Our Testimonies

I am primarily a talker and story teller – recently The Lord called for me to share my testimony on social media. This was a gut wrenching moment for me, primarily because for the past 8 years I have kept my social media strictly professional and I was heavily focused on building up my professional reputation. So I had thoughts of, “this will effect my business” and “what will people think of me?” to name but a few. Then I realised the thoughts for what they were, thoughts from the devil trying to stop me from sharing my story. For it is through the blood of the Lamb and the power of our testimonies that the devil is defeated. So here is a rundown of my story.

If you met me in January 2019 I was aberrant that Jesus was a con, God was not real and the bible was a load of rubbish made up by a corrupt roman church, designed to control the Middle East and Europe under one unified banner (thank you theology classes in school). Two weeks prior to being asked about potentially attending church and my thoughts on the bible, I had almost set my house on fire due to drinking excessively and forgetting that I had put food on to cook – yes I was a secret alcoholic. Since the young age of 11 I had struggled with alcohol. The whispers from my Dads alcohol cabinet used to always talk to me and tempt me and I would go and have a cheeky swig whenever I thought no body would notice. I would rotate through different bottles to make sure it wasn’t obvious I was drinking. At an age before I was shaving I was already aware that if I kept drinking from the same bottle, my crime would be obvious. Fast forward 21 years I was free from fear of being caught drinking and I drank until my hearts content. The minute I was alone and knew I no longer had any work to do, I would open a bottle of whisky or wine and let the drinking commence. What was I hiding from? Guilt. Guilt from my past, the things I had done or not done, guilt from how I knew I hurt people. The main thing, I was running and hiding. What from I hear you ask? From the knowledge that I was messed up and I was hurting and using people on a daily basis. I was not walking a good path and I did not want to see it. So the minute I was sitting still, was the minute I would get busy drowning my life away. 

I have attempted to commit suicide at least three times in my life, my first attempt was at the ripe age of 17 and since that day, up until salvation, it was almost a daily thought “you should just die and be rid of all of this pain”. Through overdosing, driving at 220km per hour blind drunk and closing my eyes for almost a 1km stretch hoping I crashed, to slashing at my wrists with knives – I’ve been there done that.

From the age of 18 I was bulimic, binge eating and then vomitting was a weekly into daily habit for most of my life. The only times I would be truly clean with my eating was when I was preparing for competitions. In fact pushing my body to extreme pains was the only way I kept “grounded”. I used to train 3 hours a day 7 days a week minimum, running myself through horrific workouts. I took pride in my Kuwait 50 degrees heat 60 minute sled drags or prowler pushes without allowing myself water. I used to enjoy pushing my body to extreme levels of pain.

So you could say, I truly lived in the darkness. Its almost like that cliche phrase from Batman where Bane says to Batman, ” you embrace the darkness, but I was born in the darkness”, that would have been me to the modern millennial who complains they didnt get enough likes on instagram. I only knew pain, darkness and being ruthless to achieve what I wanted – bigger and better bottles of whisky for me to gorge on.

But I was saved – one day Jesus showed up. Literally! As we share more and more about our journey I hope that you too see how Jesus will show up for you and save you from your bondage.

All I have now is peace, love and joy. I pray that you receive endless gifts from the Lord that bring you unending joy and peace. 

Thinking about how to start writing this has brought knots to my stomach on several occasions. Sharing our testimonies is something that God asks us to do, I know that everything in my life which the enemy meant for evil, He has truly turned for the good. But that does not mean sharing my story for all to critique is easy. Does that mean I have not fully crucified my flesh as I am still apprehensive of judgement? I do not know. All I do know is that I have been wrestling with God over the last few days about how much of my testimony He truly wants me to share, and how, and where, and why. After my husband bravely shared [part of] his testimony last week, God has been challenging me that it will soon be time to share mine. Well, now is that time. 

As I start writing this and as you start reading this, I want you to understand that in my heart and in my words, I hold no unforgiveness, bitterness, anger, or upset. I am recalling and retelling events which the Holy Spirit is prompting me to so that you can have a full picture of where my life was, and where it is now. I am not writing this in an attempt to make you feel sympathy or sadness for events in my life, nor am I writing this to cause upset or frustration at those detailed in the events. I hope that this helps you with wherever you are on your journey. 

I grew up in what I would consider a fairly typical household given societies standards of normal. I grew up in Essex, with my mum, dad (for most part), and my elder sister. My mum and dad were abusive; toward each other and toward my sister and me. The household was always strung out with high tension because of the volatility of the tempers from both parents. Honestly, there is a large portion of my childhood that is just blank, and I thank God for that because I think there are a lot of things I would not want to remember. But there are specific instances that stick out in my mind. The first being held up against a wall in a shopping mall by my throat by my dad, because I could not find a pair of school shoes I liked. The second being me curled up in a ball in the corner of my bedroom whilst my mum kicked me. There were many events besides this of anger and aggression toward each other – they would argue, scream, shout, hit, throw things, storm out. There was equally as much frustration taken out toward my sister and me. I always felt hard done by, by my parents and like they always mistreated me worse than my sister. Truthfully in hindsight, I think she had it way harder than I did and I will always admire what an incredible woman she became in spite of it all.

My parents separated and got back together several times before finally divorcing when I was around 12, if my memory serves correctly. Prior to the divorce, they had decided to give their lives to Jesus and started attending a local Baptist Church with a lovely Pastor who I will, to this day, never forget; Pastor Phil. My sister and I went to church with my parents. Besides being forced to sing hymns and recite the new testament book names from memory (which I can still do by the way…clearly a valuable use of a young child’s memory…) I do not remember much about church. I do know that for a brief period, my parents changed and that is a memory that has forever stuck with me. My mum became less aggressive, less angry. She attempted to change and make up for the way she treated my sister and me previously. As did my dad. He truly became a new person and was an exceptionally good father and husband during that brief period. It didn’t last. He bounced back to his old ways. Unfortunately, it resulted in their divorce after my sister gave my mum an ultimatum of “he leaves, or I leave.”

My dad moved in with his mum and we stayed at home. I barely saw my dad after that. There was again a very short period of time where he made an effort and would take my sister and me shopping as his way of showing love, but that did not last either. 

My mum spiralled into depression after their divorce. She began to suffer with chronic fatigue syndrome. Whilst she says she has always suffered with this; I have no memory of her ever having issues prior to my dad leaving. Maybe she did and my memory fails, or maybe she just hid it well. Irrespective, there were too many days where she could not get up or out. She would lay in bed and our neighbours would have to come and bring dinners for us. She told us of how she wanted to die and kill herself, she told us of how awful her childhood was. And it was. But we did not need to bare that burden for her. Eventually, my sister left home and moved in with her boyfriend and left me at home to look after mum. 

Throughout all of this, school was cruel. I was never the popular kid and was a, and I hate the terminology, ‘bullied’. I never quite fit in with anyone and cycled through friendship groups, often isolated. I managed to find solace within the ‘emo’ community and quickly resorted to self-harm and drinking as a form of ‘pain management’. I started drinking when I was 14 and although I was never an alcoholic and never dabbled with drugs, I did often drink until I blacked out. 

Fast forward after a few more years of this, I began dating a guy who continued to take me in a self-destructive path where self-loathing, alcohol, drugs, pre-marital sex etc was all normal. My sister moved back home when her relationship broke down, and we forged a strong relationship fuelled by alcohol, nightclubs, and ranting about our parents. I eventually moved away to university where my drinking continued. I’m not sure when it began, or if it had always been there, but I began seeking attention in the wrong ways. I wanted men to pursue me and notice me. I began dressing less ‘emo’ and more inappropriate. I began flirting with anyone and everyone and eventually cheated on my boyfriend. We broke up and I began a rampage of the typical single female at university with too much alcohol and too many nightclubs.

After a series of bad events, I began to actually focus on my studies as a way to attempt to have an excuse to remove myself from the partying scene without having to actually explain to anyone. It was at this point that the truly dysfunctional relationships began in my life. I started dating a guy who, I adored at the time, but later hurt me in more ways that I could comprehend. We moved in together whilst at university, and afterward we moved near my family. Eventually, I uprooted my life for him and moved abroad with him to Bahrain which was where his family lived. There is a reason I made this decision which I will get to. The entire relationship he spent cheating on me, manipulating and controlling me. My sister, who up until this point, was my closest friend, was cut off from my life. As were most others. He was never violent, but he was abusive. Severely. I was trapped in this unhealthy relationship, with a man that I knew was cheating on me and stealing from me, and yet my self-esteem and zeal for life were so low that I could not do anything about it.

During all of this time when I was at college, my dad got re-married and had a precious little girl. We still had a turbulent relationship; we weren’t even invited to his wedding. But when we found out he had a daughter, and we had a sister, my elder sister and I reached out and got in contact with him. His wife got pregnant again a few years later this time with a son. A few days after he was born, Harry ended up in hospital. He never left that hospital. After many traumatic weeks involving blood transfusions, operations and a heart transplant, Harry passed away. I don’t think anyone has ever recovered from this in my family. This was the final catalyst that caused my dad to fully turn his back on God, that caused my sister to spiral into depression, and that caused me to run because I did not want to cope with it all. This is why I agreed to move abroad with my then partner. We dropped everything and moved to Bahrain where we lived with his family.

We both started working, and after a few months, I found out he was sleeping with his underage teenage students at the school where he worked. I left him and attempted to rebuild my life in Bahrain. All that really happened was a downward spiral of many, many unhealthy relationships, too much drinking, too much partying, too much burying my head in the sand to cope with the pain. I felt like there was something extremely wrong with me. I felt completely unworthy and undeserving of love. I believed that I was this extremely vulgar human, inside and out, that was only desirable if she was sexually appealing to men. I believed my only worth and value was in being an object for men’s gratification. 

I somehow moved to Dubai in 2014 where the spiral of unhealthy relationships, drinking and partying continued. I seemed to bounce between one abusive and controlling relationship to one where I dominated. I was hurt many times again, and I also equally hurt many people. None of the relationships lasted long. None of them provided happiness. I never regained the confidence or self-worth that was stolen from me by that relationship, no matter what I tried. The more I attempted to fill the void, gain my self-worth and love from men, the more disgusting I felt about myself and my life. It was a vicious cycle.

During my time in Dubai when I lived in JBR, I remember so vividly that every day on my drive to work over the bridge I would think about driving over the edge of the bridge to just end it all. I was depressed. I hated my life. I put on a mask that made those around me think I was okay, that I was functioning well, but I wasn’t. I used to lock myself in the bathrooms at work and sleep because I was so depressed that I could not bring myself to stay awake and face the reality of life. I was messed up. I was nasty, aggressive, angry, and volatile. I used to have melt downs, like full on break down into tears and temper tantrums, when I could not find a parking space…yes, over a parking space. 

I eventually got involved in yoga and meditation as an attempt to find this ‘peace’ every yogi boasted about on Instagram. I even went to India for a month to study as a yoga teacher and became somewhat interested in Buddhism. For a brief period, I believed this brought me peace. I found an identify in being a ‘yogi’ for a while but it soon led to me being caught in the ‘fitness fad’. I became obsessed with comparing myself to every other woman, ever. Scrolling through Instagram for hours on end comparing my body to everyone else’s, feeding the ‘you are not good enough’ thoughts that ran through my mind every single day. I was trying to fit in, trying to enhance my looks and my figure to be appealing to men…to feel worthy enough to be loved. This continued for around two-to-three years. 

I met Eloy, my now husband, in 2018 by pure coincidence (in hindsight, clearly a ‘God incident’). We began a very intense relationship very quickly and went from highs to serious lows. We ended up in a very abusive relationship very quickly. He cheated on me, I retaliated and cheated on him. At times I felt like I was dating my dad because of the outbursts of anger and aggression. He affirmed every single thing I believed about myself; how unworthy of love I was and disgusting I was. His alcoholism fuelled me to partake and we would drink pretty much every evening, argue, and then sleep it off. We repeated this cycle of misery for far too long. 

We ended up getting pregnant, unplanned. This was probably my worst nightmare come true. Although I had never actually read a bible, been rooted in a church, or even really prayed I believed there was a God and could not fathom the idea of taking a life. I equally looked at my surroundings; in an abusive relationship with a barely functioning alcoholic, and I could not think to bring a child up in that. I knew that I also suffered with extreme anger and violent outbursts. I knew that if we were to become parents, we would be repeating the cycle that my parents put me through, and that his parents put him through. I could not do that. But I also could not terminate an unborn child. We struggled back and forth for a few weeks with the decision and we eventually decided to have an abortion. I told only one friend and my mum, and I only then told my mum because I had to stay at her house when I flew back to the UK to have the abortion. For those outside the UAE, firstly it’s illegal to have pre-martial sex in UAE and secondly abortion is also illegal. 

I flew home, attended the abortion, and then laid in bed for two days straight before having to get on a flight back to Dubai and return to work three days after the abortion. I was in agony and I was still bleeding severely. But I felt like I deserved the punishment and the pain because of what I did. What I went through, laying in my bed for those two days in such pain, I believed I deserved. It felt like someone was pulling my insides out whilst I was awake. I remember getting up to use the toilet, wiping myself and my entire hand and arm being covered in the blood of my unborn child that I willingly chose to kill. I arrived back to Dubai a shell, a literal empty shell. Instead of being the support I needed, Eloy, in his own pain, took it all out on me. He blamed me for it all, hated me, and treated me horrifically. I don’t think my vocabulary will allow me to adequately explain the dysfunctional mess we were. I, hand on heart, believe that had the relationship continued as it was one of us would have committed suicide or taken the others life in a drunken rage.

I came to a point where I realised if I did not get myself to church, to something greater than myself, that I would end up taking my own life. I was at the lowest point in my life and there was no more hiding from my demons and burying the pain. Every single thing I had buried and run away from was now bubbling over in a way I could not control; the pain of my childhood and absentee parents, the pain of being raped, the pain of many abusive and dysfunctional relationships, the pain and shame of terminating your own child. It was too much. It was too heavy. It felt like I could not breath most days, let alone walk around and continue my life as normal. I did not sleep at night yet could not bring myself out of bed or to be awake during the day. I had no appetite. I had no desire to socialise. I had no desire to work. I had no desire to be alive. 

I began plugging in to a local church, and by some miracle, Eloy came with me. After a few months of attending the church, Eloy and I decided to actually give this ‘God’ thing a try as we had both started to feel better and had felt God touch us during church services. To cut a long story somewhat shorter, Eloy went through a demonic manifestation which was trying to take both his life and mine whilst we were on vacation in August 2019. For those who are interested to understand more about this, I will share, but I believe it is beyond what needs to be stated at this point. We arrived back in Dubai and received deliverance. From this point onwards, Eloy and I gave our lives wholly and completely to God. After seeing, feeling, and tasting the demonic darkness of this world and after living our lives aligned with it for many years, we surrendered everything to Jesus and in exchange Jesus gave us freedom.

God took away my pain. God took away my shame. God took away my depression. God took away my misery. God took away my self-hatred. God took away my suicidal thoughts. God took away my hatred and bitterness toward men. God took away my anger at my parents for mistreating me. And instead He replaced it with His love, His peace, His joy, His happiness, His fullness, His mercy, His grace, His favour, His patience, His kindness, His worth. He filled me with every single thing that I was so unworthy to receive, He gave it me freely by His grace. He has told me daily how loved I am and how I am His precious daughter who He chose, who He made perfectly, and who He will never allow harm to come to. 

I was born again in September 2019 and Eloy and I were married in October 2019. Since then, there have been ups and downs, but every single down has been bearable knowing that Jesus is right next to me. Every single up has been extraordinary. The way God has shown up for me and shown He is there for me in the few months that He saved us has been indescribable. I wake up every morning with peace and I lay down every evening with peace. And I sleep! Oh, how I sleep!!! The entire night through, like a baby in His arms. 

He saved my life. Jesus came and rescued me and cleaned every ounce of dirt off of me at the lowest point in my life when pain had me so engulfed that I saw no way out. God not only restored my relationship with Eloy but He gave me a husband. A husband who I could not be prouder to stand beside on this journey. Not only did God rescue me and change me, but He changed my husband into an incredible warrior for His kingdom and a man full of love. God gave me a future at a time in my life when I was so stuck in the past that I did not want a future. 

My God is beyond words. And as I write this, I do so knowing that even in this season we are in (Covid-19) that He is with me, that He has a good plan for me, and that I am safe in His arms. I don’t know why God asked me to write this today and honestly, I don’t even know what I’ve written until I go back and re-read it, I just allowed the Spirit to flow. What I do know is that I vowed to yield to my God each and every day of my life, and if that means I have to share something that is still somewhat daunting to have to share with the world, I will do so to bring Him glory. God turned my life around and gave me a life worth living. He can do the same for you.