The Place I Belong

My Journey From Exploitation to Hope

“Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong.
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads.”

As I write this, I happen to be in West Virginia and this song has been gracing my mind all day. Though I have never lived here, I have roots here. Each one of us has stories with deep roots that precede our time in this world. My roots go back through narratives of trauma, love, depression, poverty, violence, addiction, and healing.

Growing up, I was always taught about stranger danger and never being alone in a grocery store. But the real threat was closer to home.

I come from people who survived the Holocaust, poverty, domestic violence, alcoholism, and a plethora of traumas. My parents are two of the greatest people in the world and they did their best to raise a family in the wake of dramatic childhoods of their own.

As a child, I was sexually abused at the home of a babysitter, someone my parents knew well and trusted. They never suspected anything like this could happen in the small town we lived in. After several years, I finally had the courage to tell my parents that I didn’t want to go back there. I didn’t tell them why. By that point the harm had been done. My life was forever changed.

The thing about healing and recovery is that you don’t know what the finished product is supposed to look like.

Abuse instills new belief systems we didn’t have before, especially for children. Suddenly I had a twisted understanding of myself—I believed my purpose in life was to be used as an object. To get what I wanted, I had to give something in return. This set me up for years of struggles with depression, suicidal thoughts, and eventually commercial sexual exploitation. I never told anyone what was happening. There was a point in my life when I became convinced that the best thing I had to offer the world was my body—no one wanted anything else.

All our stories have deep roots. As a survivor of commercial sexual exploitation, I have my own unique story, but others who have lived through similar violence share the same core elements. Systemic issues lead to vulnerabilities that others can take advantage of, and in a culture that values money and sex above all else, it is easy to benefit from someone else’s pain. I grew up loved but surrounded by the aftermath of trauma. As I look back at my story, I can see the gaps in the systems that led to my exploitation. A lack of understanding about abuse, the stress that poverty puts on families, the ripple effects of domestic violence and addiction from generations before. These elements all shape us and the way we see the world.

I saw the world as something to be feared—a place where I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to be loved, to be known, to belong. Along came a guy who promised he would never leave me alone—and unfortunately he kept that promise for two years. For those two years I honestly believed I was worth nothing more than my body and that if I tried to leave, there was no place I would belong. Who would want an object that had been used like that?

Leaving was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I struggled to believe anything that wasn’t a lie.

My journey out, up, and away from my exploiter was exactly that—a journey. It took several attempts for me to break that trauma bond before I finally did it. And it was years before I could honestly say that I had anything to offer to the world beyond my objectification.

The thing about healing and recovery is that you don’t know what the finished product is supposed to look like. What does a healthy me look like? How do I know when I have separated the lies from the truth? It’s a lifelong process that won’t end this side of heaven.

The most powerful thing God gives us for these journeys is hope. Since the moment I left my exploiter, I haven’t always known what was next or even believed I had made the best decision. But I have had hope—hope that I was made for more, hope that life doesn’t have to be lived as less than human, hope that God can redeem and trade beauty for ashes. I had hope that even if no one else wanted me, with my Savior I could belong.

All our stories have deep roots. I sit here in West Virginia, singing the lyrics, “Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong.” And I am grateful. Because from where I sit, I see all the pieces. I can see the smashed jar of clay being put back together. I see the beauty for ashes, not only in my story but in my family’s as well. And I have hope in this: I don’t need a country road to take me home. In the arms of Jesus, I am where I belong.

The Covenant’s core identity as Mission Friends is rooted in its desire to seek to respond to God’s call in Isaiah 1:17, “Learn to do good, seek justice, and encourage the oppressed” in our world. As a response to this call, Serve Globally and Love Mercy Do Justice are collaborating through FREE, an anti-sex trafficking initiative of the Evangelical Covenant Church that calls the global church PRAY, LEARN, GIVE, and ACT to oppose the evil of sex-trafficking both domestically and globally.

The FREE initiative seeks to raise $1 million for our partners by 2024. The funds will be used by FREE global and domestic partners engaged in the holistic and transformative work of anti-sex trafficking. Our partners seek to support survivors and break the supply and demand cycle through prevention, intervention, and rehabilitation.

Help break the cycle of sex trafficking by joining with Covenant churches and sponsoring a FREE Sunday at your church. For more information, visit our website: covchurch.org/free.