Introduction
For years Donna hid behind a fragile shell, disguising the shame of abuse and burying her pain. But one day the smooth exterior cracked and her world exploded into feelings of anguish and severe depression. Eventually suicide seemed her only way of escape. On the night Donna thought would be her last, all alone, her Savior spoke clearly the words she needed to hear - words of life and hope for her future.Donna's true story is one of many uniquely featured testimonies from you, the members and visitors of this site. Each story reveals a life transformed by Christian faith. If your relationship with God has made a significant difference in your life, we would like to hear about it. Submit your testimony by filling out this Submission Form. To receive weekly messages of hope and encouragement from real-life stories of changed lives, sign up for eTestimonies.
Donna's Salvation - From Past Pain to Future Hope
Now that I have a future, I can talk about the past ...All my life I had been a worrier, a dependent, an enabler and a victim. I took care of everyone else and never thought about myself. I felt I wasn't worth anything, so why worry about me? I didn't matter.
I was a burden to everyone I loved in my life. Even though I took care of my alcoholic father, suffered sexual abuse for years at the hands of my grandfather and cousin, and was sexually assaulted at age eighteen, these things were my shame...no one else's. Until I turned twenty three years of age, and then my world was forever changed. I had a nervous breakdown.
I was hospitalized for depression and suicide attempts. But during all that pain the only thing I could think about was what I was doing to my family, making them worry and hurt for me. I never wanted them to know what I was going through -- what I had been going through for years.
Too Ashamed
I was five years old when my cousin thought he would have a little fun with me, and then my grandfather continued the 'fun' from the time I was eight until age twelve. (My grandfather died when I was 12.) When I was eighteen a boy tried to rape me at my job. I never told anyone about any of it, ever! I was too ashamed. They wouldn't believe me. They wouldn't love me anymore. They wouldn't want me anymore.But then at age twenty three, I kind of exploded. I couldn't take the pain, the confusion, the hurt, the hopelessness anymore. I broke down. Suicide was my answer to it all. I thought, "If I'm not here, no one can hurt me again." And I wouldn't hurt the family I so desperately loved, especially my daddy.
But you can't stop the inevitable. My mind, my heart, my very soul was in torment every minute of every hour of every day. Still I was reluctant to go to my family for help, even though I knew they would help me.
My Spirit was Dying
I felt so much shame and anguish from the past. I couldn't let them know. I couldn't let them think they had failed in protecting their daughter. I didn't want them to feel bad. Hey, I felt bad enough for a thousand people, why hurt them too, right? But my spirit was dying. I knew that as surely as I knew my name.So finally I went to my parents and they did everything they could to help me. They called everyone they could think of. They talked to any and every body about what to do to help their twenty three year old "little girl." Because, in essence, that was what I was - a little girl, again. I could no longer work. I had worked from the time I turned fifteen. But now I couldn't do much of anything but cry and hurt.
Cutting Myself
I hurt so much inside that I had to hurt on the outside. I had to see real proof of pain, so I started cutting myself. It didn't matter anyway, I hated who I was inside and out. I hated what I was doing to my family. I hated the fact that I had lost the control that had kept me in a shell - a shell that disguised my shame. I went in and out of hospitals due to my severe depression and suicide attempts.I took all the medications that were prescribed to me, to make me "better." There were a truck load - at one point I was taking fifteen pills a day just for depression. First I was diagnosed with "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder," and then "Bipolar Major Depression" with "Suicidal Tendencies." All the medicines in the world and all the diagnoses with a name didn't mean a thing, because I wasn't getting any better. Nothing helped.
