My Separate Selves

Well, I had an interesting session with my counselor today.

I can't exactly remember how it came about. We were talking about setting boundaries with people (something I've not been so good at, i.e.: Marie), and so she suggested role-playing that I was having a discussion with someone about re-evaluating our relationship. Just talking about it made me really anxious and nervous. I couldn't even formulate thoughts as the fear overtook me; I wanted to escape even talking about doing it. I know one of my coping mechanisms has been avoidance--I really want to stop doing that so that I can deal with things straight on instead of hoping they go away or hoping they take care of themselves. (So, does that mean I want to avoid avoidance...? He he he.)

So anyway, she asked me to describe the fear 'person' that I have, young, old, "How does 'she' look?" I imagine the fear aspect of my self as rather like a teenager. She's afraid she can't do anything, afraid to try things because she might fail, might be ridiculed, afraid if she doesn't try things she will be left behind. I know this fear comes from being judged by my dad. It has become so paralyzing to me! Every day I go through the agonizing throes of being afraid.

My fear is not really only in one area, but in every area, and not all the time, just at different times. I am afraid of what others think, I'm afraid of failure, of making the wrong choices, I'm afraid that if I act or think a certain way my friends or family will leave me--I never admitted that one before. I'm afraid people will leave me because I'm not what they want. Hmm. Have to ruminate about that one for later.

I'm tired of being afraid.

I'm tired of the paralysis of fear.

I'm tired of the immobility of fear.

I'm tired of beating myself up over being afraid.

I'm tired of feeling so isolated by fear.

My counselor has said before that due to all of my abuse as a child, I have a 'little girl' inside of me that never got the chance to grow up in a healthy environment, and as a result she rears her head when she feels like she's not being or not going to be taken care of: my Child Self. I've imagined that, and felt like that is valid. I didn't feel safe or loved and as a result didn't get what I needed. So, in essence, this Child Self is seeking protection and validation. And I, as my nurturing Adult Self, can take care of those needs.

I can see this. When I think about it, sometimes how I act or feel, I can see that my actions are indeed childish. I hate it, truly I do. I feel like such an idiot. I'm acting like a little kid, how pathetic is that? I'm trying to be more cognizant of my feelings so that I can recognize when my old Child Self needs some help feeling at ease. It's really weird to think about it like that. I guess it is what it is, and I will overcome it, it just takes time.

So, besides my Child Self, now I have a Teen Self--which actually is a lot like my Child Self. Basically, my Teen Self is afraid. She's afraid of failing, of not being lovable, not being good enough, messing things up beyond recognition for myself or others, afraid of expressing something to someone that is unacceptable--that they will then leave me because I am then unacceptable. (There seems to be a theme of being afraid of everybody leaving me; again I will have to come back to that sometime.) The Child and Teen are a lot alike--it all comes down to fear, and seems to be tied to being left behind. Maybe they're really the same girl.

I know I will overcome this fear thing. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!

So, if I talk about my Adult Self, who is she? She is strong, passionate, smart, courageous, loving, talented, empathetic, compassionate, understanding, accepting, warm, nurturing, open, a good listener, trustworthy, confident, respectful, grounded...she is who I am. I know this, sometimes, but most of the time I let these younger feelings or emotions take over. I need to remember who I really am and stay focused on that, not the past and not past feelings.

My goal is to be my Adult Self at all times, and not get under the influence of my 'younger selves'. Because when I let them overtake me, then I lose all sense of who I really am now. I have grown up. I am strong. I am capable. I CAN do it. I just have to believe it.

:) Jan

A Farewell to Friendship?

My friend Marie is addicted to pain pills. She's been addicted to them for over 11 years now. I think she's finally hit rock bottom. Well, I think there's further she could go, but I'm hoping this is as far as she has to get in order to make a change.

I am guilty of having known about her addiction for the last couple of years. I have thought about calling her mother, or calling her doctors, but never thought it was my place to do so, never wanted to 'make it worse' on her. I always thought I could help her overcome it somehow. I regret that incredibly.

It all started after the birth of her second child. There were a lot of complications from the epidural, and she ended up having a lot of very strange pain and intense migraines. The doctors were not careful with dispensing the pills, and she ended up hooked. She has worked the system visiting different doctors, ERs and clinics. She has gotten them from other people who wanted to help, by giving her things that they had been prescribed that didn't work for them, so that maybe she would find some relief from her headaches.

Well, in January things finally came to a head when her teenage son went to live with his father; she began to spin out of control so much that she had visited several doctors, emergency rooms, and clinics in order to get several types of pain medications and cough syrups. I think she said she got 60 pills in 3 days or something. I know it was a crazy number! Thankfully, the pharmacy flagged it and notified all the doctors as to what was going on. As a result, she can (probably) no longer get narcotics medications in this area, and her PCP dropped her as a patient.

Let me say here that I completely disagree with what her PCP did. I understand that Marie broke her confidence with her PCP, of that there is no doubt, and no forgiveness. However, now Marie will have to get a new PCP who may not actually realize or find out that she has the addiction, and will right off the bat be in a strained relationship. I wish that the PCP had kept her on as a patient so that she would be the responsible and aware physician that Marie needs. Addiction to pain medication is a HUGE problem, especially in the area in which we live, and it needs to be dealt with differently by the medical establishment. I wish doctors would pay more attention to what they're prescribing, how much and how often, and would then, when a problem is spotted, take the initiative to help that person if they still desire it, and to not leave them high and dry. How many people like Marie have then turned to buying those pain pills illegally, or a rougher drug because they are desperate?

I worry about her SO much, and that is part of the reason it's taken me this long to finally say 'enough' and let her know I cannot help her anymore.

Well, anyway, after what happened with the pharmacies and doctors in January, Marie started to really abuse one of the medications she is still on. It's actually one I used to take for my nerve ending problems associated with Fibromyalgia: Neurontin. Somehow she talked another doctor into prescribing her 8 per day, or 240 per month!!! It's outrageous that she ever got that many. Anyway, she was having a hard time controlling it, taking even more than 8 per day, sometimes up to 30 in 24 hours! When she finally told me what she had been doing, I offered to help her by dividing up the pills into 4 equal parts and having her pick them up once per week in order to make them last as they should.

We got through the first month--last month--rather shakily. She had to come and get pills early because she would have taken too many, but she somehow made it through. I really felt sorry for her, as I know what addiction is like, and didn't judge her for it. This month was not so good, but she was just into week two. It never bothered me to do it, I was hoping it would work for her because she actually does need that medication for a nerve condition she has. What's the big deal of counting out some pills, putting them into different containers, and holding them until she comes to get them? I didn't mind, and they didn't bother me. I could live in a pharmacy and not care. Pills don't do it for me. My plan is to get off of the ones I am on now. So, to dole them out to her didn't put me out at all.

Well, this weekend was pretty insane. She had been given Trazodone by an idiot psychiatrist which made her really dizzy, tired, and sick, and of course, she was drinking alcohol which it says to absolutely NOT do. Unfortunately, Marie uses alcohol for another addiction outlet. Her drinking is out of control now, too.

So, she said that Friday evening was her last Trazodone, and Saturday she was pretty sick and very tired from it, and asked me to bring her the next batch of her pills for the next week so she would already have them. So, I was going sort-of in that direction so I drove out there to her house. I could tell she had not been well. She didn't look drugged like I've seen her so many times, she just looked like someone who was getting over being sick. She said she was just going to go to bed after she watched a movie.

At 6 am my phone rang and woke me up. Now, as I have told you before, it usually takes me a long time to get to sleep, and I don't sleep very well. It had taken me until 4 am to get to sleep, and I had to get up at 8 am in order to make it to church. Needless to say, being awakened by a drunk idiot leaving a message on the machine about the same dumb things she always does, but doesn't stop doing, did NOT amuse me. I am sorry to be so blunt, but really, you can only hear the same thing from someone over and over before you get sick of dealing with them!

So, I hardly got any sleep which made for a really long and rather difficult day. I have to say that I was VERY angry with her. So I was rather childish and didn't talk to her until yesterday--she called at least 10 times and left messages. I was really so mad that I didn't think I could talk to her without being mean and I didn't want to go there. I wasn't sure I was going to talk to her ever again, honestly. I finally figured out she didn't care about me, and was only using me, just as she has almost our entire friendship.

Now, I allowed it to happen, so that's my own fault undoubtedly. But, I finally decided that I'd had enough of it, I deserved better, and I couldn't help her anymore--she needs way more help than I have in me. I also know that the addicted Marie is not the sober Marie. Before the addiction she was rather selfish, but never to the point of not caring at all and doing specifically vicious things. She has gotten to that point now and honestly, I don't like her.

We talked yesterday. She ended up showing up here with food--my addiction. And it's not the first time she has tried to undermine me by giving me food. That sounds so stupid, but it's true. I gained the almost 10 pounds I'd lost on Weight Watchers back from 2 weeks of her giving me a bunch of food. At one point I said that I was thinking if I really let myself get out of control, I'd be 900 pounds and trapped in my house. She said, "Sweetie, that's OK, you can get me pain pills and I'll keep feeding you." I wish she had really been kidding.

So anyway, she asked me to give her another week's worth of pills as she had already taken that other bag in two days--at least 60 pills--and to throw the rest away. She had no refills left on those and is supposed to see a counselor of some sort next Monday. I did as she asked, the extras are gone. She said she knew it wasn't going to work, intimating that I was judging her by getting mad at her, so in essence, I had let her down.

Once, a guy told her, "I'm disappointed in you." She always thought it was SO ridiculous that he said it to her, but I have to admit, that's exactly what I've been thinking, I'm disappointed. I wish she would have been able to get a grip on her addiction, get herself under control, and not let herself get into as much trouble as she has. I wish she could really see what she's done. I wish she had some remorse. I think it's going to come, and I believe she can overcome the addiction. She doesn't give herself credit and she's been destructive for so long. I can only hope that those people on Monday can help her.

I guess all of us who are addicts think we can control it. It's a lie of the enemy. THIS time we can do it differently. THIS time we have it all under control. Just like in AA, they tell alcoholics that they are always addicts, one drop of alcohol is too much. No matter the addiction, the same truth prevails. In my case, food is REALLY tough because I HAVE to eat. There's no way out of it. I HAVE to take control and break all of the patterns that lead me to overeat. It's really hard to do because I have to be 'on' 24-7, always cognizant of what I'm doing, what I'm thinking, what I'm eating, if and why they're related. I can't let my guard down, and when I get out of control I don't have any real grasp on reality. It's scary for me, I can't imagine what it's like to have an addiction to a potentially deadly substance.

I really do hope Marie finds the help she needs. I am not gone from her life, I'm just gone from her addiction. I don't want to be brought down myself. Two drowning people cannot help each other out of the water. I think I'm finally starting to crawl up on the beach and I can't disregard my own health and well-being for anything. I hope to see her on the other side of it and be really proud of her. I'd never not talk to her, but I can't help her, I don't have the training, I don't have the resources, I don't have the strength. I love her, and I always will, and I will pray for her always. But I have to love me more.

:) Jan

Tired and Sad

Well, I am happy to say that I am finished with all of my Disability paperwork to date. It has been a long and arduous project. It started in January when I was on those heinous Tramadol pills. I ended up messing up that set of paperwork so much I had to just type them out. It's been crazy.

Last night I almost had a melt-down when the computer came up with a message that the file had become corrupted or was lost.

!@#$%^&*

Then I couldn't make Word work at all.

!@#$%^&*

Had I not been talking to my best friend Pablo I am sure I would have completely lost it and had a drama fit. After all of that work and I thought I had lost it all! It took forever to get the computer to shut down, and then forever to reboot, and then a short forever to get the file to come back up. Pablo held my hand virtually until it came back. I love that boy.

So today I went to print the thing off to mail and...ran out of ink.

!@#$%^&*

So, I had to go out to the office supply store and get some so I could finally put that thing in the mail. I am SO glad it's not here anymore, I've had enough of it, all the way around.

:) :) :) :) :)

But, I have to say that dwelling on everything in those reports has taken a toll on me. It took quite a physical toll, especially this last week as I have worked like crazy to get them finished and back to the SSD office. All of the typing and sitting for hours at a time really wreaked havoc throughout my body. This will be a short post, I think, as my hands and back already hurt so much.

But the other thing about filling out those reports--Work History, Function, and Symptoms--they really hit home the reality of how badly my body functions now. And that has put me into rather a sadness and I think a type of mourning for my losses.

As I filled out the work history, I went through all of my jobs for the last 15 years. The very first one on the list was as a Student Manager of my university dining hall. I loved that job, and I was really good at it. I could buzz around that dining hall from one end to the other and not miss a beat. I smelled like a French fry all the time, but I loved it. That was a really hard job and I did it well. And it grieves me to think I cannot perform even a fraction of that job today.

The function report saddened me as well, making me feel like I'm worthless. The wording of the questions was rather harsh, asking, so-what-DO-you-do-all-day kinds of questions. And it really hurt my heart to think of what I cannot do, and what my mother, who is twice my age, has to do for me most of the time. A simple task like laundry is virtually impossible at this time.

And I can't believe that I will be like this forever, I just can't.

I want to be a better me, and I am so frustrated at what I can't do anymore, and I haven't figured out how to cope with being the me that I am at this point. Everything I can think to do I can't seem to make happen. I don't know how else to be. I need to help myself, indeed, but the things I know I can do don't seem to be enough to get anywhere.

I SO don't want to wallow like I was doing last month. Oh, I don't! But my frustration is so great that I just feel like if I don't get it off of my chest I will sink even deeper into depression.

I don't want to stress out Pablo either, and don't want him to feel burdened by me or my struggles. He gets so sad when I tell him what's going on, and I know he wants to know, and cares what's going on, but I know there are so many things in his life that he has to deal with, and I hate the thought that I would be a source of pain in his life. He is always trying to think of ways to help me. I wish I could help him.

And my mom, God bless my mom, I don't know what I'd do without her. She takes care of me and so many things that I can't. It's so not fair that she has me to deal with. And I feel guilty, too, because I'm afraid that I won't get better, that I will never find a mate to spend the rest of my life with...I feel so selfish for wanting a husband when she has no one. I don't want to feel this way. I wish she would at least find somebody to love her like she deserves.

My father in no way treated her like she needed or should have been treated. He only hit her once in front of me, sending her sailing across the camping trailer with a thud. I will NEVER forget that as long as I live. I can still hear the sound her body made hitting against the cupboard, can still see her in my mind's eye sitting on the floor like a rag doll. Oh, God, I beg you, please send her the man of her dreams, she's waited a lifetime for him!!!

Anyway, all of this together combined with the report I just finished on symptoms...I surely feel sad at the loss of my former self. But you know, in the back of my mind I know there's hope. I know that there are things I am preparing for, or more accurately, that God is preparing me for. I have always defined myself by what I've done, or answered to where I worked as to what I was up to. I don't know how to answer right now. Nothing's making much sense, and I'm trying not to panic.

This, too, shall pass, I know that. I'm surrounded by amazing people in my life who remind me daily how lucky I am. I just want to be a blessing. I'm hoping that I can find something to bless others with that I can do without a hitch. I haven't blogged at all like I planned. Life has gotten in the way a few times and tripped me up. I guess I expect perfect, and then when I screw up, I give up. But I don't want to give up this blog, and maybe I just set too high of expectations. I intended to write daily. I find I'm too tired most days to do it. But, like I did tonight, I need to push myself and do it anyway, but then make sure I don't push myself too far. It's difficult to come back from too far. I've already spent a whole hour more than I intended...time seems to fly by so quickly.

Anyway, I'm glad that is over with, and I know that this melancholy will subside. I hope in the meantime I can come up with something that will help me cope better and take some of the pressure off of me and those I love.

:) Jan

Let's Talk About Sex

All right, I've been pondering this post for awhile, but wasn't sure quite how to go about it.

So, no guts, no glory...no embarrassment??? Well, here goes.

I have had issues with sex all of my life. As I mentioned, I was molested as a child. Add to that I was brought up in an ultra-strict church that made sex sound dirty. Add to that I had an emotionally distant and verbally abusive father who did not give me the kind of love and attention for which I craved. Add to that I developed rapidly, and especially with large breasts. I have almost always been overweight--except that I was quite skinny before the molestation incidents and up to starting kindergarten and all of the stress of the anxiety disorder--and have had a very low self-esteem as a result. I have played the "tease" role. I was raped by my fiance. I have given myself away to men who didn't deserve it, but I hoped if I gave them what they wanted, they would give me what I needed. The cards were stacked against me very early for any sort of healthy sexuality, and my own behavior has compounded it throughout the years. Sex has been a very scary thing for me, and a place I've never felt I could be completely vulnerable as I have never been able to trust, for obvious reasons. I'm trying to let all of that go.

The molestations: I was molested 4 times by a variety of people that I should have been able to trust. I'm not sure about the ages, but I believe the first time was at age 3 and probably the last time at age 5 or 6. Every location was different, every situation different, every requirement different, and not all of those involved were men. I often wonder if any of them remember doing it. I do, I sure do. I vividly remember every detail. And I've been working very hard to forgive them so that I can move on and not let it ruin my life anymore.

(When I looked at this post on the page I had to come back here and add that the picture on the left shows me before any of these events happened, but one happened in that chair, right where it sat, beside the kitchen door leading into the living room. I live in the same house today, and though it doesn't look quite the same, I see that spot, and think about it every day. I plan to come back to this topic soon.)

I'm thankful that they were not chronic abuses, but separate incidents. I can't imagine what it would have been like if the person(s) continued to violate me. I thank God that I didn't have to suffer that abuse. All things work for good....

Anyway, I did tell my father about the first incident and he nearly killed the guy. So, it wasn't like I didn't know I couldn't tell anyone. I just learned that the retaliation from that person was unpleasant to say the least. I also felt guilty. Even at that young age I felt like I had done something wrong in that it had happened at all. But, I only later told my mom that any of the others happened, and told her about one of them just within the last couple of years. I guess it's common for survivors of molestation to internalize everything. That has caused me a lot of heartache indeed.

I don't think it's any coincidence that I started to gain weight when I went to school. Not only was I battling nervous vomiting everyday that put me in a love-hate relationship with food and caused me to sneak food in the middle of the night, but it was also around the time I was starting to develop. I remember my father sitting down with my mother and me to say I needed to wear a training bra. That was pretty early on, and I am fairly sure around age 7. I was laughing the other day with a friend with whom I was in the second grade. That year we played BJ and the Bear, from the TV show, at recess out on the playground. Jeff played "BJ" and Brian played "Bear" (my best friend, Mandy, was Bear's sister, even though he didn't have one and that would have made her a monkey, but she had a crush on Brian--how cute is that?). I started out as just one of the many women BJ had around. But, at one point Jeff/BJ said I was to be "Stacks". The girl who had been playing Stacks complained as she had blond hair. Jeff said, "Well, she has the stacks." It was settled.

I think I was learning from all of these events that the only real attention I got from a man was of a sexual nature. All but one molestation occurred exclusively with men. Even at school, boys would pay attention to my developing body. I had such a low self-esteem from the interaction with my father, as well as from being overweight. I, too, think that the weight was a way to make myself undesirable. If I could insulate myself from men by being the fat girl, then maybe they wouldn't hurt me.

That turned when puberty started. I slimmed down some and liked that men would pay attention to me. I can look back on it and think it's because I felt love-starved from my father. But, when I added in the guilt feelings from the church teachings, I was somewhat scared at how I was feeling. I knew that according to the Bible it is wrong to have sex outside of marriage, there was never any doubt in my mind about that. But, some of the people who would do our summer camps were college students, and overcome with zeal to make sure we didn't do anything we shouldn't. I remember this one conversation between 2 college counselors that were speaking. They were talking about saving yourself for marriage and you know how people banter back and forth? Well, this girl finally said, "You shouldn't even kiss before you're married. If you do, you're not a virgin anymore." I was devastated listening to that conversation, I was ruined for sure and felt like I was to blame.

Even though I had a fear of sex, and a fear of making God angry, I wanted to feel wanted. I started playing a teasing game with men. I wanted to get their attention, but only to a point. I remember another summer at that same camp when I met Brian G. I was 12, and he was 18, and of course I didn't tell him how old I was. He had come to camp for the Thursday night camp fire, and somehow we hooked up. We sat together at the fire, and I leaned into him, and we held hands and he started caressing me, etc. Thankfully a counselor finally found us and broke it up, I don't know how far it would have gone. I didn't see him after that night, and frankly don't remember ever talking to him again, but think I might have...?

Later that summer, my mother woke me up really early one morning. "Who's Brian G.?"

"I have no idea, what time is it?"

"Who is Brian G.?"

"I don't know."

"You better figure it out because your father nearly beat him up last night at work."

"Oh, s^&*!"

Well...come to find out this guy had ended up working for my father at the power plant as a college student. Apparently they were all sitting around at dinner and he was telling them about this cute chick he met earlier that summer and even rattled off the telephone number--my telephone number--my dad's telephone number. I don't know exactly what happened, but suffice it to say Brian G. knew I was 12 and he was lucky to be alive. Thank God indeed I was born before the Internet or who knows, he might have Google Earth-ed me and showed up at my house! Oh, I was definitely put in the right place and time!

I never felt beautiful, never thought I was pretty, and my father or brother never helped me in that area, not that I think many male family members really fawn over their female family members and let them know they're beautiful. But, their comments tended to be about how I was ugly and overweight. Anytime that a boy or man would make me feel the least bit pretty or desirable I was automatically obsessed with him and wanted to have him pay attention to me. It's a very dangerous thing when a girl looks for validation from a guy, because if the guy is of questionable character he will get what he can from her, and then discard her. That has happened to me more times than I can count. I'm working on being completely in love with myself so that I don't have to have someone else do it for me.

My parents should have kept closer reins on me, though, and I wish they had seen signs of my trouble with sexuality. Perhaps if you see your child do any of the following, you might check into the possibility of molestation:

- Changing clothes: When I was little I would change my clothes every couple of hours. My mother would catch me doing it, but I never had a good reason, I just wanted to have new clothes on.

- Obsession with clean underwear: To this day I don't go on a trip without 3 times the amount I need, and -- TMI -- find myself changing underwear several times a day. It's almost compulsive at this point.

- Caught with other children doing inappropriate things: I remember doing some things with several different children, and I wonder now if they were molested, too. We would do things like close doors and look at each other naked, play 'doctor', role play as different characters on TV. Our knowledge was way beyond a normal amount, and beyond normal curiosity. I know I acted out some of the things that were done to me.

- Provocative dressing: Especially when I was in grade school, I wanted to wear off-the-shoulder shirts, short skirts, sexy underwear and high heels. I also started wearing eyeshadow, which my mother bought me for Christmas, at age 9! My mom and I have talked about that since then, and she said she thought I was going through a phase. Especially when you consider how even more sexual our culture has become, you must be very careful in how your children, especially girls, are 'sexed up'. It's not just the latest fashion, it's dangerous!!!

- Preoccupation with how sex works: I remember I would ask my mother an inordinate amount of questions about sex and the human body, and would even draw different pictures. In grade school I would steal condoms from my parents and take them as a 'show and tell' of sorts at slumber parties.

- Books and TV (and Internet): I read the V.C. Andrews books like Petals on the Wind and romance books. Watch what your kids check out from the library, and watch what you have on the TV. My dad loved "Solid Gold" and those dancers were nearly naked. He also had sex 'letter' magazines hidden in his underwear drawer which I read periodically. AND, please watch what your kids are doing on the Internet, what they're watching on YouTube. Never let your child have his/her computer in his/her bedroom, make sure it's in a public location in the house and that (s)he is always monitored. I have seen too many boys and girls in the library doing things and talking about things they've done that I've never even thought of as an adult.

If you have any questions, please let me know. You can email me outside of this blog at vpljan@hotmail.com .

I want to help other people identify signs so that if something has happened they can make sure it stops, and make sure the child gets the proper counseling. Now that it's been 32 years living like this, it's hard to change the way I am as a result of the molestations and all that happened after. I wish that it would never happen to another child again, but if it does, I pray that I can help them and you get through it. Don't ignore or deny anything. Which is worse, checking out something to make sure it hasn't happened, or living with the knowledge that you could have done something and didn't?

I think I will stop here instead of going on with the other things that have happened to me sexually and have gotten me where I am. It is important to really understand what molestation can do to a child, and how it builds and shapes who they become in so many ways. Don't smother your kids, but always keep an open dialogue with them so that they feel comfortable telling you everything. Run through their days with them, ask them who they were with, what they did, start as early as possible getting them to chatter on. Also, in talking to my counselor, she said that young kids have a hard time telling you what happened, but they can act out the entire thing, down to what was said, with puppets. Try it. Anything it takes to make sure your kids tell you what's going on is worth it.

I'm SO thankful that God protected me in so many situations. I'm sure some could say, "How can you believe in a 'loving' God if He would let something like this happen?" Well, God doesn't make things happen, He allows things to happen, and He has a plan. I want to help people, and maybe the way I can really help is by helping children and families who are victims of molestation, I don't know. I do know, however, that if I hadn't gone through it, I wouldn't have the perspective that I do.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

Maybe advocacy is my purpose, His purpose. I don't know the plan, but I'm willing and He's able.

God bless. :) Jan