Estelle
Regulatory Oversight Specialist
These are Estelle's favorite scriptures that ministered to her during her healing process from trauma.
Estelle shared her story on Truth, Talk & Testimonies
Estelle's testimony is also on VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies podcast platforms
Did you grow up in a Christian home?
I grew up with relatives who were Christian. My mom was a Christian, but my father was not, and they got divorced when I was a baby. My mom introduced me to the Lord, and my grandmother and aunts knew the Lord. I was told that I was around 5 years old when I became saved and accepted Jesus in my life to save me from my sins. My mom asked me if I accepted Jesus, and I said, “Yeah, mom, and I felt Him. So that's what I'm told. For most of my childhood, I loved the Lord and spent much time in church.
You shared with me that you went through trauma and abuse—can you share some of that?
Yeah, my stepfather abused me. My mom remarried when I was about 4 years old, and my stepfather was an alcoholic. When I was 11, for a prolonged period, he was abusive to me. He would molest me—it wasn’t as bad physically as what I hear a lot of people experience in a situation like that, but I think for me, it was the psychological trauma of it, the way I was groomed and tricked and manipulated—it was very devastating and traumatizing because I also wanted to have a close relationship and father figure, but he took advantage of that. I have a good relationship with my biological father, but I didn’t see him very much. So, my stepdad took advantage of an 11-year-old girl who wanted to have a wholesome father figure in her life. It was just very traumatizing, and it happened over a prolonged period. I was a zombie as a kid because I couldn’t process what was happening to me.
You told me you received help in the church.
Yes. In my junior year of high school, I didn’t have a safe place to stay because my mom was in the hospital, and I was alone with my stepdad. To my knowledge, no one was aware of my abuse. He stopped abusing me at that point, but it wasn’t safe for me to be there. One of my aunts, a Christian, came to check on me, and she discerned it wasn’t safe for me there. I believe that was the Holy Spirit. I thank God she checked on me, and for about a month, until my mom got out of the hospital, I stayed with my assistant pastor’s family. They treated me like I was part of their family. It was one of the best experiences of my life because I could see what a healthy marriage was and what a Christian household could look like—it was just a wonderful experience for me. It gave me a great impression of myself and something to think back on even when I grew up. It served as a helpful gauge for me to evaluate relationships. God used that experience.
God used that experience there in that household. Did anyone know what was going on at home?
I don’t think anyone knew at that point that someone had molested me. The interesting thing is that going back to when I was 11, I think people knew something was going on with me because I remember meeting with the pastor of my church at one point. He asked me if my stepfather was touching me, which to me was an odd question—I don’t understand a lot of the circumstances that were happening in my life back then, but at that point, I think I couldn’t even admit it to myself, and I knew I was lying to him, but I told him no. Also, a man asking me was uncomfortable, even though my pastor was someone I respected and was a safe person. Still, when I was living with my assistant pastor’s family, I think they most likely knew I came from a troubled home. My stepfather was an alcoholic, and obviously, my aunt didn’t think it was safe for me to be there. I don’t think they knew the extent of what was happening. Eventually, my mom and I did go to a therapist and would talk about how his alcoholism affected me. That was when I had many memories resurface because, for a while, I was blocking everything out as a protection. It was too much for me to want to admit or face—I think I was around 17 or 18 when I went to that therapy session with my mom. I tried to talk about what happened to me, but I did it vaguely. I blacked out and don’t remember much from that session because it was traumatizing.
Did you go to college then, and if you did, what for?
I did end up going to a Bible college. The pastor of my church, who loved the Lord and Scripture, inspired me. He was so serious about the Word of God, and it was fascinating when he would share about all these fulfilled prophecies in the Bible, and I would be on the edge of my seat. And he would get so emotional about what Jesus did for us—he was very analytical, scholarly, and innovative. Jesus’ death, and the grace and mercy He gave us forgiving all our sins caused him to weep at the pulpit. This made a great impression on me, and I wanted to learn more about the Bible. I felt so blessed by my church. I would go to youth group, and I went to church on Sundays and Wednesdays regularly. That might sound like a lot, but I loved being around other believers and receiving support. It was a place of stability, and I wanted to learn more about the Bible and pay forward how the church helped me.
When you started college, you took ministry courses but veered off. What caused you to get off track?
There were a couple of things—I mentioned that I viewed my pastor as analytical, and I’m very detail-oriented and analytical, so while studying theology, I began to notice things in the Bible that I thought were contradictions, but we know God never contradicts Himself or the Word. I knew Jesus wants to save everyone, but yet narrow is the way—and there is a hell. I had doubts and questions. I think I was missing discipleship—looking back, some things were missing in my walk with Christ, but the idea of hell was so triggering to me and my trauma because I grew up feeling in danger. Something I didn’t mention is that I did try to get help as a child and reach out to someone, but I don’t think I thoroughly explained what was happening to me, and the abuse continued. I tried, and I was just a kid, and it was a lot to process.
I ended up standing up to my abuser. One day, I snapped and started screaming at him—exceptionally intensely. I was a skinny pip-squeak of a kid, and I stood up to this grown man, and he actually apologized to me, and he never did it again, but it could have happened again as I got older because he was still drinking, and my aunt was noticing things that I was not safe. That dangerous environment compromised my safety. I always thought that I was in danger, and I couldn’t handle the idea of someone being in danger of going to hell. When I was in danger, I put a stop to it, and I think that the idea of people going to hell is just so triggering to me. And I thought, oh, people are in danger, and I felt responsible—I didn’t know how to save these people. And we know that we’re not the ones who save them—Jesus does—I didn’t trust God that He’s responsible for saving them. I couldn’t handle the idea of hell, and I had a lot of questions. I think I had a lot of pride, and I started to drift away from the Lord and think that I didn’t need Him very much. There were a lot of things going on, and eventually, I became a closet atheist while in Bible college. I remember reading the story of the prodigal son a bunch of times. I felt like I didn’t believe it. Should I admit to myself that I didn’t believe it? I thought that maybe God wanted honest disbelief over blind belief, and I ended up throwing my faith away. I didn’t share with many people what I was going through. Some of my close friends knew, and they were pretty devastated. I graduated from college and lived on my own with roommates—For at least 15 years, I lived as a nonbeliever.
Did you get involved in the New Age and things like that?
Yes, at first, I started as a secular humanist and didn’t believe in anything supernatural. I still wanted to be an ethical person and have morals. I studied philosophy and ethics, and it was so empty, and there’s no philosophical system that’s good or comparable to what the Bible teaches us. Nothing that I could find was satisfactory, and it felt very empty. There was a part of me that still craved spirituality. Also, I was hurting—for the most part, I had managed to keep things together even though I had this trauma that affected almost every area of my life, and I always knew something was wrong with me but managed to keep it under wraps.
In 2013, my half-brother, who had been in the military and had gone to Afghanistan and Iraq, went missing; we found him, and he had committed suicide. There were a lot of circumstances around that, and it was re-triggering to me, as well as things related to communication. Things with communication triggered me my whole life because I tried to reach out for help, but I didn’t communicate well, so communication was a big deal for me. I found out about my brother through someone I was friends with on Facebook, and they said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I saw a news report.” I searched on Google to see if there were any leads, and I saw from an online newspaper that my brother passed away. I called a family member, and she told me she knew nothing. It was so traumatic. I called the police, and they were cold towards me because I wanted to know who in my family knew. I then called my dad, which was the hardest thing ever. I decided that I needed to tell my dad that his son had passed away. We hoped that maybe he was just eccentric and went off-grid and did something crazy. But that whole thing with my brother re-triggered many things, and my life spiraled from there. I just needed something, so I was going to therapy and doing different treatments. I was also more open to spirituality, so I started listening to certain preachers who watered down the gospel. Hence, the teaching was more palatable to me. I was more open to that kind of spirituality, but I also dabbled in things like Reiki, got deep into yoga, and got my yoga teacher certification, which they taught as a spiritual practice. I also got into Native American shamanism.
You shared that you had PTSD, but you don’t have it anymore. How did the PTSD go away?
Praise Jesus, I don’t have PTSD anymore. I knew my brother had PTSD from the military, so I was curious about PTSD and did some research and had already been going to regular therapy. I talked to my therapist about it and was watching videos and hearing people describe flashbacks and I thought, “Holy smokes,” that’s what I experienced all the time. I didn’t know that’s what it was, so whenever there was a specific trigger, I would re-experience certain situations in my childhood, where someone miscommunicated with me. I would feel like I was in physical danger because of that miscommunication as a kid. I had this false belief that if I didn’t communicate well, I would be in danger. So, if I had a simple miscommunication with a friend, I would feel in physical danger. I would describe it as I felt I was in a burning building and needed to get out. I felt such an urgency, and living an everyday life like that became difficult because you communicate with people regularly. There were other triggers, too, and I saw a lot of specialists who claimed to be able to help with PTSD, so I did anything I could think of, and a lot of the things helped take the edge off of the symptom. I did cognitive-behavioral therapy; I went to an intensive program that you would go to almost every day, and they did a lot of group therapy work. I tried dialectical behavioral therapy and prolonged exposure therapy. EMDR, dance therapy, neurofeedback, mindfulness meditation, and all the new-age stuff—I tried anything because I was desperate. They gave me temporary relief, but they weren’t healing me. When I re-dedicated my life to Christ and became a believer again, I did cognitive processing therapy because it helps you identify your false beliefs and determine a more accurate belief. After all, their theory is that your emotions and triggers are based on a particular belief. So, if you pinpoint what your beliefs are, you can replace them with more accurate ones. I felt like I was spiraling and not getting better, and the main therapist I went to was trying to get me to accept that I had PTSD. It’s something I’ll need to live with for the rest of my life and manage the symptoms instead of looking for a cure, but I knew I couldn’t sustain it and was highly motivated to heal. I was also scared because therapy wasn’t working—I tried everything and worked so hard and was highly motivated to heal—I was going into depression and threw so much money at different therapies and treatments and couldn’t fix myself, so I gave up and out of desperation, I prayed and said, “God, I don’t even know if you’re real, and if you are real, I don’t even know if you would want me back, but I can’t do this anymore. I don’t have a solution—you’re my only hope. If you want me back, I’ll do things your way, and we’ll see if you can do something with this mess." I completely surrendered.
I learned that it was my trauma that caused me to go down the rabbit trail of not believing. When I look back, seeds were planted along the way, and even when I wasn’t serving the Lord, there were so many situations, and I know the Lord was carrying me. After surrendering to Jesus, I bought a Bible, started praying, and attended church. I was still going to cognitive processing therapy. The reason why I was open to going was I asked my therapist if I could use scripture to learn and come to know more accurate beliefs—I was committed to doing things God’s way, and one by one, using scriptures, my false beliefs were replaced by accurate beliefs rooted in God’s Word. I stopped going to therapy and doing what the Bible says to take every thought captive, so when I felt like I was in physical danger, I would remember that the Lord is my protector.
Earlier, I described how when I would have a flashback, I would feel like I was in a burning building, and I would think about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and how they were in a fiery furnace because that was their punishment. After all, there was a rule about worshipping the king, and they refused to worship anyone but their God. The king looked into the furnace and saw a fourth person there, so I would remind myself that the Lord was with me. Isaiah 43:2 was such a meaningful scripture for me. I knew I wasn’t in danger, but I would think about the Lord being with me and protecting me. Those flashbacks were the most horrific thing—I just felt tormented, and they were excruciatingly painful, and it would take me days to recover from them. And they were just physically challenging—my body was constantly in crisis mode, so it took a toll on my health, too, but I learned to praise God during my suffering. I learned that despite suffering, I could rejoice, and that God would use these circumstances to build character. I have the joy of the Lord and complete freedom in Him—what He has done for me; He can do for anyone!
