Kurt and I were enthusiastic about serving God, so we immediately acted without fully understanding the task. In a matter of months, everything in our lives crumbled. While Kurt appeared resilient and composed, I felt I had failed God. Painful memories from my childhood resurfaced, intensifying my emotional state. I could no longer think clearly as my past and present collided within my mind, leaving me overwhelmed and raw. Soon after our unsuccessful ministry, we moved to Oklahoma with our children. My thoughts were jumbled, and I lived in constant fear and restlessness. I could sense a dark presence lurking around the corner; I feared my mind had finally broken, and it was now beyond repair.
Regrettably, we could not afford professional help, which led to ongoing arguments between Kurt and me. During this time, I became friends with others who were also struggling, and together we tried to escape our past through substance abuse. Concerned about my internal battles and the influence of my new acquaintances, I sought a church to attend. Eventually, we joined a small church near our home. The men in the church welcomed Kurt, but I noticed troubling behavior among the women. Kurt struggled to understand my feelings and observations. A harmful mentality that targeted vulnerable individuals plagued the congregation. Shortcomings resulted in unkind gossip and mistreatment. The woman responsible for creating this environment owned the church building and the parsonage, while the pastor refused to address these issues.
I was still grappling with the failure of our ministry, my childhood trauma, and now the behavior of the women in this congregation. I was familiar with the biblical passages on aiding the lost, yet my efforts to bring them up were rejected, and I was told I didn’t comprehend their meaning. The more people they rejected, the more unworthy I felt. I prayed, cried, and studied the Bible, yet I still felt no inner peace. My past experiences skewed my understanding of God, making me feel unloved and rejected. My mind was a battlefield of negativity, and I felt unable to cope. His inability to help created a major rift between Kurt and me. Two and a half years of struggling, I finally gave up, resulting in a temporary separation.
I moved in with Larry, who made a living through dealing drugs. I didn’t have any expectations of him, nor did he have any for me. My time living with Larry unfortunately led to a series of immoral choices and compromises on my part. The further I went down that destructive path, the more I despised myself. Seeking solace in substances, I unintentionally brought further judgment upon myself. My self-hatred intensified as my moral decay worsened. I didn’t have to wait long to start thinking about suicide. I felt like I’d let everyone down—my kids, my husband, even God. Life felt unbearable, and I believed my fate was damnation. Yet, every suicide attempt was followed by a brief stay in jail for various reasons. To shut out the self-loathing while incarcerated, I would read the bible.
