This abductor took hold of my mind and didn’t let go. It made me do many things ‘normal’ females don’t do.…Like a pimp, the abductor took me to the pit of hell.
A Story of Redemption
If you had told me, as a 16-year-old, that before long, I’d be living a captive in my own prison of food, booze, men, vomit, shame, guilt, and fear, I’d have said you were crazy! All my young life I believed the Cinderella story. I dreamed my prince would come and we’d ride off on his mighty stallion, a gold Corvette; we’d live happily ever after in a Colonial style house in the suburbs with a beautiful garden, two kiddos, and a dog. I did meet a couple of “princes”. But it turned out they merely wanted me to clean up their stallion’s poop. It wasn’t until the one and only true Prince rescued me that I became empowered to break out of this dungeon.
He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not….
“You can’t have that—you’re fat!” Dad snatched the plate of food away as I reached for seconds. “I bet you weigh 150 pounds. Get on the scale and let’s see,” he barked. The humiliation crushed my soul. If my dad thinks I’m fat, then everyone else does.
What started as a diet, and a quest for love and acceptance, ended up becoming a near 20- year battle with bulimia, substance abuse and promiscuity. I lived a double life which looked pretty good to outsiders. I became a master at lying and faking it; a pro at hiding behind the suits and leather boots. Unbeknownst to me, I had a “daddy hole:” a craving for love, affection and attention, the basic emotional needs I didn’t receive from Dad. In the quest to fill this hole, I headed down a dark and dirty road which led into an abyss.
By day, I camouflaged myself as a medical sales rep. By night, I lived in one of two places: either in my apartment, bingeing and purging, or at my local “Cheers,” getting plastered while stalking a potential prince. I put myself into high-risk situations. I’d meet a guy, enjoy getting to know him, and then sex was assumed, subtly forced upon me. Because of my negligible self-image, I didn’t say no or stand up for myself. In fact, I really believed if I stopped him, he’d never want to see me again. After all, he may just be the prince! If he asked me out again, I might actually feel good about myself for a moment. But typically, there’d be no second date. Then the truth would slam me upside my head: I’d been used and thrown out like a piece of garbage—again.
To cope, I’d retreat into my apartment for days with my friend “Ed,” my eating disorder. Bulimia was how I coped with emotional pain. Spending days at a time, bingeing, enabled me to detach emotionally. Subconsciously, I’d get rid of all bad memories by flushing them down the toilet. I have come to see my eating disorder and promiscuity as an abuser that abducted my dignity and dreams, lied endlessly, and slowly destroyed my body.
Stockholm syndrome is a term used in the psychological field to describe the emotional bonding a victim develops with an abuser in order to survive. Stockholm syndrome helped me understand how I became abducted by Ed and abusive men. This abductor took hold of my mind and didn’t let go. It made me do many things “normal” females don’t do: binge on food and alcohol, purge, shoplift and have sex with strangers. It offered a false sense of protection: despite the fact this lifestyle was lethal, I believed it was helping me, not hurting me. It made me cherish and protect my sin.
Like a pimp, the abductor took me to the pit of hell. One night, I met up with a guy friend at a bar. As usual, I’d begun my journey to getting plastered. He took me to a small party at some dude’s apartment where we continued to booze it up. I was led into a bedroom by one of the guys. Wasted and barely conscious, I didn’t realize, until hours later, that four guys had raped me. The word spread like wild fire in the college dorm that I “pulled a train” (meaning: a group of males, one after the other, have sex with a woman). My guy friend didn’t stand in the gap for me and my peers ostracized me, presuming I “wanted it.” To them, and to me, the only difference between me and a prostitute was I didn’t exchange money. Instead of money I walked out covered inside and out with emotional vomit—vomit that couldn’t be covered with makeup or wouldn’t wash off, no matter how many showers I took.
Sexual sin is the worst because the abductor invades your internal organs, your very soul. Being used for someone else’s sexual gratification is humiliating and demeaning. Eventually I became numb to being used and thrown out. The way I felt was the way I acted. (I’m so glad all this happened before phone cameras!) I died and didn’t even know it. I had no clue my lack of self-worth was a red flag; the very thing a guy quickly recognized and manipulated to satisfy his sexual needs. One of the many consequences was getting pregnant. I justified abortion. And I got a DUI and went to jail. More shame.
I did find “love” with four guys, only to be deceived, devalued, cheated on, and rejected by each one. My one fiancé was emotionally abusive and teetered on the edge of physical abuse. This wasn’t how my dream was supposed to go! The day came when God showed me a way out of abusive relationships.
A Healing Turn
A good, godly man (who later became my husband) entered my life. But he wouldn’t date me unless I’d go to church. To please him, I went. I couldn’t understand why he wanted to stay in a relationship with a “party girl.” Apparently he was the “prince”’ God chose for me! He saw the ugly parts and chose to stay. God, too, loved me—enough to forgive me and set me free forever. I came to understand that I couldn’t take my life back without being empowered by Jesus Christ to give me consistent strength, love, wisdom and most importantly, truth. Jesus became my Lord.
The wounds and scars affected my marriage because sexual sin distorts God’s design of intimacy. Whether I’d entered into it voluntarily or had it forced upon me, the severe wounding required more than God’s forgiveness. It required healing from the trauma of a shattered soul, of breaking invisible bonds of deception, shame, and fear. The largest emotional wound was shame. Jesus showed me, in Matthew 15:18-20, that what comes out of a person’s mouth begins in the heart. It is from our hearts that we vomit up “evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what make a man ‘unclean’ … (Matthew 15:19). Jesus told me that if another person spews his evilness onto me, I am not contaminated. Nothing outside of me can condemn or soil me—only what’s inside my own heart.
We serve a God who fully redeems our broken fairy tales and shattered dreams. Instead of regretting the past or dreaming about what might have been, I try to see it as a season of life when I stepped into a tragic movie. Miraculously, everything that happened God has woven into His divine purpose. I survived. I healed. I recovered—because my old life was “crucified with Him” (Romans 6:6). I can stand up for myself because my identity is in Christ, not in who the abductor says I am. When I tell my ugly story, I don’t feel dirty or ashamed. I’m proud of who I’ve become—a beloved daughter of King Jesus.
As I recovered, my heart for girls and women in emotional pain began growing. In 2003, I developed a small website which grew into a ministry, Olive Branch Outreach, to help females find truth and healing from the underlying symptoms of eating disorders and abuse. I received a Master’s degree in Pastoral Care to Women from Western Seminary and board certification in biblical counseling from the AACC.
While in seminary, I learned of the atrocities of sex trafficking and exploitation and desired to be part of the solution. Initially no doors opened. Hence, for ten years I contributed financially to organizations that rescued and provided safe houses for victims. Today, I’m honored to be part of a start-up ministry team in the Nazarene Church called to largely develop prevention and education programs for youth in their churches. I have also written six biblical counseling books. One of those books, Dancing in the Sonshine: Restoration From the Wounds of Abuse, I teach in Oregon’s only women’s federal prison.
It wasn’t until I began studying, training, and ministering that I realized I had been a victim of all kinds of abuse. It amazes me God didn’t say, “Kimberly, after you heal, I’ll use you.” In essence He said, “Follow and obey me. I will empower you to become My hands, feet, and voice to others. Meanwhile, we’ll work to heal your wounds.” Jesus set my abducted spirit free, yet without Him I can do nothing! (John 15:5) Today, my life is a bridge between my old, broken self and my new, redeemed self. The foundation of that bridge is my unswerving personal, passionate devotion to Him.
