Behind the story of Lisa

Well, I have never written a Blog but I was told to write about what you know and maybe about something that readers have asked me such as; where did the story of Lisa come from and is the story about me.  

The story of Lisa is a figment of my imagination, however, the walk to her place of forgiveness is from my own experience. I was sexually abused from the ages of nine until I was thirteen by the nice Christian (?) man that lived next door. We had just moved into this new house and my parents were quick to make friends with a number of the neighbors. Now this was in the early 50’s when people were outside a lot watering their yards and such so the men waved to one another and socialized. All of the men and women on our side of the street were business people so they had a lot in common and were quick to become friends. Anyway, all that said, they would take turns giving parties and it wasn’t long before one night this particular neighbor ended up in my room. We will call him ‘Mike’. He was at least 6’4” and I wasn’t much over 5’ at the time so he was intimidating for this little girl. It was made clear that whatever he did was between us. I first talked of this abuse within that year, when I was 35 with a group of women that were all dealing with some sort of abuse. This was my first experience of abuse. 

My first husband was very abusive in different way. It was physical and mental abuse. He was 6’2” and by now I was just shy of 5”3”. We had two wonderful children and were married for four and a half years. He worked in collections for a large collection agency and was also on the Dallas Police Reserve. He hit me reputedly over the first four years for no particular reason. I had built up quite a lot of anger and hate by then and was determined to put an end to it. So, the last time he started to hit me I told him if he did, he best not go to sleep, ever, because if he did, he would wake up in the morgue. Yep, and I meant it and he believed me. It didn’t take long, even though the abuse had stopped, that I no longer wanted to be with him or for my children to be with him so I filed for a divorce.  

I married again to a wonderful man that I had known since I was sixteen. We had dated when we were in high school. He had never married and was at my front door after I called him and we talked for a while. I was no longer the ‘sweet little thing’ he knew me to be when we were in school but it took him awhile to realize that. By this time, I was having panic attacks and was taking pills for that, depression and everything else that comes from locking up all those feelings inside for so many years. We were married for, I think, seven and a half years when he asked me for a divorce. Although we were the best of friends and loved each other, he could no ling deal with my anger issues. We remained very close friends until he passed a few years ago.  

Not long after we separated, I met another man. Actually, I knew who he was because he had sung and played the piano with a band when I was in high school. He was a few years older than me and did not attend my school. We kind of ran into each other at a place where I worked a second job. We dated for close to a year. He had three years sobriety and I was pretty crazy by then. I had worked in the dental field for about fifteen years and worked a second job at a family grocery story. Not being one to even think about seeking help from anyone, I had two teenagers and no child support so I worked. He eventually become a counselor in a drug abuse program. He suggested I go to the Dallas mental health facility and get help. He could no longer deal with my dependency on him for my happiness and everything else for that matter. 

 So, I went and all they did was give me more pills. The one thing the doctor did do that really helped me was diagnose my craziness as having panic attacks. I always thought I was going to eventually totally flip out and that would be that. I was determined to keep some form of control because I didn’t want to be put away someplace, because of my children. I ended up in a program that was for adults with any kind of dependency and that needed help with any kind of issues. Mine were, low self-esteem, hate, anger, unforgiveness, guilt and the list goes on. I quit taking all of the pills. The people in charge checked to be sure I didn’t ‘have to slowly get off of any of them first. Then I started going to meetings and, one day at a time, I dealt with all of those locked in crazy emotions. One person helped me to deal with the anxiety or panic attacks. I am a Christian so I was able to use my faith and belief in the power of God. I looked at the anxiety as a game satin was playing with my mind, a game I was allowing him to play. I learned, when I started to have an attack, to picture him as a roach sitting on my shoulder; I would physically flip him off, turn around and step on him. As I was doing this I would say, ‘get off of me satin, you have no power in my life as I am covered by the blood of Jesus.’ Now I’m sure there were a number of people that watched me do this that were thinking I had ‘lost it,’ especially when I was in a grocery store or department store. I did not care. I was fighting a battle that I intended to win and I did…eventually. 

As for the anger and hate I felt towards my first husband; it didn’t help that he also ended up in MY program and I did not want him there. (I have to remind myself to tell you a funny story that occurred during this time.) But he was so I had to learn to deal with it and I did, it just took a while. He had changed and was very nice, I just didn’t believe that side of him was real. I was sure that just about everything that came out of his mouth was a lie. It wasn’t. He was there because of his addiction to Valium. When he was better, he wanted us to get back together. That was not going to happen even though I eventually forgave him and we became friends. Yes, it can happen. We did spend time together, went to the movies, to dinner and such. This was a part of the ‘healing’ program. I learned to relax around him and to, once again, appreciate his since of humor. I cannot begin to tell you how it felt to actually forgive him. It was like a breath of fresh air to be able to look at him, hug him and say, ‘I love you.’  

So now it was time for me to deal with the sexual abuse. It was a while before I actually brought that up as it was stuffed pretty far down in that, what they called, ‘bag of garbage.  I came to the realization that men that do this are sick. It didn’t mean it was ok, just that it helped me to forgive. It also helped me to understand why my grades went down during this time. I was preoccupied with the sick feelings I had as to when he would come to my house again. When we finally moved to a different area, he quit. At that point you might say I just blanked it out and didn’t thing about it anymore. All of the feelings were still there, just locked in and I moved on.  

I found out a number of things about this man after I had made the decision to forgive him. Back in the day, again in the ‘50s” the ‘powers that be’ whoever they were, delt with men that sexually abused children by forcing them to move out of the state which made no since to me. I actually wanted to call him and I wanted to confront him. Not to create problems for him but to let him know I had forgiven him and I hoped he had repented for his sins. Well, in the Bible it says, vengeance is mine saithe the Lord. This man went blind in his early 50’s and died not long afterword’s. So, in my mind, I’m thinking he went on with the abuse and my Father delt with him. I had forgiven him and, for me, that was all that mattered. My bag was empty, I took a deep breath; I was free of the pills, and all of the bad feelings I had locked up inside me. I felt good about myself and was ready to move on.  

Oh, I promised you a funny story that had to do with hubby number one. Well, I was already in my program and learning to deal with my anxieties and such when one night ‘Mike’ called me. He said he knew I was in a program, and begged me to help him. He was in physical pain and needed my help. Knowing him to be a hypochondriac I told him to take a pill and go to bed. Now, this was late at night and I had to get up at 6AM. He said he could not sleep due to the pain. Our daughter had told him I knew how to do something that helps you to sleep. This is something I learned from the doctor at the clinic. It is called biofeedback and what I learned help me to relax my body so I could sleep. Well, I told him to get a pillow to prob the phone on and let me know when he was ready. Now, I was not nice about this. I was very agitated and was snaping at him. Remember, I had not dealt with him yet. Once he did this, I heard him gasping and then there was nothing. I remind you again, I had not delt with him yet.  I thought he had a heart attack and was dead. I was praising God that he was dead and thanking Him that I was there when it happened. I know…really. I just knew God had answered prayers. Well, I knew I couldn’t just hang up. There was no 911 at that time so I called the operator, using a neighbor’s phone, to connect me to the police. They sent a parametric to his house. I had to go over to his house because our daughter (17 at the time) had spent the night there and was asleep in another room.) So, just being a few miles from me, I drove over to his house. When I got there, I fully expected him to be dead. Well, he wasn’t, he was standing at the door. I was so mad. How dare he be alive, and the paramedics were walking out of the house. One of them said they could see nothing wrong with him but I should probably take him to the emergency room. I asked why there was blood running out of his mouth. One said he probably just bit his tongue. Well, I got him in the car and fussed at him all the way to the hospital. Obviously, I was in no way afraid of him anymore. We went into the hospital; I told his nurse he was a hypochondriac and there was probably nothing wrong with him. He was complaining about pain in his shoulder and had some kind of an episode when we were on the phone. I told him I had to go because I had just a few hours and I was going to have to go to work.  

When I arrived home the phone was ringing. It was the doctor that was on call at the hospital. He said when he was being taken in for an x-ray of his shoulder, he had a seizure. After the seizure an e-ray was taken of his shoulder and it was broken in three places. It had been like that for at least three days. Just a very tiny touch of guilt there, very tiny, mostly I really didn’t care. He had been taking Valium and quit. Will you can’t just quit Valium you have to taper off of it; thus, the seizure.  

I was off the following day so felt I had to go to the hospital to see how he was. Mike was one of eleven kids. He was the next to the youngest. A good many of his family were in his room visiting. When I went in, I was bombarded with hugs and words of gratitude. One of his sisters, that was not a favorite fan of his, said I had saved his life. Before she could go any further, I told her I was so sorry, I really didn’t mean to. She laughed but there were others that did not see the humor even though they knew how I felt about him. Anyway, all this said, my punishment was he ended up in my program sitting in my meetings totally oblivious to the hate and anger I had carried around for thirteen years. He had no idea I hated him and was shocked at my anger.  

Do you see the irony in this people? I sept 13 years of my life hating this man to the point it destroyed my second marriage and almost sent me to the funny farm and for what? He didn’t even know. All that hate, praying he would fall down in front of a train and it would run over him really slow or that he would get cancer and it would start at his feet and work its way up. I wanted him to suffer. I don’t know if any of you saw the movie, ‘The Burning Bed” with Farrah Fawcet; true story about a lady that set her husbands bed on fire with him in it and left the house with her children. Well, I said many times, I would have tied him to the bed, woke him up and told him, “You’re gonna burn.”  

The joy in our hearts comes from the love of Jesus. Unforgiveness devours us with anger. It robs us of inner happiness.  Forgiveness is a blessing that cleanses your heart and refreshes your mind. It brings our ‘happy’ back. 

I hope this story is a light at the end of your tunnel. I pray if you have unresolved issues causing you to have anger and hate in your heart, you will see that you actually can empty that bag of garbage and you can move on with happiness in your heart. 

Feel free to share your story 

Within a year after I went into the program, I met my ‘third husband;’ we have been married forty-three years this month. Praise God!