Do Hard Things

*This is part of our Stories of Strength series.  I want to thank the generous contributor who so courageously shared her story.  ~ Kim

Food and sleep…food and sleep…food and sleep. From age 17 to age 19, those were the only 2 things over which I had control in my life and the only two things in which I found comfort. I was living with my boyfriend who started out as my knight in shining armor, until he started beating me. He came to control every aspect of my life, except what I ate and when I slept. Ice cream and a warm bed – oh sweet deliverance!

Through the tender mercies of a loving Father in Heaven, my relationship with him ended after 2 years, and a new relationship with Christ began. I became reacquainted with myself and married my love the following year. New-found happiness did not heal the physical & emotional scars of abuse, and my unhealthy relationship with food continued.

At times, I still felt consumed by anger & fear.

Then, 13 years after the abuse began and 11 years after it ended, I decided that I needed to forgive. I needed to be able to forgive him, and I thought that perhaps he might need forgiveness for himself. So I wrote him a letter, detailing all that I remembered, how it made me feel and how it affected me over the years. Then I expressed my complete & unconditional forgiveness. Nightmares slowly ceased, and I thought about my abuser less and less; thus, when I ran into him face-to-face the following year, I felt no anger or hostility. How freeing! How liberating it was to forgive!

But the abuse was not the end of my struggles. I dare say that my next struggle has been harder to resolve than the abuse.

Two years into our marriage, we learned that we wouldn’t be able to bear children.

At first I thought I was being punished for all of the times that I wouldn’t get pregnant when I was with my abusive boyfriend. But I knew that wasn’t true. I struggled so deeply with the knowledge that the life plan my husband and I had for ourselves – to raise children – was not going to happen. We had planned on me becoming a stay-at-home mother… what would I do with my life now?

Over the next several years, I was placed in situations during which I would be asked if we had children and then were asked why we didn’t have them. I was blessed to find loving, supportive friends; and I found strength in the women who were gracefully weathering similar struggles as mine. But there were some unfortunate situations in which people made hurtful comments. I was told that God knew which women wouldn’t make good mothers so He didn’t give them children. Ouch. A friend whose children I had known since birth refused to let me babysit them because she felt like only another mother could properly care for her children. Did those comments hurt? Yep. Did part of me feel like crawling into a hole, offended and broken? Sadly, yes.

But I learned a great lesson: no one has the power to offend me unless I let them.

Being offended is a choice, and I chose to pray for the women who hurt my feelings rather than harbor unkind feelings myself.

Some days are more challenging than others.

It’s hard to get out of bed on Mothers’ Day, but I do it. I attend baby showers and take meals to women who have just given birth. Sometimes there are tears before or after, but I do it because life goes forward. I can love, I can serve, I can be a force for good. I can love other people’s children and let them know how loved they are. I can take joy in the blessings that I have and be happy for others who are blessed with their children, never begrudging anyone else their happiness. To do anything less would be to waste my life, given to me by God Himself. What a real tragedy that would be.

I continue to struggle with the reality of my condition and the fact that my life isn’t going to be what I thought it was going to be. But I know I am not alone. I don’t ask “Why me?” because we all know that bad things happen to all people. Instead, I ask “Why not me?”, because I know that I am not alone.

Some of the greatest encouragement that I ever received was the simple statement

“You can do hard things.”

I can do hard things. You can do hard things. We can do hard things together.

Sometimes smiling is hard. Sometimes getting out of bed is hard. Sometimes celebrating another person’s blessings or achievements is hard. Sometimes looking at yourself in the mirror and loving what you see is hard. But it will get easier because you are a miracle, a divine creation – just like me. And don’t let anyone (including yourself) tell you anything different.

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