Back to the Battlefield: A Christian Woman's Guide to Enduring Life

INTRODUCTION

In 2008, after journaling and having a conversation with God, I felt this heaviness on me. I felt like there was something in me that was saying, You have a lot to say, and you need to get it out. I looked to the heavens, said out loud, God, with how I feel right now, I feel like I could write a book. Never would I have ever thought that eleven years later, God would call me to write this book.

Back then, I didn’t think that this would come to fruition so soon. Often, I would think that I would be well seasoned in life, in my older age, opening my laptop, and beginning to write a tell-all book. I already had detailed my life to be as such and did not expect anything more nor less. I did not believe that I would have such a capability to write this book at twenty-eight years old. 

But to my surprise, on June 23nd, 2019, I received the green light from God to write. It was totally out of my expectations at the time. I had been waiting on God to approve me going to graduate school within the next year, and I was waiting on His reply. So, when I received a text from my spiritual mother, Sera, asking me if I would make it to church that morning, I believed that she was going to be the breath of fresh air I needed. 

The previous night was a tumultuous one with God and me. I had a very uncomfortable and angry conversation with God. I had presented to God that I wanted my life to be a certain way. I became frustrated with the seemingly normal life I had once asked God for and wanted something new; I wanted the things I wanted. I figured that I had been faithful enough and deserved that much. Arrogant much, right?

I had become so angry with God because I had believed that I was promised that my future career and my coming husband would soon be in my life, but all the signs pointed down a path that I could not openly see. So, when I received Mother Sera’s text, I assumed what she was going to offer me was going to make my day better; and that was her precious homemade cupcakes.

I quickened to text her back because even though I had a rough and tumble night with God, nothing would dry my tears and clear my sadness better was Mother Sera’s cupcakes, and God was not about to allow me to lose out on those. I was filled with glee when I text her back because I would devour those cupcakes as soon as I get off from work.

But to my surprise, again, she didn’t contact me about her precious homemade cupcakes. She had contacted me about something even better. Terrace, Mother Sera’s text read, God told me to tell you to start writing your book.  Writing a book?! I said out loud. I looked at the text, stunned. Immediately, I jumped from the bed and began to pace the floor. A book, God? Really? A book?! I said while looking up at my bedroom ceiling. God, you tripping if you think I am going to write a book. All I wanted was some cupcakes! I exclaimed. I couldn’t believe that God had broken me and then asked me to do something for Him. I was bothered by that.

How could God ask me for something like this, knowing how broken I am? I thought to myself. I said to

God, You got the wrong one. I am not fit to write no book!. But you know what? I was, and I am the right one to write this book. I couldn’t believe that God asked me to do this, but it only fitted that He did. God had to get me to a place where I was humbled before Him, where I weak but malleable. I had to be broken, so I could become open to the idea of writing this book. 

Want to know what the funny thing is about this whole thing? The more I refused God calling me to write this book, the more the thought resonated in my spirit that this was the new thing I was waiting for. You see, the pain gave me the open space to become radical in what I believe because God is radical. It helped me to allow God to create open spaces to allow Him to work in and through me to create more spaces for others.

In that moment of God telling me through Mother Sera that I needed to write, that not only allowed for me to heal from my hurts and expectations, but it was also creating spaces for there to be justice for all who experience this; women and men alike. The more I recognized the call from God, the more I realized that it was not only about me doing something for Him, but it was about helping others.

This book is meant to help you understand what it means to rise above the pain is to rise above it all, conquer it all, and become all that God has shaped us to be in the most positive way possible. What was designed to make you fall will only help you to rise higher and higher, again and again.  I hope that by hearing my story, you will find healing too. Whether you know me in real life or not, I also hope that you will be able to relate and know that you are not the only one that desires to want more. I pray that my experiences are used to make life better for someone else.

CHAPTER 1: EMOTIONAL PANGS

From my earliest memories , I remember being a relatively happy child. Anyone could always find me laughing or deep in the world of my imagination. There were very few things that upset me, like not watching Barney ® or Mighty Morphin Power Rangers ® . Or, there were minor things that would bother me, like losing a toy. Often, I would holler to my mom, I don’t know what I did with my toy! Where is it?! Who took it?. Then, I would look at her as being the culprit. Back in those days, happiness came as easy a summer breeze on an August evening. There wasn’t much I could ever ask for because I already had it. Most of the time, the only pain that existed to me came from stomach aches and scrapped knees. The emotional pain was not thought of nor become a memory. The deepest emotional pain that I would mostly experience was in spit spats of childhood with the neighborhood kids. Either somebody messed up in the rules of Red Light, Green Light, or somebody was paying favorites in Simon Says. For the most part, that was as deep as emotional pain would go, at least for a while. Real emotional pain, like the deep-set pain that carries on for years, did not come into my life until I was about eight years old. 

I remember holding onto a sadness that was so deep that there was no escaping it. I knew that this was a different type of sadness because of the complexity is presented. This type of pain and sadness was no longer rooted in who got the ball first or got picked for teams. This was a deep-rooted pain and sorrow that was beyond comparison to anything else.  This pain I could not describe. I believed for a moment that it was all a part of growing pains and that with age, my emotions would change. I wasn’t sure if that was the correct theory, but it seemed the most logical and made the most sense. Despite this, I knew that I didn’t like the pain and sadness I was feeling. I wanted it to disappear and go away. But this pain and sadness grew more profound and more robust. It was around this time I believe I started to experience depression at eight years old. 

I remember that my sadness and pain started when I witnessed my family, and I experienced dramatic changes in their financial situation. I was going through puberty while being homeschooled. Socially, I had become the bullied kid that had to be pulled out of grade school because of the constant taunts and insults hurled at me daily, alongside the nightmares that would come at night. I felt as though my world had changed upside down, and everything as I knew it, changed. I remember feeling that everything changed so fast. I thought that if the beginning of being a teenager/adult was going to be this way, then I wanted to stay a kid forever. 

As these changes were taking place, I remember feeling sad all of the time. I mostly remember feeling guilty because I had no control over any changes, especially the financial ones. I would often think that I asked my parents for too many toys and games, and that had to contribute to the problem. I remember saying to myself, I shouldn’t have asked for all these toys. If I didn’t, we would not be where we are now. My growing mind could not comprehend just yet that is not how it worked and that it wasn’t my fault. But I carried that pain with me until I was in my early to mid-twenties. It seemed like it would never leave, and that would be an additional cross I would carry for the rest of my life. 

Over time, I learned that pain did not have to become my rest stop; it would not end here. I chose that pain would not become a hindrance but a tool for me to push forward. I would realize that pain would be a constant battlefield in my life. I always thought of myself gearing up for war whenever there was a twinge of pain in my life. It took me a long time to recognize and come into bloom from all I carried; it took a lot to fight and continuously engage in this battle called pain. Along the way in this journey, I realized many victories come from pain in all its forms: spiritual, emotional, and physical. Within the next few pages of this book, I will share what I learned about pain and how you can manifest your best and most potent self that God has called you to be and become.

Pain is powerful but fails to depress.

I remember when I was a little girl, I would cry a lot. I would cry over anything and everything. If a character on television died, I would cry. If someone was joking and I thought they were serious, I would cry. If I felt like being sad, I would just cry. Crying was my cleanser, getting rid of all of the emotions I feel so deeply. I would feel some pain in my crying, but never pain that would cut so deep that it would stay with me forever, and therefore, have me cry on long days and nights. Being a child who called quickly is one of the many things that I miss about being a child only because I could express myself sincerely and carelessly.

One of my many vivid memories of profoundly and easily crying is when my mom talked to me about crying a lot. She would always say, Baby, you gotta get tough skin! Stop crying all the time. I know that my crying bothered her. It would bother any caring and loving mother that their child cried often and felt so profoundly. My mother would console me, but I didn’t understand why she would say that to me when I would cry. Eventually, I learned it was because it would make her more anxious. After all, she believed that there was something wrong that she could not fix. I know

she meant well, but it was damaging to me because of my

misunderstanding. As a child, I took it as I was getting on her nerves, not as that there was a pain deep inside of me that she could not heal. I believed that I was more of a nuance than a joy. I would often try to calm myself down, but that did not work most of the time. Even as a kid, I knew that I had a get a grip on my emotions because they rumbled anything and everything around me. However, I didn’t have the right tools to express my feelings and not allow them to become my whole world. 

Somewhere in life, I taught myself two things: Stop crying and not take everything so seriously, even when it was dire indeed. And if I needed to cry, I would cry in a safe space, alone. I felt my mother’s words were chastisement, even though she encouraged me to the best of her abilities. Satan twisted those words filled with love and encouragement. I would often believe the lie, Your mother does not want you to be free. Find a space, alone, and cry anyway. Those were powerful thoughts and words for such a little and impressionable girl that I believed that every hard emotion that I had to encounter, I had to meet them alone. I felt as though there was no room to express what I could without being chastised. Now, don’t get me wrong; I am not blaming my mother nor my upbringing. However, I am saying that misinterpretation and misunderstanding on my side, for whatever reason, is what had me thinking God never intended for me to think about nor feel my emotions. I felt as though I was being led to hide my pain. 

I have learned that pain often tries to get you alone through sadness, depression, anxiety, and other forms of emotions and thoughts mixed together. All of which creates some form of isolation. The emotional, physical, and even spiritual pain can make you feel like you are nothing and that everything up until the time you started to experience pain did not and will not matter. I remember how emotional pain would overwhelm me, making me feel like I was in a dark room with no corners of light. I was waiting for a Savior, somebody to come and pull me through, but it seemed like it never came. I felt as though I was fighting this battle of emotional pain alone; I felt as though I was always going to be the only one fighting for me and my life, for the rest of my life. 

The lack of knowledge and understanding that I had as a little girl, not to my fault nor anyone else, allowed an open door for my experiences of emotional pain to become consuming. It felt like I was letting those pains to swallow me alive and whole. I remember the times that loved ones, whether family or friends, would hurt my feelings. I would try to make myself feel small.  The smaller that I felt, the less pain I presumed I would feel. Everything had changed in seemingly an instant. It felt as though the emotional pain that I was feeling had moved into every atmosphere and space of my brain, bringing large furniture with it. The emotional pain that I was experiencing made sure that it was not making one appearance but that it had enough room to stay for a very long, if not forever. 

Emotional pain became so influential in my life that I felt ill-prepared. I made up in my mind that this was how life was meant to be, and I had already given up my battle. I wanted to stop fighting through life; stop trying to have joy and peace. I used to think, would it even be worth it?  Was I worth fighting for? And why couldn’t somebody fight for me? I was tired of being sad, angry, and having every emotion going up and down at any time of the day. I didn’t know where my mind would end up, but I knew that somehow, I needed to be neutral and deal with everything.

I admit it was not the best way to deal with my emotional pain. It was unhealthy. But I do know now that it was God that got me through. I didn’t realize it then, but God was fighting for me the entire time. Everything I had learned to do on my own was NOTHING compared to what God was doing. He was protecting me and even fighting for me. Even now, when emotional pain seeks to control specific areas of my life, I know that God is fighting for me. Even when it does not seem like it, it is so because He said so. God helped me conclude that pain can be distortion, a complete misinterpretation of everything we can sense. Pain is meant to stop us in our tracks, making us believe that the world does have to stop because we are hurting. That’s not true, and thank God that the world doesn’t stop when we experience any emotional pain. If that were the case, the world would never rotate ever again. I learned that pain does not stop life and that life does not have to stop here. I mean, that pain can be in our present lives but doesn’t have to take over our lives. 

Realizing this helps me understand how to manage better any emotional pain I encounter, whether sadness or depressive episodes. I know that I can handle it. However, does that mean I do an excellent job in dealing with my pain? Not at all. I admit that there are certain types of pain that I just don’t deal with it very well. But learning how to deal with it and discovering appropriate coping skills, I have learned that pain does not cover all and that pain is not all there is to life. I understand pain is always going to be there, and some weird instances emotional pain is a necessary vehicle to help me move out toxicity. However, that doesn’t mean that in order for me or you to grow from our pain, we do not have to be consumed and overwhelmed by it. We can acknowledge that it hurts, and it is very uncomfortable, but even in that, we can also understand that we don’t have to stay there long, and healing comes as soon as we accept it.

Emotional pain can become anger, but it can also fuel understanding.

I admit that when I started writing this book, my emotional dial was turned to anger. I must laugh at myself as I am writing this because this book has become my battlefield. I am currently at war with myself while growing, evolving, changing, and healing through the process. My flesh HATES this process, but my spirit knew there was time to change, and my soul was up for the challenge. So, as you read the following excerpt, please be reminded that as I am expressing my anger, my heart has softened and that I had to see that His way is the best way to fight this battle of healing, processing, and moving on throughout life.

"God, I am angry with you. I think I am beyond angry; I am livid. I didn’t ask to write a book and I surely didn’t want to write this one. All I asked for was to go to school, have a successful career, get married (and have successful marriage), and have kids (who are successful). But, now, here I am, 28 years old, still living with my parents (grateful for that but still), working my butt off to save money, SINGLE and NOT DATING with NO INTERESTS, writing THIS book! This is not what I wanted. This is NOT what I signed up for. A book?! Really?! A book?! Who is going to listen to me?! Who EVER listens to me?! Do you even listen to me?! I just feel like I am being used across the board. One minute, I am someone’s prized possession,