Sticks and stones may break my bones, but oh, how words have hurt me .... Think back in your life about all the words that were spoken over you, both the good and the bad. I bet you anything, if you're like me, the bad comes to your mind first. I feel like I can remember every good or bad thing ever said about me or to me, especially the bad. Not that I haven't forgiven the people that said those things, but they really did hurt my soul. Because of my insecurity and my endless need to please, those words weighed me down like an anchor around my neck. I remember my first day of third grade at my fifth school standing in front of the class to be introduced by Mrs. Tate. I can still remember what I was wearing, I had my favorite dress on with these horrible black patten knee high boots, (My mom let me wear anything!) and in the very back of the class I heard a boy say "Big Bertha Boots!" I wanted to die! I didn't cry until I got home that day and was able to spill my tears over a devoured box of Swiss Cake Rolls! Those were the first mean words that I remember. Nonetheless, school became my safe place. I loved my teachers, my friends, and everything about elementary school. So I just chalked those first hurtful words up to a stupid boy who didn't know any better, and I figured if you wear knee high boots in third grade, you kind of deserve what you get:).
During most of my elementary years, we lived in Brookwood Apartments, which incidentally, was also the home of the Lookouts at that time. Those innocent years of hanging around my friends and being heavily involved in church would last only as long as I was not yet obsessed with boys. It was those early years that set the foundation for my love of Christ and my fear of Christ. We attended a small church in White Oak where several of my friend's families also attended. We were involved in children's choir, RA's, Bible Drills, and Sunday school. We were there every time the doors were open. If my mom didn't go, I would go with my friend Trina. Trina's family was such a happy little family. Their home was full of laughter and music. I would go on Sunday trips with them to the Flea Market or on Sunday drives. I would try to spend the night at Trina's for my first sleepovers, but I don't know if I ever stayed the entire night. I would always wake her parents up as soon as she fell asleep wanting to call home. Her dad was extremely patient with me, each time. Besides my uncles, Trina's dad was the first dad that demonstrated to me the image of a loving father. He was kind, funny, and patient. I will forever hold their family dear to my heart, as they helped set the foundation for me for normalcy and Christlike love. Those years were great years because I was around loving, kind people, and like I said earlier, people pleasing is only safe when you are around good people, but that was soon to change.
That's the bike in the background!
As early as second grade, I started being interested in boys. My first experience of trying to win a boy's love was when my mom bought me a brand new banana seat, lime yellow bicycle, which I quickly turned around and gave to a 6th grade boy just because I liked him! I believe when a girl doesn't have a dad, she is more vulnerable to boys. I was craving love, self assurance, security, and for some weird reason, I thought a boy would provide that to me. I may have learned that from mom, as she was continuing to date David, even though he was clearly married, drinking heavily, and seemed to be using Mom. Or maybe, it was from watching so many Elvis movies and soap operas at an early age, where the girl always gets the guy and they live happily ever after. I just had a huge whole in my heart that I was trying to fill, and I thought that was the missing piece, even at that young of age. Living in apartments, along with frequently hanging out at the skating rink, turned into a very dangerous place for a young girl such as myself. Both of those places are like breeding grounds for predators, and I was such an easy target. At the skating rink, as in the apartment complex, I was around much older kids, and like me, we were all unsupervised. Many of us lived in single parent families, who would often be at work, while we stayed alone. It was at these places I was exposed to so many things young girls and boys should never experience.
Around age 10 or 11, I really started to develop, if you know what I mean, and therefore, brought a lot of attention from boys of all ages, but not the kind of attention I wanted. I wanted the fairy tale kind of attention, but that is far from what I got. Even if boys were mean or disrespectful to me, I still wanted them to like me, and so I would never slap them or tell them off. I just seethed inwardly as each nasty remark was made, while on the outside I would laugh or act like it didn't hurt me. My worth was rapidly declining before I even made it to junior high. By the 7th grade, I had already learned how to French kiss, been asked numerous times to show my private parts (I never did, but it's ridiculous how many times I was asked), learned how to cuss really well, been mortified by a naked driver of a VW bug asking for directions, had a boy climb up the side of our building to spy on me getting dressed, been asked to model for an agency and then asked to send naked pictures (I didn't), tried to learn to smoke (thank God I never got the hang of it) and the list goes on and on.... I hadn't been called many names at that point, but there was so much pain and shame in how boys treated me. I used to think to myself why me? Why don't they do that to my friends? What about me makes them think they can treat me so shamefully? The self loathing became immense, and the anger toward God began. I remember thinking, "Why can't I have a dad that would protect me from all this?" "Why doesn't God protect me?" (I realize now that he did protect me, but I couldn't see that then) I literally thought of myself as poor white trash. There were innocent fun times splattered through those years, but in my mind, they were quickly overshadowed by the way I let people treat me. Then came junior high!!
I saw going to junior high as a brand new start. I still loved school at that time, because at that point, making good grades came fairly easy for me, and it was one thing I could do well. Upon entering the 7th grade, I still had that self loathing going on, but there were good changes happening to me. For one, like many adolescents, I was stretching up and thinning out. I was loosing my chubby cheeks, and I had finally gotten out of the Husky Girl Section of JCPenney's! (Everything I owned came from JCPenney's husky section, because we were poor and Mom had a credit card there, and I was too chubby for the ever coveted 5,7, & 9 shop!) I felt thin for the first time in my life! This was going to be my year! The newness of junior high was invigorating. Lots of new people and social interactions! I went from a shy semi-quiet girl to an extremely loud, flirtatious, obnoxious young lady. I also went from a teacher's dream student to their worst nightmare. I would have teachers tell me when we went out in public, "Sharla Snowden, don't you dare laugh in here!" or "Sharla Snowden, quit asking such stupid questions!" To say I was attention seeking is an understatement. I remember meeting one of my best friends as I was singing into my pencil on the way to the pencil sharpener. I was a slave to people's perception of me. If people were saying good stuff about me that day, I was on Cloud 9. If people were mad at me or talking about me, I was a mess. Typical junior high drama! I was still extremely insecure, but acted as if I wasn't. I wanted everyone to be my friend, and if they weren't my friend, I was ruthless. All I cared about at that point was acquiring as many friends as possible, being as popular as possible, and getting the most attention I could muster. And for a time, I did just that.
God became less of a priority to me, as I kind of used Him as a social status. Back in the day, being a good Christian girl was noteworthy. So I tried my best to pretend to be what I thought a good Christian girl should be. At the same time, I was so boy crazy. I would go from boyfriend to boyfriend, never wanting to be without one. It was almost like I would have a panic attack if they broke up with me, which they did often. There was no substance to me, I was just a facade. Then tragically, the summer of my 7th grade year something happened that would totally add to my shame and insecurity. As I said, I was very boy crazy and very flirtatious, always with a boy or in search of a boy. So it is no surprise that I, along with my friend, went on a search for boys at the mall one weekend. We told our parents that we were going to a movie, and after mom dropped us off, we came back out of the theater and sat on the curb looking for a ride to go hang out. Unfortunately, a ride did come along with two much older, extremely popular boys. We readily, with only slight hesitation, got in the car with them to go riding around. So most people, including me, would say I got exactly what I deserved when I found myself alone in the car with a much older boy in a deserted ball field. I had never felt so much shame in my entire life! Everything good that had happened to me that year was erased in one horrible moment. I would bury that shame, except to my very best of friends, for many years to come. If I didn't feel totally worthless yet, I now had no hope of redemption. I was that poor white trash again. Time to go running back to God asking for forgiveness. I even doubted my salvation at that time. How could somebody who had known God's love let something like that happen, even though I had said no over and over, I never fought him, so it was totally my fault. I was repeating the legacy of my mother. Why did I let people treat me like that? Why did she let people treat her like that? We did not know our worth as daughters of the King, we felt like we didn't deserve any better.
So, like I said, I did go running back to Jesus, but only because I was hurt and wanted Him to clean up my persona, not really letting Him have reign of my life, just wanting Him to improve my reputation. Soon thereafter, I developed a HUGE crush on a very gorgeous young man. He literally looked like a Greek god, super smart, super athletic, and he showed an interest in me, which was perfect, because his best friend was "dating" my best friend. We eventually became boyfriend and girlfriend, and I thought I had won the lottery, until we all went to church camp together. Did I mention this person was a great guy, but super competitive, and his new girlfriend was not! I also failed to mention that my best friend was excellent at everything. She was gifted academically and athletically. She was beautiful, and she was head cheerleader (which I never made after numerous attempts), and captain of the basketball team! There was nothing she couldn't do, and there was literally nothing I could do! So here we were at camp together, couple against couple, competing at everything! From the moment we arrived at camp it was on like donkey kong! Within minutes of arrival, we had gone out on the lake and ended up racing our canoes, at which time, I clumsily threw our oar into the lake, eventually causing the tipping of our canoe. I thought it was hilarious, my new crush, did not. Then, I would be kicked out of the church volleyball game (I screamed every time the ball came to me), and knocked a tennis ball across the court with my forehead, and just spent every moment failing in comparison to my friend, quickly losing the admiration of my new beau. It was an awesome camp that was really demonstrating to me the love of God, but at the same time, I was crying to our camp counselor, asking her why did God make me like this? Why didn't I have a dad, why didn't I have any talents, just having a huge pity party every day! My amazing counselor would later write me two of the most beautiful letters I have ever received telling me that my gift was that I could make people laugh, to which I held onto those kind words for the rest of my life, along with those letters. (One of the reasons I love writing letters of affirmation to people today). She had no idea that she was giving me a glimmer of hope that I did have something to offer the world. Those were the first life affirming words ever spoken over me, besides my mother's, and I will cherish them forever. Needless to say, he broke up with me as soon as we returned home, and I was once again devastated, asking God why was I such a loser, why didn't any one love me? Pretty pitiful, huh? Things did eventually look up again, and by 8th grade, I had my first love. Unlike the other boys, he really was affirming, assuring me all the time that I was beautiful and of his love for me. I found myself finally feeling some sense of security and happiness. He was also very kind to my family. He would mow our lawn, and give us furniture, and just took on more than a young boy should at that age. However, with my deep seated insecurities, it was only a time before it's ugly head resurfaced. I still felt talentless, and when we transitioned to high school, I wanted to make a name for myself again. So stupid! It was soon too much for him to handle, and we ended up breaking up, at which time, I did have full blown panic attacks. The kind of attacks I would have if I thought my mom was going to die when I was younger. I couldn't sleep, and I would either make my mom go by his house in our car, or I would beg my friends to take me to his house. My lowest point was sitting in his drive way one night with my friend waiting for him to return from a date, at which time I sat in his car, losing all sense of pride, begging him to take me back. I know he really didn't want to hurt me, but I was just too broken and too young to be in that kind of serious relationship, and I was definitely too much to ask a young boy to take on. Right after that happened, I also lost all hope of being anything in high school. I didn't make cheerleader once again, my grades were slipping and I didn't care, I couldn't even get into any of the clubs because I had burned so many bridges. I felt hopeless and worthless, like I wasn't fit for anything, and I clearly remember, saying to myself, "Well, if nobody thinks I'm good enough for any of this, I'll show them not good enough!" and I began a rebellion of all rebellions. I had finally found something I was extremely good at, and that was being extremely bad!
All I heard in my head, was NOT GOOD ENOUGH! At that moment, I started a total whirlwind rebellion against my mom, against school, against myself, and mostly, against God. I would never say I hated God, but my actions sure did. I totally quit going to church for the most part. Ever once in a while, I would make an appearance, because I still cared if people THOUGHT I was a Christian or not, but I must not have cared what God thought. I began a year and a half of severe binge drinking that would leave me lying face down on my floor praying for God to have mercy on me at the end of it. I wasn't just getting drunk on the weekends but almost every night. Drunk to the point of waking up and not knowing where I was or what I had done. I went from loving school to hating school. Luckily for me, even with excessive absences, I had taken easy enough courses to still pass without much effort on my part. I would skip school all the time. I am sure I put my mom through pure hell. I would stay out all night, never even calling to let her know where I was. I even went as far to fake a French club trip to Florida for spring break. We told our moms that the French club was going to Florida, typed up fake permission slips, and rode a Greyhound bus to Panama City. There was literally nothing I wouldn't say or do. I was at rock bottom! I still cared about what people in my class thought about me, so I would hang around older people. I thought I had them fooled but at my last reunion, I realized that I did not. Mom would just keep trying to believe the best about me, no matter how drunk I was when I came home. Sometimes, she would stay up with me all night because I would be so sick. Years later, when I would tell her about the things I had done, she would say, "Sharla Leann, you did not do that!" I would always reassure her that I absolutely did. During that short, but very damaging, time I would be called the worst names I have ever been called and treated worse than I have ever been treated. I blame no one but myself. I was hurting so bad, that I didn't care who I hurt, and I am sure that I hurt a lot of people. I would throw up so violently from drinking that at times I thought I would die, and I really didn't care if I did. I hated myself and I would drown out that hate every night with alcohol. People would lock me out of parties or in closets, just to get me to calm down. All the while, still looking for my knight in shining armor, thinking that he could save me from myself. Also, during that same period of time, my mother had become violently ill and hospitalized. I was visiting my grandmother in Texas at the time, and they called and told us that we had to come home because they didn't know if she was going to make it. I believe I was 16 or 17 at the time. When we got home, I was petrified to go see her, I thought if I just ignored it, she would get better and come home. So I rarely went to see her. She was in the hospital for like a month, during which time my sister and I had the apartment to ourselves. Instead of helping mom out and being responsible, I let boys come party at our house. I just tried to stay drunk and not care about anyone or anything. Right after mom got home, she let her childhood sweetheart and his children come live with us (David had disappeared from the picture, I think Lisa and I had a lot to do with that, but I'm not sure). At first, it was kind of nice to have this man around. It brought all this nice furniture with him (before that we had a mattress in the middle of our living room), and mom seemed to be happy that he was there, even if they were just friends. So, I tolerated him and his kids. He had also promised me a car, which really helped matters a lot. Slowly, his stories were not adding up, and we discovered that he was in a lot of trouble with the law. We may have even been harboring a fugitive for all I know. He was heavily involved with dealing drugs and was a major con artist. My mom even lied to the police when they came looking for him, and asked her information about a gun. Yet still, I overlooked all of that because I wanted a car so badly. What happened next scarred me even further, but I felt like I totally got what I deserved. He told me that we were going to go meet a guy that was selling him a Trans Am, so I readily went with him. That trip turned out to be a total scam, what he was really doing was luring me to a hotel, where he would try to make a move on me. I have never felt so stupid and ashamed in all my life! Here was a guy that my mom still loved and who I was starting to look to as a father figure, and he was trying to seduce me! Thankfully, God was with me that day, and I ran and locked myself in a bathroom. At which time, he came and was promising me through the door that he would take me home, even though I had really hurt his feelings (I had yelled all kinds of horrible things at him through the door), and so, with no other choice, I got back in the car with him and he drove me silently all the way back home. I couldn't tell my mom when we got back. I didn't want to hurt her, so I kept the dirty little secret to myself. Even though he didn't touch me, I felt as if he had. He had damaged my soul, and made me think that there must be something worthless about me that he would even think he could get away with something like that. He soon moved after that, and I dived further into my loathing and drinking. I thought that was rock bottom, but there was more to come. I soon started dating a doctor's son who had ample access to drugs, which he introduced me to. I was getting to the end of my rebellion, and had decided one night that when we went out, we were not going to drink. He readily agreed, which should have been my first red flag, but he had only been agreeable, because he had slipped LSD into my coke and bubble gum. I had finally hit rock bottom! Because I didn't know I was on drugs, I thought I was losing my mind. I was seeing spiders all over me, and thinking I saw my dad, and lots of other crazy things, which scared him to death, and he quickly took me home. I lay awake all night with my mom stroking my hair because I literally thought I was dying. I didn't find out until the next day what he had done. I was actually relieved because I thought I had totally lost it. Again, I held no grudges against him either, he was just a broken kid like me. He died a very young and tragic death. He was actually a very sweet young man, just lost like me. You would have thought that would have been the end to my ever trying a drug, but I would go on to try LSD at least two more times. Like I said, I no longer cared if I died, and I just wanted the pain of insecurity, worthlessness, and loneliness to go away. Soon thereafter, I had finally had enough of myself, and made a determined decision to truly turn back to God and surrender my life this time. But with that decision, I prayed to God that I thought I really needed someone to demonstrate His love for me in a tangible way. I did not think I could experience God's love in any other way. I just felt so unworthy of love, especially God's and I just needed someone to help me find my way back to Him. God would honor that prayer soon after through Dudley. He and his family became my pathway back to God, and for real this time.
After hitting the depth of depravity, I truly wanted to die. However, there was God, and I still believed with the last fiber of hope, that He would save me from myself and from all the people that had so desperately hurt me. So, I lay face down on the floor that night, and begged God for His forgiveness and asked Him to please save me and make me whole again. I told God that I didn't think I could change on my own, would he please send someone to help me, and for some reason, I immediately thought of Dudley. However, Dudley and this prayer was just the very beginning of my redemption story. It would take Jesus, working through a whole village of people to rescue me from the pit I was in. People that loved me right where I was and demonstrated Christ's love for me in a very tangible manner. I will save that story for my next blog though.
What I want you to take away from this blog is that I spent my life looking to other people for my worth and security. When people made me feel worthy I was great, but when I felt the sting of rejection, I would go on a downward spiral that I was lucky to survive. Security will never be found in things, position, or in other people. God made us to find our worth in Him, and in Him only. We are worthy because He loves us and He died for us so that we could be in communion with Him. He is all you will ever need, you just have to believe. Not only believe in Him, even the devil does that, but believe He is who he said He is, and trust Him with your very life. I always found the belief in Him very easy, but it was trusting Him with my life that has been so hard. I had always been hurt by most the men in my life and to finally trust Him as my good, good Father has taken a lifetime. I don't want it to take that long for you. I wish I could go back and trust Him with my life a long, long time ago. I let my anger and stubborn rebellion keep me from feeling that kind of love and security. If you struggle with that too, just pray for Him to reveal Himself to you, and He will. He loves you and wants to be your Father, and even though people and life disappoint you, He never will. Just trust and obey!
