Growing up I was
that girl who was against sex. Anything to do with such a thing, made
my face cringe. When I would see my parents kiss , even though they
were married, it would make my stomach go into knots. I was the girl
that would always make the comment “Gross! Go get a room!” I was
also that girl in Junior High who was a part of the so-called
“Abstinence Team”...The A-Team. Yup-that was me, going from
school to school with other team members who, just like me wanted
nothing to do with sex. We would go around telling thirteen and
fourteen year old's not to have sex because of skin and flesh eating
diseases, and how NOT to have sexual relationships, while still
explaining how to use a condom by placing it on a ripe banana. Made
complete and total sense. (Insert Sarcasm) I was the type of girl,
that when my friends proudly bragged about their weekend flings with
their boyfriends, I made darn sure to tell them how wrong they really
were for having sex before marriage. I mean after all, sex was
and is considered for
marriage. Basically, I told them that they would be doomed to hell
for the rest of eternity...I mean after all, I was THAT girl.
I
graduated high school in May of 2012, and I began my journey of
living out the single life. Up until that point, I was still the same
girl that I was back in school, and I still had that “Junior High
mentality” when it came to the topic of sex. There was, however, a
change that took place over the course of my High School career. You
can call it hormones, growth spurts, or whatever floats your boat,
but I rapidly became the girl who was obsessed (I'm meaning REALLY
obsessed!) with sappy love stories. While all of my other friends and
classmates were out partying away on Friday nights getting hammered,
high, and having sex, I was on my couch partying away in my blue,
rubber duck
printed,
pajama pants, watching Nicholas Sparks' “The Notebook” on the
Hallmark Channel, and emptying out all the kleenex's
that sat in the middle of my coffee table. All because I wanted to
have a perfect, sappy love story just like Noah and Allie. Yup...I
was THAT girl. So...after a period of time, and so many empty kleenex
boxes later, I decided to set out on a journey of my own to find that
sappy love story of my own.
In the following months of August through October of 2012, I lived in
Stone Mountain, Georgia, as a live-in nanny for ten children. I'm not
going to go into detail about that season of life, because trust and
believe me when I tell you that it is a long story. I moved back to
Ohio, and on Christmas Day, 2012, I once again found myself packing
my small, white, chevy cavalier with all of my belongings (which
wasn't much by the way) and I hit the road to small town Corfu, New
York.
This is where the story begins...
When I moved to New York, I moved in with my close friend Emily and
her family. While living with her family, I worked at a coffee shop
that was located about thirty minutes away from the house. It was
there that I met all of my New York “family”. In the midst of
working at this coffee shop, I was also hanging with the wrong
“crowd” of people outside of my “family”. I spent a lot of my
time with people who liked to party and live the free life. They were
people who weren't afraid to “let loose” or have a good time.
Sex, drinking, more nightly sex flings...I wanted that life. I wanted
to let loose and have “fun”. Besides-people were always telling
me that I was so uptight about my life. Stressed. That I needed to be
free and actually “enjoy” life. So I did just that.
I ended up meeting a guy through a friend of mine, and after about
six hours of knowing each other, we had sex. That guy was my first. I
thought I was ready for it, but when the time came, I wasn't. I
remember that night clear as day. It was nearly five in the morning
and we were sitting in his living room watching Family Guy. ( I hate
that show) He then pulled the back of my grey hoodie without saying
anything, and started kissing me. I didn't know what to do. My heart
was beating so fast that I thought it was going to come out of my
body. I remember feeling nervous. NUMB. I wasn't ready. I didn't want
it. But when he asked if it was okay, I gave him the slightest nod of
yes. In some aspects, I guess that was me giving him consent to
continue. I gave him permission. During the few minutes that
everything was happening, I felt as if I left my body. It was almost
as if I was watching from above, the acts that were taking place. The
next morning was everything but a blur for me. I felt sick, and even
now, as I write about this moment, my stomach is turning. I walked
out of his apartment, and walked the sidewalked path to my car. I was
crying uncontrollably. My mind raced at a hundred miles an hour. “How
could I have let this happen? I was supposed to be THAT girl who was
against sex until marriage. I was wanting to wait until marriage.
You're nothing Malarie. You are nothing.” When I got to my car, I
threw up. My Bible was sitting in the passenger seat and when I
turned on my car, the song “How He Loves” came on. I smashed my
hand against the stereo so hard, that the impact ended up breaking my
radio. As far as my Bible went, I rolled my window down, and threw
it as hard as I could. God couldn't have loved me anymore after what
I did. Although there was guilt, shame, and disgust in my heart, it
didn't take long for an addiction to the active “sex life” to
deterioate my life.
Two months after the rampage first began, I moved back to Ohio. I
left New York and everyone that I loved; my friends, my church family
(even though I stopped going for a month), the coffee shop,
everything. When I moved back, let me just say that things didn't
work out the way they were supposed to, so I ended up living in a
homeless shelter and attending community college at the same time.
During my time at the shelter, I was extremely alone, depressed, and
I was on a mission to seek out attention. I became THAT girl. The
addiction to sex was how I learned to live free and let loose from
all of the homeless, crummy, life of cards that I was unwillingly
dealt. I quickly began to live the disgusting and rebellious life of
sleeping with any man that would have me, most of whom I didn't
know...that's how I met Derrik.
I met Derrik online. We talked over texting for a day and a half,
and before I knew it, I found myself driving a half hour to his
apartment. At that point I didn't know what this man was capable of.
For all I knew, he could have raped and killed me right then and
there. He could have never let me leave. But I still went. When I got
to his apartment door, it took me five minutes to find the brave
courage (if you want to call it that) to knock on his door. When he
answered, he immediately took me to his bedroom. The whole “course
of action” was about ten minutes. When we were finished, he walked
me to the door and tossed me a quarter and said “Thanks for the
favor.”, and that was that. Once again, I found myself being
manipulated and used as just another woman that he could add to his
list. I felt betrayed, worthless, and full of disgust. I remember
leaving feeling the same way that I did when I was back in New York.
NUMB. Except this time, I knew my worth. Twenty-five cents...that
was my worth. That was the moment that God changed my heart and took
me for a life changing ride that I was not prepared for in any way.
In October of 2013, I started getting sick-nausea, vomiting,
headaches, and constant abdomen cramping. One night, I had a stabbing
pain that shot through my back. This pain was excruciating and it
took my breath away. I called a friend of mine and asked her if she
would take me to the hospital. They ran various amounts of blood
panels, including a pregnancy test. While I waited to hear what those
tests were, they ordered an ultra sound. That's when my life changed.
I laid in the dark ultra sound room, and the technician ran the
wand across my stomach and stopped. I could hear her say “Oh my
gosh.” under her breath. I asked her what was wrong and she said
that she had to go ask my ER doctor if there was anything else that
she was supposed to be looking for. I waited in the dark room for
five treacherous minutes. When the technician came back, what she
said next, was something that I was not prepared to hear....She told
me that I was two and a half months pregnant and was getting ready to
enter my third month of pregnancy. As she was telling me this,
everything sounded muffled, as if I was submerged underwater. I
remember asking her quite a few times to repeat herself. I couldn't
believe it. I was pregnant. I was THAT girl. I left the hospital
feeling nervous, scared, excited, anxious and everything else a
twenty year old pregnant woman should have been feeling at that time.
The next day, I called Derrik and told him that I was pregnant and
that it was his child, but just like with the value of the quarter,
his child was nothing to him. His child was worthless. After that, I
didn't tell anyone about this new journey, but I told myself my baby
and I were going to make it. I went from being a homeless woman who
was worth twenty-five cents, to being worth everything to this little
human that was growing inside of me. I had in my heart, mind and
soul, that I was going to be okay. That I was going to be the best
mom that I could be to my child. I had it in my heart, soul and mind
that my sex addictive life was over. That I was free. That WE were
free. God was going to have me be okay. Or maybe I wasn't.
December of 2013 was the most tragic month of my life. I was almost
four months pregnant with this growing child. I was attending a local
University, majoring in Nursing, and I was becoming a better person
for my child. I was sitting in my English Composition class when I
felt the tight, electrifying pinch in my abdomen. I immediately felt
sick and ran to the bathroom. I threw up. When I stood up in the
stall, that's when I saw the blood. I didn't want this reality to be
happening. A shiver of fear swarmed and rushed through my body. I had
a friend of mine drive me to the hospital. On that day, December 8,
2013, my life changed forever. No heart beat. No rhythm. My baby was
gone. My purpose for living was all but short of living for.
Two weeks later, on December 18th, 2013, I left Ohio. I
left everything that reminded me of the life of hurt, pain and
destruction, and got a plane to Alaska. I left for complete isolation
and nobody knew the true reason of why I left. I never told anyone
the reason why I truly was leaving.
It is now January of 2015, and I am still here in Alaska. I am
still living my life. Although, losing Brayleigh, my daughter, was
the most heart-wrenching, and painful thing that I have ever
experienced, God has given me freedom. He has given me hope. The past
year and a half has been one of the hardest years that I have ever
gone through as a woman and as a mother. There are days where my
heart grips with the wanting and the desire to have Brayleigh in my
arms again. She would be turning a year old this year. I would be
planning her first birthday. My life would be completely different.
But in this pain, I have HOPE. I have hope, that one day, Brayleigh
and I will be reunited at the gate of Heaven.
Today, a year and a half later, I am strong. I am worth more than
twenty-five cents. I am worth more than the mistakes that I have
made. I am not broken, but I am repaired and mended because of the
grace that God has given me in the midst of this worldly life. I am a
new creation.
I have found hope in Christ.
~This
hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast
and one which enters within the veil,
where
Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us, having become a high priest
forever...”~
Hebrews
6:19
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