Struggles Make You Stronger

   I was hesitant to start a blog because I wasn't sure how consistent I’d be with it. But after much thought, I thought that I would at least give it a try. I hope that some of my posts will bring encouragement to you as well as remind you how great our God is.

Struggles Make You Stronger. Some of you may be thinking and questioning the statement I just made. How do your struggles make you stronger? Maybe you've heard that expression before and actually believe it yourself. I am going to use my own personal experiences to explain how my struggles that I have gone through have made me a stronger person.

I have always grown up in a strong, Christian home all of my life. I have always been told about who Jesus is and what He did on the cross for me. In fact, I gave my life to the Lord when I was just four years old. Another thing that I grew up knowing was that I was adopted. I thought it was the coolest thing to be adopted! However, at my young age, I didn't really know what adoption was so I was okay with it.

When I was between the ages of 2-4 years old, my dad had his first stroke. This wasn't the only one he would be having. My dad was a smoker. I don't really remember him smoking because I was so young, but I do remember the one stroke he had that changed all of our lives. That "one stroke" left my dad paralyzed on the left side of his body. He also suffered major brain damage. I remember being so scared of my dad. His behavior was unpredictable and at any moment his mood could change from happy to being extremely angry. Sometimes he would yell ugly things at my sisters and me. I will never forget one thanksgiving afternoon my sister Veronica and I took my dad back to his assisted living place. He asked my sister to help him change clothes and she told him that she didn't have time. She threw him a pair of shorts and he began yelling at her. I remember standing in the doorway and watching his face turn red as he yelled to her that she was a worthless piece of junk. I watched in horror as my sister broke down and started crying hysterically. She grabbed my hand and jerked me towards the door. Just thinking about it now triggers the emotions and flashbacks that I had in those moments. I remember him threatening to kill us. As a four year old hearing those words, I remember being terrified.I was too young to understand that because of the strokes he had, his thinking wasn't reality. My thoughts I had of my daddy began to change from loving him to being scared of him and hating him, little did I know that I was watching him slowly die right before my eyes.

I grew up in a school called Christian Heritage. It is for K-12th grade. I was very sheltered there and did enjoy my elementary years. I had such a wild imagination when I was younger. In kindergarten, I told my class mates that I killed a lion with my bare hands and that the members of the tribe in Africa put me on their shoulders in celebration saying "ALL HAIL KATHERINE ANNE!" I also told them that my grandmother was pregnant (she was quite a large woman). The best part was, they believed me!

My mom raised my sisters and me. She and my dad divorced when I was 3 I think. She gave everything she had to raise us into godly women. She would do anything for us, and would still do it for us today.

 When I entered middle school, I thought that I owned the school and everyone in it. My friends and I would roam around the school like it was our palace or something. They looked up to me to make all the decisions because I was their leader. Middle school was the worst years of my life. I have always seeked for attention, but during my seventh grade year I took it too far. Someone came up to me and told me that I was doing all this bad stuff because I wanted attention. It was partially true, but I didn't want to admit it. Instead, I wrote this girl a nasty letter and had all my friends sign it. Next thing I knew, I was pulled into the principal’s office and was suspended. All of my friends who signed the letter got ISS.

I was also very self conscious. I had people make fun of me because my ears stuck out. I was told that I wasn't pretty and that I wasn't smart. I had surgery to correct my ears, but that didn't solve the other things I was taunted about. I decided one night that I was going to try to starve myself.

My mom became concerned and started telling me some of the effects that not eating would have on me. I eventually stopped that and moved onto something else. I didn't realize at the time the true reasons why I did the things I did. One day, a friend of mine walked up to me with a grin on her face and whispered to me "Guess what I did?" I looked at her and obviously asked her what she had done. She then took me down the hall of the church we were in and lifted up her sleeve. I saw two deep cuts in the shape of an "x" on her wrist. I was horrified! I asked her why she did that. I was actually very concerned about her. My relationship with God was inseparable then so I didn't know how to respond. I don't remember what else she told me that night, but I went home thinking "well if she does it, why shouldn't I?" I started cutting that night. I remember how much it hurt still to this day. I started cutting because I thought it was cool. That soon turned into more cuts and deeper ones. I was proud of it too! I didn't realize at the time, but I was and had been crying out for help. I used cutting as an escape route. It helped me focus on the pain of the knife and not on the pain of what was going on inside of me. This turned into thoughts of suicide. I began wondering if others would care if I died, if anyone would miss me.

Because of my cutting and suicidal thoughts, I was sent to two lock downs; both times for two weeks. I remember the first one that I went to very well and not for good reasons. The only real difference between these lock downs and jail are that you don't sleep in cells or have to wear uniforms. There was a little more freedom. I remember the first meeting that I had with my parents face to face. I was such a dishonest person back then, they didn't know what to believe or not believe. I left that room so angry! I decided that I would re open my fresh cut that I had made a few days before to deal with the stress. Well a staff member saw this and reported it. Within seconds, a tall African American woman grabbed me and pushed me onto a mattress and said "You go right ahead and pick at that. I don't care!" Then she turned to the staff and said something along the lines of "let her do whatever she wants. Let her bleed, I don't care!" I had to sleep in the hall that night. I felt extreme anger towards this woman. That wouldn't be the last encounter that I had with her. Early that next morning she told me to go sit in the hall and that I'd be there until she said I could go.

 I sat on that cold hard floor for eleven hours straight. So much anger was boiling inside of me and I literally wanted to kill that woman! She would walk up to me, stare into my eyes, ocasionally laugh, act like she was going to talk to me and then walk off. It was pure torture and I was definitely mistreated there. She was doing this on purpose. If you were in this group of people that had to sit and have no freedom, the staff had the right to choose what you ate. Most of the time, they could even get the nastiest things on the menu and make you eat it. Finally I got to go back to the rest of the group. These teens were there for various reasons. Some were homicides, suicidal attempts, drugs and other things.

While you were here, they would also do a medical evaluation. I think they would personally put you on meds just for the heck of it. They od'd me on one of the medications so much that I couldn't get up out of the floor, I couldn't talk, and I began throwing up. My parents and youth minister came to visit me that night. Visitors were not allowed behind closed doors, so they never got to see what really went on behind the doors. They locked me in the elevator and I went to the main floor. I saw my family outside the door, but no staff had come down with me, so there was no way to unlock the door. I began banging on the door trying to get someone’s attention. I was still OD’d on the medication and began feeling like I was going to pass out. All of a sudden, as I was about to collapse, a guy came out of nowhere and dragged me into a bathroom. Again I started throwing up. I didn't ever know if I was going to be able to see my family, they were right outside the doors, but I couldn't reach them. Finally, I was let through the doors and my eyes met with my parents and youth minister. I was finally able to sit beside them and be in reaching distance. I got to talk to them for a minute, but then was lead back upstairs. I entered the room where the other teens were. I met eyes with this guy (I will keep his name anonymous) and he came over and talked to me. He had me wrapped around his finger and he tried to take advantage of me. The staff's response to him was "don't get caught." It was by God's grace that nothing happened.

 As I continued to stay there, they put me on another medicine that made me hallucinate. I couldn't walk straight. I remember hearing the staff talking about me and laughing at me. I was helpless. I felt like I had no control, but I was at peace. I remember the staff talking about moving me "downstairs" and feeling fear. That's where all the heavy gang members were and those that would have to stay longer. I was terrified. I remember daily having to pass them to get to another part of the building and how they would yell things at us and were very intimidating. I begged God to let me out of this place. I promised him that I would be good. The next day, I was discharged. I was so relieved. I knew that if I had've had to stay that I would have been beaten up by the group of girls down there.

I lasted maybe another week before I decided to run away. I didn't feel loved or respected, so I took my dog (I knew for a fact that he loved me) and ran. I didn't know where I was going, I was just simply escaping. I walked a few miles and then slid off the edge of a cliff like thing. There was like a dent in the mud where I easily fitted into. I began brainstorming about how I was going to end my life. I had tears streaming down my face as I thought how much I didn't want to end my life, but that I felt it was the only solution. I questioned whether people were searching for me, if anyone noticed that I was gone, or even loved me. My dog sensed my emotions and crawled close to me. I was shivering and he laid on top of me and rested his head on my shoulder. I knew that he loved me.

I had stolen my mom's cell phone before I ran away and turned it on. There were messages from family and friends crying hysterically and begging me to come home. They didn't know where I was. All they knew was that I had called a friend of mine early that morning to tell her that I was ending my life. The phone battery was dying quickly. As I was about to call someone, my youth minister's phone number popped up on the screen of the phone. I questioned whether to answer it and after much hesitation I answered. His voice was stern and he asked me where I was. I refused to tell him. We continued this cycle for a while, but he eventually convinced me to climb back up the cliff and head to the nearest light. I remember him saying to me "Just put one foot in front of the other!" He was so encouraging. Not even two minutes later, two police cars rounded the corner and saw me. I questioned if I should run, but decided not to. I knew they could probably out run me, and personally I was glad to be found. Next thing I know I hear brakes slamming as my sister and brother in law rounded the corner. My sister jumped out of her car and ran to me. She wrapped her arms around me and began crying. I then knew that I was loved.

Both of the policemen checked to see if I had anything on me and then put me in the back of their car. I dreaded that trip back home. I knew I would be facing my whole family. He escorted me to the door and opened it. Instantly my mom's eyes met with mine. She had no color what so ever and her eyes were swelling because she had been crying so much. I have never felt more humiliated in my life. I then met eyes with my whole family and then their anger began pouring out. They yelled at me and threatened to send me back to the lock down that I had already been to. I remember my sister turning to me and saying "I will carry you up this cliff, but I won't if you are going to kick and scream!"  She also told me that she couldn't imagine life without me and that she didn't want to. I definitely didn't feel loved then. I obviously now realize that they were just concerned and scared for me.

A few days later, I was sent to another lock down. This one I was actually treated like a person and was respected. I didn't have to worry about being treated like a dog. Yes, it was a lock down, but I was respected. I spent two weeks here. My parents came to see me a few times, and I enjoyed getting to see them. It's so lonely in places like that. You feel so empty, afraid, and alone. Since I still had problems with lying, my parents still did not believe some of the things I had been telling them. These people did. They believed me and I was relieved. Defax was called in and the issue was finally resolved. I eventually got out of there and headed back home.

A few weeks later I was sent to Second Nature Wilderness Program. I lived in the woods for a little over six weeks. This place is used as therapeutic treatment. Its goal is to break you down. I had no running water, was only allowed to bathe once a week had to wear the same clothes for a week straight, I could not shave, I couldn't wear deodorant, and we had to get our water from the creek. We, of course, purified it to drink it. The only time we could have hot water was to cook. There were no bathrooms, no beds, no pillows, and no blankets. There also was no electricity. We carried almost half of our weight on our backs while hiking three to five miles daily. When you talk about nasty, this was definitely nasty. I slept on a tarp under a waterproof tarp. It was quite a scary place when you are used to having a night light.

I quickly got over my fear of bugs. At night they would crawl on your face, arms, and legs. I went from being in a nice big house to having a tarp over my head at night. These were the hardest weeks that I have had. I was the youngest girl there (just turned thirteen) and was very scared of some of the girls. Since I was a Christian, they gave me a pocket Bible to take out with me. I remember one night pulling it out and my mentor looking at me and laughing. She asked me why I didn't just go ahead and throw it in the fire. I told her I didn't know. I didn't throw the Bible in the fire, but I did start denying that I was a Christian to fit in with the other girls. One night a girl was sitting on the ground crying because no one believed in God. Someone mentioned that I did, and she told them that I had said I didn't. All of a sudden I got this urge to speak. It came out of nowhere. I opened my mouth and started literally preaching the Gospel to these girls. Out of the blue. I looked around and jaws were dropped in shock. I did not shut up until I felt God telling me that that was enough. I had even shocked myself. From then on, God used me and led me through my time there.

It took a total of about four weeks to get me to surrender and admit that I had problems. I will never forget that day because I felt instant relief. After six weeks, I got to go back to Dalton just to see my dad one last time. I was aware that I was going to a boarding school in Oregon, but I didn't realize that this would be the most crucial time in my healing process.

The next day I was in the air. I spent a little over two years in Bend, OR at a boarding school called New Leaf Academy (NLA). I lived in a one story house with five bedrooms and about twenty girls from the ages of nine to sixteen. Can you image being in a house with that many girls while you are pms-ing? Let me just tell you, it was rough. While I was at NLA, I worked on various things that had happened in my life. Some included- my adoption, my depression, my dad, and many others. This was the hardest two years of my life so far. I was forced to feel emotions that I never wanted to encounter. I fought hard in my battle of depression, anger, and despair. I spent many nights crying as I learned to let go of my past.

I worked on my feelings about my adoption. This was hard for me because my biological mom didn't want me in her life. She was a crack addict, she had a horrible childhood, and she already had multiple children before me who she had left. She cared about cigarettes and crack, not me. I was a crack baby, but thank God she only did crack three days before she had me. However, she smoked the whole pregnancy. I had a lot of complications as a baby because of her actions, but I thank God for her. I used to believe that I was my bio mother’s daughter. That I was worthless. A piece of trash that no one wanted. It took me a while to realize that that's not who I am. I am not my biological mother's mistakes. I am a precious child of God! I now have so much respect for her because I know that she made the best decision she could have ever made.

A lot of my time at NLA was spent on the emotions that I had about my dad. I refused to believe that he wasn't going to be the dad I had always dreamed of. I fantasized about him walking me down the aisle on my wedding day, I fantasized about him throwing a softball with me or taking me out for ice cream. I did not want to face the harsh reality that my dream would not be coming true. I knew in my heart the reality, but I didn't want to accept that. The staff encouraged me to have phone calls with him. For the longest time I didn't want to, but one day I decided that I was going to. I longed for a relationship with my dad, but all I could think about was how mean and scary he was when I was little. I began talking to him once a week for about five or so minutes. I enjoyed hearing his voice. One day, I never thought I would hear it again.

A few months before I graduated from the program at NLA, I was hanging out with some of the girls when a counselor came up to me and asked me to come into the office. I wasn't a trouble maker, so I thought maybe she just wanted to chat. As I was walking into the office I looked at her and the look on her face told me something was very wrong. She told me that my dad was in the hospital and wasn't doing well at all. My sister answered the phone and in the back ground I could hear him drowning. He had pneumonia and had a feeding tube put in because his throat closed. He sounded like a lion purring. My heart sank.

I continuously got phone calls updating me on his condition and one of the last ones I asked my sister if he was going to die. She told me it was the beginning of the end. I burst into tears and crouched over my legs. Why was God going to take him now! I had just started having a strong relationship with my dad and he was dying?!? I was so angry at God. The rest of my time at NLA, I started preparing for his death. I was just waiting for a phone call telling me that my dad was dead.

Fortunately, I graduated and came home to spend the rest of the time he had on earth telling him how much I loved him. He continued to get worse to the point where I refused to go see him any longer because it hurt me to see him that way. I got a phone call from my sister saying he was back in the hospital and that she was on her way to get me. I told her I didn't want to go. She replied "Katherine Anne, he's not going to be here forever!" I went. As soon as I walked into his room his face lit up. He pointed to me and whispered "I love you." He motioned for me to come over and I laid my head on his chest. He asked me where I had been. For the next few weeks he began apologizing to me for not being the dad that he was supposed to be.

I got back into school and started playing sports. We were going to load up a few days later to head to Louisiana and Mississippi for a basketball tournament.  I stopped by to see him the night before I left and he was in a very bad mood. He looked around the room and told us to stop standing there watching him like he was going to die. He yelled for everyone to get out of his room. I fearfully walked up to him and began to tell him that I would be gone for a week and that I would see him when I got back. He was pale and his eyes were glazed over. He looked at me and slurred the word "ohhkayy". I didn't know if he would hold on until I got back.

 I had a great week playing basketball. On the bus ride home, my sister called to tell me that I needed to come say goodbye. I was devastated.  My grandfather had just died two days earlier and now she was telling me that it was time for me to say goodbye to my daddy?!?She told me that as soon as I got back that I needed to get there. The rest of the ride back, I wrote my dad a goodbye letter.

 My mom came to pick me up and we headed into his room. He was lying there unconscious. I immediately sat down as far away as possible from him as I could. His image had changed drastically in the week that I had been gone. My sister grabbed my hand and pulled me close to him. She told him I was there. When it was time for us to go, my whole family circled around his bed and prayed for him. As everyone left the room, I walked up to his bedside and whispered in his ear. I told him that I loved him, that he was my best friend, I thanked him for always being there for me, and I told him I forgave him. I then asked him to send me a sign if he heard me. I started to walk out of his room and looked back at him. He opened his eyes half way. He had heard me. That night I fell to my knees and told God that he couldn't take my daddy away from me. I begged him not to. I told God how much I loved him and how I wanted more time with him. He died the next day.

I can't even describe how sad I was! It took me forever to realize that he was gone. I would pick up the phone and dial his number only to realize that he wasn't there. I would drive by the nursing home and think about going in to see him, only to realize that he wasn't there.It was hard at first, but now I have accepted it and have moved on. One thing's for sure- I will definitely be seeing him again in heaven!

I don't remember every single thing that I went through, but one things for certain- God never left my side. I might have left him at some points, but he never left me. I believe that the struggles that I have gone through have made me stronger because now I can help others who are going through tough times by being able to relate to them. It definitely strengthened my relationship with God, my family, and my friends. It has not been easy, but I am constantly reminded that God is so good. He gave me a new chance at life and helped me turn it completely around. Without him, I wouldn't be here!

I hope my testimony has inspired you in some way. Just remember that God is mighty and he will work if you let him!
Blessings,
Katherine Anne