My life story of abuse

So I’m going to put a trigger warning here because this story could trigger people because of it’s content. If you are in a vulnerable place, proceed with
caution.

So, I was put in foster care when I was born because my parents couldn’t keep up with my feedings as a baby. I then went back and forth between my parents
and foster care until I was seven, at which point I went to live with my grandparents. While living with my parents, I was sold for drugs to countless
men, and my father started sexually abusing me around age one. My parents were both physically and sexually abusive to me. My mother would cut me and pour
salt into the wounds and then tell me she loved me. There was a foster family I lived with when I was five who were members of a cult. So, yes, there was
ritual abuse in my childhood, which I’m not going to describe as the memories are still to painfull. Scripture was used to make me obey what they wanted
me to do. When i was three, a stranger came into my window and raped me. When I was six, a grandfather raped me. When I was seven, I went to live with
my grandparents. They were mentally and physically and spiritually and emotionally abusive. My grandparents didn’t believe in counseling, so I didn’t go
to therapy until I was 17. They said it was against the Bible to get counseling. When I was 15, my brother started sexually abusing me. This went on for
about seven months before I finally told. When I was 12, I became a Christian. I came to know Jesus as my personal Lord and Saviour. When I turned 17,
I was taken from my grandparents and put back into foster care. I lived with my aunt for three months where I was emotionally abused the entire time. i
then moved to a temporary place for a week until a suitable home could be found for me. I went to live with a family that I lived with for a year until
I had to move yet again. I moved in with a family who still loves me to this day. I call them mom and sibblings. On February 18th at two fourty-five PM,
I forgave all of my abusers, and then at three PM, I got filled with the holy Spirit. It was a surreal experience. I tell my story in the hopes that it
will help someone else in their struggles to find meaning in their life. There is hope and life after abuse. I didn’t come out of this unscaved, not by
a long shot. I have borderline personality disorder, dissociative identity disorder, major depressive disorder, and post traumatic stress disorder. I say
all of this to say, there is hope and freedom in Jesus Christ.
🙂

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