Читать книгу Heartache to Healing - Sheron Jones - Страница 4

Memories from my earliest recollection are happy ones. My parents separated when I was four years old. However, around my brother and me, they were respectful and friendly towards each other. It was not until I was eight years old that the security I had always felt, came to a screeching halt. My father, whom I loved and adored more than words could explain, broke my heart. He disappeared from my life for almost five years, without so much as a phone call. It was during the time of my father’s absence, at the age of twelve, when a teenage neighbor, who I thought was a friend, violated me. He stole my innocence. This was an emotional setback, to say the least. This experience left me feeling powerless and ashamed, so I kept the incident a secret.

On the outside, I appeared to be a pleasant and outgoing, young girl. I participated in afterschool events and church activities. I always smiled, but it was a façade. I tried to keep control of my emotions by bottling things up inside, but that did not last long. During my teenage-years, the anger, hurt, and disappointment I had always tried to suppress-—came up. I became selfish and emotionally disconnected. I had a nonchalant attitude, tried to pretend like nothing bothered me, and that I did not need anyone, but that was far from the truth. I wanted to feel protected and loved. I just did not know how to express it, and I would not trust anyone. There were times, I went into my bathroom and cut myself to dull the emotional pain.

I hooked-up with the wrong kids in high school. By the age of fifteen, I was smoking cigarettes, drinking, sexually active, and in and out of school. This became a new and exciting time for me. I had lived a sheltered life prior to this. My mother was a strict disciplinarian. I was in church, at least, three times a week and because of our religious beliefs, there was no FM radio playing allowed in my home. I could not wear pants. In addition, going to the movies or parties with friends was out of the question! The parents of the girls I hung out with were the complete opposite. They did not care what time we came in at night, so I would run away from home to have the fun, I thought I was missing.

After hanging out with my friends for a couple of weeks, my wonderment of their freedom quickly turned into sympathy. All three of the girl’s parents were drug and alcohol abusers. One night, while I was sleeping on the couch at my friend’s house, her parent stole my belongings for drugs. My things were in a bag right next to me.

My friend’s ages ranged from thirteen to fifteen years old. The youngest girl, from my new group of friends, had a scar on her chin from her mother attempting to throw her out of the window. At my other friend’s house, there was an infestation of bugs and the utilities were off. Although I appreciated the kindness, food, and shelter, which all three girls extended to me, I had enough. I was ready to go back home.

After going back home, my behavior did not change. I just found another group of girls to hang out with. It was not until my best girlfriend, who was only fifteen years old, died from a gunshot to the neck, that I knew it was time for a change. I prayed to God for freedom from my old way of thinking. God answered my prayer. I began to see things differently. I no longer enjoyed hanging out in the streets. I began to care about my body, and I stopped taking my home for granted. I had run away, off-and-on, for about a year and through it all, God remained with me. He never allowed anyone to hurt me.

In 1993, two days after my sixteenth birthday, I met a young man named Kenyon at a nightclub for teenagers. Kenyon would become the love of my life, my best friend, fiancé, and eventually, my children’s father. Initially, I was not interested in a relationship with him because we lived in different states. However, after running into him the following month at the same place on Valentine’s Day, the connection we felt was undeniable, so we kept in touch. I had never met anyone like him. He was tall, good-looking, intelligent, and nice. He exemplified everything I felt I did not have. He was only a year and a half older than I was, but he was already preparing for his future after high school. Meanwhile, I was still cutting classes. Aside from all of his positive characteristics, he also brought out the best in me, and being around him made me want to be the person that he saw in me. Although we lived in different states, we surprisingly made it work. We not only ran up our parents’ phone bills with our long distance calls, we also travelled, by train, to see each other regularly. A little over a year after we had met, I found out that I was pregnant with our son.

Kenyon signed up to go straight into the military reserves after high school, and so we were apart for a few months. The night Kenyon came back from basic training, he surprised me with a marriage proposal and an engagement ring. By this time, I was eighteen and life was great. I was a mother and engaged to be married to my best friend— and son’s father. I could not have asked for anything more. Kenyon was not only a great dad to our son, but he showed me what love really is. He was kind, supported my dreams, took me out to different places, and taught me how to drive. He even bought me roses, which was new to me. Kenyon prioritized our family over everything else. A year or so, after our daughter was born, Kenyon left the college he attended and moved our family into an apartment.

We moved in February 1998 and started making serious plans to get married in September of that same year. Once a month, as part of his military duties, he left to participate in weekend drills. On Friday, May 1, 1998 before going to his drill, the strangest happened. As he was leaving, he stopped at the doorway and asked if I was going to miss him. I responded, somewhat sarcastically, “yes” (trying to hide the fact that I really would miss him). With a serious face and a voice that I will never forget, he responded, “I’m going to miss you, too.”

That Sunday, May 3, 1998, while cooking dinner and expecting Kenyon to walk through the door any minute, I received a phone call. Kenyon had died in a freak accident early that morning. My worse fear had come true. After, finally, feeling secure again, another man I loved was gone—without warning. I felt abandoned again. First, my father, now Kenyon had disappeared from my life. I had no idea how to process what was happening to me emotionally, nor psychologically. I went back to my childhood defense mechanism and pretended that it did not bother me. I was determined not to appear weak. I refused to go to a counselor. Although, I did try once, but I thought there was no point. Kenyon was gone and no one could bring him back. I did not want to deal with the reminder that he was gone, so regrettably, I also pulled away from his family.

After Kenyon’s death, I realized who my true friends were. When Kenyon was alive, I had plenty of friends. After he passed, some of my girlfriends told me that they had been jealous of my relationship with him. I had laughed with and, naively, shared my relationship problems with these same girls. The biggest blow came from one of my closest “friend” or so I thought. It had only been a couple of weeks since Kenyon’s death, when this friend called me. She could not wait to introduce me to the man she was dating. He, not only resembled Kenyon, but his name was also similar. What hurt the most was that she, continually, reminded me of how fine her boyfriend was—“just like Kenyon”. She would overly display affection with this person around me. Initially, some of my friends called to see how I was making it financially after Kenyon’s death, but slowly they drifted out of my life.

During this lonely time in my life, I tried communicating with the dead, through different methods. Engaging in these activities, whether through mediums, psychics, tarot-card readings, the Ouija board, or attempting to talk to the dead as if they are alive, is a huge mistake. I opened up a door to the demonic realm, which took me many years to close. I was not communicating with Kenyon, but demonic spirits imitated my beloved. Demonic spirits are real, and once you let them in, you subject yourself and your family to all types of torment. I went from one bad state to a worse one.

Depressed and confused by how my life had gone from one point to another in a matter of seconds, I could no longer take proper care of my children. They were fed and clean, but there was little interaction between my children and me. They watched television and movies, while I slept and sulked in the apartment. They did not deserve to suffer with me, so my mother helped me with my children. Eventually, they went to stay with their other grandmother for a while. I thank God that I had two wonderful people that gave my children a good life, while I was not able.

Soon, after experiencing misplaced guilt and believing that it was unfair that Kenyon had died, I made a conscious decision not to enjoy life. I felt like it should have been me the one to die. Therefore, in his memory, I decided to remain miserable. I subconsciously kept that mindset for many years. I lived about forty-five minutes from where my mom lived, and since all of my close friends had disappeared from my life, I was completely alone. Two of my cousins, Della and Aisha, as well as my god-sister, Tynisha tried to reach out, but I did not want to appear lonely, so I closed-up and suffered in silence.

If you are going through the loss of a loved one, please do not make the same mistakes I made. Get help and reach out to others—family or friends. It is better to be around people and talk about your feelings, instead of internalizing the pain. There is no way for us to bring our deceased loved ones back, but we do an injustice to their memory when we stop living life. You might be surprised at the number of people stuck at the grief stage, years and years after losing a loved one. Instead of thinking about the time we miss our loved ones, let us thank God for the gifts that He placed in our lives and for the time we enjoyed them.

It is not easy to move on. You never get over losing those you love. Emotions will, consistently, resurface when anniversaries or birthdays come up, and that is okay. However, do not get stuck in the grieving period, your loved ones would not want that for you. What would make your loved ones happy is to know that you are making the most out life and living to the fullest. If you are struggling with the passing of someone you cared for, hang in there, you`re going to make it through this. Talk to Jesus, and be honest about your feelings. He is listening. Always keep in mind what Jesus said in Matthew 5:3, “Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.”

In 1999, I met a group of girls who I knew were trouble. I share this story to help anyone reading this who thinks they can hang around whomever they want with no consequences. The Bible tells us that, “Evil communications corrupt good manners” (I Corinthians 15:33). It also says, “How can two walk together except they agree” (Amos 3:3). One night I went out with a guy, whom I met through my new friends. He took me to a party where I saw lines of cocaine everywhere. I saw people sprawled about and passed out all over the place. At that point in my life, I was very judgmental and had zero respect for drug addicts. Just the thought of doing drugs repulsed me. I couldn’t understand how anybody could be so stupid to ever try something they knew could mess-up their lives. I had no problem declining the cocaine. We stayed for a few more minutes and left that party.

I went back to my friend’s house with this same guy. The strangest thing happened next. A group of us, from our late teens to early twenties, sat around talking. Eventually, someone pulled out a bag of cocaine. Instantly, everyone in the room jumped up. Everyone was fighting to do the little amount of cocaine left in the bag, including me. That was the first time I can recall being in an atmosphere controlled by a demonic spirit. I know that ninety percent of us in the room had never even tried cocaine before. We had no idea what we were doing. I had just turned down a massive amount of cocaine twenty minutes earlier, without a second thought!

It is important to be careful with whom you hang around. The first time your guard is down, the Enemy will overtake you. Do not be fooled, if you are not saved, though the grace of God covers you from certain things, you are still enslaved by the power of the Enemy. Once you legally open the door to the Enemy, there is little God will do.

I had lived in my apartment building for a year, but it was not until I started using cocaine that I met a woman who lived in my complex. She also used cocaine and showed me where I could get it. If that was not bad enough, within a month or two, another woman, moved right across the hall from me, and she supplied not only cocaine, but pills, as well. I was only twenty- two years old, and felt hopeless. I started dating guys I would have never looked at twice in the past. I hated myself. I could not get out of the rut I had gotten myself into.

Thankfully, God intervened. One evening, I met a young woman of my age, Iesha, and her husband. They had just moved into an apartment downstairs from me. She was truly a God-sent, and though, she was only in my life for a season, I could never explain it in words what her friendship meant to me. I prayed for a friend and God sent one. Although she did not know it, she saved my life. We, instantly, clicked. Iesha and I were inseparable and she even included me in activities with her family. We talked and laughed, sometimes all night. We often talked about God and the Bible.

I was twenty-two years old, and finally, I began to feel like life was worth living again. I started a new job and took an interest in my appearance once again. Whenever Iesha was around, I did not use drugs. She knew what I did, but never made me feel like she was better than I was. Of course, the other two women did not like her, but I did not care. Being friends with Iesha, provided the balance that I needed.

Be careful who let into your life because Satan will definitely send people, who I call assassins, to destroy you. The good news is that God will also place people in our lives. The first woman I had met from my apartment complex, eventually, moved to a different state a few months after I met Iesha. After only living in the apartment building for four months, the second woman also moved away. In December of that year, Iesha and her husband moved, and my lease was up in February. I thank God for my friend, Iesha. I am sure if God had not placed her in my life at that time, I would have lost my mind or worse, I could have died. God has a plan for every area of our lives. There is nothing too hard for Him. When it seems like everything is breaking loose in your life, give it over to Jesus. In Matthew 11:28, Jesus said: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”