Corrine’s Story: Part 8

Sorry, it has been so long since my last blog entry. Life here has been a bit challenging, and that is putting it lightly. I have been struggling with my time left more than I have with the prior 12 years. The prison is back on outbreak status, which means there is no school again. Very disappointing, but I continue to pray that this will be ending soon. I wanted to take a different approach to the blog so let me know your thoughts.

As I have sat in my prison cell during this long pandemic, I have had plenty of time to reflect. I have experienced the ups and downs of my emotions. I have been haunted by the memories of the abuse I endured.

But if I am being totally honest, the biggest struggle that plagues me even as I write this entry is that I feel silenced by the bars that encompass me. In this environment, I am #706127, but I AM MORE than a number. I am more than a prisoner. I was a prisoner long before I came to the actual institution surrounded by barbwire fences. Any of you who have been in a violent relationship know what I mean. Maybe you are still in that situation. I pray that you can find a way to freedom if you are. So back to the statement of being more than a number, more than a prisoner – I am a survivor of a lifetime of abuse.

Over the last two years during this pandemic, I have asked myself, Who are you, Corrine? Are you the murderer they have classified you as? Are you the drug addict that would never amount to anything? Are you unlovable that deserve all the abuse you endured? Are you the worthless girl that was told she would never be anything but a pretty face? Is it your fault those men hit you? Did your family abandon you because you were disposable?

These are only some of the questions that I have answered for myself. I had to face my demons head-on, and I did not understand what that meant until I stared down the dark road of my trauma. Through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks, I looked in the mirror and said Corrine, you are not the abuse, insults, and degradation of those once in your life. You are a strong woman that overcame hell. You are a wife and a mother. You are a survivor. I had to tell myself that I am enough. I am alive, and there is a reason why. My parents told me I was an accident, but God told me I was beloved. Sean told me that I deserved to be abused and took great joy in doing so, but God told me I am worthy of love. Brandon took EVERYTHING from me, he nearly destroyed me, but God took my broken heart and grief and made me a new woman. To the world, I may be the villain, but to God and my loved ones, I am so much more. For years I wore a mask because it was easier that way. I had a long list of things that I wanted to change about myself because my self-esteem was destroyed.

I have to remind myself often that I am not unworthy of the love of God. The memories that I live with will always be a part of me, but I pray that the memories I share will help others feel not so alone. I know that there is someone out there just wanting help, wanting anyone to believe you and not blame you. I believe you, I don’t blame you, and God sees you. You are worth more than the pain you are enduring. You are not the insults. You are not the broken and abused. God uses broken things and makes them new. God uses my scars both inside and out to tell the lost that there is hope. If you wonder why I am writing about God in this entry, I have reflected on all the grace He has given me not just behind bars but my entire life, and He put it on my heart to share it.

As a child, He kept me when my parents threw me away, He saved my life when I was on drugs, and every time I thought the “man I loved” was going to end my life. I had given up, but God did not. There is so much more to our stories.