My life: The Short Version

Should I start at the beginning? I'd like to skip the first 33 years of my life, but it's part of the journey. I'd like to have skipped it the first time around.

I was born in 1972 (that sounds like a long time ago).
In order to protect the innocent and the guilty I don't think I'll use names of people and places.

• I went to the baptist church my father grew up in from the time I was born until sometime in first grade.
• My parents put me in christian school for preschool at age four. My younger sister started at age two.
• We changed churches when I was in first grade to attend and later become members of the baptist church that had the school we went to.
• I remember several things about school and church--some good and some very bad
• I worked hard from about age 5 until I was 10 to get my mom to like me---it didn't work
• I remember my dad putting my sister and I in the car in our pj's with blankets (I was probably 7 or 8) and him driving to where my mom worked and just weeping in the parking lot. He thought I was asleep in the back seat, but I was watching. I saw my mom coming out of a darkened furniture store that we had sat in front of for a long time. She was supposed to be doing inventory. You don't do inventory in a dark store. She had said "everyone" was working late. Apparently it was just her and some guy.
• 4th grade--I remember my dad picking us up from school and sitting in the car and watching for some guy to leave our house. My sister wanted to know what we were doing. She just didn't get it. My dad didn't think I did either.
• In 5th grade I gave up trying to please my mom. Nothing I said was right. If I opened my mouth I got in trouble. I couldn't carry on a conversation with her, no matter how hard I tried.
• 6th grade was the worst year of my life. My teacher molested and raped me repeatedly. I began smoking the last day of school of 6th grade. Suicide attempts were many in the years to come.
• 7th grade- I was scared to death of my male teachers. No shit. One of my teachers asked my dad why I seemed to be scared of him. He didn't know and no one asked me or at least I don't remember being asked.
• 8th grade-- I ran away from home for a few days. Some guy tried to follow me one night. I hid in the middle of some very prickly bushes to get away. Scared me too bad for me to travel far. I ended up calling my youth pastor late one night and he and his wife came and met me and we talked for about 3 hours. (Actually he had just been replaced but he's the one I knew and trusted at the time) I was still very suicidal. When I ran away I was choosing to run rather than hang myself from the train bridge. I was afraid of dying but hated living. My mom was totally out of control and scared me real bad.
• 9th grade-- My mom and sister and I moved out of state; my dad was to come later. By this time I learned icy control and "the stare". I could emanate hatred and a coldness that none could withstand. I used it to control the beatings my mom gave to my sister. If my sister had been a pain to me; then I'd let my mom beat her to a point before I'd stop her. I was still deathly afraid of my mother and would sleep with a baseball bat under my bed and a knife under my pillow in case she tried to kill me during the night. To piss her off I would answer her ever so sweetly "Yes, Mommy Dearest". I wanted her to come after me so I could kill her in self defense. I told my dad that she left us all night and had nighties in the trunk of the car. (This was true) She also made us sit out in the middle of the yard with no shade in the hot afternoons (temps were over 100) while she talked to her lawyers. I would call my dad collect from a payphone at the grocery store and beg him to get me. I finally told him that if he didn't come get me that I would take the car and drive through the mountains to get home. (I was actually planning on going the long way through Texas) He came and got me. I guess the thought of a 14 year old driving through the mountains did the trick! My parents divorced that year and my dad remarried the next. This is also the year I saw my old 6th grade teacher again. He was coaching a rival schools girls basketball team and was at our school for a 3 day tournament. Day 1 I saw him. He seemed a bit nervous to see me at first. Day 2 and 3 I laid in wait for him with my knife ready to kill him as soon as he was alone. The best chance I had was when he was with his wife and son. I wouldn't kill him in front of his son. There was God's grace in preventing me from acting on my plan.
• 10th grade-- Life sucked. Friends needed help and I hurt so bad. I had a friend whose dad did things. To this day I don't think she told me everything.
• 11th grade-- I tried so hard to be a good Christian.
• 12th grade---ditto
• College life-- I was such a mess. I was angry, depressed, suicidal, and working so hard to keep God happy with me. I had a teacher who reminded me of my 6th grade teacher in how he looked and some quirks of movement. I could barely remember to go to class. I never remembered quizzes and tests. Pop tests are sure rough on the gpa. My freshman year was a fog. The only thing that "cheered" me up was the thrill in going to off campus parties with the trouble crowd. (I was at a conservative Christian college where unchaparoned, male and female together, spiked punch, smoking and a make out room were very much instant grounds for dismissal) Can you believe I talked my way out of it in the deans office?
• I was 19 I think when I saw my 6th grade teacher again. A friend that knew I hated him called and told me there was a rumor he was moving back to town and back to our school. I showed back up at church during the summer I was home. He saw me and wanted to talk privately in some other room. (Yeah right, I'm not 11 and 12 any more. I didn't stay stupid) He apologized if he had done anything. He said he had confessed it to his wife and she forgave him. (Even in the middle of the foyer at church with people walking around I was still afraid) He grabbed my upper arm and left fingertip bruises on it. Nice apology huh? We did talk for a little while. I told him if he ever touched my sister or anyone else I knew that I would make him wish he was dead. He followed me out to the parking lot. I put a car between myself and him and told him to back off and that my sister was waiting for me and if I didn't show she knew who to blame. I also told him that there were others who knew. He backpeddled and stopped being overtly threatening. He said he just wanted me to go with him somewhere where we could talk and get things right. (I'd bet anything he would've killed me if I'd gone with him. He would have had his fun first. I saw how he looked at me)
• My cult years-- Some would say it's harsh to call something that calls itself baptist a cult. You wouldn't if you experienced what we did. My dad always told me not to drink the kool-aid. I should have listened. I got started in that church my sophomore year of college and didn't get out of it until years later.
• Sophomore year at college-- I had settled down away from the wild crowd. They weren't to be trusted because someone was always going to "confess" something or other and got others kicked out while all they got was probation. You never knew when someone was going to develop a conscience. I was doing all kinds of good works to please God.
• Junior/Senior year-- The anger erupted again. I scared my roommates. They backed off, but I ended up in mandatory counseling for the rest of the semester and the next year. I got real good at giving all kinds of info about crappy stuff in my life, yet avoiding the real problems.  I went through one counselor, she sent me to someone who could help me more, that one wanted to send me on to the dean of students for counseling the next semester because I wouldn't admit to her that my dad had done stuff to me.  He hadn't, it was my teacher.  She just needed to ask the right question and I would have said everything.  She gave me a list of books to read that was all on the topic of sexual abuse and mostly incest.  I couldn't talk to the dean again, I was scared of him. It seemed like he could see right through me. So I stayed out the 2nd semester and got married in the summer and when I came back to school for my senior year I wasn't a dorm student anymore so no one came after me. I did look up the lady who counseled me last to tell her I was fine. I wasn't though. We were married for our senior year(Soooo stupid!!)
• After college-- We stayed in the cult church for a few more years. Traded it in for a more balanced Baptist church for about 5 years.  That one was still like the cult one, just nicer on the surface for a longer period of time.  Moved on to a Bible church for 3 1/2 years. Tried a Presbyterian church for a while, then on to a couple different Sovereign Grace churches and then another PCA church, a Southern Baptist church, then a Covenant Presbyterian Church(CPC) and now we're in a Communion of Reformed Evangelical Church(CREC).  The last two have been the best places for us.  Where we are now(May 2013) is a place of hope for me. (That's a whole 'nother blog post and then some)

I'll have to elaborate a lot more on our church moves because it's amazing how God worked and moved us and brought us and me specifically to himself.