Master was a peaceful, calm, loving safe space for me, as I was His, from the hellish lives we had with those we lived with. It's not my place to tell His story, but I will tell mine.
I was married to a mean, angry, alcoholic. He would constantly terrorize and demean myself and my children, even when he was sober. In 1988, he fell through a hole in a roof he had been working on,(after a "beer" lunch break). He ended up a parapalegic, in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He changed, in that he became meaner, and drunker, and angrier. His eyes became darker and almost hollow with evil. Many times I would be crushed to nothing mentally and emotionally. I would find myself in a safe corner rocking and hugging myself, repeating over and over, "I am somebody.. I am worth something.. I am a human being".
My son 18, my daughter 11, we all endured the best we could, banding together to deal with the events of his tyrades, and the aftermath. He gave my son a graduation gift of a one way ticket to Florida. (Well that got my son out of the way).
In 1998 I met my Master. (Thank God my husband let me come and go freely, as long as I had a good "story"). Times with Master were a welcomed respite from the everyday hell. Being held, carressed, kissed, loved, safe. I cherished every moment, knowing it wouldn't last and I would be back in hell once W/we parted.
Master gave me the strength to "stand up". He gave me the encouragement to trully believe that I was a worth while human being, and so loved for who I was.
I won't continue with the "nightmare", it's really not good for me to relive it. I will however say that, I sent the so and so in the wheelchair into jail where he belonged. (Actually he sent himself there with his antics). My final words to the judge were, "If this man had legs, he would have been behind bars years ago".
After the devil was locked up, my daughter, then sixteen, and I suffered severe anxiety whenever around people who drank alcohol, regardless if they were totally drunk or not. We had extreme anxiety whenever we would see a wheelchair, especially one coming around an isle in a store, even though we knew he was locked up.
My daughter leapt unheeded into a new life, school and work, buying her own car, many many friends, my social butterfly.
(This I believe, no I "know", is the reason I can't handle hard pain or humiliation).