Why I Made This Blog: My Journey from Bitterness to Forgiveness

The Blog That Changed Everything I never imagined that a single blog post would become the catalyst for my entire journey of healing. It was December 27, 2016, when I first discovered it—a blog my mother had posted months earlier containing details about my family and past that I had never intended to share with the world. Names were there: my father's, my own indirectly. My private history, suddenly public. The anger I felt was immediate and overwhelming. Who had the right to share these pieces of my life without my permission? I reached out to those involved, asking—then demanding—that the content be removed. "There are no names on it," they said. But anyone who knew our family could connect the dots. The damage was done. For years, this situation festered. What should have been a simple matter of respect for privacy became a years-long battle that pulled in extended family and old friends. The same arguments circled endlessly. The same hurts deepened with each passing month.

Seeds and Soil: Finding Metaphor in Pain Six years. That's how long this conflict continued while I remained largely silent. Six years of watching people who once claimed to love each other tear each other down. People who called themselves Christians yet seemed to have forgotten the fundamental teaching of forgiveness. During this time, I often thought about something I learned at Gospel Tabernacle in Donna Vista—the parable of the seed. In life, we can choose which part of the growth process we want to embody: The farmer who plants with intention and care The seed with potential for beautiful growth The water that nourishes and sustains The manure that, despite its nature, can enrich and fertilize Or the weed that chokes and destroys For too long, I felt like that small seed surrounded by weeds, occasionally nourished by water, sometimes buried in manure. People stepped all over me. But seeds, with the right care, can still grow—even in difficult soil. The Breaking Point March 1st marked my breaking point. After another fruitless exchange asking for my father's name to be removed from what I called "the complaint board crap," I made a decision that would change everything. If I couldn't erase the past that others had exposed, I would confront it head-on. "So I decided March 3 to get all child-support court hearing divorce papers, police records on my mom and my dad. So I have proof for what happened to me and I have it now." Those three days were among the hardest of my life. Poring over legal documents that detailed the fracturing of my family. Reading clinical accounts of events I had experienced as a child but never fully understood. Facing the reality of my parents' choices and how they shaped the man I would become.

The Unexpected Gift of Truth What began as an act of defiance—gathering evidence to refute narratives others had constructed about my life—became something entirely different. The truth, even when painful, offered clarity. For the first time, I could see the complete picture of my childhood rather than the fragmented memories and stories I'd carried. This clarity brought an unexpected realization: the blog that had caused me so much anger had ultimately led me to confront my past in ways I never would have otherwise. As I wrote in that moment of revelation: "I would've been happy to know was there. I would've been happy to find out from her, but no, I had to hear from a third-party." The manner of discovery had been wrong—hearing about deeply personal information from someone else rather than from my mother directly. But the journey it prompted was transformative. My stepdad now understood pieces of my history that helped explain who I am. I understood myself better too. The Valley of Bitterness Bitterness is a valley—easy to slide into but tremendously difficult to climb out of. Each day spent there carves the valley deeper, making escape even harder. For years, I watched as people I once respected remained trapped in this valley, recycling the same arguments, nursing the same grievances, seemingly unable to see how this bitterness was consuming them. "You guys been arguing about the same damn crap. And I say to you guys, until you stand up and forgive each other and go on with your damn life, you be doing this for six more [years] or until you all die of bitterness and anger." My words were harsh, born from frustration and my own pain. But they contained a truth I was just beginning to understand myself: forgiveness isn't about the other person deserving it. It's about refusing to let bitterness define your life.

The Daily Choice of Forgiveness Forgiveness isn't a one-time decision; it's a daily choice. Some mornings I wake up and the hurt feels fresh again. The anger threatens to return. On those days, I consciously choose to release it once more. I've learned that forgiveness doesn't mean Pretending you weren't hurt Saying what happened was okay Allowing harmful behaviors to continue Immediate reconciliation with those who hurt you Instead, forgiveness means: Acknowledging the pain but choosing not to be defined by it Releasing yourself from the burden of resentment Creating space for your own healing, regardless of others' actions Finding the freedom to move forward This understanding transformed how I viewed those involved in sharing my past. They weren't villains in my story—they were people with their own wounds, their own reasons, their own journeys. This didn't excuse their actions, but it helped me see beyond my hurt to the humanity we shared. The Seed Grows Remember that seed metaphor? I've decided to be the farmer and the water. To plant new seeds of understanding and nourish them with compassion—for myself first, then for others when I'm able. "I was a small seed, some put manure all over my seed, something came by and watered it. Some people stepped all over it... But when you grow up you can be plucked. And sent to somebody for nutrients. Or maybe just help them through their day with some flowers." This blog exists because I finally understood the power of that metaphor. Every difficult experience—even the manure, even the trampling—contributed to my growth. Now, having grown through this process, I can offer something beautiful to others walking similar paths. Why This Blog Exists This blog isn't about music instruction alone, though that's part of what I do. It's about the harmony we create in our lives when we transform discord into something beautiful. It's about the rhythms of healing and the melodies of forgiveness. I created this space to: Document my ongoing journey from bitterness to forgiveness, providing myself with accountability and perspective Share the practical tools that helped me navigate this difficult terrain Create community among others struggling with similar challenges Demonstrate that healing is possible even from the deepest wounds Connect these personal lessons to the universal language of music Because in many ways, forgiveness is like music—it requires practice, patience, and the willingness to work through dissonance to find harmony. It demands that we listen more than we speak. And ultimately, it creates something beautiful from what might otherwise remain painful noise. The Invitation If you've read this far, you're invited to join this journey. Whether you're struggling with your own valley of bitterness or simply interested in how personal growth can inform creative expression, there's a place for you here. I don't claim to have all the answers. Some days are still harder than others. But I've learned that sharing our stories honestly—the failures along with the triumphs—creates the possibility for connection and healing that secrecy never could. So welcome to the BigJohnShow blog. This is a space where we'll explore music, yes, but also the deeper rhythms that make life worth living: forgiveness, growth, creativity, and the courage to transform our most painful experiences into something that might help others through their day. Like flowers grown from once-trampled seeds.

The Abuse

I have to go into a part of my life that I really didn't want to talk about but found being plastered online by my mother who mostly wasn't there. From an early age, yes, my sister and I were sexually abused. It wasn't just in my mother's house, but at my father's house as well but not by him. Both parents messed up. At my father and step mom's house was a neighbor's son that abused us. It was not one time; it was a few times. My mother and step dad had a friend who they let stay in the house—it was actually an apartment complex. I woke up one night with my sister yelling for my help. I found out that he hurt her. I did tell my mom and step-dad, but back then me and my sister told a lot of stories because we were just young and scared. They really didn't believe me. Then one night I actually slept in her bed, and he touched me. After that my dad kicked them out of the house and I was thankful for that. We also had a next-door neighbor right across the hallway from us. After school sometimes my mom and step-dad were not home and the next-door neighbor had all kinds of toys and G.I. Joe's, the Transformers, dolls—he had everything a kid could ever dream of playing with.

What happened next started out very innocent. He had different kinds of colored finger paints; he would paint our faces and our arms and our legs. One day he tried to get us to paint him, then he pulled his pants down, so I grabbed my sister and ran out of there. I told my step-dad about it, and he went over and kicked the man's behind. Then one day four teenagers that lived down the road took me and my sister and took turns raping both of us. My father had nothing to do with it. I'm not going to go into any further details about what happened to my childhood for I feel it is no one's business. Please understand this upsets me more than anyone would ever know. I am 43 years old and I've left my past alone. That's all I can say about the subject. Satan and I rebuke you in the name of Jesus. The Bible talks about the devil bringing up our past; I just remind him of his future. Understanding Childhood Trauma Childhood trauma, particularly sexual abuse, affects millions of Americans. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about 1 in 4 girls and 1 in 13 boys experience sexual abuse before the age of 18. The effects can last well into adulthood, impacting relationships, mental health, and overall well-being.

When children experience abuse, they often lack the vocabulary or understanding to process what's happening. Many remain silent out of fear, confusion, or because they aren't believed when they do speak up. This silence can compound the trauma, leading to long-lasting psychological effects. The Journey of Healing Healing from childhood trauma is not linear. For many survivors, including myself, the path to recovery involves: Acknowledging what happened: Recognizing and naming the abuse is often the first difficult step. Processing emotions: Working through feelings of shame, anger, and grief that commonly accompany abuse. Reclaiming personal power: Learning that what happened wasn't your fault and finding strength in survivorship. Setting boundaries: Establishing healthy relationships with clear boundaries, including with family members who may have failed to protect you. Finding meaning: Many survivors find purpose in their experiences, whether through faith, helping others, or creative expression. The Role of Faith in Healing For many survivors, including myself, faith provides a crucial foundation for healing. The Bible offers comfort to those who have experienced trauma: "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." - Psalm 34:18 Faith can provide: A sense of being valued and loved unconditionally Community support through church families A framework for forgiveness (of self and sometimes others) Hope for redemption and renewal

When I say, "Satan and I rebuke you in the name of Jesus," I'm expressing a spiritual truth that has helped me overcome my past. Many abuse survivors find that spiritual warfare imagery helps them conceptualize their fight against the lasting effects of trauma. Breaking the Cycle One of the most important aspects of healing from childhood abuse is breaking the cycle. Research shows that without intervention, patterns of abuse can continue through generations. This doesn't mean all abuse survivors become abusers—far from it—but it does mean we must consciously work to: Recognize unhealthy patterns we may have normalized Learn healthy parenting and relationship skills Seek therapy or counseling when needed Create safe environments for the children in our lives Speaking Out Sharing my story isn't easy. At 43 years old, I've largely moved beyond these painful memories, but seeing misinformation about my past shared online has compelled me to set the record straight. When survivors speak their truth, several things happen: They reclaim their narrative from those who might misrepresent it They may help others who have experienced similar trauma feel less alone They challenge the culture of silence that often surrounds abuse Moving Forward While the past cannot be changed, how we relate to it can transform. For me, this has meant: Setting boundaries with family members who deny or minimize what happened Finding strength in my faith Focusing on the present and future rather than dwelling in past trauma Remembering that my experiences shaped me but do not define me As the Bible says, "Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland." (Isaiah 43:18-19) Resources for Survivors If you or someone you know has experienced childhood abuse, please know that help is available: National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-HOPE (4673) Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline: 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453) RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network): www.rainn.org National Center for PTSD: www.ptsd.va.gov Remember that healing is possible, and no one deserves to face this journey alone.

victim of abuse

In my mother's testimony, my mother claims she was a victim of abuse by my father. I've done a lot of research and police reports and I cannot find one place where my father was arrested in New York for hitting my mother. I can't even find a report. I do find where when they did split up she was homeless. At no point do I think my mother did not love me. I do love my mother. Like I said earlier in my post, I'm not doing this out of hate or spite.

The Past Unfolding

Now I come to find out that my father was not in Minnesota for the child-support hearing but that my father picked my mother up because he still lived in New York taking care of us children. The child-support hearing was six months from the time that my mother claims my father beat her leaving her for dead and abducted me and my sister. I find it hard to believe that any court system would give a father temporary custody of his children after the father beat the mother, stole her kids, and left her to die. I found out a year and a half to two years later there was a divorce hearing after my father had moved us to Minnesota. My mother came to Minnesota and based on findings the court gave my father and mother joint custody with permanent placement with my father. My mother had us for summers and every other holiday. So I find your story, mother, completely untrue. Dear mother I ask you to stop lying. It's not good for Christian women to be lying.

The Past Unfolded

The Beginning of My Journey I am J Philibert. Recently, I discovered someone attempting to discredit my family name. I'm not here to cause anger or upset anyone—I simply want to share my truth, my perspective on events that have shaped my life in profound ways. It all started when I found a blog from Watchmen on the Wall Ministry, which is run by my mother. The blog contained deeply personal information about traumatic experiences from my childhood—events that happened between the ages of 6 and 10. As a grown man now, I never wanted these private matters exposed on the internet for anyone to see. Before diving deeper into this story, I should tell you a bit about myself and how I eventually discovered the truth. Growing up, I believed everything my mother and stepfather told me about my father and stepmother. Like most children, I trusted my parents implicitly and accepted their version of reality without question. Finding My Way Through Darkness I've been writing about my past since I was 13 years old. Until that age, I knew nothing about Christ or faith. My childhood and teenage years were turbulent—I left my mother's house at 16, working two jobs to pay rent for a small, rundown place I called home. Those years were filled with partying and substance abuse. I experimented with marijuana, acid, and mushrooms, drifting through life with a deep-seated resentment toward authority figures. School felt pointless—I convinced myself I knew everything already and dropped out, certain there was nothing teachers could offer me.

My relationship history is equally complicated. I've been married four times, each relationship teaching me difficult lessons about love, commitment, and myself. Though I attended church with my mother and stepfather during my youth—even working in the sound booth and playing drums—I ultimately left the church at 17, searching for something else, though I wasn't sure what. The Stories We're Told For most of my life, I carried a specific narrative about my childhood. I believed that when I was four years old, my father had beaten my maternal grandmother, kidnapped my sister and me, and taken us to Minnesota. This story, along with tales of abuse at the hands of both my father and stepmother, became the foundation of my understanding of my early years. The most disturbing part of this narrative was being told that my father had sexually molested me. These stories shaped my perception of my father, my stepmother, and ultimately, myself. They influenced how I viewed relationships, authority, and trust. They became the lens through which I interpreted my experiences and made decisions. Uncovering Different Truths As I grew older, I began having conversations with extended family members—uncles, cousins—as well as my father and stepmother. What I discovered surprised me: their recollections and accounts differed significantly from what I had been told by my mother and stepfather.

I came to understand something profound about family breakups: each person carries their own version of the truth, colored by their experiences, emotions, and perspective. There's rarely a single, objective truth in these situations—rather, multiple truths existing simultaneously, sometimes in conflict with one another. From these conversations, I learned that my mother had been a frequent partygoer during my early childhood. The separation between my parents apparently stemmed from my father working two jobs while my mother was left alone with us children. According to these accounts, my mother's partying led her to leave us with my grandmother for extended periods. The turning point came when my grandmother, who was battling leukemia at the time, called my father to inform him that our mother had left us with her for several weeks with only $10 for food. My grandmother, ill and unable to work, couldn't support herself, let alone two young children. In response, my father contacted his brother in Minnesota, who offered to help. We stayed with my uncle for a while, and during this time, there was a court hearing in Minnesota regarding child support. Since we were in Minnesota, the court granted my father temporary custody of us children, which ultimately led to the permanent separation of my parents. The Impact of Contradicting Narratives Discovering these contradicting narratives was disorienting. The story I had built my identity around—that of a victim of a violent, abusive father—was being challenged by accounts that painted a very different picture. It forced me to question not just what had happened in my past, but how those events had shaped my understanding of myself and others. This is not to say that one version is entirely true and the other entirely false. Human memory is fallible, and emotional experiences can be interpreted differently by different participants. What's important is that I now had access to multiple perspectives, allowing me to form a more nuanced understanding of my childhood.

The Process of Reconciliation Reconciling these different narratives has been a long, ongoing process. It's not simply about choosing which version to believe, but about understanding that truth is complex and multifaceted. It's about acknowledging that people can have genuinely different recollections of the same events, and that doesn't necessarily make anyone a liar. This process has also involved reconciling my feelings toward my parents. It's easy to fall into the trap of vilifying one parent and idealizing the other, especially when caught in the crossfire of a contentious separation. The reality, as I've come to understand, is that both my parents are human—flawed, complex, and doing their best with the tools and understanding they had at the time. Healing Through Understanding Understanding the complexity of my past has been crucial to my healing journey. By acknowledging that there are multiple perspectives on what happened, I've been able to let go of some of the anger and resentment I carried for years. I've been able to see my parents as whole people, not just as the characters in the story I was told. This doesn't mean forgetting or minimizing any harm that was done. Rather, it's about contextualizing that harm within a broader understanding of the circumstances and limitations that surrounded it. It's about finding a way to move forward without being defined by past traumas. Why Share This Story? You might wonder why I'm sharing such personal details of my life on this blog. The answer is simple: I believe in the power of truth and transparency. When my past was shared without my consent on my mother's blog, I felt violated and misrepresented. By telling my own story, in my own words, I reclaim ownership of my narrative. Additionally, I hope that sharing my experience might help others who are navigating similar situations. If you're struggling to reconcile conflicting family narratives, know that you're not alone. It's okay to question the stories you've been told, to seek out different perspectives, and to form your own understanding of your past. Moving Forward Today, I continue to work through the complexities of my past, but I do so with a greater sense of agency and understanding. I've learned that healing isn't a linear process—it involves setbacks, revelations, and continuous growth. I've also learned that forgiveness—of others and of myself—is essential to that process. I don't claim to have all the answers or to have achieved perfect peace with my past. What I do have is a commitment to honesty, both with myself and with others. By sharing my story, I hope to contribute to a culture of openness and authenticity, where difficult truths can be acknowledged and worked through rather than hidden away. In the end, our past shapes us, but it doesn't define us. We have the power to interpret our experiences, to learn from them, and to choose how they influence our present and future. That's the most important lesson I've learned on this journey—and it's one I continue to carry with me every day.