Tuesday, September 9, 2025

I SEE ME & I'M COMING OUT OF SURVIVAL MODE






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Lavinia B. Masters
 is with Nakia Hanson MA.

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Journal Entry: September 9, 2025
This past weekend, I stood in a space that felt like holy ground. I shared my heart, my healing, and my truth with a room full of survivors, advocates, and believers. The message was clear: *I am coming out of survival mode.* And I say that not with hesitation, but with holy confidence. I am healed. Not untouched. Not unscarred. But healed—by the grace of God and the power of resilience.
For years, survival was my default. It was the armor I wore, the rhythm I danced to. But now, I walk in purpose. I walk in promise. I walk in the truth of Isaiah 53:5: *“By His wounds we are healed.”* That healing is not just physical—it’s emotional, spiritual, and generational.
As I spoke, I felt the Spirit stir. I saw hearts open and chains loosen. Because when you walk in your purpose, you become a mirror for others to see their own. Jeremiah 29:11 reminds us: *“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord… “plans to give you hope and a future.”* That future is not behind us—it’s rising within us.
But healing isn’t just about pushing through. It’s also about pausing. Resting. Listening. Psalm 46:10 says, *“Be still, and know that I am God.”* And in that stillness, I’ve found restoration. I’ve learned that the pause is not weakness—it’s sacred. It’s where God whispers, *“You are safe. You are whole. You are mine.”*
There are moments when resilience looks like showing up to therapy, sharing your story, or leading a workshop. And there are moments when resilience looks like taking a nap, journaling in silence, or sitting by a river and letting God minister to your soul. Exodus 14:14 reminds us: *“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”*
Resilience is always present. It’s the fire that refuses to go out. It’s the heartbeat of every survivor who chooses to rise. And Galatians 5:1 declares: *“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.”* That freedom is our birthright. That healing is our inheritance. And in the name of Jesus, we claim it.
So today, I walk not as a survivor, but as a vessel. I speak not from wounds, but from wisdom. I rest—not because I’m tired, but because I trust the One who restores me.
To every soul still navigating the shadows: your light is coming. Your healing is near. And your purpose is waiting.
With love and fire,
Lavinia
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Saturday, August 2, 2025

MONSTERS IN MY CLOSET


Monsters in My Closet
We all have closets—places where we tuck away the parts of ourselves we’re not ready to face. For survivors of trauma, those closets can become crowded with pain, shame, and silence. Share in my journey of confronting the monsters in my closet—beginning with the trauma of sexual assault and unfolding into a story of faith, healing, and transformation.
There was a time when I feared the dark—not because of what I could see, but because of what I couldn’t. The shadows held secrets, and the silence screamed truths I wasn’t ready to face. My closet, once a place for clothes and shoes, became a vault for the monsters that haunted me. Not the kind with claws and fangs, but the kind that wore human faces—the kind that stole my innocence, shattered my trust, and left me bleeding in places no one could see.
The monster that sexually assaulted me didn’t just violate my body; it invaded my spirit. It crept into my closet and made a home there, feeding on my anger, frustration, disappointment, hate, confusion, and manipulation. I didn’t know how to fight it, so I did what many survivors do—I hid. I shoved my pain into the corners of that closet, hoping that if I couldn’t see it, it couldn’t hurt me. But pain doesn’t disappear. It festers. It multiplies. And soon, my closet wasn’t just hiding one monster—it was hiding me.
I became a hoarder of trauma. Every betrayal, every moment of shame, every tear I didn’t cry found its way into that space. The closet became crowded, suffocating. What started as monsters turned into skeletons—remnants of the girl I used to be, the woman I was afraid to become. I wore a smile, but inside, I was drowning in clutter.
Healing didn’t come easy. It wasn’t a light switch—it was a battle. It was me, standing at the door of that closet, trembling, knowing that I had to open it. I had to face the monsters. I had to clean out the skeletons. I had to reclaim my space.
And I did.
With faith in God as my anchor, I began the process. I prayed through the pain, cried through the confusion, and fought through the fear. I replaced the clutter with clarity. I threw out the lies and replaced them with truth. I hung up garments of grace, shoes of strength, and accessories of affirmation. My closet became a sanctuary, not a prison.
It was my resilience that kept me going, my determination to love myself enough to heal. I realized that healing wasn’t just about defeating the monster of sexual assault—it was about confronting everything that came with it. The shame. The silence. The self-doubt. And I wasn’t alone. So many people walk around with monsters in their closets, unaware that those monsters are growing, evolving, becoming skeletons that weigh them down.
We hoard trauma like it’s a badge of honor, thinking that if we ignore it long enough, it will disappear. But it doesn’t. It clutters our minds, our relationships, our spirits. And unless we face it, unless we clean it out, we’ll never be free.
My story is not just mine—it’s ours. It’s every survivor who’s ever felt trapped, every soul who’s ever hidden their pain. But there is hope. There is healing. And it starts with opening the closet.
So today, I stand with the door wide open. I invite others to do the same. To face their monsters. To clear out the skeletons. To make room for peace, joy, and purpose. Because we deserve more than closets full of pain—we deserve lives full of light.
Listen‼️ My healing journey was deeply rooted in my faith. Here are some practices that I embraced that may help you on your path:
🙏 1. Prayer and Meditation
Daily prayer became a lifeline—an intimate conversation with God that brought peace and clarity. Meditation on scripture helped me reframe my identity through divine truth.
📖 2. Scripture Reflection
Key verses like Psalm 34:18 (“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…”) and Isaiah 61:3 (“…beauty for ashes…”) became anchors during moments of despair.
🕊️ 3. Worship and Music
Gospel music and worship created space for emotional release and spiritual renewal. Songs of hope reminded me of God’s promises.
🤝 4. Faith-Based Counseling
Christian therapy can provide a safe space to unpack trauma while integrating spiritual principles into the healing process.
🛐 5. Community Support
Church groups and survivor ministries offered connection, accountability, and encouragement.
Healing is not a destination—it’s a journey. pray my story reminds us that we must open the doors to our closets, face the monsters, and clear out the skeletons. With faith, resilience, and love, transformation is possible.

 

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