Hey guys I ammmm back. Yes! I am fully back. I have been rescued from the claws of Malaria. I still have a very slight headache but with food and sleep that should be kicked to the curb. I feel a little weak but that is to be expected after all the Plasmodium has practically ripped some of my red blood cells in a bid to subdue me to its bidding. But not to worry it is nothing a few days of popping my vitamin mix of Vitamin C, Vitamin B complex, Folic acid and iron tablets won’t solve. I couldn’t take my vitamin mix because of the type of anti malarial I was taking (Arthemether/Lumefantrine), it should not be taken with Anti-oxidants as the anti-oxidants interfere with the mechanism of action of the drug. Okay, okay, enough pharmacy talk….lol
So while I was sleeping, waking up to watch movies, eat what I could manage to cook (I prefer to be sick when I am home, at least I don’t have to worry about food at home) and surf the net I came across this article.
I knew about this lady because mailonline.co.uk has done a series of articles on her. She was raped by her ex boyfriend and seriously maltreated by him. As if the harm he did was not enough he had to pour acid on her again. Like I don’t understand what kind of animal he was..*angrymuch* Anyway God has really lifted her up, now she has a baby (like who would have thought that) and is in a beautiful relationship (I hope they get married soon and stay together for a very loooonnnngggg time) and she runs a charity and has had some modeling gig. She has a book coming out too.
Well, let me allow you to read some of what was published in mailonline.co.uk. I hope you enjoy and are inspired to look beyond your present circumstances.
Heart-lifting rebirth of the acid attack survivor
|Katie Piper and Her Baby....|
As the faint blue line grew stronger, so did my heart beating in my chest. Pregnant. Pregnant with the impossible. Pregnant with my future. Pregnant with the child I’d believed to my core would never grow inside me.
But soon elation and shock gave way to a deep feeling of unease and fear. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. How would I keep my child safe? How could I look my child in the eye and promise my protection when I know what brutality exists in this world?
I was just 24 when, in 2008, my ex-boyfriend Danny Lynch got a man named Stefan Sylvestre to throw industrial-strength sulphuric acid in my face, burning away the old Katie Piper and changing my life forever.
Three days before, Danny had raped me, beaten me and held me hostage. After finally letting me go, he’d convinced me not to go to the police.
|The Danny Rat!!!|
When the large cupful of acid hit my smooth, soft, line-free skin, trickling down my throat and partially blinding me, he almost succeeded in extinguishing the last of the old Katie. Almost.
In the aftermath, I was horrified by my own reflection, barely recognising the image of myself in the mirror. I would play back memories of all the relationships I’d ever had, trying to ingrain in my mind what it felt like to hold hands, to kiss.
I was sure I’d never be attractive to anyone again, never be intimate. Never be loved
So, in July 2013, when I finally saw the positive pregnancy test – my blue lifeline from the future – it presented me with endless possibilities, but it also gripped me with fear.
|Before the acid attack|
In early spring 2010, after two years of hard recovery, I finally felt strong enough to contemplate living an independent life and to move out of my parents’ house in Hampshire. I had no idea how I would cope without them by my side.
I began settling into a daily routine and, with a job and a poky place to myself, eating microwave meals and running out of milk, I finally felt like other girls my age again.
But after less than a year, the novelty began to wear off and loneliness seeped in, particularly when I hung out with loved-up friends.
I had a career with my television work, and with my burns charity, the Katie Piper Foundation. I had great friends and a place of my own. A boyfriend seemed like the missing piece of the puzzle.
Often I’d get chatting to a guy and he would seem interested in everything I said. I’d get excited, feeling sure we’d really connected. Then the next day I’d be gutted when a text message arrived asking me to open his village fete or draw the raffle ticket at his work Christmas do.
With others I could sense a spark, but after a few minutes’ chat, he’d be pouring his heart out to me as if I were a therapist. It felt like I’d become asexual to men. Sometimes they would even say things to me like, ‘Bless you. You’re so sweet and brave.’
It was a crushing contrast to how my life had once been. But my friends and my sister Suzy refused to let me give up.
One night Ryan pulled me drunkenly aside and asked if I wanted to go out with him the following weekend. I could feel the panic rising. It was never really well-lit where we’d met, so he hadn’t had a proper look at me; my friends knew I was burned, but did he?
When the day came, I painstakingly went over my hair and make-up. I wanted to feel as good as possible. The clocks had just gone forward and it was still light when we met.
I cursed myself for agreeing to meet outside and not inside where the lighting would be kinder. I saw him waiting and approached him tentatively. The setting sun was shining full glare, right on my face. I knew every little line would be showing; every wrinkle, every crevice, every fold, every shadow.
Despite all my make-up, my scars were on full view, as if they’d been put under a microscope. The minute his eyes landed on me it became painfully awkward: I wasn’t what he was expecting. His mouth hung open, he was visibly shocked and couldn’t do anything to hide it. I was dying inside.
‘Hi Ryan.’ His eyes scanned every inch of my face over and over again. I knew I had to take charge before embarrassment engulfed us both. I pointed to the door. ‘Shall we?’ Even as I was getting my cloakroom ticket I could see he was still staring at me. He literally couldn’t take his eyes off me, but not in the way any woman wants to be looked at.
While we looked at the menu we made what I can only describe as the most painful small talk in the history of awkward conversations.
I asked him lots of questions to avoid any crushing silence. He answered robotically, telling me he was a banker and worked in the City. When I paused to draw breath, he seized his opportunity.
‘There are some colleagues I know over there from work. I’m just going to pop over and say hi so I don’t look rude. You choose what you want and I’ll be back in a minute.’
He stood up at such speed he practically sent his chair flying. He’d turned from the nice-guy Ryan I thought I knew into some cold, bumbling bag of nerves, desperate to get away from the disfigured girl.
Sipping my diet Coke, I waited for what felt like an eternity, trying not to look as worried as I felt. After 25 minutes, Ryan still hadn’t come back, and by now I’d started to suspect he wasn’t going to.
I scanned the restaurant from my seat. I felt hot, sick and embarrassed all at the same time. Another ten minutes later, I had to face the fact he’d left.
Humiliation and nausea washed over me. My lip started to go and I bit it to stop the tears. I didn’t want to cry but the more I tried not to, the more tears pricked my eyes. My voice wobbled when I asked for the bill, my hands shook as I paid. The coward hadn’t even had the decency to leave money with the waiter.
Choking back sobs, I collected my coat and rushed out into the cool, fresh evening air. I cried out of humiliation, hurt, resentment, but most of all I cried tears of anger at my own stupidity. I’d believed someone could actually like me and be interested in me again.
I still wanted to be wanted. Sometimes I craved a good, old-fashioned, pulse-quickening flirt. ‘James is really keen, Kate. He’s really family-orientated like you and he cares about what’s on the inside of a person,’ said my good friend Juliet. She showed me a fuzzy picture on her phone.
‘He’s a great catch, I promise. Oh, and he’s really fit.’
‘OK, give him my number… but I’m warning you, if he turns out to be a loser, I’m never going near a man again.’Our first phone call was a little nervous and stilted, but soon we were talking easily. I told him I worked for a charity. He told me he was a carpenter. We talked about family and friends and how they’d schemed to set us up.
To read more of the article, please check here.
I don’t know exactly how her life would have been if she had never met the animal of her ex boyfriend but I do know that God has sure taken control of her life despite all she has endured. She is rising above her circumstances. I wish her a beautiful life ahead.
No matter what your life seems like trust God to give you the strength to overcome, it is not easy but you would get through it.
I hope you guys do check out the remaining part of the article and enjoyed reading it. Oh! I had almost forgotten I have some new readers…. I want to say a big welcome to Funmi, Tosyne and Janyl. Welcome to the Diva's world....lol. Thank you guys for stopping by and leaving your comments, I am extremely grateful.
Thanks a lot guys for checking up on me, I am soooooo grateful.
Luv ya to the moon and back,