Built Ford Tough (Trigger Warning This Blog Talks About Sexual Assault

 Built Ford Tough (Trigger Warning)

He would respond to my stories with this statement;“That's cause you’re built Ford tough.”

I thought it was cute - endearing

But maybe it was a warning for the abuse he would put me through.

A preparation of the armor I'd have to build to protect myself from the pain drenched in the emotional, verbal, and psychological beat down he put me through.

Cloaked in being sensitive and burned by women-- he wooed me.

After the sweet good morning texts and Bible scripture

Came the constant weed smoking - dirty house - drinking until he's black out drug and vomiting outside my car.

Drunken nights at seedy clubs.

Me picking him up from his gigs wasted

Blocking him on social.

Hearing him talk shit on his stories, then taking him back

All toxic!

All manipulative... then dangerous.

All leading to a night I wish I would have ignored his call

"I’m drunk and I have no way home," he says pleading to me over Facetime.

I run to rescue him again

A battered man - beaten as a child trapped in a constant cycle of self sabotage

I want to rescue him , love him back to life.

I believe he knows Christ because he knows the word

But that night when he tries to pull my pants down. I say no

He tries again

I say no

How can this be a man of god I think?

"I’m not having sex with you ," I say. I say it over and over.

"Well will you do this," he asks.

I think to myself, I'll do whatever I must do to not have sex, and to leave this house.

I oblige.

But then I don’t like it !

-I try to pull away.

He forces me down, and I’m almost gagging .

I remove myself from my body just to get through the moment.

He smells like he hasn’t showered in weeks - I’m disgusted.

It is nothing like the romance we once had.

When he is done I say, "You will never do this to me again. You will never use me again. Do you hear me?"

Then I run. I run home. I shower, and lay in the bed looking out the window at a deary February sky. I want to cry but I have no tears.

I want to report, but he says no one will believe me.

I wait a year to report only to be told - don’t poke the bear - don’t tell DONT SPEAK

But I must - I am fighting back.

I have my voice and I simply can’t shut it now

This is why I own my body and my sex now- because it was taken from me

And this is my rebirth !

Finding Nemo---Finding Me

 

Finding Nemo is one of my favorite Disney Pixar films. I identify with Dory so much. Her forgetfulness reminds me of what anxiety does to my brain. It produces a fog in me that I can't explain. Makes me lose focus, and the ability to do simple things when it's at its worse. Her sense of not having a family or direction spoke to me also. I have not spoken to my immediate family in close to 5 years, but God has brought me spiritual families in so many seasons of my life.

In the journey of Finding Nemo, Dory finds family in two strangers. She also finds herself. I find the story to be quite biblical. In fact in my graduate studies I wrote a story about how Disney and Pixar use Christian themes in their stories. Sometimes I think it's the only way God knows his children will hear him is through creative expression like song, dance, art, and movies. 

Sometimes this Dory sits on my bed, sometimes in my car. She reminds me that God will leave the 99 for the 1 every time. His love is that powerful, and that strong. He loves his children that much.

Thank you Father for coming after me. In my wilderness, my struggle, my sin -- you always kept coming after me.

VLOG SERIES: LOLO's LOVES: MR HAWAII

VLOG SERIES: LOLO's LOVE : Mr. Hawaii

It's wednesday night and I can't sleep.

I toss and turn--then I remember my wedding trick. 

The thing I use to do to help me fall asleep….before my depression took away my ability to dream.

I close my eyes and imagine---my wedding.

It is set on a Hawaii beach.

The background is a perfect sunset. Cotton candy skies, and crashing waves. 

The sand is white….

I am walking barefoot -- in a slimming white dress -- I can not see the face of my groom. 

But my heart feels he is the kind of man I’ve been waiting for my entire life.

He is kind, compassionate, funny, sexy.

He covers and honors me… and he is everything Corinthians say about love.

Flowers line the beach, creating an aisle for me to walk down.

There are no guests… just me, my long overdue groom… and Dwayne Johnson.

He is officiating our wedding--- and I as walk down the aisle.

The Great One sings the theme song from Moana. 

It is sweet and tender, and it feels so right….

Before I reach the altar to face my groom-- my body is in deep slumber.

I awake the next morning, energized

Thursday, I worry I will have I will have a restless night.

I am anxious for a reason I can not place.

I decide to try the wedding trick again to ease my anxiety.

I turn on some R and B --- I lie on the floor and I am there again-- a Hawaii sunset.

And, I think for a fleeting moment of my husband and I in Hawaii.

A storm is brewing outside

I feel fear swell in my heart.

God I say is this--- the best that life has to offer me right now.

I pray -- God I am not testing you, but show me there is more than this. 

Give me a sign that my best days are ahead.

I exhale , and rise from the floor.

Moments later I get a friend request from a man I don’t know.

He lives in Pearl City, Hawaii.

I chuckle, and accept…

"Mahalo" he types.

After I ask if this his attempt at pursuing a BBW fantasy or scam me for money ---

we spend the next few hours messaging about life, depression, survival suicide, God

I explain to Mr. Hawaii that if he remembers nothing from this chance meeting - that God wants him to know that he is in the rebuilding business.

NO matter how broken or messed up or unqualified we think we are… God makes all things news.

Jeremiah 31:4 says “I will rebuild you and you will dance again.” 

You and I Mr. Hawaii have not even began to dance.

 He shares with me that he too prayed to God for a sign on this faith

angel number evening (March 21, 2021) to show him a sign.

I am sure then that the God of all things bring two souls together on

opposite sides of the world for a time such as this.

I do not know what will happen next -- but I know my Father uses all things, ordinary, big, small, and grand to speak directly to his children. To invirograte them.

I feel God is tell me --- don’t lose heart , your best days are still ahead.

I find myself yearning for Mr. Hawaii in a way I have not in a long time.

I feel seen in a way I havent

HIs admiration makes me fall in love with myself. 

I want to walk a little straighter --- work a little harder.

Could this be the beginning of something beautiful - a love I have never known..

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What is at the End of Your I AM____ ?

 I feel God has been telling for several seasons to find a way to control my thoughts. The things that flow through my head, my internal talk; when I learn to harness that I will live fully alive. So many things in the word say a man is as he thinks. Meaning we are what we think of ourselves. And, if I’m honest my thought life is horrible. 

Here’s why I think God is speaking – consider these sermons I’ve stumbled upon recently

 

-We are what we remember and what we forget (Elevation Church)

-Self Meet Self – what are you saying to yourself. (Community Church)

Then in small group we were encouraged to memorize this:

“Finally, brothers and sisters whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right,

whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -think about such things…” Philippians 4:8

 

God even calls us to FIX our mind on these things which says to me this is not our natural way. This is not how we are wired. We have to be intentional, we have to wrangle our thoughts into submission to what the word says, who God says we are.

 

Without this FIXING our minds will be slaves to our circumstances, our trauma, heartache, the opinions of others, the regrets of our past.

 

And I know because I am a slave to these things, but today I consider if I fixed my mind not only on what is lovely…. And acknowledging I am what I remember and what I forget – then maybe I could break the shackles of self defeat, shame, guilt, regret, and disappointment.

 

Follow as I guide you through who I remember about me , my life, my loves, and my dreams.

 

If I remember --- the day I met the best love of my lifetime. I walked into his store, and time moved still. For a better part of 5 years we loved each other through family death, loss, our own delayed development. We tried so hard… even though life has taken us on different paths. I remember that I experienced beautiful, real love. A man who covered me, a man who honored me – a man who took me to church, his family, and into his heart.

 

Remembering this and what God says about giving the desires of my hearts is why I a can say I will be loved by a great man again. I am a partner worth having. I am good woman.

 

Remembering the days I seemed to report on every part of the Lynchburg market in one day – writing the stories, updating the website, making it on-air. Doing the swimming story that saved lives --- remembering when I made it to my hometown station – a high in the pie out of the stadium shot I called and made reality --- remembering this I can say

 

I am a talent storyteller. I am a natural speaker. I am a world changer. I am a leader. I am a multitasker. I can and I will rediscover a career in media and tv somehow. I will live and eat off a career from my creative spirit. My greatness destiny is still before me.

 

If I remember those long distance runs --- putting one foot in front of the other—running the streets of Richmond, finally working out in a sports bra – the thrill of crossing the finish line of my first 10k – I can say I am able. I am disciplined. I am an active person. I will complete a half marathon it is in me.

 

I could go on and on.. and as I write this I feel the sparks of joy of dreams long forgotten. I the rattling of the shame shackles that keep me from loving – maybe this is the beginning of breakthrough , a reawakening , of the sunflowers poking through a weeded garden.

 

If you could remember the greatness you’ve already done, the obstacles you’ve overcome – what would they say about you?

 

First we REMEMBER -- then we FIX OUR MIND TO THESE THINGS--- NEXT we ACT!

 

To be continued….

Your Mind: The Beautiful Garden

In a session this week, my therapist likened the state of my mind to an imagery I’ve long forgotten in my depression: a garden full of wild sunflowers with green plush grass. White fluffy clouds decorate the sky. The sun is visible. It’s warm, but not sticky hot. It feels like the perfect summer day, but there’s a sense of peace, and joy. It’s that kind of unexplainable joy kids feel on the last day of school. Bouncing off the bus to a summer of possibility.

“Your mind is like a beautiful garden. The sunflowers you love dance freely there. It’s when you feel your best self. Trauma is like weeds. The weeds are deeply rooted. They suffocate the growth in your beautiful garden. Through therapy we can get to the roots of those weeds. I’ll help you pull them up, face them, and toss them out,” my therapist said.

A beautiful garden. The imagery brought me so much peace. All day I could not shake the idea of my mind being this beautiful garden. My mind has felt nothing like a garden the past 4 months. It feels like a wet, soggy, cold, and windy unrelenting storm. Clouds so thick the sun where my dreams live aren't visible. Whipping rain paralyzes me into a daily monotony of sleeping, overeating, isolating, and doing the bare minimum to survive. I only think of surviving, and enduring this all consuming storm. A storm so intense it clouds everything; how I see myself in the mirror, the words I speak, the future I’ve lost hope in.

But a beautiful garden. It brought to mind something I’ve tried in the past to clear the darkness of depression; hypnosis. I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder in my early twenties. I didn’t know half of what I know, but I was desperate for relief. So when I heard of a local woman who did hypnosis, I decided to give it a try. For the first few sessions, I was extremely anxious, a little weirded out and scared. For a while all I did was kind of fall into a meditative sleep. I used the sleeping CD’s she gave me to help guide me into sleep. As I learned more about hypnosis, I started to ease in to the experience. I recall the moment I found my beautiful garden in my sessions with her.

“Close your eyes,” she said in calm voice. “Now imagine you are walking down a flight of stairs. Each time you go down a stair count from 1 and keep going.”

I did as instructed, and as I keep counting, I saw myself descending down a white staircase in the clouds. Every step was slow and measured. When I got to twelve, the stairs descended into a green field. I could feel the warmth of the sun, and a soft breeze. I walked barefoot through crisp grass. I was taken in by the never ending length of the field. The green grass, speckled with every beautiful flower you can think, went on for miles. As I kept walking, I saw in the distance a brown wooden bench, anchored by black steel legs. A woman was sitting there gazing off into the distance. I slowly walked closer to her. Something about her seemed familiar. Her dark drown her, her light skin that we would call high yellow if I was in Mississippi. The closer I got to her the more familiar she felt. It’s life my heart felt drawn to her. Slowly walking from behind the wooden bench, I was shocked at who I saw.

“Aunt Doris, but you’re…” I said.

“In Heaven? Yes, I’m in Heaven, but sometimes I wait here for you,” she said. She turned to me and smiled. She rested her hand on space beside her. An invitation to sit with her.

As a child, I always wanted alone time with Aunt Doris. Her house was a hard, long walk from my great grandmother’s house in Mississippi. But, when you got there, it made every hardship you endured getting there worth it. Her house always had cool air conditioning which was a savior in the blistering summer months. She would give me these special pickles. I now know as a adult they were Claussen. But, aa a kid all I knew it was they didn’t sell them at the corner store for 99 cents, and I felt special getting them. She told my little brother that if he ate them, he’d turn into a tadpole. But for some reason, I could eat them. It was one of the small ways she made me feel special. In my teenager years I learned that Aunt Doris almost adopted me at birth. The adoption would be kept a secret so my 19 year old mother could finish college. When I learned this fact, it endeared me to her even more. The last time I saw her alive, she was dying from cancer. I was twenty-something and making my first real salary as a tv reporter. I wanted to honor her in the way she did through her small acts of service. I recall taking her and my uncle to Golden Corral. I felt so much pride, when I picked up the check. It didn’t matter that she didn’t eat much, and seemed tired. I was proud to do that for her. The rest of the trip I wanted to experience Aunt Doris as an adult. I wanted to sit around and watch television, and finally talk at the grown folks table. I wanted to lay in her bed while she held me, play in her jewelry and hear about her younger self. She wouldn’t let me. At every turn she prompted me to go visit this family member, and be sure to say how to this person. It seemed that as she was dying, she wanted to push me to keep living. One night, I crept back into her bedroom while she slept, and I just watched her breathe. I softly walked inside her room. I ran my hand over the jewelry on her dresser, before leaving her to rest. Her last act of love was giving me the only picture of my biological father. The story around his life and reasons for leaving are sketchy. I had only learned of him when I was 12. He died before I could meet him.  Aunt Doris died weeks later after my last trip to see her.

But, somehow under hypnosis, down the 12 twelve steps I could see her. I sat down next to her, and rest my head on her shoulder. She put her arm around me, and for a while we just there.

When I awoke from hypnosis I told the practitioner about the beautiful field, and the bench where I sat with my Aunt Doris.

“That’s beautiful. Just that imagery at night if it helps guide you to sleep,” she said.

 

Every night for weeks, I closed my eyes eager to go down those twelve steps to sit in on that wooden bench with Aunt Doris. Some time I’d sit with her and cry for heartache, or disappointment. Sometimes I’d rattle off all the troubles in my life. Something about her presence helped me awake with hope. I’d see her in my dreams in varying parts of my Mississippi memories. She was always comforting or caring for something. And, the moment I arrived she’d acknowledge me and let me sit with her.

Somewhere in the broken paths of my life, I lost access to the beautiful field with my Aunt Doris. For some many years I’ve been fighting to survive my depression, my homelessness, the destruction of my charmed life, the battle wounds of trauma, the weeds blocked the staircase.

Last night I as I laid in my bed crying, I whispered, “God, I am so lost, I’m in pain, and I can’t do any of this in my own strength. Your word says you are closed to the broken heart. Father that is me. Please, please Father given me the strength to find my way.”

As I closed my eyes, for the first time in years I saw a familiar sight; a single descending staircase. Each step down, my body remembered the practice from those hypnosis sessions years ago. At the bottom of the twelfth step was access to the field. It was like I remembered. Tall green grass that spanned for miles. The feeling of warmth from the sun, a cool breeze, and a wooden bench with a single occupant.

I ran fast to the bench, and to my surprise there she was; Aunt Doris.

“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you,” she said.

As I sat down next to her, I wept.

“Oh, Aunt Doris….so much has happened.”

“Tell me about it.”

And for the rest of slumber, I told Aunt Doris in our beautiful garden the reason all the weeds were in our field. …

“You want to start gardening,” she said.

“Yes, Aunt Doris, I really do….”