Still Standing

Still Standing

I’m still standing
Out of the heart of the low places I come

I’m still standing
Many a battle fought long and hard

But

I’m still standing
Running the race set before me with patience,
Not willing to fall

I’m still standing
Through it all,
with His might
I am strong, strengthened and fortified

I’m still standing
And I won’t fall
For I am waiting and resting

Standing still
Standing still

I would be a liar if I said my predicament was easy...It's not! (Not even a little)

Today, I was scheduled to move my large furniture into a warehouse. I had hoped to be able to get it all in without a problem.

I found waking up an issue this morning.

I felt very ill. I couldn't breathe through my nose and I had an enormous headache.

I dragged my flesh to church and it wasn't easy, but I did it. I blessed God for the things I couldn't see. A safe place for me and my boys as well as a the completion of a book project that I'd been holding on to forever.

I was excited to be able to move my things and I was ready to do so even though I felt so tired and sickly.

As soon as my help arrived, I called the man that would store my things for free. He was doing me a huge favor. Although I appreciated him, I knew he wasn't too happy about helping me and that's something I've noticed since I've been in this predicament:

Many people have assisted us with a willing heart. It has been helpful in many instances because I have already dealt with so much pain and regret...so much anxiety and much more pain.

Unfortunately, it seems that, for every other person willing to help me without judgement or reproach, I have had at least one crass remark, at least one apathetic comment and at least one person snub their nose at me (usually casting blame on me for one reason or another).

Today, I was berated and I didn't enjoy it one bit.

When I called the guy earlier this week, he instructed me to call him today to let him know when my help arrived. I called him and his demeanor was very repulsive. He yelled at me. He accused me of not having my stuff together because I didn't have someone who owned a large moving truck. I was devastated; however, I allowed him to get off of the phone because I appreciated what he was doing for us...I stood there, in the three bedroom house we used to inhabit, looking at our things. I became overcome with sadness. All of a sudden, a lethargy came over me and I felt soul sick. I thought about what he yelled: "I'm a business man and, if I'm gonna help you, I don't expect to be standin' around all day waitin' on you!"  I thought, Wait a minute, I've done everything he told me to. I called him when my help got here and I told him I had no idea how large her truck was. Why is he yelling at me?

Before I knew it, I became vehemently angry; I was flooded with the same kind of anger that came over me when I was sick and tired of being picked on in school...so exhausted with being bullied when I was growing up.

We'd moved in the projects.

When we lived in Inglewood, CA, all of the kids loved me. I never had a problem with bullies, no one wanted to cut my hair, everyone wanted to be my friend. I had so many friends in Cali. Unfortunately, moving to Chicago, especially Robbins, wasn't as friendly. My hair flowed down my back to the middle of my waist. I don't know why, but girls wanted to cut it. Several times girls wanted to wack off my curly locks. I was cornered in bathrooms, on the playground and on my way home. My mother had to start putting my hair in two ponytails so that I could pull my hair around front to avoid losing my locks.

I guess my mind went back there because, when I was being bullied, I always thought If I had superpowers, I would kill you! All I had was a stare because I was too little to defend myself. My sister Shannon was there to get them away from me, but not every time. I needed some help every time I stepped outside! When we moved to the "new" projects, it just got worse. There was only one girl who understood me was another girl they kept picking on. She had to cut someone to keep them off of her hair.

Jealousy. The way it makes others speak to you!

The only issue I dealt with was Why am I so angry?


He was berating me. Talking to me as though I was nothing. I had done everything he asked me to, yet he didn't care, he had to yell at me because I was beneath him. I was nothing because I needed him and, if I wanted his help, I had to take it.

I thought about it...bullies. How, after years and years of being bullied, I began pulverizing them. At some point, I became evil. I was beyond fed up and the insanity within me longed to murder one of them. At age 16 a darkness fell upon me. I was still afraid, yet my fear turned me to thoughts of lifeless bodies, hatred and thoughts of murder. My mother bullied me into allowing men to rape me and I felt so unsafe that the innocence within me that cried, died. I played the harlot and with each rape I became more and more angry. I was less and less human. By the time the one bully, who had tortured me for at least three years, came to fight me. After years of avoiding her and, cowering as she pelted things at me: bottles, rocks, cans, food...etc, I tried to kill her.

She finally came to me after school, when we got off of the bus, to fight me. The bus unloaded. Everyone got off. Everyone else knew what was going to happen...everyone but me. I had on a skirt and a pair of penny loafers. As I walked with my knock-off Gucci bag, I heard the crowd gathering behind me, laughing. I had a bad feeling. Something bad was probably about to happen. It would happen to me.

Before we exited the bus, the girl's cousin threw a book at me and it hit me in the head. I threw it back at him, but I didn't aim to hit him. I only wanted to save-face. He claimed that I would get a beating after I got off of the bus. I said "I haven't even done anything to you!" His sisters were supposed to be my friends. I had been hanging out with them for about six months...I thought Maybe they didn't like me after all. I didn't really have many friends.

As I attempted to make it to our apartment, I heard the crowd getting closer. Suddenly, I felt the force of a great push that nearly knocked me off of my feet. I turned around...afraid. "You messin' with Squirmy?..." Squirmy was her boyfriend and he claimed he was in love with me. I didn't like him so I didn't care. "No! Don't nobody want Squirmy but you. Tell him to stop beggin me to get with him. I don't want him" I retorted as the trembling fear within grew so much that I thought everyone could see it.

"Kick her ___" the crow yelled. The immense crowd was a mixture of residents of the projects as well as our empty bus. There were plenty of people out there, yet I was all alone.

I didn't have any friends. No one was saying "Don't do this" or "Yo, I got your back." Everyone out there wanted to see me get beat down. Everyone wanted to watch me bleed and I hadn't done anything to anyone.

The girl was much bigger than I was (at least a size 16, I was a size 6) so I was afraid.

She attempted to hit me in the face. I moved and she missed me by about an inch. I had moved just in the nick of time and, from an origin I knew not, my fist became mobile and connected with her face. Her nose began to bleed immediately; the blood sprang forth like a small red fountain.

"I don't want to fight you!" I yelled.

"Leave me alone!"

I grabbed her like a man and began beating her. She seemed defenseless. All she was able to do was grab my hair. She pulled it out and the wind carried it through the street. I put her in a headlock and punched her in the face several times until it was bloody and bruised. Finally, I had enough and I hip-tossed her. The crowd was amazed.

Her best friend picked me up and threw me in the street. I nearly got hit by a car.

As the crowd called me Tyson and many whisper "Look at ____ face; she beat her down." We walked through the middle of the projects with the crowd chanting " Tyson, Tyson, Tyson! ". Just then some one told the girl's cousin " Look what she did to her face! ". Her male cousin began hitting me in my head as I attempted to shield his blows. Then, her older female cousin came they told her the same thing, knowing she was a prized-fighter, I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. She jumped on my back and latched on like a huge leach; I flung her off and continued to run.

She couldn't catch me.

About an hour later, the police came and picked me up. At the police station, I was escorted into an interviewing room. The moment the door closed, the two officers began laughing, but I had no idea why so I didn't crack a smile.

"You beat that big girl up like that?" the first officer said

"Did you see her face?!" yelled another

"I didn't mean to do it" I continued "She tried to hit me first. I was just defending myself"

"Man, you messed her up!" one officer said as between laugher (his entire face red and tears streaming down his lofty cheeks).                                             

" I was just defending myself shes been bothering me for three years..."

I explained the whole story: how every one at least six different stops got off of the bus to watch her beat me up, how her cousin hit me with a book, how her friend threw me in the street, and how I tried to get away and they wouldn't leave me alone.

One of the officers explained that I wasn't in trouble and that a couple of witnesses had come forward and explained that I didn't start anything and that I was trying to avoid the fight. I was relieved that, even though no one came to take up for me, at least someone thought enough of me to say something to the authorities.

I felt vendicated. It was the first time in my life that I had been.

During the ordeal with the moving company guy, I felt as though my life went backward to a time where I was bullied because I was percieved to be either weaker, or I was seen as someone who was inferior or insignificant. I hated that feeling and I still do.

After calling the man back to defend myself, but in a godly way, he refused to see things my way. All I asked is that he wouldn't berate me and I told him that I was offended. I also explianed that, if he wanted me to pay him, I would and that he didn't have to do it for me as a favor...I would much rather have his respect.

He refused to take my money and continued to yell at me making Sunday a character-building day for me. I told my case manager, who was helping us move, what I thought of the guy and all of the people who has spewed out their remarks about my situation and how many people really didn't want to help us. Instead, it was and is some people's opportunity to gossip, gloat and otherwise kick someone they feel is beneath them. Unfortunately, just in case they don't know, this could happen to anyone (including them).

The blessing through my tough day occurred when we made it to his warehouse. I didn't want to talk to him so I allowed the case manager to do so. By the time we got to the warehouse, I was convinced that I wouldn't say anything; instead, I would  remain silent and do whatever it was that I needed to do. Somehow I would find his address and send him money whether he wanted me to or not. When I got out of my Jeep to help the case manager, the man asked "Who is the youn lady I'm trying to help?" I stepped forward to shake his hand and he said: "If I have said anything to offend you, I'm sorry. I just want everything to be on-point. I'm a business man." I stated that I understood and thanked him for his assistance.

As I left, I felt a renewed spirit. Not many people have wronged me and apologized for it. I blessed God for the opportunity to hear an apology. After apologizing, the guy also pledged his support. He sent a team of movers to my old place and had them move all of my large items, free-of-charge to his warehouse.

In the end, I pray God will bless him for his role in my victory. I also thank God for my ability to speak up for myself. I know that I have certain issues that relate to how I am spoken to as well as how I am treated, yet I also know that, no matter how someone sees me, I am still the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus, created for good works. He knows my name, He loves and protects me and I am important to Him.

If you are going through the same thing, know that I'm praying for you. I love you and I respect you so much. Never forget how valuable you are. Please email me if you need prayer at yolandawhitted@msn.com.