child of the King

Preconceived Notions: More Than Meets the Eye

i’m not interested in whether you’ve stood with the great; i’m interested in whether you’ve sat with the broken.

Preconceived notions—they’re something, aren’t they?

I remember walking into my clinic one day and feeling every set of eyes on me. At my previous job, I was required to dress professionally for my outpatient clients. But I also worked as a therapist in a 30-day inpatient residential treatment facility. Two vastly different worlds, yet I had learned how to balance both.

That particular day, I had outpatient clients to see, but I also needed to check in on anywhere from 7 to 16 inpatient clients. As I walked into the clinic to pull a client, I saw the looks—“You are not one of us.” I get that a lot.

That day, I was in my professional attire, wearing a wig (I lost my hair when I started this job), makeup, and jewelry. I looked the part, but inside, I was screaming. My outside didn’t match my inside.

I pulled my client aside, and her expression said it all—disdain, skepticism, judgment. She didn’t hold back, either. “You’re judging me in your fancy clothes and dolled-up hair,” she said.

As she talked, I quietly started removing my jewelry. Then my sweater, revealing my tattoos. I wiped off my makeup. And finally, I pulled off my wig and casually hung it on my boss’s computer.

The shock on her face was priceless.

In that moment, I saw her walls come down. I shared a bit of my own story, and I watched her eyes well with tears. She looked at me, softer now, and said, “You are one of us.”

Friends, we are all the same. We all bleed when we’re cut. We all turn to dust when we die. And we are all one bad decision away from destruction. She thought I was judging her based on my appearance, but in reality, I was simply wearing what my job required. And in return, she judged me for it.

But when I looked into her eyes, I didn’t see her past, her mistakes, or her circumstances—I saw brokenness, sadness, despair, and pain.

So there we were, sitting across from each other, makeup-free, hairless, raw, and real. I reached across the desk and held her hands. Tears fell from both of our eyes as I told her:

You are worthy. You are enough. Honestly, you deserve the life you dream of, and you can have it—one step at a time.

That moment changed me. It reminded me that the Lord is not done with any of us. There is hope and no one should ever treat you as “less than” because you, too, are a child of the King.

Reach Out

💛 If you’re navigating life’s hard places and need a safe space to heal, grow, or just breathe—Circle of Hope Counseling Services is here for you.

We offer trauma-informed, faith-filled therapy for individuals, couples, and families.

📞 Reach out today to schedule your first session (KY residents only) or learn more: Circle of Hope Counseling Services.

You don’t have to walk this journey alone. Hope starts here.

Let’s Learn About Psychogenic Itching

My Story Will Empower Me

Highlighting Stories of Survivors

In this story, you will read about abuse by a stepfather to his stepdaughter. The phrase “My Story Will Empower Me” has stuck in my throat. As my heart was breaking for what this young girl had gone through, in the end, she knows Truth. What man used for evil, He will use for His glory. Somehow, someway, her story will give the strength to someone else to SPEAK UP and GET OUT. Her strength and courage leave me in awe. I’m so proud of this young lady.

A TRUE story of several years of abuse and the suicidal ideations this young lady had at a very young age. She is NOT a victim. This girl is a survivor and a child of the King. Please be mindful that I will not tolerate judgment or hateful things if I leave comments. All names have been changed to protect her.

Her Story

Donald,

Sometimes, I like to lay in bed and daydream about what my life would be like had you not abused me for many years. I want to think that I would be able to look at myself in the mirror and not be utterly disgusted with myself. Maybe I could undress in front of a mirror without cringing every time I see myself. Perhaps I would feel more comfortable around older men.

I Wasn’t the Only One.

You took a genuine interest in my sister, but you preferred to take pictures of her. You saved the majority of touching for me. One of the primary examples of touching I remember is when we would walk next to each other. You would put your arm around me and grab my butt. Sometimes, you would switch it up and rest your hand on my butt.

When It Began

I remember the abuse started when I was about nine, but I’m sure it happened well before then. Never will I forget you making us change in front of you. I remember my sixth-grade year when you made me and my sister rotate, who would change directly in front of you, and how you wouldn’t let us wear anything to the bed besides our underwear. I also remember when you were in a particularly good mood, and you would make us sleep naked so you could come into our room and stare at our bodies.

Innocence Stolen

What traumatized me the most was when you made me and my sister go into the little garage with you. You made my sister lock the door and told us to get completely naked. I remember how shaky my hands were while taking off my clothes. I was so scared of what you were going to do next. You called it “checking us for ticks,” but I know that’s not why you were doing it because you didn’t make our brothers do it either. I also know that wasn’t the real reason because I remember you waited until our mom left to do it. We couldn’t have been in the garage for long, but it felt like a lifetime trapped in there with you.

I vividly remember what it felt like when your rough hands traced every single inch of my body. If I had the choice to forget one day in my life, that would be the day. That was the day that you took my innocence from me. I was ten years old. No ten-year-olds should ever have to feel how I felt on that day. Ten-year-olds should be playing dress-up, not getting abused by their stepfathers. I trusted you. I loved you, and I thought you loved me too. What you did was not love.

Wanting Out

At night, I would lay in bed and think of ways to kill you so the abuse would stop. If I wasn’t plotting to kill you, I was planning ways to kill myself. I didn’t care what it took. I wanted out of the situation. It’s crazy to think about how much I wanted to die at ten. How many ten-year-olds do you know that want to commit suicide?

Anger Flows Freely

I’m angry that you took my innocence from me. You took my childhood. I’m mad you didn’t feel guilty for what you did to me. Also, I’m angry that you didn’t spend the rest of your life in jail. Honestly, I’m mad that you are still alive and my mother still loves you. I’m angry you guys got married. She chose you over me. I’m mad you locked my brother in his room for a week because you thought he was faking it. I had to sneak him food and water. I am so angry about that. I’m mad you waited so long to take him to the hospital.

Even after he was diagnosed {with brain cancer}, you treated him like crap because you thought he was doing it for attention. I’m angry I didn’t get to be there with my brother as he was dying because of you. I don’t know how you live with yourself. How do you sleep at night? I hope you are miserable. I hope the guilt about my brother eats you up inside.

Wishes for My Future

If and when I have children, I will do everything I can to protect them from people like you. I promise that I won’t be like you or my mother. My children will never have to worry about men watching them change or shower. My children will never look in the mirror and hate themselves because of what happened. Hopefully, one day, I will be able to forgive you. I hope one day I will look in the mirror and be proud of who I am and what I have overcome. I wish I could say that this won’t happen to other little girls, but I know many people like you.

My Story Will Empower Me

I hope one day soon that I will be able to publicly tell my story so that other women can speak up about their stories. You will lose your grip on me one day, and I’ll love myself again. Soon, I will love my body. I will no longer be ashamed of you, and my story will empower me. One day soon, you’ll die, and I will sleep a tad bit better at night. You will get what is coming to you and deserve every bit of it.

You will have to answer for what you did to me one of these days. There is nothing you can ever say or do to make up for what you did to me. One of these days, I will be doing better than ever. Your abuse never has and will never define who I am or where I’m going. I hope you are happy with the choices you’ve made in life. I hope that it was all worth it in the end.

Yours Truly,

Nicole