From Fear to Forgiveness to Freedom

This is my story – how I got from Fear to Forgiveness to Freedom

Don’t waste 20 years living in fear as I did

Let me share with you how easy it is to forgive

To move from that fear – through the forgiveness – to the freedom

Fear – Where my Fear Began

This is an extract from my personal journal written in real time and was written as my therapy.
As such it may appear disjointed. I have left it unedited to show my state of mind at the time.

Saturday December 30 1995

Working late
Trying to make an honest living
Trying to get the New Year off to a flying start
Making button badges
Mindless, physical work
A hot evening
Every excuse not to be there
Should have spent the weekend kloofing * (Rock scrambling in the mountains)
Didn’t
Should have gone to Sarah’s for dinner
Didn’t
Should have joined Maria and her friends for dinner
Didn’t
Should have gone through to Plett* to spend New Year with Mandy and her family *Plettenburg Bay)
Didn’t
I worked Second night in a row
Last night – Friday – first day of the New Year long weekend – and I was nervous
Phoned Home Alarms and asked them to keep an eye out for me
Louis escorted me to my car at 1:30 am this morning
Not nervous tonight
Sitting in the warmth of our secluded and secure courtyard
Making badges
I didn’t hear him
The radio was on
The first time I was aware if him He had a hand around my throat And a screwdriver held to my neck
He was small and slight and dark
He had on a blue cloth cap and blue T-shirt
He had a moustache
I screamed And screamed
He stabbed me in the cheek
I screamed
I screamed
He stabbed me in the neck
He stabbed me in the neck
He stabbed me in the neck
I lunged
I plunged
I hit
I kicked
He stabbed
I screamed
He was small
I could overpower him
I grabbed the screwdriver and thrust it into his side
He tightened the grip around my throat
I felt myself blacking out
I fought back I stabbed
I kicked
I lunged
I plunged
I hit
I kicked
I screamed
We fell to the ground
He hit my head against the wall I still fought
He grabbed the screwdriver
He stabbed me in the ear
Blood gushed out
We faced each other
I couldn’t see
My contact lenses had popped out
I screamed. I couldn’t hear the scream
He stabbed me in my throat
In slow motion I saw a tooth flying through the air
It must be mine
I didn’t feel it
Blood was gushing down my face and neck
A lot of it
He pushed me, head down, shouting “see what you made me do”
I said – let’s talk about it
My name is Lois
He said his name was Richard.
We shook hands
I took the opportunity
He was small and I was sure I could overpower him
I grabbed his balls
Missed.  His jeans were baggy
He took the opportunity
He stabbed me again “See what you made me do”
I hit him in the face with my fist
He breaks a glass
He tears my T-shirt and grazes my stomach
Gushing blood
Flowing flood
He tells me to undress
I look at him
I beg him
I plead with him
He lunges
He is going to cut me
I’m going to die
I do not want to die
I undress
He tries to force me forward over the table
I beg him not to
I need to see him
To see what is coming
He grabs some packaging strap and wraps it around my neck
He tells me to lie on the floor
I beg him not to
I need to remain standing.
To have some control
He pushes me into the corner…….

I’m incredibly in control
He wants to tie me up to a pole
I plead with him – I can’t move, I’m too old, I say
He leaves me on the bench and ties my hands
I flex my arms and hands so that there is plenty of slack
He goes into the office
I throw the house keys over the wall
He sees me
He hits me “See what you made me do”
He ties my hands behind my back and to my feet
With cord
With my belt
With a chain
With my bikini top
But not before I have managed to grab a piece of the broken glass
He ties up my mouth with some old packaging tape
I struggle to breathe
He goes back inside
He finds the petty cash box and brings it outside and breaks it open
I pretend to be asleep
He pulls my hair and threatens me with the broken glass
What is the PIN number for the card?
It is not a credit or debit card
It is for the credit card machine
There is no number
He does not believe me
He hits me
He puts on a yellow kitchen glove
I get really scared
What perverted plan has he in mind now?
It is just to avoid finger prints
Now? He takes money out of the petty cash box
He finds my car keys
He takes the radio
He leaves

In pain, with blood pouring from me, but totally in control, I hobble to the phones
I call 10111 and the Home Alarm number
I manage to undo my hands
I put on my shorts
I find a company T-shirt
I get dressed
I phone Sarah and Maria and Tommy
I become hysterical
The police (Dientjie and Peter) and the 911 Home Alarm response team arrives
He has been caught
He has crashed my car
My friends arrive
The ambulance arrives