first in my life and it all started when I was 5 years old. Every weekend I asked God into my heart again because I didn't feel any different. I watched a line of people before me be "slain in the spirit" until I fell so I wouldn't be the last one standing. From that moment I had a skewed idea of what God was like, and it was that he was there for everyone else except me. Within months of adopting this idea of a distanced God, I lost the only man I was ever able to call daddy which ignited a burning hate for my mother's promiscuity. This was the beginning of a pattern that later ended 5 more marriages and sparked a 7th. Even at a young age, every conversation with my mother ended in "You'll never be married unless..."
At that point, I had already been exposed to twisted sexual behavior as I was molested by two adults from 3-4 years old. The memories I have from such a young age brought on a shame I didn't know how to deal with, but it didn't stop there. Up until my teens I was exposed to sexual abuse by step brothers, step fathers, and a boyfriend as well in high school. Despite the condition of life I was forced to grow up in, my mental state was pretty normal up until I turned 12 years old. One night I found my mom after she had consumed her bottle of sleeping pills. She kept saying over and over as if I couldn't hear her that she just wanted to go to sleep, in my heart I really wanted to believe her, but I knew what she did. She was in the hospital for two weeks until I found out that she was gone. She took off and left the state to marry a man...a heroin addict. That is when I broke. When my mom wrote a note signing over her rights to me and leaving a blank spot for a name should anyone want to take me in. I cried out to God.
I don't remember what I said, or if He said anything back, but I cried out to him. Two months later my mom came back for me after I begged her to get me, and then everything just got worse.
My mental state declined to a place I didn't know was possible. I hated the woman who gave birth to me, and was quick to show it. There was one time that took me many years to even forgive myself, where she had a panic attack while we were fighting and she was paralyzed for 45 minutes. She cried out from the kitchen floor for my help and I left her there. I sat on my bed and cried because she wouldn't stop calling out for me and I could feel the pain she was feeling. I knew it all too well, but I couldn't will myself out of the room. To this day it is still painful to think about.
I cried out again to God to please hear me and deliver us from the heroin addict. That is the first time I ever recognized God's hand in my life. Within the month me and my mom were in a women's protection home, and while we were in there, an aunt I hadn't seen since 10 years prior had reached out to us. She wanted to pay for us to visit her for Christmas so we did...and we never left. At that point I knew God was real, and that he somehow managed to hear me, but I knew there was no way I could put him before everything else in my life. Every church visit was "Put God first!" That was the first thing I heard every time I stepped into a church, and so I automatically shut my heart down because I knew it was pointless.
Now, by the age of 14 I was starting to feel normal again until I had another encounter with sexual abuse by a boyfriend. I fell into a deep depression which involved self mutilation. The word spread and the bullying began. I was in intense therapy which also included my school counselor to help keep an eye on me. My mom was trying everything to keep me from being put in a mental hospital. I thank God that I wasn't admitted because I know I wouldn't have made it at that point. All I wanted was for no one to know. The more people focused on it, the worse it became. I was isolated from other students due to the bullying. I couldn't attend a class without another student reporting me to a teacher for mutilation to get me pulled from class. The halls and even classrooms echo'd with "Kill yourself already." Even teachers held back uncomfortable laughs while other's joked about "emo" people just wanting attention.
I attempted going to a church as well but couldn't even socialize anymore. I stopped talking for the most part of a year. My mom had told the youth pastor about my circumstances and he pulled me out of the hall (with other kids about 50 ft away) and told me to take my jacket off and show him. I couldn't do it, I just froze in fear. He then told me he couldn't help me if I didn't show him, and then walked away. I never went back and never planned to step foot in a church again after that. My mom had other plans though. She reached out to a leader in another church who had her own success story of a girl she took in off a farm who dealt with self mutilation. She not only counseled me (read my journals since I wouldn't speak and gave some feedback) but she used this success story as my mentor. They tried, but my heart was penetrable and after a couple months, the counselor told me I wasn't giving it to God and she couldn't counsel me anymore. So I believed something else about God and that was even he can't fix me.
God then answered another prayer to deliver me, and I was given the opportunity to move a thousand miles away and spend my senior year back in Texas. It was odd being back as we lived in the exact same apartment building as the one my mom attempted suicide in. It felt like walking past a ghost when I passed the other side of the building. It was a fresh start for me and within a month, the self mutilation had stopped completely, but then the drugs began. It started with hanging out at the bar and grills, then the gateway drugs, then partying, and then... I ran away. I met a guy who was insane. He gave me all his meds and I took them. I should have died. I remember saying the exact same thing as my mom. I just wanted to sleep. It was my excuse for every combo of drugs and alcohol...what ever would make me pass out and quick. This carried on for a couple years until I was pregnant with my son.
God started really pulling on my heart and I didn't know it was him. I started listening to Cd's my mom and step dad had gotten from a church in Oklahoma. One night, while cleaning the apt like crazy getting ready for the birth of my son, a thought popped in my head. Why not read the bible after I'm done cleaning? I just kinda said okay and went on cleaning. It was 11:30 pm when I plopped down on the couch finally finished and proud of the job well done. Suddenly, a sadness came over me. It was so odd. I didn't understand it and could only relate it to a sense of guilt. That is when God reminded me that I had said I'd read the bible (which I had no clue it was God at the time). So I layed down on my bed and opened it up to Job. I read the entire book and couldn't stop reading. I then read Revelations backwards book for book. When my son's father got home around 2:30 am I stopped him and read Revelation to him. I couldn't stop reading it and talking about everything I had read before. A passion started awakening in me that I didn't know could even exist. That week I had my son, and a week after that, we were kicked out of his father's apartment, who then moved another woman in. My heart broke, and I had to move in with my mother...who had no bed for me. I slept on the wooden floor for months, unable to provide for myself as the cost of childcare was too much to generate any income. Needless to say, I became a heavier alcoholic than I was before.
Every chance to leave, I was gone. Every chance to drink and pass out was taken. I again, just wanted to sleep. So many drunken nights were spent sitting outside my mom's home, playing guitar and asking God why he didn't love me. Why he couldn't just hug me. I just wanted something tangible and couldn't understand why he couldn't give me that. God was pulling on my heart still, even in the madness I was allowing myself to live in. I wanted to go to a certain church. My cousin would go there and I started bringing him and I would sit in the cafe while I waited for him to get out. People would come up to me and try to talk to me and even though I didn't want to talk to them, I loved that they actually reached out. I was determined to go there on a weekend. My only problem...my drinking wouldn't calm down enough for me to visit. I tried going still drunk once and my family wouldn't let me go. They all left me at home with my brother in law. I cried and cried. I couldn't understand why a church wouldn't accept me into their church even if I was drunk. Wouldn't they like to get another drunk off the streets? At least I made somewhat of a case in my argument. When my family left my brother in law came to me and said "You don't need God, just come and smoke with me." That was the point in which I had recognized a lie I'd bought into my whole life. I don't need God, because he doesn't need me. It completely changed the position of my heart.
The next weekend I vowed to make it to church and I did. Given I was hungover, but I still made it. The message changed my life forever. It wasn't about putting God first which is what I had expected when I got there. It was "One act of obedience" and how that would open a door for God to bless us with him being proud of us and overwhelm our hearts with loving joy. I knew I was changed when I left there. My heart was penetrated by God for the first time in my life. I applied that message and for the first time was able to experience what a true Father was. He wasn't distant nor deaf to my calls. He was there with open arms and it was like "You're finally home!" Though I still struggled with substance abuse, God was with me in each and every step forward and backward. I'm sober, and now am a mother of two beautiful children that I enjoy spending my time with. I want to give them the best life I possibly can have. My life has changed dramatically in these last 4 years. I'm not the same person I was. I'm nothing like her. I still struggle, but God is here in each step.
I don't know if my testimony will have any power in anyone else's life but I just want to get one thing out there that God has taught me through the life I've lived. Satan will hit us hard. He will come after us and keep on charging us. The calling God has for us is something so great that Satan will do what ever it takes to make sure we do not live out the plans he has for us. If he can't kill us, then he will attempt to kill our ability to see who God truly is. Our circumstances will reveal what is already in our hearts and we have a choice to make at all times. We can become bitter victims of this world, or we can strengthen ourselves in the Lord. My past isn't so bad because He is so good, and He is good to me.
