"Do One Thing That Scares You Every Day"

"Do One Thing That Scares You Every Day"

I saw this quote today randomly during my quest to find a new job. I stopped and stared at it. I realized how much I've changed lately given a little quiet time and a lot less stress. It's amazing what that will do for a person. Now don't get me wrong, I really do need a day job and I am taking the search seriously. I can see you shaking your head. Why the heck would someone be blogging when she should be out on every website possible making connections, taking the same "Prove It!" Test for another agency, pounding the literal and figurative pavement until something comes her way? 
I can say for certain that I've been doing my best. This is a lousy time of year to find a job, but I've been assured that January will be the answer I've been waiting for so we shall see what happens. In the meantime, I'm going back to that quote because there is only one thing that truly scares me, which is opening up on my blog and sharing my own story. Putting myself out here is terrifying and so much worse than putting my fiction stories on a page. You probably think that's crazy because I love to write, but it's so hard to be vulnerable  Because sometimes, life is terrifyingly undeniably messy.  It's so, so much easier to hide behind the thing that makes you vulnerable. To show concern and compassion for others, while inside you're a mess too. To help people through hard times even though you've been there too, yet you're too afraid to admit it. I've gotten emails from readers telling me that I understood what it was like to be an assault survivor and encapsulated that so well into this character i'd created. Of course I did. Because the truth is, I am an assault survivor too. 
I was a college student. It happened once, in the dead of night. I couldn't move as I was in shock. It was terrifying and life changing and the worst part was, he was like a brother to me. 
I felt alienated and alone. The whole thing ripped a hole through my family. The only person who truly stood up for me from the beginning was my boyfriend (who became my husband much later). His family, in their own way, treated me better than my own. I felt like I was in the middle of a really bad lifetime movie but I was living it. 
I was in the middle of this new reality where everyone took pity on the guy i'd accused. The cops couldn't get anything out of him. I was a mess. A total, total mess. At the end of the mess, six months later, I was given a polygraph test. I had to prove to people that were supposed to love me unconditionally that I was telling the truth. It still disgusts me that I was forced into taking this test but I did, not for me or for the people who were asking me to do it, but for a child who would one day ask questions about their father. I didn't want that child to wonder. Had it not been for that child, there is no way I would have subjected myself to the scrutiny or answering the very personal questions asked by a skeptical stranger. 
I remember when the results were read. It felt like the whole world had finally come back into orbit. I wanted to laugh but also to cry. The truth was out there. In the open. I was finally free. 
The weird truth was, I had not only found my freedom but had found God in the process. See, people often ask about how you found God or how you know that he is real. I usually just give a half-baked answer like I never questioned it. That I always just "knew". That's only half-true. I knew God from the time I was a little girl but as a teen, he became latent, like this mystical guy hanging around in the background of my life, hindering in the shadows, just waiting for me to call on Him. I didn't pray often. I never went to church. I knew he was out there. That was something I never really questioned, but I figured I was doing fine on my own. It took me being unable to move, literally in shock of what was happening for me to pray. It wasn't my first resort. I tried to stop it physically, but my body had literally shut down. I literally couldn't move. I could only focus on noise around me. Anything not to be in my own body actually feeling what was happening. I was completely numb and terrified. There was absolutely nothing I could do. With tears welling up on my throat and without the capacity to move an inch, I prayed. I prayed hard. And in the exact moment, at the exact instant I prayed for God to make it to stop, it did. It was over. Instantaneously. Like a lightning bolt. I don't even know the word, but it was faster than an instant. Like the exact nano-second, I prayed for it to stop, it did. I still couldn't move physically but something inside of me did. God had been there the whole time and was with me even then in my absolute darkest moment. 
From that moment on, I knew I had to make a mark on the world. I had to find a way to tell victims that it wasn't their fault. I'd read some fiction books targeted at teens that dealt with rape. Usually, the main characters were weak and broken but I wanted to know what more there was to their story. Sure, at the end they usually stood up for themselves despite all the odds, but I felt like their story defined them. The assault took the center stage. I wanted to know what happened after that. Could they find love? Could they still be strong, despite everything? So, I invented a character and built her a story. I never dyed my hair or painted my room black like my main character and her story has nothing to do with my own, but, the emotions are not only hers, they were mine, which is why I think people relate to it and that is a really cool feeling. I heard all those stories of victim-blaming and decided that teens needed a book to know it wasn't their fault. In most of the stories I read, it was implied. No one actually came out and told the teen that it wasn't their fault, so I made sure that in my book, someone said those exact words.  
So, in a weird way, had it not been for my assault, I probably would not have found God in such a powerful way. And I wouldn't have found a reason to write No Man Sam or be at work on my next novel and I probably wouldn't have become a writer at all. It is not our scars that define us. It is what we choose to do with those scars to help others that does. 
I was afraid for a very long time that by telling my story that people would look at me with pity. I don't want to be pitied and if you do pity me, there is a very good chance that I won't want to hang out with you. That's not to be spiteful, I just don't want or need your pity. I am strong. I have a great life. I'm happy and excited and so thankful for whatever the future holds. 
I have an amazing husband and have learned to forgive and be stronger as a result of my past. I am unashamed. The reality is, everyone has a story and skeletons in their own closets. Behind the mask we all try to wear is something we wish we could change or something we regret. I challenge you to take some minutes of today to figure out what has happened to your scars. If you're too afraid to let them show right now, it's cool. I get that. But consider this: we are all connected. We all experience pain and joy and sadness and sometimes when you share your scars and show them to the world, that can make others feel a little less alone. This world is made for love and compassion. Your scars are there, regardless, so let them be a source of pride instead of shame. Let your scars be a light to the world instead of something you try to hide away! 
This was the thing that scared me the most, but now it is done. I am not ashamed of my past. I am so thankful that I had the chance to tell my story. Thank you for reading my story and I encourage you to share you to share yours. In your own way, on your own time. It's scary as hell, but remember, no one can tell your own story but you.  
2015 will soon be over. My goal for the next year is to live with fearless ambition. Thank you for being a part of my story and I hope this blog will inspire you to share your story with someone you trust...you don't have share your scars with the world and post it on a blog like me...only a crazy person would do that! :-)  
I wish you a happy and healthy 2016! May this be your very best year yet!!