Through Her Eyes: A Memoir of Changing Emotions, Silencing Irrational Thoughts, Finding Power in Perspective, and Embracing Imperfections

By Victoria Henry

Everything was perfect through young Victoria Henry’s innocent green eyes until the day her mother abruptly snatched her from a place of love and security. Her world flipped without warning, and Victoria had no idea why. Not only had her parents divorced, but she was also living twelve hours away from her father. And so began a twenty-two-year war with herself.

In a memoir of pain, grief, and hope, Henry chronicles the challenges of a young girl as she embarked on a coming-of-age journey into womanhood and beyond. As she reveals how she became pregnant at age sixteen, married by nineteen, and divorced by twenty-two, Henry also provides an inspiring glimpse into how she bought her first home at age twenty-three, eventually earned a bachelor’s degree in nursing, and somehow navigated herself and her children through the trauma of her ex-husband’s overdose. After setting out on a long and painful journey to heal with her children, Henry discloses how she eventually found hope in purpose and God’s unconditional love.

Through Her Eyes shares the true story of one woman’s traumatic experiences and subsequent journey to healing that will remind anyone of God’s merciful grace and how loved we really are by Him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jan 24, 2024
• ISBN: 9798823018142

Victoria Henry

Victoria Henry is an emergency room registered nurse who has experience in oncology, home health, family medicine, and urgent care. Today, she lives in a home on three acres with her two children and fiancé. She enjoys reading, riding horses, traveling, and beach vacations. Through Her Eyes is her first book.

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© 2024 Victoria Henry. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  01/23/2024

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1815-9 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1816-6 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-1814-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023922258

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1   Green Eyes

Chapter 2   Two Pink Lines

Chapter 3   Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Right

Chapter 4   Bad Decisions

Chapter 5   Ghost in the Park

Chapter 6   Answered Prayers

Chapter 7   The Call

Chapter 8   He Wasn’t Him

Chapter 9   Therapy

Chapter 10  Narcissists and the Naked Truth

Chapter 11  A Mother’s Love for Her Grieving Children

July 1, 2023

Introduction

Twenty-two years at war with myself. There are words that I’ve left unspoken, people I have wounded, mistakes that can’t be reversed, conversations that still need to be had, family members I don’t really connect with, trauma I still can’t part from, insecurities I need to confront.

Happiness is a goal I set for myself, yet I push it away when it gets too close. The people who make me feel happy get the wrath of that. When joy is right in front of me, my thoughts become deceiving, as if being happy could only be a dream.

The truth is I don’t know how to act when life is good to me. I don’t know how to accept that feeling because pain is where my home has been. I am sometimes waiting for the destruction to happen, waiting for my life to crumble all over again.

I will be the first person to admit when my life is a mess but the last to admit I need a hand to hold. Happiness means I have more to lose, and I have already lost enough.

My biggest fear in happiness is losing my ability to be humble. I am thirty years old while writing this. The baggage we carry early in life never fully goes away. I will be lying if I say otherwise. On the other hand, it doesn’t have to keep us down.

When I reflect on my past, I am reminded how good God has been to us. I am reminded my purpose isn’t just about me. I am thankful for his strength and endurance during my most crucial tribulations.

I didn’t know then what my future looked like. The thought never crossed my mind. I was young and free and craved adventure. I loved everything in my little world. Life changes faster than you can blink. Most days I wondered how different my world would have been if only …

I know they say you are right where you are supposed to be and everything happens for a reason. I’ll be lying if I say I don’t question that. Sometimes I feel like I am exactly where I shouldn’t be.

The search for why things happened the way they did has driven me insane. Some things just aren’t meant to be understood, only known. I can’t explain why many circumstances happen the way they do. A part of me believes it is for a bigger purpose, and another part of me believes God doesn’t know what to do with my mess.

People make their own choices, but sometimes we get caught in the cross fire of their bad ones. Other times we are the target. Sometimes we are the only ones affected.

What do you do with the cards you have been dealt? I can’t tell you how to play your hand because I haven’t been dealt your cards. However, I can tell you that there’s a fifty-fifty chance you will get it right. Some of us don’t ever get it right. Some get it right later in life. If you’re lucky, you get it right the first go-round.

But life is more than just a deck of cards. It’s more complex and emotional than that. So what do you do when you don’t understand why or don’t know how to get through the suffering?

My story is of pain, loss, grief, depression, strength, and faith. I spent twenty-two years searching for my identity, my purpose. When loss hit one after another, I struggled more each day. Pain and suffering filled my heart. I saw no good, no happiness, no joy. I was verbally and physically taken advantage of. Life was an endless battle. I couldn’t shake the bad for a long time—until one day I did.

But I didn’t do it alone. I found Christ. I prayed hard. I listened to the man upstairs and made the decision to change no matter how hard that would be.

Here’s to rewriting the future.

Chapter One

GREEN EYES

W hen I was a young girl, my parents divorced. My mom, sister, and I moved back to our mother’s hometown. My dad stayed in the town we lived in before their divorce, twelve hours away. The warmer days and ocean life suited him best. We only saw him on holidays and a couple of weeks in the su mmer.

My father was my world before we left. From the heart of a blond, curly haired, green-eyed girl, life was a little difficult to understand then. I didn’t understand why my mother would take us so far away from him. We had a nice home near the West Coast that my parents had built. We had a pool, many neighborhood friends, and an abundance of memories. Those memories would forever be engraved in my head.

My mother described me as her flower child. I was the only child in our big Italian family who had green eyes and blond hair. She said I was always the happiest kid. She loved my smile and gold locks. People would dote on me and tell her how cute I was. She said, Your personality made you so bright. I don’t think she ever knew why I was so happy all the time because my elder sister was the polar opposite.

I think my sister was adorable, but according to our mother, she was a tyrant. She had thick chestnut hair and brown eyes. She had these really large, thick glasses Mom made her wear. Supposedly she argued over everything, and Mom thought she was a bad parent because of her. We didn’t look like sisters back then. We fought like cats and dogs too. Even though my sis might have been a tyrant, I saw her goodness.

I was a bit mischievous. I was the type who would not argue, but I’d do what I wasn’t supposed to do anyway. My motto was Better to ask for forgiveness later. My dad always said that when I set my mind to something, I was doing it regardless of whether other people advised me not to. I guess that quality stuck with me through adulthood. It was a curse sometimes.

Looking back on those days, I realized my life was happy, pure, and innocent. It was full of joy and laughter. I couldn’t remember ever being sad. I felt complete and whole. I felt truly loved and as if I belonged there.

Isn’t the place you call home the one place you are supposed to feel safe, secure, and loved? Hence, there is the saying Home sweet home. Unfortunately, not everyone associates home with feelings of warmth, love, and security.

Everything was perfect through my innocent green eyes until the day my mother abruptly took us from our place of love and security. My world flipped in minutes and without warning. I did not understand it. Not only had my parents divorced but I also was twelve hours away from my father. One minute I was waking up every morning and going to bed every night, hugging my father. The next I barely saw or talked to him. I missed him dearly but couldn’t do anything about it. Frankly I didn’t know how to.

My mother had been a solid rock in our lives physically and financially. However, emotionally, she was absent. She let all her anger and resentment toward our father control her emotions. She took out her anger on us. She wanted my sister and me to feel the way she felt toward him. The more violent she became, the more extreme her verbal abuse was.

She told us our father left because we were bad and his new kids were good. She said our father did not love us but instead used us to make himself feel better. We believed he was just buying our love. We were told he wouldn’t pay child support if she hadn’t forced him to in court. Our mother convinced us all the visits he made to see us were just his way of making his presence in his hometown.

Maybe some of that was true. Maybe our father really was just buying our love. Maybe he wouldn’t have sent the money if my mother had not gotten the judge to make him pay. Maybe he wasn’t a good dad. All that might be true, but was it right to scream that to your young emotionally fragile kids? Was it right to make your children feel worse than you do? Was it OK to mess with their mental capabilities?

I don’t believe so. In fact, I can’t fathom ever wanting to make my children feel that insignificant. What’s worse: believing your father doesn’t love you or believing he does even though he isn’t present in your life?

My sister was a few years older than me, but we were both very young when the fights with our mom started. As we grew older, we began to act out (like most teenagers). We were called every name in the book. My sister and I made plenty of mistakes, but we were not anything my mother made us out to be.

Living at home was no longer our safe place. Most days we didn’t know what to expect before coming in. Our mother screamed on the phone at our father every