The paramedics came running into the room and got him positioned on a gurney. It was then that Mitchell rolled his head to look at me. He stopped shaking. He stopped moaning. He looked me straight in the eyes. He seemed to smile an evil grin. It was almost as if I could hear him talking, the look on face was so clear: See! I have won, Shearjashub! I have won! Even now, when I am chained, I can do exactly what I want to do. If I want to finish this trial, I can make it end for the day. God has protected me. God will always protect me. I am His servant. And you are my wife!
But even as horrible as he was to look at, nothing in that moment scared me or made me flash back. It didn’t make me shrink away. It didn’t make me cower. I wasn’t afraid of the present. I wasn’t afraid of what might come. I knew that I could stand on my own two feet. I knew that Mitchell would never hurt me again.
So I returned his cold stare, never looking away. No, Brian David Mitchell, I am stronger than you. I’m not afraid of my future. And I’m not afraid of you. Not another second will I give you. I will live and I’ll be happy. That is how this story ends.
We seemed to stare at each other for a long moment and then the paramedics wheeled the gurney away.
40.
Gratitude and Faith
When I go around the country and talk to different groups, I always get asked the same questions. “How did you survive?” and “How did you overcome what has happened to you?”
The answer to first question is pretty simple. The main reason I was able to survive is because of my God, my family, and my community.
The answer to the second question is a little harder to explain.
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I think a few people might look at me and almost not believe what I say. Some of them might think, given the fact that I haven’t received any professional counseling, that something must still be wrong with me, that I’m hiding my wounds or putting on a happy face. Some might think that I’m carrying a bit of baggage, or that there are certain things that I’m not ready yet to face.
But it’s very important to stress that every survivor must create their own pathway to recovery. What works for one might not work for another. Therapy, medicine, and counseling might be the right path for some people, but not for others. The fact that I chose a pathway to recovery that worked for me is not to suggest that it’s the best path, or that it’s the only path. The only thing it suggests is that I found the path that worked for me.
My parents made it very clear that they would do whatever it took to help me. Every option was on the table. Counseling. Therapy. Doctors and medication. Whatever it took to secure a happy future. But while we talked about the possibility of therapy or counseling, I never felt it was the right thing for me.
So how was I able to get past all of the horrible things that happened?
First, I want to remind you of my mother. There are certain pains that only a mother can really feel, exquisite and intense, and my mother endured them all. She endured them day and night. She endured them for nine months. She wondered if I was dead. It’s one thing to lose your child, but it’s something altogether different to have your child stolen our of her own bed. She endured months of bitter scrutiny, with some of most horrible things being said about her family. In her darkest hours, she imagined all of the suffering that I might be going through. And now she knows about it, the pain that I endured and things that I was forced to do.
But she didn’t let any of these things stop her. She remains the strongest woman I have ever known. She is full of faith and hope and optimism.
So you see, I come from a very strong mother. In fact, I come from a long line of strong women. Maybe I inherited a little of their stock.
And there is also significant historical precedent that indicates that what I’ve been able to do is not terribly unusual.
The truth is, history is replete with stories of human suffering. The world has been full of brutality and abuse and suffering since the beginning of man. There are examples of those who suffered abuse as I did, maybe in different forms, or from different sources, but I am not the first one to suffer at the hand of an evil man. And there were other kinds of challenges. Some of my own ancestors were early pioneers. They faced suffering and starvation, the loss of their children, the loss of other loved ones. They too endured the gamut of emotions, from utter devastation to lifesaving miracles. But the human spirit is resilient. God made us so. He gave us the ability to forgive. To leave our past behind. To look forward instead of back. I’m not the first one who has ever done this. People have been doing it for generations. Since the beginning of time, men have found ways to heal.
So what I did may not be so exceptional when you consider the entire scope of human experience.
But there are some things that helped me.