For Liz — Her Words, Her Light
⚠Trigger warning: This post contains references to sexual trauma and human trafficking. If you need support, resources are listed at the end.
Eight years ago today I held my daughter’s hand as the sun rose and a new dawn began for her in eternity. My world was rearranged in a way words never fully reach. Today I want her to speak first.
Below is a piece she wrote on her own blog, Liz Loves Lifting, on July 11, 2015. She was strong, healthy, and full of vision when she published this. She embodied and believed in resilience, and she wanted to use her voice to help others.
Some words don’t need to be rewritten—they just need to be honored. My daughter Liz once wrote this reflection, and her voice still carries truth and strength today. She understood that lifting wasn’t just about the weight in her hands; it was about lifting herself through life’s heaviness.
I’m sharing her words here, exactly as she wrote them, because they remind us that fitness is not only about the body—it’s about resilience, mental health, and the courage to keep showing up.
Her words still take my breath away.💔
Liz Loves Lifting — July 11, 2015
I’ve Never Shared My Story Publicly
Slavery.
It’s been a buzz word here in my currently unpopular home state of South Carolina for several weeks now. And while people have been rallying with signs and flags and drawing awareness to the effects the racial bondage of many years ago still has on our society today, I have been reminded of my own story.
You see – and yes, I know I’m going to lose a lot of you right here – for many years, I was enslaved. No, it wasn’t for the color of my skin, but the thing about slavery is that it can take on so many sneaky forms. Slavery still exists today; yes, in the traditional way in many other countries, but also in nontraditional ways. You meet people every day who are slaves to money, slaves to time, slaves to their own minds. I’m also willing to bet that you’ve seen women who are enslaved by pimps, and countless smiling faces who are enslaved to substances.
I was one of those smiling faces.
I grew up in a picture perfect family. I have two incredibly loving and supportive parents, and a good relationship with my older sister. But something happened when I was a child, and from the time I was twelve years old, I was enslaved, or trapped, by guilt.
When I was twelve, I was raped by someone who attended my childhood church.
When I was seventeen, I was drugged and raped on the campus of a very well known university.
When I was eighteen, I was raped by someone I went on a first date with.
This isn’t intended to be a feminist rant, but let me say this—if you don’t think rape culture is an actual thing, you’re gravely mistaken. To give you a few examples:
“What did you do to get yourself raped that many times?!” – A family member
“You put yourself in these situations. You’re a slut.” – An ex-boyfriend
“What were you wearing?” – A friend
“Maybe next time you’ll think before you go to a college party” – An ER Nurse
“Well you were drinking at a party so I recommend you not press charges. There’s nothing you can really do.” – A police officer
“God will forgive you for your immoral behavior if you repent.” – A former youth pastor
And for six years, I believed them.
I believed with everything in me that it was my fault men had touched me without my permission. I believed I deserved what had happened to me, because after all, I did put myself in those situations. And if so many influential people in my life thought so of me, it must be true. What I didn’t understand is that it does not matter what you are wearing, what side of town you’re on, who you decide to spend time with, or even how drunk you are—no one asks for bad things to happen to them. No one deserves to be known in the most intimate ways possible without giving explicit consent.
I promise you that when I went to a college party with friends I thought I could trust, I did not expect to be waking up every night for months afterwards screaming, bed-wetting, unable to breathe because of PTSD. I promise you, no one is asking for that.
So for years, I was enslaved to guilt. I felt responsible for those things. I felt ashamed of my body. I felt like I deserved to be used. I hated myself. After a couple failed suicide attempts, that hatred led me to other methods of slowly destroying the body I was so ashamed of. I struggled with eating disorders, and I struggled with substances. Alcohol led to narcotic pills, and those led to other things. A few years ago, I was over twenty pounds lighter, agnostic, bitter.
I had rejected the faith my parents raised me to have, but I never forgot the truth of the Bible my sister and I had been “forced” to memorize as little girls.
After the particularly painful experience of my family finding out about my self-destructive habits, I somehow managed to drop all the drugs, all the alcohol. I ended up moving back to South Carolina, changing the people in my life and places I frequented.
But I still wasn’t happy.
Yeah I had been in therapy, I had changed my behavior and was transforming my thinking. But something was missing. My precious family never gave up on me. One night my sweet, Jesus-loving Granny began questioning me about my relationship with God, pleading with me not to harden my heart to Him. It was honestly the last thing I wanted to talk about, so I gave her what was at the time a BS response: “I’m not hardened. I’m open to a lot of different religious perspectives. I’m seeking something I can believe for myself.”
Those words ended up haunting me.
One of those Bible verses my mom drilled into me as a kid was Jeremiah 29:13: “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
It occurred to me that obviously I wasn’t open or seeking a relationship with a Higher Power, and that maybe that’s what was missing from my life. Not a higher GPA, not a good boyfriend, not a better job or more money, but a loving relationship with a Power greater than myself.
Today, I’m insanely overwhelmed with the obvious grace of God throughout my story. I should be dead. And yeah, everyone says that, but when a 100lb anorexic girl overdoses on a lot of hard drugs, she usually doesn’t get the opportunity to live to tell about it. I have been rescued from the bondage of this world. God allowed so many awful things to come into my life, and He alone protected me.
Today, I have the incredible opportunity to show other women that if I can overcome, ANYONE can. I’ve never empathized with someone so much as I do with Paul in 1 Timothy when he says “I am the worst [sinner].” (1 Tim. 1:15). But the first part of that verse reminds me that I have been SAVED. Delivered. Rescued. I am no longer a slave. He who is alive in me today is so much greater than anything I’ve done in the past, and anything that has been done to me (1 John 4:4).
I want to use this incredible life that was given back to me to point you to the One who heals the brokenhearted and binds up every wound (Psalm 147).
Today, instead of destroying the body I was once so ashamed of, I can focus on building it. It truly is a temple! I don’t have to be ashamed anymore! Fitness has made me not only physically stronger, but mentally. I’ve found that a few minutes of high-intensity cardio boosts my mood better than any drug ever did and that throwing around some weights in the gym helps me release anger and stress. Instead of using those feelings as an excuse to destroy my body, I can transform them into something positive—all without any chemicals!
Where I once felt weak and damaged, I am now getting stronger and self-confident! Today, I actually enjoy eating. Where once the idea of going on a high-carb diet would have triggered a panic attack, I can now look forward to eating an endless supply of rice, sweet potatoes, and high-carb protein shakes while I try to bulk. A few of my goals for 2015 include overhead-squatting my body weight, gaining 15 more pounds, and running in a competitive race for the first time!
And this is just the beginning. SO many great things to come!
It is so unlike me to be vulnerable and outspoken about my weaknesses and victories—even writing this post, a little voice in my head is saying, “You have nothing to offer anyone. It’s not like you’re ripped or insanely healthy or something. You sound so cheesy.” But you know what? I really don’t care. This is my story. And I’m proud of it.
I’m proud to boast in the strength of my God. Yeah, this is not going to be your typical fitness account. After my struggles with food and super restrictive diets, I am a huge supporter of flexible dieting. No, I’m not insanely muscular…yet. But I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I was last week. I want to share my journey with you! The highs, and the lows. Sharing keeps me accountable and motivated. And if my story can encourage just one other person to overcome their own battles, that’s icing on the cake.
This is my heart. This is my testimony. This is my raw passion. This is me striving to be a better person than I was yesterday.
Thanks for reading; thanks for following! I’m so excited to begin sharing workouts, recipes, daily life, and other progress with you all! I need you guys!
“Two are better than one… If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.” Ecclesiastes 4:9
My Reflection
Reading her words now, I hear her courage. I see her faith in action. And I remember how brightly she shined when she believed she could use her story to help others.
What happened in the two years after this post is a story for another day. For now, I want her voice to be the one you hear.
For Liz — lotus and light. 🪷
💙 Jen
🪷Thank you for sitting with these tender words. If your heart feels heavy, be gentle with yourself as you carry them forward.
Jen 💙
If her words resonate with you and you’d like to explore more about how movement supports resilience and mental health, I share those reflections over on my coaching site—👉 [Fine Tuning Fitness]
Resources
If you or someone you love has been impacted by sexual violence or trafficking, confidential help is available:
RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network): 1-800-656-HOPE or rainn.org
National Human Trafficking Hotline: 1-888-373-7888 or humantraffickinghotline.org