Has life ever traumatized you? Just as our physical bodies can be traumatized or wounded, so can our psyche, the emotional, and the mental aspects of a person. The wounding of our psyche is real and impacts a person’s feelings of security, well-being, and dignity, beliefs around ourselves and even our will to live. This is my story of the trauma I experienced and was brought out of by the love of Jesus.

Most of you know me as I am now, a person who loves the Lord, a mother of two daughters and a wife. Perhaps somewhat put together on the outside and being constantly changed on the inside. I have been told that I appear to have never had any problems and that my life seems perfect. I am excited to share with you that this isn’t the case at all. I am going to be as transparent as possible regarding my past; and the future I have found in Him.

At age 3 my mom and dad divorced. My mother was given full custody of me and my brother. She had a boyfriend who distracted her from being my mommy. I was a daddy’s girl at least that is what I have been told. My mom decided that she no longer wanted me. I would then be put on a judge’s stand and asked who I wanted to go with, while hearing her say she didn’t want me and I could go with my daddy. (Rejection)

This would mean I could go with my dad and no longer be locked in a room, unclothed and crying for someone to come get me. The same would be true for my brother; she gave him up 6 months later. (Neglect)

Life became more normal for us, my dad remarried and we had a family. Shortly after his marriage he became ill, it was leukemia. At age 5 ½ my daddy died. The only memory I have of my daddy was being laid on him in his casket. To this day I can feel his cold lifeless body as I was put to lie on top of him in what I knew as his last home, what he would be buried in. (Loss)

I have never been given a real good answer for this; just it was to prove to me he was dead.

My brother and I would be sent to live with my step grandma and granddad on my father’s side. We aren’t to speak of my mom and they can’t even discuss my dad’s death without someone getting mad.

They are hard working what some call “old school”. I grew up on a farm. My brother and I always joked that my grandparents wanted us so we could be extra hands. We worked. Sure we had time to play, but if and only if all the chores were done.

I often tell the story about stacking rocks. In the evening, after dinner my grandfather would have us stack rocks in the garden to burn off energy. Seriously, that was what we would have to do!

My grandmother made it very clear she didn’t want us from the start. My grandfather would have to travel for the cow and feed business. This would leave us with our grandmother often. She was a very abusive lady, not only physically but emotionally. There were countless times we were punched in the back, hit in the face and whipped with a belt. We were told to pull our pants down, bend over the bed as she would hit with the belt, you almost always had the bruises to show for it. She would tell us if you cry you will get it more until you stop crying. This taught me to never cry, I became a master at wearing a smile if at all possible. You would never know there was sadness on the inside.

My grandmother had biological grandchildren that we were told were her, “real grandchildren.” She had to treat them different; you know the way grandparents do. I will share my famous chocolate milk story. I remember so vividly laying in bed listening to her “real grandchildren” getting chocolate milk at bed time. You could hear the clanking of the spoon on the cup. They would crawl in bed and she would read them a story. Never, ever did she read me and my brother a bedtime story. I remember her having places for special food, treats or snacks. She hid cokes and counted them so she would know if we drank one. My brother and I were not allowed to have the “special snacks”. I asked her about 2 years ago why she did this, and told her how it made me feel. The only answer, it is just the way it was, I had to treat you different. She always made it clear we would have no one if she didn’t take us in, you would be in an orphanage if it wasn’t for me.

Around the age of 8 years old I learned how to stuff feelings and emotions. Never ask why and never ever speak against your authority. I was terrified of my grandmother. She looked for things it seemed to discipline us. (Experiencing Conditional Love)

At the same age I began what I now know to be an eating disorder. I started separating my food and would hide it. I began to develop a behavior of depriving myself because I thought I didn’t deserve to eat. I would also begin to exercise as a way to escape. This was my only escape from her.

About a year later I had an uncle who became interested in me. I remember the first time he put his hands on me like it was yesterday. I told my grandparents what he did; they in return told me the story of crying wolf. He continued this until I was 16 years old. There are blank parts in my memory and I thank God he protected me from some of them. Once I was old enough or he lost interest I am not sure which, he almost got to the point where he wouldn’t even talk to me.

This was just something else locked inside of me that wasn’t to be spoken of.

I began to work at age 15; I worked 4 years at Hardee’s. I loved it, the only place I had a social life. I didn’t go out, date or attend football games. Ever! I worked! I put my money into a checking account that I could only withdrawal from if my grandmother signed. I was allowed to buy hairspray, special food if I wanted and clothing.

I began to over exercise at this time; I was known to walk for hours, miles and miles. If I ate I wanted to work the food off of me. This was an accomplishment for me. It was mine and no one could take it from me. I began to develop what therapist say is a friendship with an eating disorder.

My grandmother would not allow friends over or me to go over to girlfriends houses. I was allowed 15 minutes on the phone a night and it was up to me on how I used them. This is when I learned to sneak out. Of course I got caught, and was grounded for an entire school year. No phone. I was allowed to go to work, school, church and that is it.

I then began to exercise in my room or running sprints in the yard. I would not let her take this from me! I know that something isn’t right; I told my grandfather that I thought I had a problem eating. I didn’t know what this meant; only that it seemed to be hard for me. He simply stated, just eat Kristen. I guess it was just me; I would work it out on my own.

Well, I met a boy at Hardee’s and we began a dating relationship. Dating being, he would come and sit at Hardee’s for hours and talk to me when I wasn’t busy working. All of the high school kids did this for fun. As I am approaching 18 my grandparents let me date, he was my boyfriend for a long time. I move out of the house the day I graduated high school.

Next thing you know I am pregnant, not a great start out on your own. I miscarried 3 months into the pregnancy, they guy dropped me super fast and I went back home briefly. After being home for about 3 weeks I began to not feel well. While in the shower one morning something just fell in the tub. I find out from my doctor it is the packing from my DNC, which should have been removed from the operating room. They some how missed this and just apologized.

Of course I had to go see another doctor and within 24 hours I was in surgery. I was so infected and full of scar tissue the doctor said it was like nothing he had seen before. This was the first of 3 surgeries within a year. I was so bound up from scar tissue and endometriosis, just really sick they had to do a complete hysterectomy.

My grandfather told me this is God’s way of punishing me. It was His plan because I had sex outside of marriage. I thought ok, that seems about right. I didn’t know about love, only punishment.

After this I became addicted to laxatives. Still exercising compulsively and not eating the proper way at all. My life seems out of control. I start to use an eating disorder as my private way to express my pain and punishment. I would in a sense take everything out on myself, while smiling on the outside and never ever letting is show to the world.

Keep in mind I am “attending” church.

My next journey would be to find my mom. This didn’t take much work just a few phone calls and I would be on my way to meet her. The great part about our meeting was the ability to finally see someone who I look like. I do not look like anyone I was raised with in my family, the odd duck you would say.

I moved to Little Rock to live with her. This where I would be introduced to a “new” kind of church, they clapped their hands and were happy they were actually there. Upon meeting my mom I learned I had two half brothers and a step dad. I will not go into the details but this was a mess in and of itself. When it came time to be “real” with one another she didn’t want to answer my questions. She said it was just too painful. My mother then directed me to a chest; they were the only thing she had of me and my brother. I did get to see some picture of my dad and I together, I enjoyed seeing them. That was it; a locked chest that she never spoke of, no one knew she had children. She couldn’t give me what I was searching for and I couldn’t give her what she needed at the time. I wanted pieces of my past and she wanted to start a new future. We parted and haven’t spoken since.

I returned back to NWA and began working. I went from relationship to relationship but not finding what I as searching for. My family isn’t speaking to me because I found my mother and resented me because they said it hurt them. Why would I do this to them?

I am so addicted to laxatives that my bowels collapse and I have to have surgery. I am hooked up to a feeding tube for 7 days. I quit the laxatives, this frightened me!

I attempt to get back in to life by reuniting with girlfriends and will say we had a bit of fun, a little too much fun. During this time I am digging deeper and deeper into the eating disorder. It is my secret, private pain. I didn’t speak of the things that were hurting in my heart, ever.

I began to exercise more and more and more. I would get up at 5 and do 4 miles. I would go to the gym at lunch and do weights. Then walk in the evening. It seemed to be my “thing” I did.

I find it funny how that during this time I attracted men who were equally into working out and dieting like I was. You name it I did every diet. To this day I can look at a plate of food and get almost the exact amount of calories. I had tricked myself into thinking I was doing the “healthy’ thing.

A few years down the road I would meet my now ex-husband. I worked at a gym and of course we met there. He had a family and what some would say was well off. I thought he was great. I was in school full time and working when we met. Shortly after dating he hired me on at his families company. I thought this was a great opportunity; they would let me study while I was working and I made great money.

We decided to get married, why not we have working out in common. This did not go over well, his father did not like me taking his son from him. He didn’t like my social status. He actually told me, “go back to the farm you came from.”

I can see why my ex-husband reacted the way he did, it was because he had a past that set his behavior into motion. He and I began to feed off of each other regarding our eating habits and exercise routine. We became obsessed with fitness; he is the one who introduced me to purging. We would walk to dinner and back, and then purge what we ate. Get up the next morning walk 4 miles, go to the gym at lunch and then hit it again in the evening. When his mom found out I worked out at lunch she joined me, we then started doing a weight class and step class. Not noticing I am loosing anything that was part of who I was, my friends, things I liked, my personality even had changed. I wasn’t upper class by any stretch and this was an issue for us.

I dig deeper into the disorder and start taking diet pills. Not just any diet pill, I purchased the good ones off line, the pills of obese patients. Now I have more energy to work out! This went on for 2 years, me doing this to my body.

We moved to Chicago for me to attend school at the Art Institute. This was such a bad experience all the way around. I took 17 hours that were in quarters. I am a perfectionist by nature and worked so hard to get the best grades. This caused me to sleep very little, as little as 2 hours a night for days on end. I stopped eating all together. I would take diet pills to stay awake and pills that absorbed any fat I would eat. I would walk 2 miles 4 times a day back and forth to school. By the end of the first year my weight was in the 90’s. I was literally a skeleton. Life was out of control.

This was a strain on my marriage. I begin to notice that he is becoming very angry. This would be when the abuse started. The more I talked the worse it became. Eventually I had turned into someone I didn’t know. Afraid to speak, no self esteem and so wrapped up in an eating disorder I had retreated into myself. I was in a dark pit on the inside. I had married someone who carried the same traits that I grew up with. Speak when it is allowed, don’t have your own ideas or identity, live in a small world with only people that were allowed in your life, I was right back where I had started from so many years before.

I find it strange that eating disorders start as a way to gain control in a world that seems out of control. You are spiraling out of control when you are in this cycle; there isn’t a way to stop on your own.

I keep seeking approval and acceptance by my family. I buy them gifts, call them, go see them and it is like I am still that 8 year old girl. I attempt to talk to my husband and it is the same silence or anger that I grew up with. I retreat further and further into myself continuing to use the eating disorder as my escape. I want to punish myself. What is wrong with me, it must be me.

A decision had to be made and I withdrew from school, moved back home. As my family said I just looked bad and needed to be back home. I remember that Christmas as family is gathered around my Grandmother gets out photos of me and shares about how pretty she thought I used to be. That was until I had lost so much weight. My body is starting to weaken and I begin to get sick often. This was difficult for me because I just didn’t have time to get sick. I thought I always had to accomplish tasks on a daily basis.

We decided to build a house, thinking this is somehow going to make a difference. I had everything when it came to physical possessions, the BMW, 4,000 sq foot home, jewelry, clothes and so on. Yet I was so empty. So alone. So afraid. These things were nothing to me, I was more empty than every before.

Further and further into the disorder I became. Anger is coming at me almost daily, to the point I have retreated to staying in the house and leaving on rare occasions. I am not eating, exercising all the time and taking diet pills like they are pez candy.

We decide to have children. We had many opinions about this, his father wanted his genes to carry on into a son, so surrogacy was the only option for him. After a few family discussions and it being discussed that I could not continue family gene because I was unable to carry a child, we set out to adopt. Next thing you know I am in Russia meeting my two daughters. According to Russia law there is a waiting period from the first meeting and returning to court for the finalization of the adoption. We had four months of waiting; there was red tape after red tape. It seemed they would never come home. I waited by the phone, you couldn’t get me out of the house, I didn’t want to miss and email or a phone call. This is when depression really started for me.

Still in the eating disorder, closed out from the world, the only people I have in my life are his family. This was the world not only the world he wanted for me but, I let happen.

The girls finally come home. I love them so much and am excited about being a mom. Much to my surprise they aren’t as happy about a new mom and new home. They are frightened and just all the way around mad. They screamed for hours and days on end. Advised by the adoption agency, I stay home with them for about 6 months without really getting them out much or letting many people visit. This was to help them bond with me. Of course I had family that was furious with this and everyone telling me how to handle this, but no one living it. Not even my husband, he went back to work and would come home when I got them in the bed. I have no idea what to do or where to turn; the girls took about 5 months to be comfortable with me even holding them. Of course I am not eating, not sleeping and taking diet pills constantly.

There are many stories over the next year that I could share; as an attempt to shorten my testimony I will as the time goes on. All in all I had become so depressed, can’t sleep, afraid to leave the house and burying myself in the eating disorder. I am operating in complete fear, fear of my husband, fear of failing, fear of rejection, just deep dark fear!

As the following year goes on my family and I have to part ways. I make a decision not to speak to them anymore, they cause to much pain and everything out of their mouth is to tear someone down, not build them up. There is a huge controversy at my ex-husbands office and he had to fire a family member. This causes them to blame me, why couldn’t I fix it…..I tried, to the point of really getting it from him when he came home. You never want to loose your family, this was a very hard decision for me!

Of course I am in the disorder and now my body is starting to really show signs. I become sick often. The doctors put me on medications that just feed depression. I am now to the point I don’t want to have any light in the house. Just so depressed and lonely.

I begin to see a therapist. She puts me on an antidepressant and we begin what she called the “healing process.” After months of therapy, she tells me I don’t see how your going to heal if you don’t show any emotion. You won’t cry. You won’t let yourself feel. I being to feel hopeless, like there will be no way out. I am so thin by this point everyone knows I have an eating disorder. Just eating will not fix the problem. It is the only way I know to cope.

I start to become very ill, my hair is falling out and have no clue what is going on. Long story short we finally know what is going on. My body has started to feed off of itself because of starvation. I am “officially” diagnosed with an eating disorder. There is only one choice and that was treatment.

It took about 2 months to get everything set in place and off to California I go for 3 months. I hate the thought of leaving my girls. I did not want them to feel abandoned by their mom. I do not want to go, but know it is necessary. I set out to begin my process of healing. After the first few weeks of not saying much, they have me tell my story. I am told that I speak with no emotion and look like a dog that has been kicked so much I will not hold my head up. I don’t understand how dealing with my past will help me. I grew up hearing, “suck it up” move on.

My therapist tells me, “Kristen you have to open up and feel, if you don’t you will not get out of this disorder.” I don’t even know how to do what she is asking. They have me medicated on antidepressants, sleeping pills and medication to release tension. I am told that my laughter is to hide what I really feel. I need to move past that and then I will make progress. Eating at this treatment center is a painful process for almost all who are in there. Amazing to me are the women in treatment. All are very similar. Most are people pleasers, perfectionist, high achievers, intelligent, and have had some sort of abuse.

They have my ex-husband come for family weekend. This was a total bomb as I knew it would be. The goal was to confront the current person in my life who caused me fear. This didn’t help at all. He acted so furious. They told me to tell him something I discovered about myself, I was terrified. I say to him, “ I don’t agree with George Bush on everything and I don’t know if I am a republican.” He became so furious at the thought I didn’t agree with him. They actually would not let me return home until everything was safe.

This one experience had me shut all the way down. I saw no point in treatment anymore, I didn’t think telling someone how you felt would ever make a difference in my life. I made a decision to just keep my mouth shut. It drove the point home for me that no one cared about what I had to say or how I felt. I just wanted someone who loved me. I said over and over in treatment I would give anything to have someone just love me for me. No amount of money, or possessions could fill this void.

I return home and just jump right back in the disorder. I go from anorexia to full bulimia. It feels impossible to be able to keep anything in my stomach. My ex husband is threatening to take my girls. I am a mess. So depressed and feeling a failure. I see my therapist 3 times a week; she has to put me on suicide watch. Evidently that are for the depressed and hopeless, the people who show no emotions are the people who will just take pills and not wake up. I fell into that category. I see no future for myself and believe that my children would be better off not having me. They didn’t sign up for this; I never thought I would be a mom who didn’t “have it all together.” Anyone who remotely knows me will say my children are my pride and joy.

Depressed isn’t the word to describe the state I am in. I am given instructions to go to my favorite place everyday in order to get me out of the house. I would go to Kennedy coffee; order, go to the bathroom while it was being made, this was to be as invisible as possible, and then I would leave. My next step was to set and drink the coffee there. Then it was to eat a bit of a muffin while I was there. All of this was very hard for me; my self esteem was non existent and thought no one even knew I existed.

Then one day a sweet angel named Rachel walked over to me while standing in line to order coffee and said hello. She asked me my name and about my girls. We visited a bit and then I left. The following day she was working and she did the same thing. This time we visited for a long time, I caught her after her shift was over. She invited me to church. A few weeks later I attended; I liked it and said I would be back.

This Sunday would be the day my world changed. After the service the pastor called for people who had fear. I reluctantly went forward for prayer. An awesome man, who is now my father-in-law, came to pray for me. They knew nothing about me and my past at this time. He said to me, “I don’t know what illness you have but He is taking it from you now; don’t worry they aren’t going to take your girls from you; everything is going to be ok, no more fear.” I am telling you I just cried and cried. I think I had years bottled up in the tears that ran down my face. I knew that had to be Jesus talking to me, they had no idea what was just spoken into my life.

I went home and for the next few weeks I buried myself into studying the Word of God, I studied about the teachings pastor was giving about the love of God. I began to learn how much He loved me. What His promises are for me. The Word began to heal me. I sobbed for a few Sundays after that, I believe that God was just healing me completely. I will say that is the only time I have cried real tears in probably 15 years at least. I am now eating, not only am I eating but I keep it down. I have gained a church family. I am leaving the house. I become the mom the girls need.

Not only did God meet me at the perfect time to heal me completely, but to also restore all the years that were stolen by the devil. The eating disorder is non existent in my life! No depression! I quit all the pills at one time with no side effects! HEALED 100% by Jesus.

Not only did I learn of His love for me, but also how to operate in that love. I will forever seek to love others the way He has shown me His love! I will share what He did for me, because He will do it for all who seek Him. I learn more and more everyday about what He desires for us and how he wants to bless us and heal us in every area of our life.

All the fear I had, gone!!!! I can’t tell you how freeing that is for me, I was afraid of everyone…not now. Free!!!

I now know Jesus feel my sorrows and as my High Priest has a supernatural ability to sympathize with my weakness (Hebrews 4:15). He is intimately acquainted with the things that hurt me. If it bothers me it bothers Him. If it hurt me it hurt Him. That is the love of God. That is the love of God we are to carry and show everyone we come in contact with. If Christ is in us and we are in Him then it is our privilege to walk in the love of God. He wants to heal every place that we hurt. He wants to heal your hurting heart and fractured mind. He wants us whole in everyway.

John 10:10 The thief comes to steal, kill and destroy; but I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows).

Satan has one goal and that is destruction. He comes to steal, kill and destroy everything good that God has in mind for us. He wants to rob you of the joy, peace and hope we have in Jesus. The devil knew I would be a mouth piece for God. He knew I would share the good news with everyone that is why he attacked my life. But what the devil meant for bad, God turned to good. I look at my testimony as a blessing, I am strong in Him. I will share of His love, His goodness, His healing power that is operating today. The word says, “He is the same yesterday, today and forever.” That means He does miracles, he heals the sick, He restores and loves us the same as He did those 2000 years ago. He loves us so much and I am so thankful I get to share what He has done, is doing and will do in my life.