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Jaye Murphy

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Member Since: Apr, 2009

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From Pain To Promise
By Jaye Murphy
Tuesday, December 01, 2009

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This is the story of a young lady who lost herself in a man and essentially made "man her God"; a relationship that ultimately destroyed her from inside out. She had to learn how to take back her life with the help of her Lord and Savior.

Bryan had been chasing me for months but he had a wife and a girlfriend, and I wanted no part of that. Besides I was in a relationship of my own, that was hanging on by a thread. That thread broke, and I did what I normally would to mask and bury the hurt of another broken relationship. I replaced him. My only drawback with that was I usually started to get emotionally involved with my replacement man.

But that wasn't going to happen this time. I knew better because the replacement man was Bryan. After all, he was married and had a woman. And normally, I would never get involved with a married or involved man. I most certainly would never knowingly make myself the other woman. So I couldn't possibly be foolish enough to get emotionally caught up with this particular married man, even if he was bowlegged with piercing eyes and a beautiful smile.

Because even with those striking features that truly attracted me, I knew Bryan from reputation. He had been married only a couple of years, but had been with his wife ever since they were teenagers. And according to reputation, he had never been faithful to her. He, however, was a kind hearted and generous individual; would give the shirt off his back if asked for it. But he was also very manipulative and would selfishly say and do anything necessary to get what he wanted.

Foolish I was though. More than a couple of months past, and what was supposed to be just a "kick'n it" relationship turned into Bryan and I spending more and more quality time together. Within this time, his wife left him taking everything down to the carpet on the floor. His "woman" supposedly went back to her husband, and there I was (before I even realized I was doing it) opening up my heart and home to him. We were virtually living together.

I had begun to stop thinking of myself as the "other woman" because I was the woman that he was with - living with, escorting around town to be seen by anyone, including his wife. He made me feel wonderful when we were together, making me feel that I was the only one that mattered, aside from his kids whom he simply adored. I actually found that to be a very appealing quality about him, the love he had for his kids, until I started to watch his wife use that appealing quality to influence him to come around, and how he would use the kids as his reasoning to do questionable "family things" with a woman he was supposedly separated from.

Over time, it became more and more apparent that Bryan was just indescribably bad for me. He became my ruin. I came to love him beyond what was reasonable. The insane emotions I felt for this man were inconceivably irrational, obsessive and destructive. The kind of compulsiveness that had me riding by his house just to see if he was home when he said he would be, occasionally parked across the street with a caffeinated beverage to make sure I didn't miss any comings and goings.

I was so wide opened to him, he ultimately became my highs and my lows. When we were on good terms, which was seldom, I would embrace the world with a Ronald McDonald grin plastered across my face. But when we were not getting along, or he was treating me unfavorably, I would push the world away, snapping anybody up who looked at me sideways.

We had this on/off type thing. When we were apart, I knew we would ultimately end up back together. It was our pattern. He'd hurt me, I'd kick him out, he'd beg to come back, and I would let him. I developed this soul tie to this man and carried him in my spirit. He was above any and all in my world. I thought I would suffocate without him. My mind truly at one time did not wrap around not having him in my life.

Bryan of course claimed to return all my feelings, but most times made me feel more tolerated than loved. He would do almost anything for me and, after messing up, on bended knee would beg me to stay in his life, that occasional tear trickling down the side of his face, saying everything I needed to hear. I would be blinded to the fact that he would treat me like less than I deserved on every level. Little did I know what I thought was love was truly possessiveness. He knew what he had in me, but wasn't sure he wanted me. So he strung me along "just in case" he did want me, also keeping me close enough to make sure I wouldn't be with anyone else.

For two years this man constantly jerked me back and forth in his life with the promise of a divorce from his wife and a marriage to me. With this empty promise lingering overhead, I would often times stay. I would leave when he would hurt me - like taking a family trip to an amusement park or going on a weekend vacation to the beach with the family because they promised the kids and didn't want to confuse them. Of course, saying mommy and daddy aren't together anymore and are moving on with their lives but still taking family vacations couldn't possibly confuse them.  

Eventually, Bryan went back to his wife. I was told because child support was whipping his behind, but I felt it was simply because he felt it was what he wanted to do. At first, I took it quite hard - unable to sleep, eat, work, unable to cope with my daily activities of living. My cousin came by one day and said I looked like I was on crack and said we had to do something about this.

For the next month and a half, I buried myself in my work during the week, clubbing and alcohol on the weekends, and men in between - keeping myself fully occupied to numb myself of the painful void in my life. Not too long after, it was told to me that Bryan was leaving his wife because it was me he really wanted. He began to send messages through people who were close to me letting it be known that the rumors were true and wanted to know if I would see him. I agreed like the fool I was at the time.

Bryan came back into my life with promises that everything had changed - it was me he wanted, the divorce was coming, and no more family trips. The only thing that changed was he did indeed get a divorce, but the drawback of that was they acted more married then than they did before. It reminded me of that stupid show All of Us with Duane Martin and Elise Neal; just a more ghetto version. He was still spending a lot of time doing "family stuff", excluding me because it would confuse his kids to bring me in the mix.

I did this "back and forth" thing again for another year, more shattered than before, more broken than before, more tortured than before. It was simply worse the second time around. To make a bad situation worse, I got pregnant by this man. After questioning me like three or four times by asking was I sure the baby was his, he promised to be there for the baby but then started to treat me like crap underneath his shoe.

He would talk to me demeaningly, refuse my phone calls, and if he did take them, he would say the most hurtful things to me. He felt justified in his treatment of me because during a three month stretch that we weren't together, I began to see someone else, only after he told me that we couldn't be together because he wasn't ready for that type of commitment. Though, me seeing another man was some sort of betrayal to him, as I guess I was supposed to sit idle and wait until he was ready to commit to me.

It got to the point where he virtually turned his back on me, and I later found out that he had another woman that he ultimately ended up getting pregnant also. I was at the lowest point of my life, not knowing what to do. Few people knew about the pregnancy, and those that did wanted me to have this baby without a doubt. So I had no one to reach out to.

So I did what most do when their backed up in a corner with no visible way out. I fell on my knees, heart aching, broken and torn and called on God. With tears streaming down my face, my heart and soul, I called to the Father, "Lord, what have I done? What am I doing? Father God, I'm hurting so bad…so bad. I can't see straight. Help me, Lord. Please, show me what to do." I fell on my face sobbing waiting for the Lord, but there was no answer.

I went through the next few weeks in a fog almost. Not really communicating with anybody. Bryan was calling, but I wasn't accepting any of his calls. In fact, I changed my number. He finally got a message through my brother that if I wanted the baby, he would be there, but he wasn't paying for an abortion, which initially was an option with him.

I remember one day sitting on the couch having a conversation with a voice in my head. The voice said, "If you keep this baby, you know you'll always be tied to him. You know he will always use the kid to manipulate his way in and out of your life."

"You're right." I told the voice.

The voice continued. "You know he will never really commit to you and eventually will go back to his ex wife, and they’ll be raising your baby, and ain't nothing you can do about it."

"You're right," I again said.

"And too," the voice went on, "the baby will always make you feel connected to him. You'll always want to be with him and he'll never be with you. But you'll have to watch him come and get your baby and take the kid to his other family. You'll always be on the outside looking in. He'll have your baby calling somebody else mama."

"You're right," was all I could say.

A couple of days passed and I made a decision. Though I really wanted his baby, I rationalized with myself that if I had this kid, I would never be free of this situation. I would always be bound and acceptably broken. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it. It became seemingly clear to me what I had to do. I didn't even believe in abortion and often ridiculed women who had them - there was just no justification to them.

A few days later, I found myself lying on the cold, sterile table, drugged and listening to them suction my eight week old fetus from my body. It was the most heartbreaking and overwhelming feeling I had ever felt. I cried all the way there at the thought of what I was doing and became mortified and infuriated with myself after it was done. After returning home from that horrific ordeal, I crawled in a corner and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed to the point I could hardly catch my breath. I slept in that corner that night.

The next morning, I pulled myself from the corner into the shower. After spending minutes with the hot water running over my body, it was like it just hit me all of a sudden of what I had done. There was a piercing in my soul, and I fell to my knees and screamed, "Lord, I'm sorry! What have I done? Forgive me, Lord. Please forgive me. Lord, help me to forgive myself. Oh my God, what have I done?" I knelt on the floor of the shower for what seemed like forever with hot water turned cold running over my now chilled body.

After drying off, I just sat in the middle of the bathroom floor. My energy was drained. I was so broken and emotionally beaten, and I felt like the Lord just didn't hear me, because there was no feeling of peace, no feeling of forgiveness. I felt just as raw coming out of that shower as I did in. I felt wrecked and torn down with no sense of how I would go on with my life. I called myself a murderer and felt that because of what I had done, there was no reason for me to live.

My thoughts were brought back to a bottle of prescription narcotics that were given to me by the clinic on the day before for any pain or discomfort I might have felt after the procedure. I left them downstairs on the kitchen table. Now, if only I could muster up the strength to get up and go downstairs and get them.

Finding some energy, I dressed myself and went downstairs grabbing the narcotic pain medication and sat down on the living room sofa. I tossed the prescription meds around in my hand for a few minutes, thinking it wouldn't be so bad not to be here anymore. If I weren't here, I wouldn't have to see Bryan anymore. I wouldn't have to be reminded of the horrible years that were between us. I wouldn't have to remember what I just did to my baby ever again.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door. I decided that if I just sat there quietly, the person on the other end of the door would get the impression that I wasn't home and would just go away. Annoyingly, they did not. With the medication in my hand, I dragged myself to the door and removed the locks, running a hand through my unkempt hair, I swung the door opened. It was Justin Carlisle. I hadn't seen this man in ten years. I remember having the biggest crush on him when I was younger, when he and my brother used to hang out together.

"Nikki?" he asked as if uncertain. I guess I did look a mess. After confirmation that it was indeed me, we hugged and I reluctantly let him in. Apparently, he had just gotten back in town from Atlanta, Georgia and was looking up some people that he at one time affiliated with. He was actually looking for my brother, but instead found me.

We ended up sitting and talking for about an hour. It turned out he had accepted his calling as a minister a few months back and had been asked by a church in our town to come down and pastor. Even though I hadn't told him a thing that was going on in my life and sat with a weak smile glued to my face, he must have known something was wrong. He reached out and touched my hand and said, "God, knows you're hurting. He forgives your sins and embraces your pain. The stuff that you're struggling with isn't worth your life. Just give it to God and let him handle it."

"What're you talking about?" I asked. Justin just smiled at me, a knowing smile, stood and announced that he must be going, and asked if it would be okay if he got in touch with me again soon. I told him that it would be, and then he left.

It would be weeks before I heard from Justin again, but just that moment that he was there, he ministered to me such as that of a prophet and gave me sought confirmation that God knew what I was struggling with, what I had done, and had forgiven me and accepts me anyway. I placed the bottle of pills in the garbage and stood right where I was and lifted my hands in praise. "Thank you, Lord. Thank you for ministering to me through Justin. Thank you for saving my soul, Lord. I've sinned before you Lord in more ways than one. Please forgive me and give me the strength to forgive those that have sinned against me, and, Lord, give me the strength to forgive myself. In Jesus' name. Amen."

Everything didn't happen instantly for me, but after that day, things gradually started to subside in my life. Over time, a slow but sure peace started to fall over me. I started to not feel as broken. I was still angry with Bryan for how he handled me, and it would be a long time before I would tell him what actually happened with the baby, as he thought I had a miscarriage; and I was still disappointed in myself, but it wasn't as much. There was a knowing in my spirit that the anger and unforgiveness that I still harbored would too subside should I continue to pray and seek God.

On that particular day, I was ready to give it all up and give in to the suggestions of the enemy, but God saved me.

Copyright 2008
 

 


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Reviewed by Yolanda Gaston 4/12/2010
Wow! It's really all I can say. In such a short time, I related to Nikki, even though I've never been in her shoes so to speak. This story brought tears to my eyes! Jaye, you have an incredible gift from God!


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