"When we own the story, we can write a brave new ending."

I was raped. 

There. I said it. But it doesn't feel good to say - not that it should "feel good" to say. It certainly isn't easy to say either. I say it quietly and with hesitation - almost as if I should be ashamed that it happened, but why? Why do I feel ashamed of something I had no control over; why am I ashamed that my "no" wasn't good enough? 

What if I had fought harder?

What if I had screamed? 

What if I haven't allowed myself to be isolated with this person?

What about my conversation could have been changed so he wouldn't see me as his next victim?

Victim. I hate that word and refused to be labeled as such. In this moment - I take back my life. In this moment I am overcoming my best kept secret from a night of regrets and "what ifs" because the thing is that this person made a decision to take my choice from me. This person took away my right to  "no!" 

As the night replays like a nightmare in my dreams I am haunted by that simple question of why...

18 years old and attending a friend's birthday party - I had decided to sleep over. It seemed safe - everyone was sleeping over. What I didn't expect was to be woken up by someone I had known so well, drunk, and forceful. 

No! 

No! 

Stop!  No! 

At this point I am crying. I'm fighting. He was stronger. 

Just like that - Something I had decided to save until marriage was stolen. I was broken. What's worse - he denied it happened. 

For whatever reason, I told myself it didn't happen too - until I couldn't escape the hurt and brokenness. It happened. And it sucked. I blamed myself and decided to keep it a secret. Eventually telling my closest friends as years passed by. I thought I had dealt with the issue - but I hadn't. Randomly the moment would replay in my mind and suddenly I would experience the event all over again. 

I was broken. 

Finally, I went to a women's retreat. After hearing from the speaker - I was wrecked. She had been through similar things and her story was powerful. I decided to speak to her about what I had gone through. She said these words:

"You were raped. What happened to you was real. It happened. Your choice was taken in that moment - but you know what wasn't? Your purity." 

Like weight lifted off my shoulders. That wasn't considered my "first time" because it wasn't my choice. 

I felt better that day - but guilt and shame still found a way to creep into my life again. No sooner than I came to terms with being raped, I had also come to terms with my abusive marriage. Only one heartache at a time. So I pushed that event back again - like there is some sort of quota on the amount of grief one person can experience. I decided I would feel better if I just never thought about it. Again, living like it had never happened. 

That brings me to a few months ago. I went out with my friends and a guy felt like he had the right to touch my body - and I was filled with rage. I most definitely followed him, yelling along the way that he can't just touch whomever he wants - and using a few other choice words as he scurried away. This time I didn't keep quiet. Encouraged by friends, I told security. It was my mission to handle it - I  would not keep quiet. 

As I continued to process through that moment - I realized the anger I had felt was because he felt like he had rights to my body - just like that "friend" felt he had several years prior. I faced it - and I was angry; a stage of grief I had previously never allowed myself to feel.

Thoughts of the recent event, coupled with being raped a few years prior had consumed my thoughts. I wanted to scream - or do anything other than be completely silent. 

So that's what brings me here...where I am calm, rational, and can make those thoughts and feelings into some sort of sense.

I am here, writing this,  because if every experience I've gone through were to stay hidden, then they would have been for nothing. But if one person can read these words, realize this wasn't their fault, tell someone, and seek help - then this was worth it. People learn from the experiences of others. They grow. They get better. 

I also realized that I had refused to take this pain to God because I could barely even admit it happened to myself. I prayed. I prayed for healing, strength, comfort, peace - and that God would use my voice and the story I have. I prayed that this would just be another story I have overcome, and that through it all I would continue to have that joy and passion for life He has placed so deeply in my heart. 

I smiled. I felt better. 

I'm not a victim anymore; I'm free. I'm transparent - and finally talking about this feels so incredibly good. As I sit here, crying, and ready to post this huge part of my life for the world to see...I feel strong. 

We heal when we become transparent. We find community and new ways to deal with the devastating reality of the tragedy we have suffered. 

We get better. I feel better. Thank you, Jesus. <3

-jennilea. 

"Your voice will save you."

"Authentic love does not devalue another human being" - Brooke Axtell 

Before Katy Perry's emotional Grammy performance of "By The Grace of God," Brooke Axtell, sex trafficking and domestic violence survivor and activist, gave probably the most heartwrenching and real speach.  With intense passion and desperation, she spoke out:  "Authentic love does not devalue another human being. Authentic love does not silence, shame or abuse. If you're in a relationship with someone who does not honor or respect you, I want you to know you are worthy of love. Please reach out for help."

Her speech, coupled with Perry's performance, left me speechless and in this ocean of emotion.  I related to everything - and I know I'm not alone in that.  I started researching the lyrics to "By The Grace of God."  This is the first song I've felt connected to - that described what I've been through in such a real way.

"Was full of secrets locked up tight...Running on empty so out of gas."  Yes.  When you're in this place where you feel like you can't speak - there is no one to talk to about what you're facing because you've sort of alienated yourself from people.  It felt like I'd be a burden, or I feared their reaction if I didn't do what they thought I should do (knowing their advice was best for me - even if it wasn't easy).  After a while, you're just worn;  Tired of keeping secrets and going through it alone.  You feel lost and trapped.  I felt like this was my life - a product of my decisions and I deserved what I was getting. On top of that, I was constantly told it was my fault as it was happening. At some point, you just start believing it. 

"Thought I wasn't enough.  Found I wasn't so tough.  Layin' on the bathroom floor."  This line spoke to me the most because it literally did replay a story to me:

*Warning - this story is graphic*

One night, he was drinking. I thought the best idea would be for me to sleep. That way, he couldn't get upset - he wouldn't think I was nagging if I asked him to slow down. I just thought it would be better for everyone.  He woke me up anyway, and was furious. He had found one of my "I love Mr. Pickles" T-Shirts from when I had worked there for a few months.  He was insisting that Mr. Pickles was this real person who I was seeing behind his back.  He choked me as I laid on the bed, then kicked me off onto the ground where he continued to hit, kick, and choke me again.  He finally walked away, and I found a hiding place, for the first time:  The bathroom floor.  It was the only room in the house with a lock, and as he banged on the door, I was lying on the floor praying he wouldn't break through as I made my first 911 call for help.  I truly believe if I didn't call them, I would not have made it through that night.  He began banging on the door even harder as he realized what I was doing - screaming all kinds of names and profanities at me.  Suddenly, it stopped.  I sat there in tears on the phone with the operator who stayed on the line with me the whole time, and advised I don't leave the bathroom, even to open the door for the police because we had no idea if he was in the household at that point.  

I heard a knock on the bathroom door.  I was shaking as I quietly answered, "Yes?"  I held my breath as I awaited the response.  "This is the police, we're here to help you."  I let out a huge sigh and just started bawling.  I was safe.  I was going to be okay.  

They spoke to me about domestic violence and gave me paperwork on different programs that could help me.  

I didn't take their advice that day.  I should have, but I didn't.  He always had a way of making me believe he would be better - that he would be different.

If anyone else finds themselves in this position - please take their advice.  Get help.  Get out.

Which brings me to the next line of the song:

"By the grace of God - I picked myself back up.  I put one foot in front of the other and I looked in the mirror and decided to stay."

Each time something happened, the only way I know I was able to continue moving forward was by the grace of God.  He carried me through every outburst, every incident. It was in His perfect love that I was able to find any sort of joy in life. 

"Now every morning, there is no more mourning. I can finally see myself again."

So much truth. I don't have those mornings where I wake up feeling such complete brokenness. I don't have to question why I'm still living. Instead, I feel freedom, peace, and a real passion and excitement for life again. I feel like myself rather than as if I were fighting each day for normalcy - just to make it through one more night. I don't have to search for the silver linings and happiness; It's there already as I see God working all throughout my life - healing every piece that was shattered. 
"I know I am enough. Possible to be loved. It was not about me. Now I have to rise above...the truth'll set you free."

I am enough. God bought me (and all of us) at such a high price. We are all so precious and deserving of a Christ-like love. We are worth dying for. I am worth dying for. 

Now I can take these horror stories I lived though, be open and real about them, and allow God to use my life and my story to help bring other to freedom. 

In freedom, I am no longer a victim, I am an overcommer and there is such beauty that has come out of the brokenness of what I have overcome. 

If you have gone through or are currently going through something like this - I know it's not easy to speak up in what your going through, but please know, just as Brooke Axtell said, "your voice will save you." Talk to someone, anyone. Get help. Life can be so much better than the nightmare you've been living. 

I encourage you to check out the article I read, which gave an incredible overview of the heart of Brooke Axtell's message and Katy Perry's performance: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2945421/Domestic-violence-survivor-sex-trafficked-7-year-old-Texas-male-nanny-gives-speech-alongside-Katy-Perry-Grammys.html 

Rise up. Get help. Speak out. 

-jennilea