From My Lips to God's Ears

IMPACT STATMENT  -- M.A. Walker

As a young teenager, M. A. Walker was raped by a friend she had known and trusted. Humiliated and afraid she decided to keep this life-altering event a secret for more than thirty years.

“I went on to live with a victim mentality throughout my adolescence and into my adult life. I felt like I died the day of my rape. Sometimes I actually wished my attacker had killed me so I would not have to go on living this very tortured life. I became pathologically depressed. I hated the adolescent part of me because it represented a weak and vulnerable person who couldn’t avoid being victimized. The thought of ever again feeling helpless petrified me.

As an adult I sabotaged every meaningful relationship I could have had because I was unable to trust a man enough to bond and develop a normal healthy relationship. I remained emotionally numb and became an expert at putting up barriers. In short, I was living in my own personal prison – a prison I had created for myself.

I am not an authority on current methods of dealing with mental health issues. The good news is that there is help available to victims of these types of criminal behaviour. I lived a tortured life for more than 30 years before I finally sought professional counselling. I thought of myself as worthless and unfixable and I couldn’t imagine why anyone would consider me valuable enough to actually want to ‘save’ me. I now realize how wrong I was to keep my rape a secret all those years. That was my biggest mistake, but it has given me a purpose for writing my book. If I could only say one sentence to a rape victim this is it, read my book and you will understand what a painfully tortured life I experienced because I tried to deal with the repercussions of rape on my own, don’t repeat that costly mistake – get professional counselling as soon as possible.

Because this book deals with such an embarrassing and humiliating event, it naturally makes me feel uncomfortable to talk about – even after all these years. However, I really do understand the trauma it can cause. The need to help others who have been similarly victimized is more important than my anxiety and feelings of embarrassment. The ultimate goal of my book is to bring healing and hope to people who, like me, consider themselves to be damaged and unfixable.

The natural instincts I felt after my attack were anger, hate, humiliation and fear. Forgiveness was the furtherest thing from my mind. However, living in a world of hate rots the soul and destroys you. The happy person I once had been was decaying because of hate. My psychiatrist guided me to the realization that if I could master the act of forgiveness I would be able to escape from the grips of hate. Then life would become brighter and once again be filled with hope. He also helped me to understand that by forgiving my attacker I would at last escape the control he had over my life. But forgiveness in my case did not end there. I also had to forgive my adult self for all the self-abusive behaviour I did because I was ‘so messed up’. Finally, I had to learn to forgive the adolescent girl hidden deep inside me who had been victimized in a very cruel act. What sounds like a simple act took a long time and it came with a lot of emotional agony.

I thought of forgiveness as a loving act of kindness one offers toward someone you sincerely care for. So why on earth would I offer that loving act to someone I hated? My psychiatrist helped me to understand that learning to forgive was a kind and loving act I needed to extend toward my adolescent self. For so many years I had hated that young girl inside of me who had been vulnerable and the victim of an attack I could never forget. My whole life had been dominated by the effects of that one event. Once I accepted the truth that I was totally unable to prevent the attack, and that it was not my fault, I began to feel liberated. Instead of loathing that innocent girl I could embrace her. A sense of peace began to replace all that resentment and rage. My rape was a tragic event that I had experienced. It really was a part of my reality so I needed to decide what I was going to do about it. If I did not want to live my life stuck in a victim mentality I had to forgive my adolescent self. However, because I was able to take that big step I now am released from the bondage that held me captive for most of my life. Finally I am able to live freely and really learn to love again.

Revenge and punishment are not my motivators at this stage of my life. The time for that has passed. I now want to focus my energies on continuing to heal and working toward a brighter future” – M. A. Walker

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FROM MY LIPS TO GOD’S EARS: SECOND EDITION

M. A. WALKER

www.frommylipstogodsears.com

Could use any of the Questions & Answers posted on my Social Media Site: http://mawalker.authorsxpress.com/

Please share / replies are welcomed – Thank You!

About the Author 

M. A. Walker was born in Nova Scotia on the scenic Atlantic coast of Canada. She spent 21 years working in various aspects of the human services and health-care sectors before returning to college to pursue her studies in Business Administration with a concentration in marketing. She graduated in 2010, from the NSCC Waterfront Campus. Her most recent accomplishment has been the publishing of her first book, From My Lips to God’s Ears. Born to be an advocate for victims of social injustices, Walker now shares this very personal account of her own life in the hope that it will help other rape victims to avoid some of the destructive consequences that almost destroyed her. 

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• This book is based on a true story and real events. Names, places, and other details have been changed to protect the identities of the individuals involved. 
• March 23-25 2012 M. A. Walker’s book was pitched for a movie in Las Vegas, Nevada – it is presently being converted into a Hollywood Screenplay. 

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Such stories have become all too common and have the potential to destroy the hopes and dreams of their victims. Fortunately for the readers of this book the story does not stop at that point. It offers an understanding of how victims can find a way out of the hell in which they have been placed and become restored to wholeness once again.

“From My Lips to God’s Ears has stirred-up many emotions within me. To open-up and tell aspects of your life takes great courage. It has made me realize that we are quick to judge when we really don’t know what has gone on in a person’s life. I also believe that we have at least one good book in us, but are probably not prepared to bare our souls as M. A. Walker has. The bottom line is that God knows each book that is in us, and He alone will judge the story we have to tell. Great book, please read!” – Fred Myers

Simple Assault

phoenix.

Ages 4-14.

I was the sad little girl with the raggedy clothes and the grubby face.

At some point the majority of it all became a blur.

The parts I do remember are the good times that I clung to and the bad times that I could not escape.

At times we would have upwards of twenty people living in the same place.

Most of them were men. all were family.

I was no stranger to ill-treatment of any kind.

I couldn’t play as a normal child played.

I stayed within plain sight of as many people as possible for fear of finding myself in a position with someone who had less appropriate ideas for a girl as young as I.

Hide and seek was out of the question because they always lurked behind the house.

Or in an empty room.

The dark became my enemy as I never had enough time to get away when I couldn’t see them coming.

Even when I took precaution though, I sometimes found myself alone with someone who had no intention of treating me as a small child .

It was always strange to me that with as many people as we had living in one place no one was ever around when I needed them.

I still have nightmares of their faces.

Nightmares of ripped clothes and whispered threats.

head bashed into the ground, the crunch of leaves deafening in my ears.

A grown mans hand across my baby face, my fingers clawing it away trying to take a breath.

Desperate fear, heart beating like that of a small animal caught in the cruel clutches of its predator.

hands on young flesh, cheap beer and hot breath on my neck..

The sound of a zipper cutting through the night air.

No kind of soap can wash that kind of filth away.

Every day, over and over again.

I had too many people to run from and not enough to run to.

Define.

I was a kid. There was touching and kissing and fumbling. Guilt. Shame. Ugly. For me, there’s a difference between knowing and grasping. I couldn’t grasp any of it, but I knew what each felt like—and they all hurt. Hurt in ways all their own, in ways I have never been able to articulate. When you’ve been silent for so long it’s hard to find the words, the right words. It’s hard to find your voice.

But I’ll try…

I was a girl. He was a boy. They were boys. Different boys. Same me. Different occasions. Same consequences. Hurt. Do you understand?

When you’re a child you are blissfully ignorant of differences. You’re innocent and pure. You’re a child. But when I was a child, I became painfully aware of the differences that exist between boys and girls, men and women, males and females. I knew how devastating those differences could be. I knew those differences.

I know those differences.

I was practice for older boys. Older, but still, they were boys. I imagine they wanted to get a feel for a girl. Wanted to feel the differences between a boy and a girl. Wanted to know where their hands go. Where they go. They wanted to know what it felt like and how their bodies would react. They practiced for that day when they’d meet a girl they like and that girl would like them back. That’s what I think anyway. Maybe that’s a romantic idea. And maybe to this day I am naïve.

Regardless of their motivations, they did it. They explored. Me. They defined. Me. Victim. I blocked those experiences for a long time. I hurt for a long time. Some times, I still do. But I’m fine. It hasn’t been easy and it won’t always be, but I’m fine. Promise. See, some silly boys defined me as a victim, but I will define myself as a survivor as whatever I want to be. I will define myself.

Female, 30

My first year at college

Female, 32

I was 4 years old