She was alone, felt oh so alone, and depressed and couldn’t see the hope for her future. She was born into an upper middle class family and from the outside it looked like they had it all. Nice home and cars, pool, good schools, lived on the golf course, great friends, who wouldn’t want to be her? But it felt like it was all an act.
Her Dad was an alcoholic and a workaholic so he was never home. Her Mom had it with his affairs. When he wasn’t working, he was at the bars with his mistress or at her home with her kids. They rarely had a meal with Dad, never during the week, sometimes on the weekend.
Her Mom did all of her motherly duties but she became more and more distant. She was dealing with her own problems in her marriage. She did everything she could to keep her family together and make a home. But she had a broken heart. This girl had two brothers who were very close and she felt like the odd one out.
She began experimenting with drugs and alcohol. She didn’t care for alcohol but it was so easy to pop a pill and feel better. She became hooked on uppers (amphetamines). She became so hooked that it affected her central nervous system. Every night she had to pop downers just so she could sleep.
She became almost anorexic due to the uppers. She ate very little but every night her mom would make her eat dinner. She was never hungry due to the little white pills she popped.
She always wanted to make sure that she had a boyfriend because if she did, that meant someone wanted her. She was so insecure and broken. She didn’t know who she was or why she was here. She became reclusive at home, her brothers would talk and hang out, her mom would watch TV alone and she would retreat to her room.
The night she tried to kill herself, she was home alone and the emptiness engulfed her. She began to numb herself through alcohol and pills and as she drank, she began to write her farewell note to her family. She told them she loved them and was sorry but she just didn’t have a reason to go on. Her mom was gone for the weekend and of course her dad wasn’t home. Her brother came in late that night, from a party, and found her conked out on the couch with the half written note on her chest. He got her to the emergency room where they pumped her stomach.
She was not the only one in her family to attempt suicide. She remembers that horrific day she came home from school. Dad was home! She got a smile on her face, Wow! Dad’s home. She happily marched into the house but as she clamored upstairs, she realized something was horribly wrong. Her mom was lying in bed with her father pacing the floor. “What’s wrong with Mom? She wants to die. What? You called the ambulance, right? NO, she wants to die”. That’s when she went berserk and freaked out. It was bad enough that her mom wanted to leave her, but her Dad was willing to let her? Her mother lived, Thank God, but the wound of her father agreeing to let her die was etched in her heart. Proof that her mother was unimportant. Proof that she was unimportant. You see, in their family, and in their extended family, women were less than. The men were high and the women were low. Her aunt actually succeeded in killing herself. She was not important either.
Her life became so unmanageable that one-day, she got down on her hands and knees and cried out to God. She felt worthless, unimportant; she had no idea who she was. The man who could have told her, her dad, never did. So she looked to other men to validate her. But this day she looked to God. Not that she really knew Him. She believed in Him but they certainly didn’t have a relationship and she really didn’t think that her unimportant life was worth His time, but she was desperate. She arose from that heart wrenching prayer, a new creation in Christ. She felt different. She was different. As the days passed and as she began to read His Word regularly, and talk with her new Best Friend through prayer, He began to reveal to her that He made her for a purpose. He actually likes who He made her to be. She is important to Him. He has plans for her and together they would fulfill them. She had been looking to the men in her life to define who she was and that she was important. But really, the only One who can reveal that to a person is her Maker.
That young girl was me but I speak of her in the third person because I am not that girl anymore. I am a new creation in Christ, the old is gone and the new has come. And as Joyce Meyer says, I’m not where I want to be but thank God, I’m not where I used to be. He has told me who I am, I am His Girl. If God be for me then who can be against me? The same place that He has comforted me; I now have the privilege of comforting others in helping them to see their importance in His Story (History). We all have a part in His Story, and only we can play our part. No else can take your place.