Part One

This is a new series about my journey to healing, deliverance, and the lessons I learned along the way. It is called: My Personal Healing and Deliverance Journey. I will be sharing very personal details of my journey. It is going to be very raw, open, honest, emotional, and full of hope for those who are facing battles. It will include some excerpts from my personal journals. I have no idea how long it will be, but I am going to share everything I feel the Lord laying on my heart to share.

Trigger Warning

Please be aware that some of the posts will include information about sexual abuse (not graphic), effects of the abuse, domestic violence (not graphic), suicidal ideation, and self-harming behaviors. However, I fully understand triggers and I will do my best to stay true to my story without creating triggers, but I cannot guarantee it will not be triggering if you have suffered abuse and have not fully healed.

The best place to start my journey is all the way back to the beginning. My parents were married at a young age. My mom was only seventeen years old. Her parents and his parents all went to the same kind of churches so both families had crossed paths before they met and were married.

From my understanding he was violent toward her pretty much from the very beginning of their marriage and he was never loving or kind. She had horrible asthma and he smoked regardless of the effects on her health. He refused to stop even when she was hospitalized, and the doctors told him she could not be around it. Life revolved around him, and he was taught to be selfish from the time of his birth. He was very much spoiled by his parents. They gave him everything he wanted, cleaned up all his failures, and made excuses for his negative behaviors. He was never taught accountability and he seemed to lack the capacity to have empathy for others. That spilled over into every relationship and interaction he had. In his viewpoint life revolved around him and he would not tolerate anything less.

My mom was young and had experienced her own situations in her life that caused her to make the choices she made. The women in our family married young and she followed the same cycle. It was not on her radar that she had choices and could do something with her life other than being a wife and mother. We have talked about this subject many times and we have come to the conclusion that in the area where she lived and went to school only the kids with money were taught they could go to college and be anything they wanted to be and her family was by no means wealthy.  

Once my parents were married my mom got pregnant with me. A few months after I was born my bio-dads parents moved to Florida and he wanted to go with them so the three of us moved from Indiana to Florida. My mom was removed from her entire family and support system.

The earliest memories I have of my bio-dad is being afraid of him and afraid to make noise while he was watching tv. I had a toy shark that I really liked, but he removed the noise maker from it so that he could watch tv without hearing it. I also have one memory of him coming into my bedroom and taking me to the bathroom because I said I had to go potty. I remember him standing in the doorway waiting for me to get done, but I could not go because he was so inpatient and wanted me to just hurry up. Once I was done I don’t remember him taking me back to my room, but I do remember being in bed with my panties pulled down by my ankles. I have no idea if the abuse started then or if my memories are just blurry. I was only three years old, so I am not concrete on saying it started then, but I do know I was afraid of him. I was also afraid of my closet because I always felt like there was something watching me from inside it. I felt eyes on me all the time, scary eyes that I could never escape from.

When I was around three years old my mom left him and got a divorce. I think the violence had taken its toll and she just could not take anymore. He had caused so much pain and trauma. He stayed in Florida with his parents, and she moved back to Indiana to be with her family. He was granted visitation every other Christmas and every summer.

On one visit my bio-dad had a new woman, but it didn’t last long. I found out the full story many years later. My paternal grandparents had a very bad car wreck while they were traveling to visit family in Indiana. As a result of the wreck my grandma was hospitalized for a really long time. While she was in the hospital my bio-dad met a woman, married her, moved her into the home he shared with his parents, told her the home was his, let her move all her stuff in, moved my grandparent’s stuff to the side, and then my grandma got better and came home. According to the woman she had no idea his parents actually owned and lived in the home. You can just imagine how that went. Needless to say that marriage didn’t last very long. I connected with his ex-wife many years after the incident, and she told me from her perspective what had happened. I have no reason to doubt her account.

When I was seven he got married again to a women who had two daughters and a son. They were older than me, but her youngest daughter was close to my age. Being in their home was very difficult. I missed my mom terribly and I was thrown into a family that I did not know at all. My bio-dad and his wife were also very heavily involved in the occult/witchcraft. I have no idea who introduced who to it because when I went for a visit after they were together they were already very involved. During that time my bio-dad began to tell me that he could read my mind at all times so if I ever said anything negative about him or even thought anything bad about him he would know. That was the beginning of suppressed memories and emotions. I learned from a very young age how to dissociate/disappear and suppress my feelings and memories.

Sexual abuse became commonplace in their home. My bio-dad abused both of my stepsisters as well as me. He had free rein to do whatever he wanted to do with any of us and there was no one there that would stop him. This was also the birth of OCD for me because as he was abusing me I would count the tiles on the celling of his bedroom in order to “disappear”. That led to using counting as a coping mechanism to block out memories, thoughts, and feelings throughout my entire life. It quickly turned into bondage and became something I could not escape or stop no matter how hard I tried. I also had others like list making, repeating things over and over in my head, touching my fingers to each other in a specific pattern, clicking my teeth together in a specific pattern, and several others. Different ones developed during different times in my life and some left, but the list making, repeating things in my heard over and over, and the counting were constant companions that I could not shake free from.

He got deeper into the occult and scarier in his practices and abuse. He wore crystals and said that was where his power came from. He also said he was becoming a high priest in satanism.  He was very hungry for power, and he would do anything to get it. I was told that I was “special” and had powers because I was his biological daughter. I never wanted anything to do with any of that stuff, but the idea was planted in my head that I had psychic abilities or that I would at some point in my life have them. He made it very clear that I belonged to him and that he could do anything he wanted with my body. He was very possessive, and it seemed really important to him that I, as a representative of his bloodline, follow him and his practices. I never felt like my body belonged to me and I definitely never had a say in what happened to me.  

Fear was my constant companion. Even when I was in Indiana away from my bio-dad I still felt fear because I believed he could read my mind. I saw him do things that convinced me that he had power and because of that I fully believed he could read my mind and that he would kill me and/or my mom if I told about the abuse or thought bad things about him. I would lay in bed at night shaking from fear, sweating, and feeling eyes watching me. I felt hundreds of eyes on me all the time. There was nowhere I could go to feel safe. I never even considered disclosing the abuse because he always threatened to kill my mom and/or me if I did.

Because of the trauma I had behaviors that were screaming for attention, but I didn’t know how to reach out for help and those around me didn’t know how to interpret my behaviors. One time I was so upset I tool a pen and marked all over my most prized possessions—my Barbies. I loved my dolls, but I was so full of anger and pain the only outlet I could find was to mark them up. Afterwards I was devastated because I loved them so much. They were a constant reminder of my inner pain, turmoil, and trauma. They looked on the outside how I felt on the inside—ugly and marred with ink that destroyed their beauty.

When I was staying with my maternal grandparents I would sleep in bed with my grandma because I was afraid to sleep alone, but I also had a horrible fear of waking up next to her and her being dead. I had a huge fear of my body touching something or someone dead. It felt like I always had the memory of being forced to touch something dead and I never ever wanted to experience that again.

I also always felt like someone or something was breathing down the back of my neck and standing right behind me. I could not sleep in a room alone, and I also could not take a bath alone. I was terrified in the bathroom and wanted my mom or grandma to sit in there with me while I quickly bathed. I was so afraid of the bathroom because it was connected to the sexual abuse. At my bio-dads house who ever got stuck having to take a shower in his and his wife’s bathroom was the one who was going to be abused that night. That translated to a major fear of the bathroom, especially the shower,  that lasted many years into adulthood.

From that time frame in my life forward I never felt safe. Nighttime was the hardest time for me. As the sun started going down the fear would get worse and worse. I didn’t sleep well, and I always felt sick so I missed a lot of school. I was a sickly child and I often had headaches and stomach aches. I was diagnosed with allergies from a young age and was started on weekly allergy shots. The same way my bio-dad would not stop smoking around my mom with her asthma he would not stop around me for the allergies. I was also sick when I was with my mom. Looking back I think a lot of it was connected to stress and always being on edge.

In school I didn’t have many friends and I never felt like I fit in. I was horribly shy in school so I missed as many days as I possibly could. I would have much more enjoyed staying home and playing alone rather than being in school or playing with other kids. I was overly shy and felt sick much of the time. I just wanted to be home where I could hide in a book, play with my toys, or watch soap operas with my grandma.

My bio-dads parents moved back to Indiana and put a home on the property of my Aunt and Uncle. My bio-dad stayed in Florida for a little while longer. When he did move back to Indiana he came with only the clothes on his back. At the time we didn’t know why he came back so quickly, but many years later we found out why. He had a child with my 16-year-old stepsister and when her grandparents found out they threatened to hurt him and he ran for his life and never looked back. In his home in Florida it was never a secret that he was her father, but what I didn’t realize at the time was that her family didn’t know he was the father. He always alluded to the fact that he was her father around some of his family, but he never came right out and said it so through the years we always knew it was a possibility, but we didn’t know for sure until 2020.

Once he moved back I would visit him at my grandparents house, but he stayed in his room with his door closed most of the time. He loved to play video games and watch movies. Later on once computers were popular he bought one and spent hours on it. I later found out that he was highly addicted to pornography and was into disgusting things online.

When I was around him I was full of fear, but I would plaster a smile on my face because that was what was expected of me. I was afraid to be around him, but I was more afraid of staying away and making him mad. I never planned on disclosing the abuse because he always told me he would hurt me and/or my mom if I told and at that time I still believed that was a very real possibility if I even thought about disclosing, so I buried the memories further and further down.

When I would go over to their house for a visit I would go in his room to see him for a little while during each visit. I have no idea if any abuse happened because I have very few memories from that time. I only have one memory that may have included abuse, and even if it didn’t it was very scary for me. I was taking a bath and he tried to get in the locked door. He was laughing, but I was terrified. I still wonder if at some point all the memories will come back or if God will just keep some of them from surfacing. I have fully surrendered them all to God and I am good with whatever He decides to do.

I am going to pause for now and the next time we continue my story we will move on to a very significant event in my life. When I was 12 years old my bio-dad shot himself in the head, but he did not die. That event started a chain reaction in me that changed everything.

Thank you for joining me on this journey. Along the way as we are getting deeper into the lessons that God taught me along the way I hope you find something that you can use for your life. If nothing else I hope my story can bring you hope that no matter what is going on in your life and no matter what you have endured God is able to save, heal, and deliver.

I am reminded of the scripture that says, “Weeping may endure for a night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:5. For now I am describing my night but stick around I promise you His joy comes in the morning!  

Blessings,

Nichole Henson, Fullness of Joy Ministry