​

 The first time I felt The Father's Presence. I was three-ish. It was a bright summer day in Alaska and I was riding my Hot Wheels tricycle so fast, circle after circle, as I tried out the worst cuss words I had heard my dad and sister say earlier. I kept peddling trying out each word. I got this sense of pride, like I was super cool and puffed my chest out. All of a sudden, this palpable presence that came by way of the wind, an encapsulating embrace. The presence was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was so thick with love, kindness, and a sense of protection. In that moment, somehow I knew what I was saying was not okay. I didn't understand what it was. I didn't understand Who it was. I just understood how I felt during and after that  moment. I felt loved and protected. It was weird and it was not explainable; as I had no framework to explain what had just happened. There was a long period of time that memory remained buried and forgotten; buried and forgotten under so much darkness and despair.

As a child my parents were into the hippie, hedonistic, and new age lifestyle. During the younger years my mom and dad also studied under a Yogi and attended gatherings at their temple in Alaska. The lifestyle was intense and I remember weird and lascivious men and women around. There was also a very comfortable relationship between my mom and witchcraft. She had spirit guides, she would confer with during physic readings, utilizing tarot cards and, throwing ruins. The customers and readings would be done in our home. At the time my mom didn't realize the spiritual danger she opened our home too.

Un-seen doors allowed access to whatever demonic spirit decided to come through.

I was tormented by fear and followed around by death as though we were long lost friends. I never felt safe anywhere. The attacks came one after the next. Years of neglect, perpetual sexual abuse, physical accidents and head trauma followed. I was tormented with nightmares and daymares. During the day I would hear gravelly demon voices, on the outside of my head. They would call my name, threatening me with death and other harm. They followed me everywhere and the access they had to me was used, in excess.

For the first five to seven years of my life there are so many memories of sexual activity and abuse that no child should have. Memories that can only be explained as examples of being trafficked, trafficked to strange men and people that would throw child sex parties at their home. There was child sex parties that took place in our home, involving other children in our cul-de-sac and an older male sibling. Strange babysitters and the neighborhood ice cream man were given access to me. I was left alone with them, each on separate days and times.

​the ice cream man took me to his home. it was so scary After he closed the door. I remember the hallway having that icky low dimmed yellow light and the end of the hallway was so dark it swallowed the light. I was petrified and don't remember anything after walking to the end with him. He must have had me for a long time; At some point, I faintly heard my name being yelled over and over again. I remember pounding noise, pounding and yelling, "Open the door, this is the police", Over and over again. I remember the door opening and the police being there, my dad picked me up and we started walking home. The police stayed and questioned the man. 

the babysitter who violated me was a stranger and allowed to stay in our home after my dad had only just met her in our cul-de-sac.

Just me and a stranger. 

I was left alone with a strange older girl and was sexually assaulted in my home, in my room.

That room... so much darkness and torment had been welcomed.

The floor was littered with urine-stained mattresses.

Our dads abuse and neglect was apparent.

I remember.

I was gaslit but, I remember.

I remember what he did to me and the sexual abuse he perpetrated. 

I can still fill the sting and pain of his betrayal.

Many other times, I remember being taken to the local XXX-porn store located by the nursery that had swans, two blocks down on Muldoon road; with my dad and little brother. I remember being taken inside, the images on the shelves and being taken into a back room past the front counter.

 I was a child.

I was a groomed child.

Groomed to live in-service of my abusers.

Fulfilling their wanton lusts and perversions without question.

I was a child.

I did what I was told for the reward of affection and "love".

I was a child.

Violated since birth.

The pain and torment left behind by the wanton perversions forced upon my young body, can not be put into words.

I was a child.

My body was sold to men.

My body was sold to adult men.

Many of those men were local business owners in and around the surrounding areas of Anch, Alaska.

I was trafficked to Bainbridge, WA, from Alaska being forced to solicit men as customers. I was forced to stay by way of my handlers stealing my ID. I will speak on this matter in a separate post.

I was trafficked to a traveling billionaire and his wife at the Captain Cook Hotel, in Alaska; later flown to Florida to spend time with them.

​​decades of years being forced to enjoy rape, and physical, emotional, sexual and mental abuse. suffered from severe depression and drug addictions. I endured undiagnosed agoraphobia, and severe PTSD, same-sex attraction and relationships. By the time I was 18, I was fully addicted to pain, sex, BDSM, bulimia, and self-harm. I self-harmed in many of the ways I had been abused. I had learned to associate pain with love and love with sex—never realizing it was okay to say, "No". I was conditioned to believe that if I said, "No", it meant I would be rejected and until I complied I would continue to be rejected. I was groomed to accept abuse as a form of love. Time passed as each layer of my being slowly turned numb from the habitual acts of violence committed in the name of love.

 

at the end of 2001 my firstborn arrived and changed my life. 

By 2005 I had opened a small business. 

By 2006, a fall caused a lasting spine injury.

By 2007 I had a freak accident with a golf club and almost lost my eyeball.

I was also pregnant by a man who was insane and abusive. After becoming violently sick for five months and dealing with all the abuse, I had a late term abortion. The State of Alaska by way of Planned Parenthood paid for all flight, hotel and transportation arrangements for an over night trip to Seattle, WA, in order to have the abortion completed. I was sent to WA because the abortion term limits were more liberal with more time allowed to abort. - I will share in length about these moments, in a separate post. 

In 2009, my son and I drove the Alaskan Canadian Highway, from Arizona to Alaska, in April, in six days. After crossing the border into Alaska, I broke my sway bars and was stranded in Glennallen, AK.

By 2011, I had lost all of my material belongings and I was homeless with my son.

End of 2011, the owner of the home that I had rented a room out of, ended up committing suicide. We only found out after his family came over after not hearing from him since he had been accused of embezzlement by his employer.

In 2012, we located to Seattle WA and within a few months I was in a relationship with another man I had no business being with. He mimicked the depravity of abuse and narcissism I had survived, the entirety of my life. 

 By 2013 I was pregnant and suffering from severe domestic violence, severe and chronic Hyperemesis Gravidarum, I was constantly in the emergency room. During that time I had unknowingly contracted a bacterial STD from my significant other. The bacteria was dangerous for the baby. I was scared and deep in the middle of the most abusive relationship I had experienced. Immediately, I found an an OBGYN after my ER visit. I shared everything with Dr. Bruce Erhart. All of the childhood abuse and the current abuse, etc. I was a blubbering mess and thought I could trust this doctor.

I was only six-weeks along when I was given a physical examine by Dr. Bruce Erhart.

 Before it happened, he excused the witnessing nurse and left the room with her as he verbally gave her the task of getting my paperwork ready for when I checked out.

Then the door closed.

He returned quickly, by himself and that is when he sexually assaulted me.

 

with my son I had chosen to have an at home birth with a midwife. I had no experience with OBGYN'S. I was mortified when the information came together during a different ER visit; after I shared with the attending Sweedish nurse what the Sweedish OBGYN doctor did during that physical exam and I had contracted a horrible infection from his exam, that lasted for 10 days. I shared with her that he pretended to use a gloved hand during the exam but at the last minute before I could do anything and resist, I heard the quiet but identifying noise associated with that of a glove being removed and felt his hand enter my body; over and over as he used his gloved hand to push several times on my stomach in several different areas. The exam was painful and similar to the kind you have when getting a pap-smear. I didn't know what to do. Was this actually happening? I second guessed myself. I was in shock and disbelief. I did not imagine anything. he had used his bare hand to complete the physical exam. The nurse listened and stated she believed me. She informed me there was no valid reason a physical exam should have been done, especially without a nurse present and that something very, very wrong and serious had taken place. She acted very suspect toward the OBGYN and explained the harm that had come to my body. She also, strongly suggested I make a formal complaint against him.

I was consumed with anger, rage, exhaustion; so many other emotions raged.

This is the moment that broke me.

There was nowhere to turn.

I had no support.

I had no confidants.

There was no one to offer encouraging or wise words.

The impact this had on me was unexplainable.

I was pregnant.

I had been assaulted. 

My unborn child had been assaulted.

I was Isolated and alone.

Estranged from most of my family.

Unknowingly, I had also contracted Lyme disease and mononucleosis (EBV) during my pregnancy and experienced horrible symptoms for years before being given medical treatment. I also suffered with severe undiagnosed postpartum depression that left me suicidal, most days.

​​For those of us who have endured abuse—especially the explicit sexual abuse outlined in my testimony—our souls often fracture into countless pieces. The most beautiful parts of us splintered away. We bury ourselves in pits of nothingness, afraid to breathe without permission. We live for approval, seeking those who will control and manipulate us—because that is all we know.

Are we allowed to dream?

Are we allowed to hope?

Are we allowed to live?
Are we doomed to spend our lives merely surviving?

We can't fathom the time it takes to heal.

We can't fathom the amount of time that will pass before we discover our laugh.

We can't fathom the time it takes for the heart to soften and trust. 

Unbeknownst to us, Jesus knows... 

Jesus knows how to love us with persevering accuracy and precision. 

Jesus knows our hearts need gentle words spoken in love and kindness. 

Jesus' plan is to heal and restore every fractured piece of our souls.​

I never thought I would live to understand what it feels like to be whole, to be healed, to be loved, and to be protected.​

I never thought I'd be alive and have the breath to testify of Gods goodness

To testify of His depth of love, mercy and grace toward us all.

My heart is awestruck.

 

I read Song of Songs 2:1–2

​“I am truly His rose, the very theme of His song.
I am overshadowed by His love, growing in the valley.
Yes, you are my darling companion. You stand out from all the rest.
For though the curse of sin surrounds you, still you remain as pure as a lily, even more than all the rest.”

Tear after tear, I wept. 

Jesus' love for me is pure, intentional, and unshakable.

Jesus has never forgotten me.

Jesus never thought I was too broken to heal.
Jesus never thought I was beyond his saving and redeeming reach.

The Living God who knit me into my mothers womb, has never let go of me—not for a single heartbeat. 

The breath in my lungs is proof that I have value and my story is far from over.

​Without question, Jesus is more real and loving than anything I've been taught.

Without question, Jesus Christ, triumphed over every sin, shadow, every lust and perversion; every prison, every chain, and every dark and depraved decision I have made or might make.

He sees every scar I carry.

His hands have gathered every tear I've shed.

He has silenced the lies with The Truth of His love.

He surrounds me with His love—protecting the most beautiful parts of me.

Even now, His love wraps around me, restoring my dignity

and sealing my eternal birthright as, His Sacred Beauty.

Specifically, purposed and created by His hands.

 

​Sacred Ones...repeat those words as many times as you need!

​

Breathe deep and lift your heads.

Step into the truth He has set before you.

You are and have always been His Sacred Beauty—treasured, chosen, redeemed.

And nothing—not even the darkest night—can steal the sunrise He has written for your life.