I was a victim of childhood sexual abuse in the mid 70's. And back then child abuse wasn't taken as serious as it is now. Back then family secrets such as abuse, was pushed in the back of the closet with hopes of it never exposing its ugly head. So instead of getting the help I needed, I was shunned by a inattentive mother and I fought a civil war inside my head, a war called depression. For years my life traveled a twisted path toward self-destruction. I attempted suicide and received treatment in a mental institution. Although I eventually realized...it wasn't my fault. I couldn't win the battle inside me. A battle that said I was worthless, a battle set out to claim my life for good. My faith in God dwindled, still I asked him why and got no answer. Even when I repeated my poem, "Who Has Live My Life?" and ultimately changed the life of one man just from reciting it...I asked why. Even as I moved into my apartment and everyday I left and came home there was a message on my voicemail for an author from a publisher I chuckled. "Lucky devil", I thought. What I would do to have someone publish my poetry. Still I waited for God to tell me why I was still alive. Meanwhile, Satan continued to beat me down, depression had me by the throat. Until finally I couldn't take it any longer and I fell to my knees and prayed for God to tell me what it was 'he wanted from me'. It was a final plea for my life, but I told him to come to me in physical form so that I was sure it was a word from Him and that I would do whatever it is he needed me to do. 3 days later a stranger approached me with a message from God. That stranger was able to tell me my prayer word-for-word, even where I was when I prayed. He told me that God had been trying to tell me for the longest that he wanted me to use the gift of writing he gave me, to help others come through their war with depression. The stranger promised me he was sent by God to make sure I wrote the book and then if I did so my life would make a drastic change for the better. But he assured me that once I finished my book, his purpose would be over and he would have to leave. So, "The Darkest Gray" was written and even though I had befriended the stranger named only as 'Cliff', when I finished the last page, he had disappeared as quickly as he had come into my life. When I called him I was told I had the wrong number by a voice foreign to me. To this day, I never saw or heard from Cliff again, and to this day...I have a new life!
For years my life traveled a twisted path toward self-destruction. I attempted suicide and received treatment in a mental institution. Although I eventually realized...it wasn't my fault.
I couldn't win the battle inside me. A battle that said I was worthless, a battle set out to claim my life for good. My faith in God dwindled, still I asked him why and got no answer.
Even when I repeated my poem, "Who Has Live My Life?" and ultimately changed the life of one man just from reciting it...I asked why. Even as I moved into my apartment and everyday I left and came home there was a message on my voicemail for an author from a publisher I chuckled. "Lucky devil", I thought. What I would do to have someone publish my poetry. Still I waited for God to tell me why I was still alive.
Meanwhile, Satan continued to beat me down, depression had me by the throat. Until finally I couldn't take it any longer and I fell to my knees and prayed for God to tell me what it was 'he wanted from me'. It was a final plea for my life, but I told him to come to me in physical form so that I was sure it was a word from Him and that I would do whatever it is he needed me to do.
3 days later a stranger approached me with a message from God. That stranger was able to tell me my prayer word-for-word, even where I was when I prayed.
He told me that God had been trying to tell me for the longest that he wanted me to use the gift of writing he gave me, to help others come through their war with depression. The stranger promised me he was sent by God to make sure I wrote the book and then if I did so my life would make a drastic change for the better. But he assured me that once I finished my book, his purpose would be over and he would have to leave.
So, "The Darkest Gray" was written and even though I had befriended the stranger named only as 'Cliff', when I finished the last page, he had disappeared as quickly as he had come into my life. When I called him I was told I had the wrong number by a voice foreign to me. To this day, I never saw or heard from Cliff again, and to this day...I have a new life!