The ability to overcome

The compelling tale of life sometimes falls apart. I am a wandering spirit that is looking for the identity that belongs to me. It was taken from me. Even if things are going better for me now, I will always remember what it's like to be worn out, no matter how much sleep I get, to have a panic attack in the middle of the night, or to be overwhelmed by the expectations of both myself and other people. They claim that I am unique, a remarkable bean that God made in order to love and rescue; I respond, "Why can't I be a human first?" I tell myself that I sow seeds, but now I see that I'm deluding myself. The world's worst monsters are facing me. I search for my soul, yet all I ever find is an empty shell. There are moments when life becomes so difficult that you question whether you should continue living. You feel disoriented, perplexed, let down, and furious. Tragedies keep happening one after the other, without end. You wonder and worry about what life will hurl at you next every day of your existence. You are not alone; I am here to tell you. Hope is present. I want you to know that you are not alone in sharing my experience. Generally, everything will work out for you.

I was prematurely born by three months. I wouldn't make it, as the doctor predicted. They predicted that I wouldn't make it to my first birthday. They instructed my parents to begin planning my funeral. However, I survived to witness my first year and second birthday, thanks to God's will and my mother's incredible love. I didn't begin to walk until I was three years old. When I was two years old, my biological father went away, and four months later, so did my elder brother. My mother remarried when I was four years old to a guy who later proved to be violent to both my mother and myself. Every day for hours, he would beat my mom, and he forced me to watch. My mom became pregnant and gave birth to their first child three years later. His first biological child was born, and he refused to have anything to do with me. When my mother attempted to stop him, he would beat her up instead of me. My health problem made me worse, and I had to stay in the hospital for five months once again. Mom had a difficult time. Occasionally, she wanted to give up on me, but her faith in the effectiveness of prayers allowed her the willpower to persevere and remain still. My mom had to have a lot of guts to persevere through it all. She admitted to me that she had many moments of doubt, but that uncertainty helped her get closer to Christ every day. She was aware that I needed a miracle to get through my illness and the violence I was receiving from my stepdad.

My stepdad beat me up six months after I was discharged from the hospital, which made me pass out. The doctor told me that I needed another operation as soon as I woke up in the hospital in order to live. My stepfather was not going to assist, and my mother was unable to pay for this. Ultimately, all he wanted was for me to be gone. My mother's relatives persuaded her to take me to a witch doctor since she was poor. anything that was typical of those days' African communities. They rubbed my body in a routine that temporarily made me feel better.

My dear grandmother died away when I was nine years old. Other than my mother, she was the only one who was there for me no matter what. A few months after the loss of my grandmother, my stepdad received an international business opportunity. He would disappear for weeks, or even months. He began another terrible deed of his own on his business trip: having sex with other women. Over time, his drinking became worse. He thrashed my mother and called her derogatory names each time he came back. When he drunkenly returned home one evening, he set our house on fire while we were inside. My mother's legs and my stepsister's fingers were severely burned. He threatened to murder me and my mother and take his kids away with him each time my mother attempted to leave him. My mother became ill three months after I turned ten years old.

It was on the day she received her HIV diagnosis that my mother discovered he was having extramarital affairs. She was transported to the hospital after testing positive for HIV. Nothing could be worse in my life! The day my mom went to the hospital was when I began to confront greater difficulties. She became worse and worse every day. I saw her body transform until all that remained of her was bone from head to toe. Compared to all I've ever experienced, it was considerably more excruciating. The toughest part was feeling unable to rescue my mother as I watched her in agony. Despite her illness, Mom was still able to impart to me all the knowledge I would need to live on after her death. She asked me to stop going to school and to come see her in the hospital every other day while she was there. She taught me so much in those times that I began to rely day by day on her words. She mostly taught me how to have confidence in God, even when things are difficult. She taught me to love everyone, even the people I hurt the most, without looking for their faults. She showed me the value of forgiveness and generosity. She forced me to make a commitment to work hard and look for a higher purpose or something more to believe in. She died when I was twelve.

I never had the time to grieve for her when she passed away. I lost everything because of my aunts and uncles. My family had stopped being there for me. My parents' friends and all of my friends turned their backs on me. My relatives, uncles, and stepfather were oblivious to my suffering. Rather, they began to treat me poorly, more like a slave.

There were moments when I needed counsel or a listening ear, but nobody was open to speaking with me. I had never felt so afraid and alone in my life. I felt lost, sad, and afraid. I fled from house to house and church to church during those dreadful times in search of assistance, but nobody was able to assist me. even those who attend church. I was booted out by them all. For reasons I could not comprehend, I was held responsible for my parents' demise. The family of my stepfather wants to clean their son's record. I was called an abomination kid, and they told everyone in the hamlet as much. I was the one who abused my mom's stepfather. Every home I went to hurled stones or wooden clubs at me, calling me a wicked kid. I was unable to comprehend why I was the target of everyone's wrath or why a 12-year-old girl was seen as a bad kid. I became enraged with everyone, even God. My parents, mostly, for abandoning me. I gave up reading the Bible and attending church. I had lost any sense of why I should be alive. I finally came to terms with the truth that I was alone when I was thirteen because the anguish of considering them to be family was too much to bear. I kept questioning God. I can declare that doubt is the enemy of faith since I lost myself and everything of my faith the more I doubted God. I used to constantly question God, "Why me?"

I began to pray, begging God to save me, as my mother had demanded of me on her last day, but nothing came of it. My naive young mind had gone. I experienced fear, isolation, and a fear of the unknown.

I was moved to America at the age of 14, along with my aunts and uncles. Even in the US, they still mistreated me. To get me arrested, they made up allegations and called the police. They beat me up with stick wood more than five times a day, sent me out of the house for days or weeks, and made everyone hate me. I experienced sexual harassment, mental and physical abuse, and neglect. I'm not sure how many times I slept at a mentor's house or on the street when I was a teenager.

It seemed like another living nightmare to be living in a foreign country where I was unable to talk or stand up for myself. It was difficult to pick up a new language and culture while still grieving my mother's passing.

When I was sixteen, I started to play soccer after realizing I had a knack for it. For the first time since I was twelve, it was the only place I felt secure. I had a sense of belonging. When my aunt and uncle learned, they insisted that I leave the soccer team. declaring, "I have a duty to develop as a lady and get ready for marriage," referring to the union of ranges. All I was permitted to do was go to school, return home, cook, clean, and do their clothes. But I'm the stubborn daughter of my father. Even though I knew what would happen if I disobeyed their instructions, I was unable to stop myself. I had finally discovered something that made me feel human again after years of suffering. At the age of 17, I was kicked out of their home on the grounds that I was entitled to everything and was ungrateful. I had nowhere else to go once they ejected me. I didn't want to go back to their house, but I didn't have many choices. I attempted to return to them, but they would not accept me.

I wanted to go away at that very moment. a location where I was unknown. I relocated and lived on a college campus while enrolled in school. Almost everyone has told me my whole life that I am dumb, worthless, and will never amount to anything. I thought that for a very long time and didn't think I could succeed in anything, much less college. Part of me wanted to work hard and show everyone else incorrect information at the same time. As I was growing up, I saw my mother struggle every day. She never once gave up on standing up for herself, however, and defending her aspirations. I was inspired by her fortitude and aspired to emulate her.

I was now away from my abusers and in a location where no one knew me, yet no matter how hard I tried, I was unable to go ahead. I was still very much harboring resentment toward my friends, family, and several other people. I started seeing my family wherever I went, and that's when the horror began. But a thousand miles separated them. Whether I was sleeping or not, I began to hear voices.

I was advised to contact a school counselor by my lecturer. My cultural background is one that does not value mental wellness. I thought that having mental health problems was a flaw that should be hidden and remedied. I therefore made an effort to achieve that. I realized I had to take something after failing my first year of college and spending the whole year on suicide watch. I made the decision to go abroad and serve as an aid worker with mothers and children who were in need. A lot occurred on that crucial journey. My encounters there helped me find meaning and healing. I went back home to finish my bachelor's degree in family, child, and adult services. proceeded with MSW.

It's a difficult life for all of us. when you fail to see why you should continue. There are moments when life becomes so difficult that you feel there is no reason to continue living. You feel disoriented, perplexed, let down, and furious. Tragedies keep happening one after the other, without end. You wonder and worry about what's going to come next in your life every single day. You are not alone; I am here to tell you. All in all, this existence might be unjust to us. much more unjust to some than to others.

One thing I've discovered in life is that death is the prerequisite for life. It's necessary to let go of expectations about how things ought to have turned out and what you would have done differently. You have to come to terms with the truth that you cannot alter the past, the thoughts of others, the results of their decisions, or your own. You will comprehend the actual significance of both yourself and other people if you at least acknowledge that fact. Furthermore, you will at last be free after this. Sometimes all we really need to do is believe in ourselves, and as soon as we do, we will know how to live a life filled with tremendous faith.