Made in His Image: Part Three: It All Comes Together

By Diane Wiedemann

My first therapist told me I needed a witness, and here on this date, 25 September 2022, the Lord spoke unto me that He was, in fact, the first witness to my story, and He then witnessed my story back unto me. He then did compel me to write first for the healing of myself and then for the healing of others, so they, in turn, can witness to others the power and healing contained within God-therapy that was first given unto me and is now available for all who have need, which means you, for that's how much He loves all of us to His glory.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 24, 2025
• ISBN: 9798894853055

Book preview

Made in His Image

Part Three: It All Comes Together

Diane Wiedemann

ISBN 979-8-89485-304-8 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89485-306-2 (Hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-89485-305-5 (Digital)

Copyright © 2025 Diane Wiedemann

All rights reserved

First Edition

All biblical references are from the King James Bible, published 1966.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Preface

(Written 5 August 2012)

Introduction

(Written 21 April 2019)

Chapter 40

When Will I learn? When…

Chapter 41

Therapeuo

Chapter 42

The Chaos Continues…

Chapter 43

The Core of My Onion

Chapter 44

Come What May…Continues

Chapter 45

Father, Where Do I Go from Here? What Do I Do Now?

Chapter 46

Troubled Waters

Chapter 47

How Have I Been Treating My Body?

Chapter 48

Endurance

Chapter 49

Anger Hurts

Chapter 50

The Long Haul

Chapter 51

The Long Road Home

Chapter 52

The End Is Near

Chapter 53

Not Quite There Yet…

Chapter 54

What Lay Ahead?

Chapter 55

The Last Leg of My Journey

Chapter 56

Spiritually Speaking

Chapter 57

Tying Up Loose Ends

Chapter 58

It Is Finished, So Be It

Conclusion

Epilogue

(Written 7 September 2021)

References

About the Author

I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with Mine eye.

—Psalm 32:8

This Bible verse reflects to me the lengths that the Father will go to, to attend to the details of my every need, such that to write a book as He commanded of me was to fulfill my calling in this life for His glory and for the healing of those in need.

The Lord God hath given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to Him that is weary: He wakeneth morning by morning, He wakeneth mine ear to hear as the learned.

—Isaiah 50:4

I have received and participated in God-therapy, and now you can too.

Color Codes in the Book:

Red—issues of concern

Blue—spiritual healing

Green—growth

Brown—contemplation

Highlighted in yellow—the therapist's questions to me from reading what I wrote

Endorsements

One Sunday, my wife, Amanda, and I visited a friend's church where we saw Diane for the first time. She spent the whole church service staring at the floor. We, on the way to our car after the service, prayed that the Lord would send her to the people who could help her. The next time we saw Diane was at a community support group, about five or so years later, where my wife and I volunteered as resource people. Diane, again, spent the meeting staring at the floor. During the meeting, we were introduced as pastors of a local church. Diane came over to us after the meeting and asked, while still looking down, Can I come to your church? We told her that yes, she could, and that she would be welcome. Thus began a two-year, four-month, and three-week journey (as Diane puts it). Much of the private meeting times after church or at scheduled appointment times (up to 5–10 hours/week) was spent unraveling, as she describes in this book, the teachings of certain Bible perspectives and events from her childhood, some which carried over into adulthood.

Diane, as a widow, was not only a professional occupational therapist but also a mother who completed the raising of six children by herself, inspiring them to be self-sufficient and well-educated no matter what their challenges. She has, as a result, several children who have distinguished themselves in academia with graduate degrees or are currently doing so. There were times during the process of sorting out spiritual matters when Diane would become agitated or even triggered by things I said in the sermon. We would regularly meet for a couple of hours after each church service where she would comment on things in the message. One of those things, which was particularly vexing to her, was when I said in a sermon, As Christians, we are not victims anymore. Diane's response was to explain to me how upset that made her and the difficulty she had in understanding it because she felt victimized by the way she was taught the Bible in her youth. This very subject actually became a foundation through which Amanda and I could help her.

Diane's journey in counseling had begun many years before she met us, so I certainly would not want to make it look as though we were the only ones who had spoken into her life. Some of the people with whom she had experienced counseling had been, from what we could observe, quite helpful while others, not so much. Nevertheless, by the grace of God, we continued to love her, walk with her, and be a resource to her. After a considerable time with Diane, I became inspired to pray a prayer with her that I have carried with me in my calendar year after year with great results. We prayed that prayer with Diane. The following weeks and months showed rapid positive results. She grew and grew and grew for which, to this day, we continue to praise God. We continue to cherish her as the fine, exceptional individual she is. This book, which is the result of a copious journal of her journey, will, I believe, be a blessing to anyone who reads it—whether they be someone who needs recovery, be professional counselors, or be clergy.

—R. E. Fuller

Founder and Senior Pastor of Sojourners' Fellowship Churches

Diane wrote her story while she lived it, bearing witness to her search for truth and wholeness. She faced the grim reality of her past and the uncertainties of her future with great strength of mind and courage, knowing she must forge ahead to find peace and healing. Her search was facilitated by her conversations with God, documented in her book, and by His grace.

Those of us who face similar journeys will profit from reading this gospel according to Diane.

—The Rev. Marion Rectenwald +

Diane, the author, and I traveled the road toward health and wholeness together for nearly a decade. I listened to many journal entries; both she and I experienced transformation in this exchange and conversation. I recommend reading this compilation of her entries and journeying with her. May you find inspiration and hope in her story, and may you discover transformation in your own life as well.

—Sister Elizabeth Mills

A monastic in the Episcopal Church

1982. College. I am the lucky girl who came up the stairs and met a lifelong friend Diane. At an early age, she could discern the voice of God—the voice that helped her survive horrors of childhood, life challenges, and mental fragility and the voice that directed her to tell this story of hope.

I am grateful my friend has the fruit of faithfulness and is willing to share.

—Constance Gold Parry

Diane is a remarkable individual who seeks to help her clients, friends, children, and community in every way that she can. Diane cares deeply about people and their stories. She is extremely perceptive and has a keen sense of people and things happening before during and after they happen. She is a healer in every aspect of the word. She aspires to let her life be an example of what is possible.

Diane is a living example that we can overcome any adversity. Her life and work are testimonies that with faith, hope and love along with persistence and determination, healing and joy are obtainable for anyone who desires it and will work hard for it. If ever I needed an occupational therapist, I would want Diane to be mine. If ever I needed reminding that all things are possible, I will call and/or remember Diane. I appreciate who she is and the work she does both professionally and personally.

Diane is a beautiful writer. She has a way of combining words that are mysterious, supernatural, and spiritual and invites the reader or listener into the story. I am blessed to know Diane Wiedemann.

—Janet Gail Castle, MA, NBCC, LPC-MHSP

My sister and I first met Diane five years ago when she walked into a support group that we facilitated. She did not speak or look us in the eye. Her hair was hanging in front of her face to hide it.

We took her to lunch several times to get to know her. She did not know how to be a friend or hold a conversation, so she always brought along her journal and read to us from it as she packed away the food. We found out later that she had an eating disorder.

My sister is a hugger, and Diane did not know how to give or get a hug. She became a challenge for my sister! Diane's arms would hang by her side when you hugged her. My sister made Diane hug her back. Eventually, Diane found that she really, really liked hugs!

We have watched her grow both emotionally and spiritually over these past five years of God therapy. She is like a different person now and loves to share her story with others of how God brought her through the dark times.

We are both proud to call her our friend.

—Brenda Herschberger and Pam Henson

As a retired therapist, I was influenced by this book on many levels. It gave me a first-person narrative of how a woman who was severely mistreated during her childhood thinks and reacts to kindness and therapy.

Diane had married, given birth to six children, then suffered the death of her husband before her God told her to start therapy. She had no concept of what compassion and other loving emotions meant due to her severe childhood abuse and immediately became very attached to her first therapist, with whom she felt safe and heard for the first time in her life. She described her confusion, anger, and finally, understanding of the personal boundaries she experienced in her first therapeutic relationship and her dismay and grief when her therapist moved away.

Having been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, Diane had a very hard time accepting her second therapist, comparing her to Ms. Kind and nicknamed her Ms. Ignorance. This is known as splitting and severely shaded Diane's perceptions.

As her therapy progressed, Diane revealed more and more of the way she was treated as a child and her deep dissatisfaction with her second therapist's seeming inability to hear her and give her the extra time she knew she needed to get well. Diane finally found a disorder called alexithymia through her own research, which seemed to fit most of the ways she experienced the world, but could not get her therapist to agree to help her work on the issues alexithymia presented.

Diane felt that God wanted her to write this book detailing her experiences in getting well. It is presented in journal form and takes the reader through her thoughts and emotions each session, from beginning to finish. Her faith in God the Father shines through every page. She has been an occupational therapist for over thirty years and raised and educated six children, all while dealing with the added issues of cerebral palsy, PTSD, depression, and an inability to express herself through the spoken word. Writing this three-volume book is her way of showing others that they can deal with multiple handicaps and still find happiness and meaning in this world. She is a remarkable person.

—Cornelius J. Flynn, MA, LMHC (Ret)

About Diane…

I met her at a NAMI meeting, and I noticed that she often sat quietly with a notebook of paper and that when introductions were being made within the group, I discovered why the quiet and why the notes. I learned that she was unable to talk about her experiences—or much else for that matter—as she suffered from a form of communication difficulty due to her childhood trauma. The pages she wrote contained her story as her own witness to her experience of childhood trauma and the therapy she underwent to recover from it.

The loss of her husband brought another trauma into her life, and she, with six children to finish raising, had to do something to help fight against all the emotional dams that were breaking from deep within, both from the past and the present. Overwhelmed, she entered therapy. Journaling helped her to speak what she was unable to say.

By doing this, she wrote about the silence and pain of her abuse and even the stigma of her mental illness that she endured in the process. Finding it hard to speak of her experiences even to a therapist, she discovered that writing her thoughts down and then reading from that journal helped her find and express what she couldn't but needed to say as her voice she had lost in the whirlwind of her behavioral and relational disorders. She could see and react to her own words before she shared them and had to deal with others' reactions to them. It was a form of survival skill. She even wrote and read from these entries to communicate with her therapists until they could help her develop verbal communication skills that would help build social skills.

Diane has done a great job of portraying the actual actions and interactions and even reactions that occurred as she did move forward—session by session, step by step into the wholeness she yearned for and worked for. Her faith and love for God is deeply embedded into this process. She shares how her belief was at the core of her therapy and gave her the strength to help her overcome all the adversity and become whole—so whole that she can now speak in public, share her story out loud, and hence do what I believe is her calling—to provide knowledge to help others to find healthy therapy—because there is some therapy that is unhealthy, which she discusses in the book. Ultimately, She wants all those in need to find relief from these debilitating and devastating disorders.

—Pam Clark

Diane Wiedemann's book Made in His Image guides readers through a journey of self-discovery and spiritual understanding. Diane shares her personal story to promote healing and wholeness while letting go of resentment and hatred.

She eloquently emphasizes the fundamental value and relevance of everyone being a child of God. This book not only recognizes each person's dignity and worth, but it also encourages the reader to trust that God's plan for a purposeful life is achievable. Made in His Image is a powerful reminder that as God's beloved children, we can accept our true selves in light of God's love, mercy, and grace as we discover our identity in a loving and caring God.

—Reverend Diantha S. McLeod

Retired Elder of the United Methodist Church

Preface

(Written 5 August 2012)

This is my story, but I didn't write it; God did, by my hand, for I knew not the language and words to my own story, and as He revealed unto me I wrote, never knowing what I was going to write or how it was going to go or even what it meant or how I was to be effected by it.

The story of my life was even a shock unto me as I learned it, and it never failed to bring untold anguish, never-ending sleepless nights, unbearable pain, torment, tears, never-ending tears and the distress of unspoken anger and rage—that showed up as painful moments of awareness and light bulb moments of revelation.

There is nothing about me that was not abused, not a single aspect that I could ever think of.

One must understand that I was so…so very shut down that the depth and breadth of my own story overwhelmed and scared me to the extent that my therapist told me once that I couldn't stand to be in my own skin, and she was right. God knows how I tried to run and leave it behind, but that didn't work. I had come to a place in my life where I had to deal with what it meant to be me and this is my story…

Many may not understand what is written, and that is okay. If what is revealed brings help and healing unto you then that is exactly as it should be.

God gave me the gift of knowledge and caring October 2009. I never wrote this way until I started therapy, and from the very beginning, my desire to be heard—that which was never spoken—begged, pleaded, and escaped from me at all the right times and came out as one sees it here.

This book is dedicated with the Lord's blessing to all those who are like me—an adult with a story to tell, that which has never been heard because it has never mattered until now—that your secrets come out.

This dedication belongs first and foremost to the unheard and untold stories of my brothers and sisters and then all people like us.

With heartfelt love and gratitude, I honor the desires of a person who invests their life to learn the art of therapy so that people like me can benefit.

They will say it is their honor to go on your journey with you—never knowing what they are getting into and one learns that it is true.

For my first therapist—my mother figure, my friend—I wish to bestow God's highest honor: that of love, as God is love, and you gave unto me, along with life, to a most treasured and cherished individual who learned her craft well.

To my second therapist: To a therapist I had to learn to call my therapist that evolved from a bur on a donkey to a therapist who learned that no matter if she has heard it before, she hasn't heard it all, as everyone's story is a first edition in the moment of revelation.

Introduction

(Written 21 April 2019)

For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.

—Jeremiah 29:11

Once the Lord had placed upon my heart that the story of my life was to be written into a book, He then gave unto me the words that followed as you see them. In the relationship I share with my Father and He with me, it is my desire that if my story can help even one person, then it was all worth it. This is a story about the little girl lost whom God saved from obscurity, from herself and even from death.

This is a story about how God went to therapy with me from that first moment of urgent need and has been with me through it all. As I poured out my heart, my hurts, my anguish, my sorrow, and my pain, He and the therapists heard it all. Though, and more importantly, I heard it all and have stayed in mournful grief for the losses I have endured, for most of it. At the same time, I learned about the meaning and purpose of my life as God intended. Through the use of a dictionary, certain books, shows, movies, people, animals, places, songs, words, phrases, and experiences, God directed my path through it all for my good, for that's how much He loves me.

In the Bible there are many stories about the shepherd and his sheep, and I have always felt myself and believed myself to be the one lost sheep referred to in Matthew 18: 12–14.

The challenge to God—if You truly loved me, You will come and find me—while hoping that He would, thinking that He won't because He's got more to worry about that's far more important than me, and praying that He might, but He doesn't have to because I'm not worthy enough to be found, and He doesn't have to love me if He doesn't want to.

This is a story about how Love found me in my darkest hour and truly brought me back to life.

This is also a story about my relationship with Him, the God of us all.

I—who had no voice, no hope, no desire, no wants and many needs too numerous to count and who desired death even more than life, who had asked God for help all of her life through tears, begging, pleading, her anger and her rage—wanted to know the answer to one simple question: if I am to live, then show me a life worth living because I don't know how to live. (I was angry and hurt, so very hurt). And just like that, I had spoken my innermost secret at the time. After all, at age forty-seven when I began therapy, I should know how to live, right? Only, I didn't, and no one knew it, least of all me. I was tormented by my own thoughts and couldn't figure out a way to get away from myself.

In a desperate cry for help within days of my husband's death, I began on a journey of healing with the Lord's help. He had agreed with my request, and together, we went to therapy.

This is the story of our journey together as one inseparable from the other, even in my anger and rage. This is the story of my life as the one sheep gone astray trying desperately to find her way home to her Father. He, who was there all along; I had shut Him out and put Him in a box in the only way I could handle Him, because I was angry at my Father, so very angry. After all, He had let me get hurt, so very hurt, and did nothing about it. He didn't stop anything from happening the way it did.

In my mind, as a child, God was a liar, because He said He would never leave me nor forsake me, but He did because I couldn't find Him anywhere, no matter where I searched, how often I looked, nor for how long. Time had no meaning to me and everything was forever.

And yet here I was a phone call away from death, six children who needed me and absolutely no idea of how to live, where to go from here or why I should even want to.

God heard me in my tears, my fear and my anguish, and, in one moment in time, I begged yet again for life while desiring to die, and He came.

The most important verse in the Bible at this time was that which is written in John 11:35. Jesus wept. And when I knew He came, because I felt Him and His presence, He wept for me and with me, and I knew that whatever lay ahead for me I was not alone.

In the story you are about to read lays many revelations, epiphanies, clarifications, understandings, wisdom, insights, and challenges that will leave you speechless, breathless, with awe and wonder, about how the Father of us all could bring such good from that which Man meant for evil.

Everything written is dated, numbered, prayed about, anointed and brings solution and resolution where none was thought possible. And the miracles unfold one by one, as the little girl lost comes with her Father kicking and screaming, with stubbornness and obstinance to this moment now.

Love plucked me from obscurity, from self-exile, from pain, anguish and sorrow, deep grief, and remorse for what could have been unto life to give me hope and a future as written in Jeremiah 29:11

He did it through His Word, the essence of Himself, when one remembers that He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and lastly, through removing His veil of protection from around me regarding those things I needed to know the truth of for my healing.

Many parts are not necessarily complimentary of certain people, places, experiences, or thoughts, but I was abused, and bad things happened over a very long period of time.

As the Lord would have it, each part tells its own story and often has a beginning, a middle, and an end, which can stand both alone in its subject matter or as a continuing component of the total story.

Many stories are invariably filled with horror, anguish, pain and sorrow, rage, injustice, anger, and even insanity; I daresay, my insanity. At the same time, there are many stories that are revealing of the light, love, and hope the Father gave unto me, especially when I didn't feel I could go on, neither in therapy nor life as I lived it even now.

Every person referred to in the book was provided a pseudonym to protect their identity. It is not my desire that they be judged by you as reader based upon my experience with them.

Many have told me to take credit for my part in the writing of my journal and all the revelation therein; and I have never known how, for my life is not my own, it never has been. To God be the glory, for I am nothing without Him. At the same time, a pastor told me, in 2018, that Mary carried Jesus.

So yes, I wrote my journal that is the substance of this book now written, and as we are in relationship with one another, I was the vessel through which God chose to teach others about God-therapy as I have been witness to and the recipient of.

May you find the strength of the Lord within its pages to bring an end to your suffering, light to your darkness, love to your brokenness, peace to your mind, and joy unimaginable as you embark on this journey of healing. As you read, you will feel many feelings and emotions you may have never felt before, ranging from sadness to happiness, from anger and rage, to love and feeling the peace that surpasses all understanding that only comes from the Father. Alas, you may feel all these things and anything in between, for all is possible.

It is my desire, that as you go on my journey of healing with me, that you will realize that you may be going on your own journey of needed healing at the same time with understanding, because I say to you most assuredly that all the words written belong to you as well, and those that apply to you in the moment of your reading them will seem to come alive of their own accord as the Holy Spirit brings the gift(s) of their blessing to you as spoken of in Isaiah 55: 8–11 for your need.

There is no mistake that can be made, nor come from sharing and giving unto others what was given unto me over this long length of time in meeting me at a time of great need and having my most dire need being met as only the Lord can do, in bringing the chaos of my life into order, such that, I may thrive and not just survive.

And He wants this for you too. What first belonged to me now belongs to you dear reader, and then to all of us, as God-therapy happened to me as is written and contained within the pages of this book. May you too find health, healing, happiness and hope, cause for celebration, and make room for grief and sorrow, for they too have their say. I did come to the place where I stopped trying to rid myself of my darkness, as if I could get better if it would just leave me alone. Instead, my darkness that needed first exposure to the Light was then given the time and space it needed to be transformed by the Light for my good, during my long length of time in therapy.

The darkness is still there in terms of memory, but its power and strength to change me into or ability to cause me to do that which I do not desire for myself as spoken of in Romans 7:15–20 is gone now.

I was born and raised in abuse never knowing there was and is another way.

My life changed forever when my husband died. My life changed when I realized I still had children to raise. My life changed when I asked for help while desiring death just the same, and, my life changed when I asked God to go with me to therapy, and He came.

David wrote 150 psalms, and, in my mind and in this day and age, I told God that I wanted to write one too, asking God, why does David get to write them all, why can't I?

A TV show I watched one time had a story titled The 151 Psalm; therefore, this is Psalm 152—my prayer for you dear reader (written 1 October 2013):

Psalm 152

What is it Father, that Thou must wrench our stories from us for healing to happen…

That pain, anguish, sadness and soul bearing despair must be brought out of us for it has lain in hiding for so long that this is the only way.

Oh, Father, must it all be a lament of the soul for freedom. I can feel it to be yes, for I have been there, we all have, and still are.

Never do I stop crying in grief and mournful sorrow of how it's been for me, and it is not wrong, for in bringing the dark to light I can feel love, healing, and even happiness trying to take hold.

In the end, it must be, and it is only Your will for us that makes this journey worth the effort for all who have need.

Give us strength, Father, for Thou knows we have not our own.

And whilst upon my knees and in supplication, I beseech that You see in us, hear in us, feel in us, know in us that we are broken people; needing to be held, loved, nurtured back to life and without the strength of You in us; we are but dust without form, substance and reason for living…for the only story we know is our own; the only life; ours, which is broken beyond repair, save the seed of Hope planted in groups such as ours.

The strength, support, love and kindness of us, drawing strength from each other with You as our guide, allows for nothing more than miracles to take place.

May we all come to the place where You are and know that we are wanted. That attachment to You comes with No strings. That unconditional love is real, that the scars of our battles will fade from memory for no longer do we have to fight to live.

Oh, Father! We have all been through so much and our very own lives overwhelm us more than we can stand.

I implore You to hear us in our tears, and bring rest, peace of mind and desire to live a fulfilling life in spite of our circumstance…

Knowing that we need You to show us the way so we can follow and learn the way home.

Through the medium of this book now written, the little girl lost found her voice, as the lack of language and word is exactly what I was being given back, a piece at a time. And in uttermost revelation, it did not stop me during the all of this time of healing/learning, for it was not my Father's desire that it would.

It has been a very long road on which I have traveled, to start at the beginning of my life, as I spoke of it in therapy and come to this last and third volume, part three of my story, which tells how it all came out in the end, how it all came together. As I shared the story of my life and the abuse that occurred that marred my understanding of my place in the world and my role in it; whilst I also learn to be in the world but not of the world, I am deeply indebted to the ancestry of those who came before me in any and every resource I came upon as the Lord directed my steps. My path was alight with their words for I had not my own and when the Lord spoke to them at the time of their works creation, He was already thinking of me and my needs for this time.

I shall forever be indebted to the good Lord and the talents of all those come before, think ancestors and champions of seeking the answers to the why of whatever besieged their heart then; that they wrote, sang about, spoke about, shared with others; that I was able to find great healing and the Lord used all of it to help me find my voice once and for all, as was His desire for me.

What you are about to read picks up where volume two, book two leaves off. When last I spoke, I have since learned that the words awareness and awake matter as the challenges ahead could not be faced without my more healed mind taking part in the healing process of what remained to be revealed and even worked through to my tolerance as I could handle for my needed healing. And now my story continues…

Chapter 40

When Will I learn? When…

Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that getteth understanding.

—Proverbs 3:13

It takes ever how long it takes, and that is okay, as the come back girl, just one more time Diane; learns that these words aptly apply to my query: But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.

—James 1:4

4 September 2016

It couldn't be any other way for me, and so I write now that which I learned from that which I endured during her away time.

It has been now three weeks since this thought first came to mind. The Lord had spoken unto my mind that I was, now ready and needed to learn about communication. This came about because of the severity of my reaction to my therapist being gone for eight weeks, with the additional trauma of her return; which was filled with fear, mistrust, rage, anger and hatred, a very intense I hate you! that came out in every nonverbal nuance of me towards her, for the agony and anguish she had put me through. I was absolutely overwhelmed by her reaction to me and my efforts to be supportive of her during her away time.

I sat in the corner as a child in fear and with trembling to try to come down from the words I want to kill you that were running through my head, from I hate you, though I found out later I had whispered loud enough for them to hear, to I'm mad at you! which I did manage to say and proceeded to let out my litany of accusations of her lack of looking out for me during her away time.

Who was she, who was this woman who was still so very wounded and hurting from the story of her life; after six years and two months of therapy to the point in time I saw her last, with the additional twice a week therapy with the fill-in, for eight weeks—needing him there when facing her for the first time and having the reaction described, then suffering an additional five weeks from her of distancing herself from me; no hugs, of her own volition, no acknowledgment, no sincere apology until this past week, 31 August 2016. I had to know, I needed to know, why. What was it about me that had not yet learned, what was it in me that had suffered to the extent that all that had happened in those thirteen weeks had happened at all. In addition, after two weeks back, Ms. Gray told me I had borderline personality disorder after long having been convinced otherwise. Then the word masochism came up, and even two weeks ago—you don't meet the criteria for attachment disorder, though I did. I had to come back and say how it is that I did; (as she was looking at it wrong).

That in seeking attachment to others, that only meant I was making the effort to recover from, to come out of or whatever the therapy word is; not that I don't or never had, but that I was making effort to recover from the horrors of attachment disorder and apparently doing a very poor job of…and all my ears could hear was, Your bad, your bad and your bad; and in case you don't know it, I shall remind you. All your efforts to support me during my away time were all bad, wrong, unwanted, not needed and even hurtful to me. I was reminded of the number of times I had… and then name it…sent ninety-six texts, accused of several phone calls though was only four, and one was even an accidental dial, three emails, though she made it sound like a lot and coming by her house times three as indicated earlier.

The very idea that my therapist saw my efforts as intrusions in her life; filled with poor judgment and bad intentions said it all. I had made a very big mistake, and I was stupid and ignorant; still deficient in needed social skills, and her reactions as she told me and showed me reflected irritation, annoyance, and anger towards me from her; and this would be true for most anyone she said. In her words and behaviors upon her return, I had broken all the rules in society that I have no knowledge of. The fill-in was kind to help me and spoke these words to my question: What does it mean when it takes a therapist five weeks to say I'm sorry. Words that meant the world to me, when she finally got it…and then says, Maybe I could have tried harder.

The fill-in, Mr. Pensive, said in response: Others struggle with communication as much as you and I, we're just so focused on us we don't see it. We automatically accept that we aren't as good as others at certain things, so we expect them to somehow be ‘better' at those things than we are. Sometimes they actually are, and sometimes they aren't.

I know now, how much aren't, there really was. Our perception is off, as a result of our histories; part of which is, not realizing that every human is or can be off in one way or another. And in the fill-ins words I learned a functional definition of debriefing. It is a way, a method utilized, to help one complete a transition-for my need. And, as the insatiable desire of the little girl lost continues her journey home, this truth arose. I had not yet portrayed a sense of coming out the other side. I had never been debriefed from a war long over.

On that day, three weeks ago, when I realized that Ms. Gray's demeanor had nothing to do with me, that what she said and did had nothing to do with me, was the moment that I had healed to 93 percent; that because I had had this lesson before, from January to April 2015 in my goodbye transition from my second therapist to Ms. Gray, this meant that I had gone back to sleep during the all of this time, and unfortunately, it had to happen again.

7 September 2016

In that sleep I was hurting without the realization of what I had gone asleep to. What a horrible lesson to have to be awakened to in my Father's desire that I learn all I need to for my healing. So, thank you, Ms. Gray, for the distress of our time, though I don't want to mean it, I do. To be able to move forward now, I must go back and capture this knowledge.

10 September 2016

I have spent a lifetime speaking nonverbally to every person, place, thing, idea, situation, it matters not. This that I am, the Lord, in whose image I am made, allowed, and taught me well my first language; and not being allowed to speak growing up, meant refinement of a very needed skill; that in me, screaming to be heard, but could only be heard on the outside by looking; yet I did not want to be seen by anyone for any reason. Yet, I would wonder about the strangeness of people, why are they doing that, why does what they are doing matter, how come I'm noticing that and all manner of fear, that's stupid or crying from a broken heart, would come from out of me all the time in this watching that I was doing, this waiting that I was doing, when waiting happened in my life, this observing of life that I noticed, and yet; I never saw anything, because I wouldn't and couldn't look around freely at anything as if I cared or I could get hurt.

What if I see something I couldn't handle, who would help me and worse, how could I help myself if I needed to, were unspoken words of fear, because I would need too, but be unable to, and then I would be worse off than I already was; and thus, without realization until this moment now, I lived a life of hypervigilance, watching, seeing and feeling nothing; yet, watching, seeing and feeling everything as the threat that it is or could be to my life because it is, and I became and was alone in my fear; absolutely overwhelmed and afraid of every person, place, thing, idea or situation that knew more than I did, of that I was sure. Every act of another was filled with knowledge of, know-how and capability, all of which I was ignorant of, and if they knew that about me, I was in trouble.

No one could ever know all that I didn't know; and I didn't know anything, of that, I was sure; and so, it was, became and is still a truth today: that when I started therapy 7 April 2010, my secrets would come out, for the Lord had told me so, and they must, for they were killing me. The illusion of death, the idea of death ever my friend was here and waiting to kill me; and so it was, that my nonverbal self, came to therapy and found herself in a place where she was given permission to speak through the nonverbal language of another; for that which I saw, felt and had knowledge of coming from Ms. Kind, was the language of my childhood and even my life to that moment in time when first we met and I recognized her voice; and I have been trying to learn to speak ever since.

Ms. Kind said it first, Ms. Ignorance said it, Ms. Gray said it and others have said it, that I write better than I speak, and to this moment now, this truth remains; as I am not yet an equal unto myself, I tried once or twice with each therapist to speak in therapy without need for my journal with me to speak for me, and still I cannot do it.

Invariably I get into trouble with what I say, it doesn't always make sense what I say, I can't defend myself, it gets worse if I try to fix anything, and the questions asked by others during my struggle, makes my struggle worse. Only in the last few weeks have I even learned to say these words if needed, based on your response, that means I didn't say it right, and if I am brave, I will try again, if not I walk away in pain and despair, thinking…until I learn.

My therapist turned all therapist and serious and laid out how all that I did in her away time was wrong, bad, done with knowledge, intent and with manipulation…and other words already written, but this is the problem with that-that prior to her illness; she and I had such a wonderful therapy relationship. She knew I loved her because she loved me; that I would want a sister like her, that I needed protection, remothering at times, a trip to a special place someday, to hear her voice, as it mattered that much to me to hear from her through text, email, or phone as would be options for connection with me during her away time.

Which brings me back to now. My ability to communicate was and has always been nonverbal, and the mistake I made was to try to communicate through that which was offered, because I did not know the rules, only the options, and in my lack, I didn't use any of them correctly; definitely not, to her liking and she let me know it; which cost me dearly. She wants to know what it cost me because she asked, more than once, not understanding my statement. I know the answer, but I couldn't find the words to tell her, because I tried, but without success.

Never did I feel so alone as I did in that moment of her speaking ill about me. The pain and anguish were most unbearable, and I realized the absolute despair of what a lifetime lack of not knowing how to communicate had cost me. That as long as I knew how I had hurt her with my 96 texts and other efforts during her away time, as she so spoke; that she could not see nor feel, understand nor acknowledge with insight, that in my desire to support her during this time, all I had managed to do was to anger and enrage her with my lack of knowledge of social skills that to her are obvious, apparent and easy to understand. It really hurt.

Only this week did the XO after her name get back together with her hugs, 7 September 2016. It helped that last week we hugged, but the reality was that I had lost my therapist for three months and a week—that's all I could understand in what I was feeling, and I have never known how to feel differently. She still doesn't want me to contact her in any manner, so I told her, I could die, and she wouldn't know it; said not as a threat, but as an observation of. I don't have any way to communicate with her anymore; and so it is, that in one moment in time, when my therapist went through her own duress, I didn't handle it well at all. What does that say about me?

Still, she does not see the gifts of her away time, as family, friends (support) were there for her. She had told me so. Something I have never experienced in my life, and she was angry that I didn't understand, finds it difficult to believe even that I didn't; and yet, it is my truth. She is easily overwhelmed, and she was overwhelmed by her circumstances, and by me, but I didn't know that then; I only know it now. She has threatened to throw me out of therapy now four times and she reminded me when I asked this week, could we talk about it, that she meant it. I never believed that she didn't. In the end, we didn't talk about it really, and redirecting, avoiding, and changing the topic have happened a lot since her return. At first, I was upset, angry even, for lack of understanding; but really what struck me the most was that this one moment in time that turned into thirteen weeks of hell for me, were hell for her too, and how does that happen that I was so affected by her leaving? How could so much damage happen to forever change the way I see her and she sees me?

No acknowledgment by her of her role, her impact, her whatever it is called, on me during her away time; and that, I don't understand. As I finally learned the words through that movie, that feelings are the language of the soul (Simon, 2006) as I learned that music is the sound that the soul hears, on a plaque today in a flower shop…what I really heard, were the words as to why these words fascinate me so much; found on a picture that I bought and gave to my therapist. Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens author unknown; and, in therapy this week I learned of this truth as the Lord spoke to my mind.

That I had spent my lived to now life listening with the wisdom of the ages to that which concerns me, in this my time on earth. That as I, and my emotions travel through time; in my desire to learn of communication, I was, in fact learning, only now, the knowledge that goes with all the wisdom I have always had; that which I was born with but had forgotten that I knew.

Always one step ahead the Lord keeps me, from that which goes on around me in the story of my life…not to one up another, not to be smarter than, better than or any other…more than…and then name it; but for the simple fact that He is tired of me being hurt. He shields and protects me, my constant warrior and forever vigilant friend, from that which I do not understand, until I do. As, from then on can I learn and grow from whatever seed has been planted by any one person, place, thing, idea, concept, or situation that demands and needs attention for my healing and growth.

As I learn to communicate with all of God's creation, I am learning what not to do as much as anything. I find myself saying more frequently now, that I don't want to be like him or her; them or that; and before now, I had never even given it a second thought. Clearly, it was my lack of good communication skills that was…normally, I would have said, all that happened between my therapist and me during this long length of time, but the greater truth is, the real truth. No matter what she was going through, not even in its severity, did my attachment disorder ever stand up and take notice. Instead, attachment disorder demanded attention at any cost to me or to her and we both suffered for it.

It wasn't right for her to expect me to be normal, or less ill or more understanding of her during her away time, than what I was; exactly as I was. She tells me not to expect, as some tradition or principle she follows states, but I disagree, for the Lord continues to qualify me for that which I so desire and was made for to His glory, and I expect myself to fulfill when that day comes because I want to, first of all; I need to, and I will.

It's not like I'm off the hook either. I know I have lied in my life, made promises I didn't or couldn't keep; expected things in actions, words or deeds that were promised by me to others, that I never really intended to fill, couldn't fulfill or was never able to, no matter how hard I tried.

What do I want in therapy: honesty, integrity and truth provided with compassion and understanding that recognizes the pain and anguish hidden within the untold stories that are so prevalent in the lives of those who come to therapy to begin with. What do I need from therapy—more than anything, to feel safe and secure in a trusting relationship with my therapist; one that doesn't include accusations and threats, lies and false promises. What am I getting from therapy: a chance to start over, a second chance at life, a realization with eyes wide open, that I am not all that they (those who caused me harm) said I was, that I am not all that I believed myself to be because of their actions. That the little girl lost, who has since been found is here, trying to find her place without so much fear and trepidation; that I need to trust or believe in may be the better word, in the wisdom of others until I can find it in myself. That I can ask for what I need, because I was told I could and that when I do, it shall not be denied as if never spoken. That to help me work through and process the story of my life, is for my Father in heaven, the God of us all, to allow me to come unto you the therapist and for you to reveal to me the knowledge and wisdom of your years, experience and insight that will so profoundly affect me in my experience of; that I am forever changed for the good, the better, or whatever the word.

The absolute despair of Ms. Gray's down time served to bring me to 93 percent healed, as the Lord placed a rainbow in the sky that day as a sign that I had learned. I could never and would never wish upon another what all happened to my therapist, what she went through; but I'm not lacking compassion either as implied, I simply believed as I did with Ms. Kind, occasionally with Ms. Ignorance and with my current therapist that they knew more than I did about me because of their schooling and training, experience, wisdom and knowledge; only to find out through Ms. Kind's wisdom then You know a lot Diane, but you don't know what I know, and I realized this truth as soon as she spoke it, and from that day forward, I vowed to learn all that I could from therapy no matter what, and I have, I will and I do.

I want to be healed, to be well, healthy, happy, and whole, but I'm never going to get there on my own because I can't, it's not possible and it never has been on this part of my journey through life. Perhaps, the most hurtful and most difficult, painful really, part of therapy has been, as it has happened repeatedly throughout is that gap that exists, the gap that exists between awareness being the first step and awakening in that awareness being recognized as the different that it is. I didn't deserve her tongue lashing that I received upon her return. I needed to be held and hugged; and when it didn't happen, her nonverbal body language and then her verbal language tried and convicted me as if I were the cause of my own illness, and intent was the deciding word, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Both of us were in the dark about what was going to happen when she left. We only know about what did happen. Nobody suffered more than I regarding me; and when I received no compliments, no encouragement, no you did your best, what happened instead? My therapy became about her and what happened to her, what she suffered, just like what happened with Ms. Ignorance.

My nonverbal language and communication skills that took a leap into verbal language and an effort in reciprocal communication on a personal level with another, turned out like a bad experiment gone wrong. Just like with Ms. Ignorance, I'm supposed to say I feel and then name it, only with her I never could because I couldn't understand what I didn't know.

I tried to give Ms. Gray a progress note of myself with her, same as when I was with Ms. Ignorance and under threat of being thrown out of therapy, believing that, that is supposed to make a difference. I don't think it did. Sadly, this point was reached with Ms. Gray in a much shorter period of time than with Ms. Ignorance.

Now I can say these words: Ms. Gray, when you said you would call and didn't, it made me feel disposable, discounted and worthless. Ms. Gray, when you said I could write, I did; and when you didn't respond, I felt disposable, discounted, worthless and lied to. Ms. Gray, when you accused me of manipulation with intent regarding everything, I tried to do to support you during your away time, it reminded me of Ms. Ignorance telling you she thought I made up my story and you not believing her, because you told me so; but now, accusing me of the same thing. Ms. Gray, when you said, we could be sisters, travel to a faraway place together when therapy ended, I love you, and called me your favorite, I believed you; but, when I was received by you upon your return with disdain, I felt I had been deceived and lied to; thus my proclamation of Don't promise me anything, Don't say or do anything that isn't true, I can't handle it.

I was so hurt, so very hurt that you couldn't see that I just needed a hug to be reassured that I wasn't as bad as I was told I was by my family, my story, my last therapist and now-you too. Somewhere, somehow, I must learn functional communication skills when speaking about my personal life.

The fill-in tells me I communicate well and told me I was working hard and doing good work; and thus, it was he who carried me through her away time, but it was also he that brought this conflict to light whether he realized or not. With him, I was good and with Ms. Gray I was not.

In reflection of now, as I write this journal entry into my book: I was again in that all or none thinking, the splitting behavior of me was still here; wherein, one person is all good, and one is de-valued by me and all bad.

In many ways it was that simple, and in a most painful awareness, it was equally that painful, to see, to acknowledge and to have to deal with, why two different therapists saw me in two different lights. So polar opposite, that I was confused, scared, afraid of her return and his goodbye.

To face myself yet again in all my ugliness with no one to help me see with compassion that I hated her; that in me, that Ms. Ignorance would swear she saw and knew intimately, was still here. After six years and five months of therapy, she was still here and functioning well, in a battle I had already chosen to win. She (referring to myself), still had a grip so tight that she (now referring to Ms. Gray) could see it, react to it and tell me without batting an eyelash, that she couldn't help me; and I knew I was in trouble, and I cried. To focus all my energy on a problem this big, this entrenched and this toxic, is to give a face to a most regrettable behavior that at one time served to protect me and was a giver