What I would learn years later is that what happens when a protective like shield supposed to be kept there by your earthly father, gets removed when you are sexually abused by him, well, it changes your sexual DNA. Your blueprint for sex and intimacy and love is forever changed. You might seek it in 100 wrong places, but you keep trying. You see, we are made for love. A father’s love. And The Father’s love. But all that is hindered when you are hurt so deeply by those you trust most. Why couldn’t I find something to fill this painful black hole in my chest that only wanted to be filled with love. Normalcy. What is normal? I don’t think I have ever known. Maybe no one really does. Maybe this is just how life feels. I didn’t know any different. So I continued on in my attempts to feel better. Traveling by myself to Europe at age 24 because it seemed like the thing to do, be like my mother, who started traveling a lot when I was 15. But that is another story for another chapter.
So, where was I? Oh yes, back to the story in Michigan. Being deserted tore into an area of my heart and mind that was so full of fear it felt like paranoia. I was scared he would come back and hurt me which really made no sense, he ran off to be with another woman. I just plain felt really really scared all the time. What I now know is that I was triggered back to a time when I was hurt as a young child. I had PTSD and didn’t even know it. Traumas so deep it was like they were buried alive. In my subconscious. Yes, that’s right, the information is always there, it is just a matter of getting to it. I would not have believed this sort of thing had I not experienced it myself over the past 3 years.
Desertion. Abandonment. Rejection. Of course my parents were about to leave for a trip to Africa at the time, so they could not come, but my sweet sister flew out and stayed with me for a few days, while I recovered from anal surgery. Yep, you read that right, anal surgery. I figured as long as I was in Michigan still, where there was a famous colon rectal surgeon I might as well get the anal fissure and tearing issue taken care of. An analectomy? They released part of the muscles in my anal sphincter. Great. Now I would not be able to control it if I were to “pass gas” but at least when I would use the bathroom, I would no longer get tearing. Yep, my friend’s had always said I was anal retentive. Well, no more!
So, enough about my backside. But it is relevant to this story, you see apparently one of the signs of pudendal nerve issues was constipation. Constipation, difficulty using tampons, and anxiety. It was like some pieces of a puzzle were beginning to be put together for me, that day in the OB GYN’s office. She specialized in pelvic pain, so she seemed to have a lot of questions that related to my life experiences. It felt really strange and yet gave me a sense of relief all at the same time. Maybe someone could understand my health problems, finally. Finally.
For years, plagued with Fibromyalgia like symptoms of constipation, widespread pain, constipation, oh yeah I already said that, food allergies, and itchy painful eyes… well the list could go much further, but you get the idea. Maybe someone actually had a diagnoses. But actually she didn’t really diagnose me, except to say that my pelvic floor had tender spots. It was dysfunctional. Great, dysfunctional. Yep, that was me. Old dysfunctional Paula. One marriage had not worked out, so here I was with a broken vagina, which felt like it would ruin the second marriage.
Going through the last seven years of grief has caused me to seek the Lord continually to save me. In some ways He did and in other ways he didn’t.Guess I am in good company, after all look at the sufferings of John the Baptist, Saul and Peter. They were continually beaten down for the cause of Christ. And look at what Jesus himself went through, the only son of God! Walking out this journey of faith, I knew there was no other way out than through. The prophecies that I received through members of Gateway church cannot be overemphasized enough, how they gave me hope and carried me through. They spoke words that gave me hope because they were infused with God himself. They helped me look forward to the next day, that things could be different. That the nightmare of physical and emotional pain could and would end. As I sit here and write, it still is not completely over, but I know if He has brought me this far He won’t fail me now, that is not love. To be continued…