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I Am Not A Victim Healing is a process, but with God's help it's possible by Kelly Massey For a long time I was filled with resentment and self pity. I told myself that no one knew what it was like to live my life — no one would ever understand how hard I had it. One day I realized that I'd become bitter and lonely, hidden behind walls and walls of fear. Let me tell you how it all started... When I was growing up things were never quite balanced. My father was an alcoholic, so I never knew when he would be angry, or when it was OK to bother him or not. My parents divorced when I was 13 and I felt nothing but relief. I was sick of the fighting, sick of hearing the threats. I couldn't handle picking sides anymore. The day my dad left was a combination of so many emotions: fear, happiness, anger, resentment, relief — I didn't know what I was supposed to feel. I taught myself to let people see the person they wanted to see. I would get the grades and be the fun one to hang out with. But all of that time I struggled with this intense anger and depression, inwardly begging people to please see the real me. My life changed forever when I was 17. I was sitting on my bed getting ready for school the next day. I heard the phone ring and inwardly cringed because it was past 10 and I just knew that it was for me. I went into the kitchen ready to apologize, but the phone wasn't for me this time. My mother looked at me and quickly walked into the other room. I tried to follow, but my step dad stepped in my way and told me to go back into my room. It became hard to breathe because I knew something was wrong. So I waited. My mother came into my doorway and calmly said, "Your dad is dead. He shot himself." I couldn't speak. I became hysterical. The next few days were a blur to me. I fought hard not to let anyone see me in pain, but it was too much. Every moment of every day I missed him — the dad he could have been, the dad who someday would have walked me down the aisle, the dad who I knew would have quit drinking if allowed more time. "Why?" I asked myself over and over. I was so overwhelmed that one night I got on my face and just prayed to God that He would take over. "Lord, I can't do it anymore. I cannot, and do not want to. Please help me!" I came to know the Lord during that time of my life. And inwardly I think I assumed that all of that pain would just go away and the questions would end for me. After all, He was God wasn't He? But it was still hard. It still hurt and I still missed my dad more than I could say. I could barely speak his name without breaking down. So I taught myself to play a victim. After all, others didn't know what it was like for me. They didn't know my loss. They didn't know me. I slowly let my anger build until it became rage at everyone around me. I'd close my door, listen to sad music and take myself down that depressed road...and I would embrace it and dwell in it. Then one day I was telling someone how hard and horrible my life was. The Lord spoke to me from that person and said, "What makes your life so bad? Why can't you get over this?" In that moment I realized that healing is a process. It's a long process, but I have Him with me. I will never understand why things happen the way they do, but He knows why. He's not a God of confusion. God did not look at my life and think, Oh, I didn't know that was going to happen. No, instead, time after time He gently spoke to me telling me, "Trust me child...just trust me." Now, a few years later, I realize how real He is. I am not a victim. Of course there are times when I look in a mirror and see a girl whose dad left, who's been hurt, and who still struggles to understand. But He reminds me every time, "You are mine, you are mine...trust me, you are mine."