Both of my parents got saved in 1974.  I was 3 ½ years old at that time. My Mother was raised as a Lutheran and my father was sent to a Methodist church as a boy. I, however, grew up in a Pentecostal church. What a combination there--Whewww! My parents raised my sister and I the best way they knew how to--making an effort to instill Christian values and good morals in us at a young age.  So we went to "Sunday school" and grew up learning the "Golden Rule".

As a young girl, I was very sensitive. When I loved, I loved deeply, and when I felt hatred, it was the fiercest, most destructive hatred imaginable. Whatever feeling it was, it was intense.

Here is a little poem that my Mother quoted at times referring to me:

What can I say? That was me. I was an “all or none” kind of kid.

I always had a love for animals when I was young.  I loved all living creatures except one kind....other human beings. People hurt me. Perhaps the reason I had a special place in my heart for animals was because they loved me unconditionally. Most pets look up to and love their owners no matter what--their "person" can do no wrong. Pets/animals have a way of giving acceptance and showing love that many people could learn from. I suppose that might be one of the reasons so many people love their pets so much, huh?

Besides the fact that I adored animals, I was a quiet and introspective girl.  
I had little or no interest in sports and other competitive activities.  I was and still am a person who enjoys creative expression more than anything. The only person I'd compete with was myself.  Music and art were my favorite subjects in school.

In elementary school, I was not very outgoing. I didn’t “fit in” with most of the other kids my age no matter how hard I tried. I usually had few or no friends. ,Because I was made fun of and teased on several occasions, I was always under the belief that my peers would intentionally excluded me from their groups and activities. Since I appeared so introverted and quiet,  there weren't many who bothered to take the time to get to know me or give me a chance. As it turned out, some people found that I was an easy target to pick on because I used to sit there and take it all quietly. Of course that is how it appeared outwardly, even though on the inside I was internalizing much of the hurt and anger I felt, and I allowed it to sit and bottle up inside of me--A very unhealthy thing to do.

I usually had only one best friend at any given time. I would do virtually everything with that one friend until the friendship dissolved and then I’d eventually have to make a new “best friend”.

I longed to have more friends in school and wanted more than anything to simply feel accepted and liked by my peers. Who doesn't want to be liked? I used to take a lot of cruel teasing in grade school. For the most part, I felt very rejected  and isolated by my fellow classmates. Some of their ignorant, childish ways,  hurt me more than they ever realized . 
I remember feeling frustrated a lot and even desperate at times. I was lonely, and wanted so much just to feel and be accepted.

Roots of anger and hatred began to grow very strong during that early period of time in my life. Outwardly, I'm sure I appeared very much the same. I was still quiet and kept to myself, but on the inside I had grown extremely bitter, angry and rebellious. There's no doubt about it, I was a rebellious child.

I'm sure I probably didn't seem to be rebellious to everyone on first appearance, but inwardly...it was a different story. For example, if  I didn’t like a particular teacher in school, I would refuse to do work for him/her. Of course I got teased about that too
(not doing my work). In my ignorance, I used to hurt myself. I realize that now, but back then I didn’t care as long as I thought I  was getting ‘my point’ across. Basically the message I would try to portray was that if I didn’t like the teacher for whatever reason, I wasn't going to cooperate with them, plain and simple.

I frequently did things that would indirectly backfire in my face. Sometimes it seemed that I  almost did it on purpose.  The fact was, I honestly didn't like myself back then. I believed that there must've been something wrong with me and that was why I didn't have many friends or the acceptance I desired.  Over the course of time, I came to the conclusion that the things people had said to me or about me must've been true.

I had turned all of the hatred, bitterness and rejection I felt inward. So, instead of simply being angry at the people who had hurt me, I developed a low self-esteem, self-hatred and self-destructive behaviors. Not only did I cause hurt and destruction in the lives of those around me, but ultimately I caused a lot of the hurt and destruction in my own life. To some, It might sound as though I'm over-exaggerating here and perhaps to some extent I am. However, on the inside and in my heart and mind, this was reality.

What I am about to talk about here is NOT something that I am proud of. My only purpose of including these details is to portray an accurate picture and setting for my story and to reveal the way I was as a child. Back then, I was a compulsive liar and conveniently became quite good at it when it suited me. I also picked up the bad habit of shoplifting on a whim if I felt the desire to have something I couldn't buy. I frequently looked for mischief and trouble to get into. Needless to say, I never had to look very far since trouble always seems to have a way of finding people....WITHOUT them  having to look for it! Life for me was about living from one thrill to the next. What more was there? I'm sure by now you are thinking about how wonderful it would've been to have me around to associate with YOUR kids growing up! ...........NOT!!!    (Yeah, I can laugh about it........NOW!)   

Like I said, I am not proud of the things I did. I don't even fully know why I did them except for the fact that I didn't want to deny myself anything that I happened to want. I'm  trying to be completely honest here. How many adults do each of us know who live that way now? It's like selfishness in the extreme. It's when everything is all about #1 (ME). What do I want? What will make me feel good? What would I enjoy, and what price am I willing to pay to get it? I think many people get into this mindset in life. It's easy to do and especially if someone has hurt you because then you feel 'justified' to be selfish, right?

I was smoking cigarettes at the age of 10, a friend and I had vandalized a neighbor's house, and I  enjoyed starting fights between people. I was mean and abusive towards my younger sister, bullied and tortured  our pets, and bossy with any friends that I did happen to have (which I might add, were usually younger than me).

I remember feeling as if I was compulsively driven to sadistic behavior. That means I actually enjoyed watching people suffer sometimes. Somehow I would derive a strange sense of pleasure from playing practical jokes on others. Well, sometimes they were practical and other times impractical or just plain cruel. I felt the need to torment and irritate others. I began to engage in the practice of inflicting wounds upon myself (ie: cutting myself with  knives and poking myself with needles).  Being mean and destructive was most satisfying when done to people who were close to me or things that meant a lot to me. I took pleasure in watching them squirm. I knew that my behavior was pushing people farther and farther away from me, and its almost as if I attempted to destroy anything good around me. The truth be known, I was hurting inside and I guess I felt that this destruction was the only thing in my life that I had any CONTROL over. There goes that word...."CONTROL"! How many people would admit to having "control issues"? Hmmmmm...

I actually felt completely out of control and unable to stop this bad behavior that was driving me. Deep down, I still longed to be loved, but I hated myself so much that I used to feel the need to punish myself by destroying any positive relationships I had. I was literally unable to give or receive love. I  didn’t feel that I deserved it, so  I hurt people to drive them away. Afterward, I'd realize that I'd blown it and felt guilty, sad, lonely, and depressed--once again.  I would persist in these ways  to completely destroy anything good that might be left. It got to the point where I had destroyed any trust people had in me. Nobody trusted me—not even my cat! By this time, people avoided me more than ever--go figure! I was alone and hated everything about my life and myself.

I remember thinking I had a split personality. I could be nice, but when people began to like me or start to get close, it was then that I’d find a way to drop a bomb on them and find a way to hurt them or make them mad. I didn’t really want to do it, but it seems I would do it anyhow.  I used to feel like it was inevitable and it would happen sooner or later. At least this way it felt like I had some control over the situation. I had accepted the fact that this was the kind of life I was doomed to live, and there was just no power for me to escape it.

When I was 11 years old, I saw an advertisement in a magazine while I was waiting for my Mother to get her hair done at the hairdressers. The ad was for a witchcraft book that promised me power, friendship, and the ability to 'get even' with people who hurt me or that I didn’t like. I ripped the article out of the magazine, folded it up and hid it in my pant’s pocket. Later, my Mother discovered it in my pocket while doing the wash and confronted me about it. There wasn't any way for me to acquire that book at the time, but the thought and idea was firmly planted like a seed in my mind. It was the first time I realized that witchcraft and supernatural powers were actually REAL. I'd always thought witches were just make believe--only a “halloween thing”. When I finally came to the absolute conclusion that there was indeed a supernatural power that existed...I wanted to HAVE it! So that is what I pursued and purposed in my heart to go after. It seemed to offer me everything that I was looking for. Because of my upbringing, of course I realized that the power of witchcraft came from Satan. My Mother also made that fact VERY clear to me after I was confronted about her finding the magazine advertisement I put in my pocket.

I wanted very much to have the kind of control and power the article had described. I wasn't sure how I would or even could obtain my goal. I believed so much in this supernatural power, that one time I even tried making a ‘deal with the devil’ in the privacy of my bedroom. I told him that I would give him whatever he wanted if he would just give me the power that I desired. It was a stupid thing to do, I know. Thankfully, nothing obvious happened as a result of those words I spoke, but that was the “door” that I had opened for occult-type practices to re-enter my life at a later date (of which they did).

As I got a little older, I  dabbled in witchcraft and played around with ouija boards and tarot cards a few times. I was never serious about it, however, my involvement in these occult activities resulted in some pretty scary & bizarre experiences. I'm not going to go into the details of all of that since it really brings no glory to God.  Before I dabbled in the occult, I was the healthiest kid around. Then, almost suddenly, I got sick and was diagnosed with a chronic disease that I was told I would have to live with for the rest of my life (with “no known cause, no known cure”). Was it merely a coincidence? I have often wondered.

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