Tracey Anne Hallberg is my Monday Guest Contributor. She is a survivor of Family Crisis, and proof positive that there is light on the other side. She shares from her heart, leaving very little to the imagination.
Her story is valid, important, and needs to be shared. My personal journey is very different from hers, but on my journey, I have come upon many...many...who have had to live through horrors similar to the upbringing Tracey was forced to endure.
Tracey is one of the most courageous women I have had the privilege to know, and I am honored to share Wings Like Eagles with her every Monday.
Tracey's account is graphic and raw, and is not suitable for young or sensitive readers. I give her posts a strong PG-13 rating.
Love Lost
When I was 16, I met Clint. I almost
did not make it out of that one. So I reckon Uncle Mickey was still
prayin' fer me.
See, my life has been a battle,
between good, and evil. Find my own way. I have had to stand up to my demons. Face my fears. Fight for what is right and walk away from the wrongs.
I
had only a handful of God's real people guiding me. It has always been my free
will, my own decisions, that continue to protect me. As I am writing this, I
see more and more where His hands were in my life. My Uncle Mickey for one. He was a pastor. He was the only other one to survive my grandfather's legacy.
God works through US. People. I have had His voice inside me, since I was born. "This is not
right," He says to me. "Flee, get out. RUN, don't walk!"
Clint would be the most horrible
relationship I would ever be in. He controlled me. He twisted the truth. He reminded me of my sins. He put me on a
pedestal then tore me down. He paid me all the attention, and controlled me
with his affections, making me feel like I was his reason for breathing. He had
THE saddest childhood, I couldn't even begin to tell you. Maybe another story. I
felt for him. He WAS JEST LIKE ME.
He though, unlike me, was a destroyer. Not an encourager.
He followed me. He manipulated me. Emotionally sabotaged and blackmailed me. Used what I privately shared with him against me. Brainwashed me. Just
like my mother had been by her father. I must have been an easy target.
I had not come to know God enough. To
be strong enough yet. To deal with this kind of attack. Unprepared, I
sank. Deeper, deeper, into the deepest oppression ever.
He started beating me. When I was late from work. If I got
caught lookin' at someone wrong. If he suspected me of flirting, or wearing the wrong
thing.
He made me believe I was so tainted, broken, nobody would ever
love me like he did.
I suffered 9 years at his hand. He would eventually break my ribs and pull a
gun on me, and pull the trigger, when I was 24.
Mama developed throat cancer. I am sure the fact that she smoked since she was 10
didn't help.
I had to pay for Mama to have a private nurse cuz the hospice nurse was
robbin' her of her pain meds. I said to the lady, "She can't get out of bed!
How is she overtakin' her meds?!" So I had to fire her. Clint was none
too keen on the extra money I had to pay for Mama's new nurse, or the fact I
had to strip to get it. I had two jobs and he had none. I explained, "but, she was my
mother, and I would have taken a bullet for her. She did horrific things to
keep us fed. You would have to be me to understand." Course that was when he
broke my ribs.
Dana would be on a Meth binge for a
good 25 yrs. Although she lived only minutes away, she rarely visited Mama.
Mama had Roy, her third husband. He was mild mannered and quiet. Prolly
never knew of our past. Mama didn't care to tell him. She had turned over a new
leaf after she divorced Richard.
Yes, she finally divorced Dick, after the
stillborn death of Dana's third baby girl. Mama and Dana cried so much after
that happened . Dick would say, "I don't know why you bitches keep cryin'. It
was a fetus. Not a baby," when in fact Dana carried it full term. They
had to induce labor cuz her umbilical cord was tied into a knot.
That apparently opened Mama's eyes. None of what he did to us
was enough, cuz to her THAT was normal. But his callous remarks on that, really
musta set her off.
The last time I saw my Mama, she asked
me two questions and told me one thing. "Are you faithful? Are you happy?"
She told me to open my Bible, that all of that
in there was true. She said, "I am so sorry for how I raised you girls. I have
sat in this bed with nothing but regret. It is too late for me, but not for
you." Mama knew she her time was done. She said, "Forgive everyone. You have to or
God will not forgive you."
Mama died in 1999, when I was twenty-four. Clint came
into the restaurant where I was working. Told me to put down my plates. That is
when I knew. I dropped them to the floor. Then fell down myself. Tears...they
didn't stop coming for months. I would never get to tell my Mama I
forgave her.
My sister was so far out on Meth, she did not even process Mama's death really. Built a shrine of her things and photos. Used to talk to her.
The day Clint pulled the trigger was the day I told
Jesus, "If I live through this, I will speak your name forever. If I
don't, and he kills me, jest take me home to be with Mama. Cuz I am
tired."
I heard a pop and the swish of the bullet past my ear. Like nothin' I ever
heard. I did not look back. Clint ran up to me, flipped me around
kissed me on my lips, fell to his knees, crying, "I am so
sorry!" I turned around, no expression on my face. I continued to
walk. Like the day the firemen came. I was numb again.
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