My Broken Pieces : Mending the Wounds from Sexual Abuse Through Faith, Family and Love (9781101990087)

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My Broken Pieces : Mending the Wounds from Sexual Abuse Through Faith, Family and Love (9781101990087) Page 19

by Rivera, Rosie

I was thirty years old and I was leaving my mom’s home for the first time in my life. I loved my husband deeply and I knew that he loved me too, but it was difficult for me to leave my family behind. In my mind they were still the most important people in my life and I had a lot of trouble learning to put my husband first. They had always been front and center in my life, and it was something I wasn’t able to change overnight. If Lupe or Juan, for example, called me at night to ask me for something, right away I’d be out the door.

  Abel would ask me, “Where are you going, baby?”

  “Lupe needs me, baby. I’ll be back,” I’d answer.

  “But wait, weren’t we going to go out on a date?”

  “Yeah, I know, baby, but Lupe needs me, sorry,” and I’d be out the door. “My family comes first.”

  He’d say, “Wait a minute, I’m your family. I’m your husband!”

  “Yeah, but I’ve known them for thirty years and I’ve only known you for three. So they win!”

  “Yes, babe, but it’s us now.”

  “No, babe, I’m sorry!”

  In his family, Abel is the oldest by many years, so the connection he has with his siblings is different. They aren’t as close . . . or maybe it’s just a Rivera thing—or a Rosie thing! I don’t know. It might just be that those early lessons in “family always comes first” and always having to stick by your siblings were so deeply ingrained in my soul that I had trouble making room for anything else. My family had been by my side throughout the darkest times in my life. How was I not going to put them first? After all, all my previous relationships with men ended with them leaving or disappointing me, while I knew for sure that my family never would. Abel was extremely patient with me and he understood where I was coming from, but it was very hard for him to see me put everyone else before him.

  That first year of marriage was difficult. It wasn’t just the troubles with Abel at home that were affecting me; there was a situation unfolding with my family that I just didn’t know how to handle.

  A few months earlier I had brought Jacqie to the Lord and she too had turned her life to Him. Nothing makes me happier than seeing someone I love discover God’s love and the empowering effect it has on all of our lives. Jacqie and I started to preach and sing together at church and we became very close friends.

  But as with any friendship, there came a moment when we had a disagreement. I saw things one way, Jacqie saw things another way, and there was no power in Heaven or on Earth that made us see eye to eye. Chay was caught in between. I tried through every way possible to explain and validate my point of view, but nothing seemed to help. We simply couldn’t move past the incident. Jacqie was upset, I was upset, and Chay was very upset. She didn’t necessarily know who was right and who was wrong; but the fact of the matter was that she wanted the problem to end. And since I wasn’t giving in, she did what she thought she had to do: she took her daughter’s side. Today I can say that it’s water under the bridge and she was absolutely right to do so, but at the time I was devastated. I knew Chay would always choose her children but I needed her to at least understand my point of view. Slowly we began to drift apart.

  I fell into a deep depression that was not like anything I had ever felt. Up until that point, no matter how bad things got, or how much pain I was in, I’d just keep moving forward. In fact, in my family, we say that there’s no time for depression, no time to dwell on what’s wrong. You have to keep your head up and move forward. Just keep moving forward.

  But this time was different. For the first time in my life, my sister and I weren’t getting along and just like in the times when Trino had threatened to take her life, I was terrified of losing her. I couldn’t conceive of a life without Chay. The sadness started to take over every aspect of my daily routine: I couldn’t get up in the morning, I could barely eat, and I would spend entire days crying and praying to God for a way out. God would tell me, time and time again, to let go of my pride, to forgive and move on. Yet while I was able to forgive, letting go of the pain was much harder.

  Like in other difficult moments of my life, there was silence all around me. The rest of our family was stuck in the middle and they didn’t want to get involved. They were just going to sit this one out. No more loud laughs and speeches, just a deafening silence. Juan isn’t one to take sides, especially when it comes to his sisters, but he always stands by what he feels is right, and in this case he agreed with me so his relationship with Chay became somewhat strained. No one knew what to do and we all shed tears as we waited for a solution.

  All this was going on when one day I found out that Chay had thrown a huge birthday party for one of her kids and everyone in the family had been there—except me. Because I was having such a hard time, and she didn’t want to create a situation that was uncomfortable for her daughter, Chay didn’t invite me.

  It broke my heart. Never in a million years would I have imagined Chay capable of not inviting me to a family event. It was the last straw, what made me realize that this wasn’t a disagreement that was simply going to blow over. She was serious, and if I wanted to be a part of her life, I was going to have to do something about it. I said to myself, No one is going to take me away from my sister. Never. I understood that having my sister in my life was more sacred than any quarrel or any obstacle that life might throw my way. My sister was the person I loved most in the world and I wasn’t going to let anything come between us. So, I called Chay and said to her “You have my blessing, no matter what you do.” I accepted my fault and begged God to help me let it go.

  My sister accepted my apology and we were able to get past the incident. With time and God’s love, I was able to heal my heart and let go; however I have never forgotten the pain I felt over those six months. Our mighty God has a plan for all of us and everything happens for a reason. It is my firm belief that in allowing me to live through that period of estrangement from my sister, God was preparing me for what was to come.

  • • •

  During that first year of marriage, Abel and I found ourselves thinking about money and budgets, and as anyone, perhaps, who is starting out in life, I prayed to God to help us with what I thought I needed most: money.

  “Please God, help me find ten thousand dollars.”

  “That’s too simple,” God would answer me.

  “Okay, then,” I’d say surprised. “Then send me twenty thousand dollars.”

  “That’s still too simple, Rosie, think bigger,” He said.

  “Okay . . . Then how about two hundred thousand dollars?”

  “You still don’t get it, Rosie. That’s too simple,” He said to me. “Why don’t you try changing that number from dollars to people you can bring to me in order to transform their lives?”

  And then I understood. It wasn’t enough for me to ask Him to send me money for my own worldly needs. What I needed was to ask for something bigger than myself, bigger than anything I had imagined until then, and that was what was going to bring me true love and happiness.

  Whenever I go somewhere to speak, I always thank God for my wonderful family who has offered me amazing things throughout my entire life. I have been spoiled rotten because of the empire my mom and father built, because of what Lupe and Chay accomplished, and everything they did for us. Anything our parents had was given to us and being the youngest, they gave me anything I wanted. I was able to get all the plastic surgery I wanted. I could buy any car, any bag, any clothes. But the truth was that none of it ever fulfilled me. I was unhappy for most of my youth. It’s so easy to sit around dreaming of getting one hundred thousand or two hundred thousand dollars and thinking that once we get that, we’ll be happy. As soon as I get that plastic surgery, I’ll be happy. As soon as I get married, I’ll be happy. As soon as I have three kids—two boys and a girl—I’ll be happy. Life is filled with these types of happy moments, of course, but if you’re broken inside, if you haven’t t
ruly opened your heart to all the beauty and love that there is in the world, you will never really be happy. My entire life I had wanted peace and love, and I desperately searched for it everywhere I could and I found it in the place I least expected it: God.

  As soon as I understood this, I knew what I had to do. My heart was set on reaching the largest number of people to bring to Him. With God’s guidance, I went back and forth for a while, thinking about how many souls I was going to bring to him, until finally a number popped into my mind.

  “Two million,” I said to Him. “I want to help two million women. Two million sexually abused or battered women. I want to help them heal. I will bring You two million people whose lives You will transform.”

  With that, my mission was now clear.

  If I had stopped to think about it too much, if I hadn’t known, in my heart, what God is capable of, the enormity of the task at hand might have overwhelmed me. After all, I was no one at the time, just the Rivera’s little sister and while my brothers and sister were filling stadiums and amphitheaters with tens of thousands of people both at home and abroad, the biggest audience I’ve had was a congregation of about two hundred people at our church. How on Earth was I going to accomplish this dream?

  With God by my side, I knew that sooner or later I’d find a way. All I had to do was keep my eyes open and never lose sight of the future ahead.

  • • •

  Once we got through that difficult first year of marriage and were able to smooth all the rough patches, Abel and I decided we were ready to have a baby. With my sister back, my promise to God, and a renewed sense of purpose, I started to feel more in control of my new life with my husband. From the way Abel treated my sweet Kassey as if she were his own, I knew he would be a great father and I couldn’t wait to welcome our baby into the world.

  In the summer of 2012, we started trying to get pregnant. I’ve always thought I was super fertile like my sister—it took only one look from a guy for her to get pregnant—but nothing happened. A few months went by and I started to worry. Could something be wrong with me? I’d tell my sister my concerns but she’d always shrug them off, saying, “Ah, you’re just not trying hard enough, Sister!”

  Then a couple of weeks later I was pregnant. As soon as I saw the plus sign on the test stick, I rushed to tell, not Abel, but my sister! She was traveling so I sent her a text.

  “Sister, I have news for you,” I wrote.

  “I’m about to get on a plane—is it important?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you later.”

  “Oh, come on, Sister, tell me.”

  “No, Sister, it’s okay. I’ll tell you later!”

  “Tell me! Now I want to know!”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “OMG! See, Sister, I knew your uterus worked!”

  “It does, Sister!”

  “Okay, I’m getting on a plane but I’m going to start thinking of baby names.”

  I have no idea why she decided to give herself that task. Maybe because she was always coming up with names for everyone and she thought it was a talent that came quite naturally to her. It was all good with me! I was just thrilled at the thought of new life inside me. Later on that same day, she called me, and she already had a list.

  “Sister, I’m so happy for you! I have a few names. We can talk about them if you want.”

  “Sister! I haven’t even told Abel yet. Can you please wait for me to tell him?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, Sister,” she said, pretending to be preoccupied. “But here’s what I’ve been thinking—how about Pharrell?”

  “Sister!!!”

  “Okay, what do you think of Ice Cube? Or Fo-Real?” she suggested, cracking up. “I mean, you have to be prepared because you’re going to have a dark boy.”

  She said this because Abel’s skin tone is darker than mine.

  “I know, Sister! I want a dark boy! I love dark boys!”

  “I’m just sayin’ . . .”

  I decided I wanted to surprise Abel with the news on his birthday, which is November 13. So I wrapped the pregnancy test up in a beautiful gift box (gross, I know) and that’s what I was going to give him. Chay was going to be there too, so I begged her, “Please Sister, please act surprised. I don’t want Abel to know I told you first!”

  “Oh, of course, Sister, don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

  So once Abel’s celebration was well under way and all of our families and friends were there with us, I pulled out a wooden domino box and gave it to him. It was a beautiful moment—one that I’ll never forget. As soon as Abel opened the box and understood what his gift was, tears started rolling down his face. He was excited and nervous and ecstatic, all at the same time. Seeing him cry made me cry too (I’m sure the hormones did their part) and before long, everyone was hugging and crying and congratulating us—even Chay who, despite her best efforts, went completely overboard in trying to act surprised and ended up looking totally fake. Because I can’t lie, later that night I just had to tell Abel the truth but he didn’t even care. He was so excited and understood the deep relationship Chay and I had.

  • • •

  When I first came to the Lord, no one had to tell me to stop drinking, smoking, swearing, or clubbing. I made that decision on my own and God broke the chains of addiction. I knew what I had to do and I did it. But the thing was, the only person I was really drinking and smoking and clubbing with at that point in my life was my sister. Whenever she’d go on tour, I’d come along with her and that’s when we would go wild and party. Her concerts were always such a blast, and I loved coming along with her. However, giving up partying wasn’t a huge sacrifice given the immensity of God’s love. His love was more than any earthly temptation. What was hard, however, was giving up spending time with my sister. I didn’t miss the drinking. I didn’t miss the clubbing; I missed hanging out with my sister. She’d say, “Come on, Sister, let’s go out! Why don’t you come to this concert with me? Come with me to Mexico! Come on! We’ll have so much fun!”

  But I would say, “I can’t, Sister. I really can’t.”

  “But why?” she’d ask.

  “I’m not strong enough yet, Sister. I’ll have too much temptation to drink, you know, and smoke, and the boys, and stuff . . .”

  She always wanted me to come with her, yet she understood my reasons and therefore respected my wishes. I loved her so much for supporting me, but at the same time I was heartbroken that I couldn’t see her as often anymore. With all her travel, coupled with her other business and family obligations, I rarely got the chance to hang out with her, lying in bed and talking for hours. I felt fulfilled and at peace with my new commitment to God but during that first year I’d cry because I missed her so much. Not seeing my sister was in fact my biggest sacrifice to God. I didn’t feel anything else was a sacrifice. I felt as if I had to hold back from going out with my sister not because she was a bad influence, but because I knew I wasn’t strong enough yet. I’d say to God, “I’m going to sacrifice this, but I beg You, in the same way You’ve allowed us to travel the world having fun at concerts, please let us work together for You. Maybe she can sing and I can preach. Maybe she can preach and I can sing . . . Allow us God, please, to work for You.”

  As much as I was hurting, the thought of the two of us working for God became my solace, my focus, and my inspiration. I dreamed of her turning her life around and becoming a believer and instead of singing she was going to start preaching or doing evangelical events.

  I could see it was already in her—at her concerts sometimes she would say, “Yeah, right now you guys are all drinking here, but one day you will be praying here with me.”

  One of the things that I learned in my Bible studies is that everything you declare with your mouth comes true and if anyone was prophetic in the simplest form, it was Chay. As soon as she said something, it
happened, whether it was her life or someone else’s. So I began to think, “Okay, God, this is how we’re going to get to save those two million souls. My sister is going to sing Christian music and I’m going to preach, right? We’re going to do this together.”

  I dreamed of the two of us traveling the world together, doing events and bringing one, two, twenty million souls to God.

  • • •

  In October 2011, my sister called with a proposal.

  “Sister, I want you to do a radio show with me.”

  “What?” I answered. “How am I going to be on a radio show?”

  “Come on, Sister! It will be fun!”

  “But who’s going to like me?” I asked. I understood people wanting to hear Chay on the radio, but why in the world would they want to listen to me?

  “Just be yourself, Sister! People are going to love you! All I need is you.”

  “Okay, but what am I going to talk about?”

  “I want you to talk about God. I’m going to give you the last five minutes of the show to talk about God because I love the way you do it. I love the way you don’t shove it down people’s throats, you don’t scare anyone by talking about Hell, you just tell them He loves them. And that’s what I want. Do you think you can do that, Sister?” she asked.

  I thought about how much I had missed my sister over the past few years and how this would be an opportunity to see her every week, without fail.

  “Yes!” I said.

  The format was exactly what Chay had said. For the first part of the show, Chay and I would just talk the way we would normally talk and respond to listeners’ questions. Then at the last five minutes, I would end on an inspirational note.

  The show was called Contacto Directo con Jenni Rivera and it was on live, every Wednesday. Soon, Wednesday became my favorite day of the week because I got to see my sister. After those years of not being able to spend as much time with her on the road and partying, it felt like such a relief to have her to myself—albeit in front of a huge radio audience—for four hours each week.

 

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