I Am a Gift

By Chloe Elizabeth

Although Chloe Elizabeth endured childhood sexual trauma, she does not consider herself a victim or even a survivor of incest abuse. Rather, she considers herself a victor, a champion. Even so, she has felt, as many who have experienced similar trauma, that she was once shattered into a million pieces by the abuse, then scattered into a million places. It has taken a lifetime to regather the pieces, reassemble them, and redeem her life. First, Chloe took back control, and then she took back her life. Her efforts resulted in a miracle. Chloe's hard work with definite intent created for herself a life she could not imagine even in her wildest imagination was possible for her. After many years of recovery and healing, today Chloe considers herself sane and healthy. Her journey through recovery has demanded deliberate and determined effort necessary to pull herself out of a pit of miry clay and reclaim her life. Now she realizes that the painstaking effort required to recover has created much healing resulting in rich blessings in her life now, and lasting peace with her past. Today Chloe is empowered by her past. She understands the importance of every experience in her life, appreciating that each and every event was necessary to bring into existence the woman she is today. This is her story, courageously shared in hopes of inspiring others struggling as she has, that they too might find hope and healing for themselves. Recovery and healing has proven, without a doubt that Chloe is a gift, and nothing that can happen, or has happened can change that.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Aug 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781640286139

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I Am a Gift

Chloe Elizabeth

Copyright © 2018 Chloe Elizabeth

All rights reserved

First Edition

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc

Meadville, PA

First originally published by Christian Faith Publishing, Inc 2018

ISBN 978-1-64028-612-2 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64028-613-9 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Heavenly Father I come before Thee and lay myself, my life, and my story upon Thine alter. I pray that I may serve Thee, Lord. I pray that I may serve others. I pray that this little book may provide hope, comfort and peace for those struggling to heal as I have. Thou have placed it on my heart to write this book. Please grant me strength and courage to be honest. May this simple offering inspire others. I thank Thee for Thine hand in this work. Guide me, lead me, show me the way that all I do may be pleasing unto Thee. This I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Introduction

This is my story, and I can only write for myself. Although my father was a serial pedophile, I will not name any of his other victims. That is not for me to do; I’ll leave that to them and their discretion. With due respect, I have changed the names to protect the innocent.

Chapter One

I Am a Gift

I am precious, I am new, I am unconditional,

I am trusting, I am free, I am vulnerable,

I am beautiful, I am a miracle, I am a gift.

Wait! What are you doing? You are hurting me!

Stop! No, No, NO! Please don’t! Please Stop!

PLEASE!

You didn’t stop, you hurt me, you damaged me.

I am broken, I am scattered, I am alone, I am afraid.

You made me unlovable, unworthy, unclean, ashamed.

I hurt, I bleed, I cry, I am insignificant, I want to die.

But I don’t.

I survive, I struggle, I seek, I pray, I ask why?

I cry, I grieve, I mourn, I purge, I hate you, I hate me.

And then,

I learn, I accept, I recover, I mend,

I heal, I blossom, I grow, I forgive, I am reborn.

I am precious, I am new, I am unconditional,

I am trusting, I am free, I am vulnerable,

I am beautiful, I am a miracle, I am a gift!

…

I was born in early 1959 into a spiritual void, an empty darkness. Ours was a chaotic, dysfunctional, unloving, faithless home. Nevertheless, I have come to realize that my life cannot exist in a spiritual vacuum. Given my experience, I am convinced that if I do not choose to live in light and truth, darkness will rush in and fill the void, leaving me alone, vulnerable, abused, directionless, distraught, heartbroken, confused, and surrounded by toxic evil.

Mine was a house where children were voiceless, helpless, defenseless possessions subject to unspeakable acts of cruelty. Very early on I realized that I was a burden and a hardship on my parents and step-parents. My creation and birth were certainly not a blessing, and I was reminded of this often. I lived my childhood as if I were under a microscope and every move was analyzed and scrutinized. I was berated with unending, unbearable criticism and judgments.

The evilness in my home was fueled by alcohol and drug abuse. My father was a raging alcoholic serial pedophile, and his abuse knew no bounds. For me and countless others, the nightmare of sexual abuse began at infancy. My earliest recollection of molestation was at the age of three when my father sodomized me in the bathtub. Although I am certain, this is not where the abuse began, and it isn’t where it ended. This is when I learned to detach myself, to remove myself from the reality of my life. This is when I was taught that my life really didn’t matter much anyway. This was the beginning, just a pin point at first of what would become a deep dark void inside me that would continue to grow and widen and fester throughout my life.

The abuse was devastating. It was crushing. I was shattered. It seemed as though I was broken into a million pieces and then scattered into a million places. I became scum, unfit to be considered human. I had an overwhelming sense of unworthiness. I became insignificant, I shriveled. I was simply used, and then disposed of. I was discarded like trash. I wanted to disappear. I felt that I was undesirable, even repulsive and deep down inside, I knew that I had it coming. I knew somehow, I had asked for it. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve this, but I knew with all certainty, and without any doubt that I asked for it!

It seems that I was to blame for much of the difficulties, disappointments, and discontentment in my family too. My mother was only twenty-one years old with four children when she realized that my father had chosen another woman whom he would rather be with and dismissed her from his life. I can only imagine how scared she must have been to be alone with me and my siblings depending on her.

I rationalize that it must have been an act of desperation when my mother decided to separate her children. When I was just a toddler, my mother allowed my father to take my older brother and sister and move them to a city two hundred miles away from my younger brother and me.

I came to realize that my mother knew what my father was capable of doing to children. Years later, when I spoke of the abuse, I was amazed at her response. Up until that point, I was under the impression that the sexual abuse was a deep dark secret, an unspeakable act that I was not allowed to talk about, and that no one was ever to know about. To my amazement, it was no surprise to her, it appeared that she knew about it all along.

Even though I grew up in a home full of darkness, despair, and unspeakable horror, I am innately aware of my great capacity to love. I knew that I could love my mother and father enough to make everything all better. I knew that my love was enough to