Faith Travels Book Dedication


                                                         On the Jagged Edge                                                    

There are many dark secrets in this world. There are small secrets that don’t seem to harm us, enormous secrets that are too despicable to even mention and then there are those secrets that are too unbelievable to understand.  That is where my old secret lies.  It was a secret that was literally tearing me apart and now it is tearing apart the present youth.

 When I first began to engage in my secret it was purely innocent enough.  I was fifteen years old and was with a friend one afternoon, sitting around outside of her home, passing the time away. We were talking about our present circumstances in life. I happened to look down at where the curb and street meet at what seemed like a thousand slivers of broken glass scattered about. This was nothing unusual because at any given moment in time on any given street in America there seems to be broken glass bottles shimmering in the sunlight.  I do not even remember exactly what the conversation was about since it was in 1985, but we landed on the subject of pain and the condition of mind over matter. To this day I don’t understand it but when I looked at the glass something came over me.  In a strange way, the glass looked comforting to me. It became my friend for the next four years.

 The first cuts on my arm were simply as a dare. Could I possibly cut myself and allow my mind to block it out? I had an incredible amount of emotional turmoil in my life and I tried daily to block it out. So, I didn’t think much of it and tried it.  It worked. Your mind can simply turn off anything it feels, sees, or hears, I learned early on in life.  People do it everyday.  Yet cutting myself didn’t end with the dare. It had become like a drug. It was now my addiction. When life seemed hard instead of a drink or a drug, like most teenagers participated in, I searched for broken glass. I had to have the glass.

 I can look back on that time in my life and understand the whys now.  It took me a long time to do it. From the time I was eight years old until the age of twenty-three I was a depressed, confused, and insecure human being.  That almost seems impossible to think that a child could be that depressed, but we now hear about all of the time.  Events will trigger emotions and actions in children and teenagers.  No two people going through the same event will react in the same way. A string of events in my life during the time of my depression nearly suffocated me.  It kept me in such bondage, not necessarily of my own doing that I could barely escape from its claws. My parents had been divorced since I was eight and adult influences in my life often took advantage of my single mother working long hours and my naiveté. I quickly found out that some adults could not be trusted no matter how close to the family they were.

 I did have a few moments of pure sweetness though.  I met a life long friend and her father who quickly became a surrogate family to me.  I believe God used them to bring about some sunshine in my storm.  And by my grandparent’s leading, I gave my life to Christ at the age of fourteen, securing my soul but unfortunately it did not give me an automatic manual to life.  Certain events that I had experienced in life had tortured me internally. I believed that I was a worthless person.  For years I had punished myself internally for the actions of my parents neglect and the actions of irresponsible adults.

I didn’t feel victorious as a Christian. I truly felt that being a Christian only added to the confusion.  The “whys” only seemed to overwhelm me. I felt defeated.

 To cry one more tear seemed to sadden me even more. I honestly did not think that I could cry one more tear.  That is where the cutting of my arms came into reality. To say it was odd or that it was simply an act of rebellion by a teenager is to miss the point.  When I used to cut myself, I felt relief. Later on in life I realized that I was punishing myself for the actions of others and that I was simply trying to find a substitute for God. Instead of leaning on Him, I turned to the glass. Instead of letting Him comfort me and grow me up in the full knowledge of His sacrifice, I turned to my own blood for relief. I let the blood cry for me. In Psalm 17:6-8, David says,” I call on you, O God, for you will answer me; give ear to me and hear my prayer.  Show the wonder of your great love; you who save by your right hand those who take refuge in you from their foes.  Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.” I really wish that I could have done that. I didn’t have the confidence back then that David speaks of in that scripture.  I didn’t feel as if I could ask God to help me.  I felt hopeless.  I really thought that I was born into this lot in life because of bad decisions made by others and I would be stuck with it for the rest of my life.  What a lie that was!  Satan really had me fooled back then. There were times when I felt his oppressive presence around me and I was frightened.  I wonder now if Satan was waiting in the shadows with joyful anticipation for me to cut my arm too deep.  My life as I knew it now would have never existed.  I thank God that he never knew that victory.

 I have never wanted to end my life. Cutting up my arms was only a temporary act of release from the pain but it was never to be a permanent solution.  And that is true for most teenagers now. I had always believed that God was in charge of that job.  I just wanted some relief.  And the cutting was never a cry for attention. Usually I would start cutting my wrists all the way up to my elbows and then wear long sleeves to hide the marks. I never wanted anyone to find out.  I often felt ashamed for what I was doing to myself, but I just didn’t feel like I had the strength to stop it. I yearned for that relief.

 And it did come.  I met my husband and I quit the torture.  For several years I used other means to try and comfort myself but in 1992, I finally heard God calling me back to Him.  I began to heal.  I found the freedom that the Bible talked about. In the following years, I learned about what the abundant life really is and God has remained my Comforter ever since. I no longer depend on outside influences to help me. God has all the answers to life’s problems.  You just simply have the crack open His book to find them.

Lynn Gleason was my writing mentor and one of my dearest friends   Lisa Walker