John and Tim's Story > Tim's Story

Tim's Story

"You're so stupid; I don't think you have the brains you were born with!" These were hard words, but ones I grew up constantly hearing. It was especially devastating because they came from my father, a man I looked up too. Actually, the inability to please my dad shattered my very soul. It produced in me intense shame, guilt and self-condemnation. "I must be defective.I don't deserve his love.I don't deserve anyone's love."

Because my life was so hideous to my father I was afraid to let anyone else get close. My heart, mind and soul were paralyzed by fear -- the fear of my dad or anyone else rejecting me. I so severely shut down and locked up so tight that I could not feel anything. I was completely numb.

What if others knew the real me? If my father hated what he saw, what would he do if he learned of the darkness of my heart? I could never tell him what went on in my mind. I could not trust my feelings or thoughts to anyone.

When I was a child, a neighborhood girl wanted to play doctor. When she dropped her pants, I was flush with guilt. I knew it was wrong and I was deathly afraid of being caught. But at the same time, it was exciting. It was the most intense moment of intimacy I ever felt. It was a feeling I wanted to duplicate, but knew I could never seek out. That is, until I found my uncle's stash of Playboy magazines.

Every time my father would hit me or call me names, I could drift back to a safe place where I was loved, where I felt some pleasure. I would visit that garage daily. It was my hiding place. Each night I would masturbate myself to sleep.

By the sixth grade, I was fat and wore braces. The ridicule was no longer limited to my home; I was the outcast of my school. The teasing burned like hot coals. It was so painful that I would do anything to keep from sight. I knew that I could not see the chalkboard in class, but I would rather die that give the kids another reason to laugh at me by wearing glasses. My resulting poor grades angered my father and induced fresh rounds of abuse.

High school brought no relief. By now, I weighed 300 pounds. I had no expectations of ever dating a girl or pleasing my dad. Yet, an odd thing happened one day just before summer break before our senior year. As a pretty girl was trying to hold her boyfriend's hand in a church service, he threw her hand aside and murmured, "If you want to hold hands, hold Tim's hand." To spite him, she gripped my hand tightly. "Wow that felt great." It didn't matter to me the reason why she held my hand; the point was she was holing MY hand. I now wanted her more than anything. In fact, I lost 100 pounds that summer and made a special trip to see her. We went roller-skating and she held my hand around the rink during a "couples" skate. Perhaps I could have the beauty, I briefly thought? Moments later I was shattered as she talked about her boyfriend. She said we would not be able to skate like that again.

I could not stop obsessing over her. Of course, depression and reality set in. I was no good. Therefore, I would never risk again. A vow I planned to keep by refusing to date. With no future before me, my dad placed my in a Christian boarding school. I was out of sight, out of mind. I heard the words of the gospel of love and peace, but it was for others, not me. It never broke the barriers to my closed heart.

After finishing high school, it didn't take long before my dad had me working in his shop. I was no good for anyone or anything else. The constant strain of failing to meet his business expectations was met with a bottle of booze at night and frequent trips to the bathroom during the day to lose myself in masturbation. I would work twelve hours and then go straight to the bar. I finally had a friend. He would sit behind the bar and pour me drinks all night long. A few nights a week I would go to a movie and pretend to have a different life, any life but mine. Soon I began going to strip clubs. For $120 per hour a real woman would sit next to me and talk. We never had sex or even talked of sex, but it was the closest thing to intimacy I had since skating one lap around a rink many years ago.

Moving fast forward, I eventually did marry the first girl I dated. Of course, I was constantly pretending to be someone else and never let my guard down. The drinking and masturbation continued in full force. I knew that I didn't deserve a wife. Actually, she was beautiful and caring. I had no idea what she saw in me. Yet, I could not afford to risk losing her. It was simple; I would refuse to let her see the real me.

We attended church each week and she became quite active in women's ministries. I pretended to be spiritual and learned the Christian talk. Whenever she left for a meeting, I would shout out with glee, "I am free!" I felt free to be me. Of course, for the moment that meant drinking and watching pornography. What happened next was the worst and best thing in my life. My wife came home early from the weekend retreat only to find the triple X-rated video on the coffee table.

She was horrified and felt betrayed. She threatened to leave if I refused to get help. She told me that she saw a mention in the church bulletin about a men's group called "Proven Men" and told me to go or else. The choice was hard, but I thought I could fake it through another phase of my life. I was a master at it.

What I didn't expect, though, was that the man leading the Proven Men group saw right through me. That, however, was not the thing that troubled me most. It was that he hugged me and told me that he loved me. He refused to judge me or push me away. It was not long before I told him my whole story, part hoping he would run and part hoping that God's healing is really attainable. This man would be my litmus test.

I signed up for the 12-week study and made sure I kept each one. Actually, my wife had it marked on the calendar. I could not "forget". The study was more than I could handle. Of course, each night I was still watching TV until 2 a.m., leaving no ability to rise to complete the workbook. But something was changing in me. I actually longed to be made well. Each week during group meetings I would cry. It was the first safe place I could tell someone I was a mess and not get beat up.

Twelve weeks was too short. I begged the leader to let me start again in the next session. Of course he agreed. This time I worked through one-half of the materials. As I did, it seemed like God was meeting with me. It was even like everything in the study was written for me. I felt that God did love me after all. I began going to bed earlier in order to rise to do the study. It actually became a companion.

My wife was noticing that I was being less selfish and actually wanting to help around the house. She commented that it was like we were having a honeymoon we never had. I actually stopped masturbating, something I had done daily for my entire life. More importantly, the walls around my heart were breaking up.

By now, I could not get enough of God. I asked the leader to allow me to go through the study a third time. My heart was so wide open that there were some days where I spent an hour praying. This time I completed nearly every day of the study. I had changed so dramatically that I was asked to co-lead the next group, and then lead the following session. I was truly changed by God and stamped PROVEN . Sure, the Lord has more backwards thinking to correct, but I now see Him as good and want to open my entire life up to Him. A wonderful byproduct of this right relationship with God is that I now can be open with my wife and enjoy her and allow her to enjoy me!

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