What I know to be true as a clinical trauma psychologist for over 30 years is that every single one of us has suffered some form of trauma — and I am no exception.
I know you are looking at me and thinking that sweet little old lady. How could anything bad have happened to her? Look at me! I have got a degree! The top one! I also have a thriving trauma practice and a family! I got the professional look. I have it all together!
What if I told you one of my earliest memories is being laid on a satanic altar by family members and being dedicated to Satan?
I remember being in the room. I had been in it before. Nothing was scary.
Then people surrounded me who had never hurt me before. Next, a family member picked me up and put me in another family member’s arms. I started feeling fear. I was overwhelmed and confused. Then I was filled with terror! I didn’t know what was happening. I started screaming for someone to help me. I became aware of what those people were doing. A black, ugly, and evil thing was going into me. Oh, no! Someone help me!
I call out to God! God, please stop this from happening! Please stop it! But it went into me! Oh no, please no! A deep sorrow filled my soul and stayed for years. God came, weeping. He told me He cannot stop it. God told me I would never be alone because He would always be with me. And He has been.
I am going to tell you something that might challenge you. Even as I was being dedicated to satan, I sensed the Lord’s presence. He spoke to me as a child when I cried out to him to stop the terror, to stop Satan from going in me. He was there!
The Lord told me, I cannot stop it, Donna. It might challenge your thinking, but God couldn’t stop it. But I want to challenge your thinking – God doesn’t always get His way because He gave us free will. He can influence us to make our best decisions, but you and I have free will, and so did the people who hurt me. It does not mean God is powerless, but He will not and cannot violate His character.
But the evil continued throughout my life. I was exposed to and experienced satanic cult activity and family members who could conjure evil. They called up Satan and sent evil out on people. I was the pawn and scapegoat that got used for evil.
And as a result of what happened to me…
I learned not to trust anyone, including God.
My father was an alcoholic. My mother was a rager and powerless. I raised myself, working to create a false, “perfect” me so my family and others would not reject me, but would accept and not hurt me.
As I grew, I worked hard to protect and nurture me. I worked to be invisible, not talk, be perfect, and watch others. I watched to see if their eyes would turn black and listened for voice growls. If that happened, I was fast enough to get out of the way on good days. On bad days, I was disgraced and beaten. I was cursed and sent to hell in God’s precious name. My nickname in the family was “Dopey.” Sadly, I showed them how wrong they were.
I learned to put terrifying memories into memory blocks so they wouldn’t hinder me and I could keep going. I was full of fear and anger. I learned to rage and do passive-aggressive meanness. Underneath was the constant sorrow and battle with the evil part inside me. I worked hard to keep myself under control and survive. I often failed, and my feelings often overcame me. I can tell you, you can’t live that way very long.
By the time I was 11 years old, I was suicidal.
I took half a bottle of pills. And I did not even get sick! The Lord was with me. God wanted and needed me alive. I did not know then that I had a special, divine purpose, as we all do. I only knew I had to keep going. I promised God I would never try to kill myself again.
Others had rejected me, so I rejected myself, the precious person God created. As I healed, I found God protecting, accepting, and helping me all the way.
As a psychologist, I yearned to help others but ignored the pain inside of me. Hidden deep inside of me was a gnawing, nagging, constant feeling and a knowing that I had suffered horrible abuse. When I searched my memory banks, nothing was there. But I knew I was not okay. I decided I must be crazy. But God had His hand on me, even if I didn’t know it yet.
I grew up and got all the credentials after my name. Doctor Donna LaMar, psychologist!
To keep my perfect image, I married, had kids, went to church, and kept pretending. I looked terrific outside, doing all the right things, but I was a mess inside. The pain was so bad sometimes I just wanted to die. I lived in darkness and loneliness, searching for a way out. I didn’t know why.
My breakthrough happened…
…when I attended a presentation on the Shroud of Turin at my church. The Shroud was the linen cloth wrapped around Jesus for His burial, and it bears an image of the front and back of Jesus. It fascinated me how the image of Jesus was created on it. I wanted to know more.
I entered the church, where the copy of the Shroud was at the altar. Suddenly, I just wanted to touch it! I knew that was not okay. So, I controlled myself and sat in a pew close to the front. While listening to the minister, I had a strong urge to go up and touch it.
How dare I even think of touching it! It was so Holy, and I might damage it. I worked hard to control myself. Then…
I remembered the woman in the Bible who bled for 12 years.
(Luke 85:43-48). Can you believe that! Of all the stories I could think about? She had been suffering, sick, bleeding, broken, and shunned for twelve years. She knew she could be healed if she just touched His garment. And she took the chance, touched it, and was healed!
I THOUGHT IF ALL she had to do was touch the hem of His garment, and He healed her! MAYBE He would heal me too if I touched His shroud. If I just reached out and touched…. I made my plan. I would sneak up when no one was looking. But it was right next to the minister at the altar. I kept planning and plotting.
I sat at the edge of the pew for over an hour debating Do I do it? Don’t I do it? No, I have to. What if I am caught? The urge to touch kept getting stronger and stronger.
Then God NUDGED ME TO DO IT. Have you ever been nudged by Him?
I had to find a way without anyone looking! The Shroud and the minister were right next to each other. And so many people were there! I watched for my chance. My heart was pounding. I was scared. I kept anxiously looking around. He was taking questions. I saw my opportunity. I went up as if I were going to ask a question but snuck over and touched it! And I asked God to heal me.
I was relieved! I wasn’t caught! My heart was still pounding. I quickly went and sat down. Whew! My fear was gone. I didn’t know what had happened. I just knew something had. I felt hope. I knew He heard me. I felt His arms around me. My healing journey had begun. I didn’t know then what that would mean for me.
No, I did not get healed instantly like the woman with blood. But healing had started.
Healing requires us to put the giant jigsaw puzzle of our life together. My puzzle took time, patience, hard work, and God’s love and restoration. God knew what I could handle and when. He is our Healer, constant companion, and hope. And through the years, I have learned everybody needs healing.
How gracious God was to not reveal all that needed fixing in me all at once. How merciful He has been. He knew I couldn’t handle a big truck of trauma concrete dumping on me all at once. My healing has been a journey of sunrises, sunsets, storms, bogs, disasters, sinkholes, flowers, forests, mountains to climb, rivers to forage, beautiful sunsets, and incredible rainbows.
God has been gentle, loving, patient, and insistent. He held me when he knew I could not take another step. He accepted and listened to my anger and then loved me. He led me out of my darkness into His glorious light.
I did not know what healing was or what I had to do to heal! Here, I was a psychologist helping others with trauma, and I didn’t know how to heal! I knew techniques and clients often told me how much I helped them! I just kept praying. God knew He had a lot to teach me so I could help others heal at a deeper level.
God and I went deeper! God taught me what real healing is. He gifted me with understanding, insight, and wisdom to help others heal. Thank you, God! I am so blessed.
My healing journey has been hard, painful, incredible, and freeing!
I am free from trauma’s bondage. God took a damaged, hurt, angry, fearful little girl and taught her through painful healing steps that she was always loved and never alone.
I don’t know what your journey will be like. To help others, I needed to take and learn from every step my feelings offered me. And it was so worth it! Yours will be, too. You will be freed and blessed. I am praying for each one of you.