The Fear of Friends.

Abuse survivors as myself, walk over mental landmines in every conversation. Consciously practicing new strategies in interpersonal connection makes it easier over time. An ancient text, often provided me insights about better techniques than striking people that felt threatening. At 15, that was my strategy - as a woman you had one hit or one mythical kick and you ran. People that know me now may not see that side of me - Proverbs is a goldmine of wisdom. When I hit 50 communication with people started to improve, that is personal communication - I can talk about projects any time any day and with anyone.

They called me the Gladiator at the Fortune 500 company that I worked at when I was 21. I worked directly for the VP as a Consultant. A special force she flew everywhere she wanted to see change and needed numbers. I would work 18 hours days, skip weekends, and break records. However I would never attend a company lunch, social moments, and I had no real friends. What could I ever say in response to the most normal questions: are you close to your family? What school did you go to? A million little things and a million little experiences that I could not share in this life. I had nothing to say because what I could say would have left them shaking and I had not processed any of it. I wonder does this kind of pain runs deep in all the Gladiators in life? Part of us is screaming so deeply inside and we were never given the tools or the permission to be healed and transformed deep inside. Who gives us the tools for inner peace?

Observing a simple conversation today and being very conscious in not allowing it to trigger me shows me how far I could come. The ability to not be right, to be in peace. The abused, at least I do, notice subtle shifts in a person, their energy. I feel the energy in which people are thinking. Minor delicate things. In a normal environment, these changes are ok but in my history sensing a subtle change ahead of time can be the difference in life or death. A minor pushback, a challenge, a small disagreement. In my early world such things were a precursor of life crashing down around you. I have hid under blankets while my blood related caretaker crawled around with a very large knife in their hand. Most abusers are not being abusive 24/7 - there is a cycle and discerning it is built in the very foundation of our lives.

My real father’s nickname among his peers was ´Dangerous´. Few people in my life, well, actually, only him have wanted to dismantle and destroy my life simply because I exist. By the time I was 15 There were countless times he told me he was going to kill me. I remember he was close to a motorcycle gang and had asked them to kill me. They told him - we can’t kill your daughter. In my father I found someone who saw me as nothing more than something in his life that he could use. Discovering he even took my ID and opened accounts was not that much to observe because the hundreds of other far more awful experiences outweighed them already.

Dangerous wanted to destroy my life, not once but every single time we connected. My parents would just mentally abuse me non stop, neglect me, and strike me but Dangerous wanted to kill my very life as openly communicated that. In my conscious memories that began at 15, I was told stories of his brutal physical abuse of my mom all the way down to when I was two.

He would fast me at that age and not allow people to feed me so I would be more spiritual. My mom left him when my grandmother fed me a banana on one of those days. She took a beating for me, I am told was quite serious and involved flights of stairs. Something there may have anchored her dislike of me, I will never know. I have learned something - it is ok to not know why people choose to hurt you. It is ok too let all of these things go. Needless to say, I never found a father in my real father, not even in the smallest way. Looking back, I remember only single one time he defended me. I think I will choose to remember that because I have chosen I will not see him ever again in this life. Forgiveness doesn't mean reconciliation.

God spoke to me when I was younger. He said - I sent people to help you but you were hurting so badly, I had to help you myself.

It is a foundational rebuild to have an opportunity to be adopted, I know myself to be adopted by God. This gave me a better bloodline, better parents, and spoke a better word over my life. 

So many things I carried inside me for years. In California there lives a man who was the first man that ever listened to me. In Ecuador, I first shared what I lived through. Now core parts of me are whole and I thought to myself, what if? What if one conversation one thing may help someone else who has lived through the heavy path of not being raised in a home that wished you to be well. I know there are many of us. To me, what is important is how we rebuild. That we can heal, that we can become the best expression of our lives. That we can break the curses, evil intentions, manipulations, and uncoolness that our abusers attempted to destroy us with.

I remember shaking as my real father stalked me. I was in my 30s. God spoke to me then and said your father or his friends will never hurt you, touch you. I was hiding, ran away from a job way back then I was making 30k a month, going from hotel room to hotel room because he was threatening my life. He grabbed my crouch twice in the front seat of his car after a dinner in Monterey. It triggered me so deeply and brought back fear and pain from when I was 15. I cancelled a trip to Brazil with him the next morning at 4am. I was sick to my stomach, literally a deep great unexplainable pain, and was very aware that unlike he claimed I was not the predator when I was 15.

Going up, as I got older, I realized no matter what anyone ever told me 14, 15 year olds look like children they are children. What I am still very conscious of is every time I asked for help as a homeless child - men would rape and sexually exploit me. There was no safe place for me. Tears were not safe, vulnerability was not safe. Predators are very real and exist. I was homeless in places where cars would drive by and steal women from off the streets. I am lucky to be alive. 



As I am writing this I wonder if it is worth posting, what do I expect? Will people lear at me because of my broken childhood? Will they see me as less? Asking myself self that I realize how little fucks I give towards that (thank you God for your mercy because I am not sure of a better word to put there). On your way if that is who you are, I am looking and I am here for someone who needs a friend as they walk out of what I lived through. You matter. My best advice is stay away from any single person who is not cool. Overcome longness and desire. God lives within you - churches are hospitals and just because someone say the word Jesus doesnt mean they are walking with God.

I believe I am writing this for the teenagers that have no homes, no one, and are in danger. God knows I would love to be there for all of you. I believe I am writing this for survivors of abuse. Because of that I am opening a door that has been shut for a while.

If anyone wants to talk or to pray. I am here for you. I am human, not a pastor nor a priest - I am life taught.

With Love,

Sarah Sherman