The Wounds That Shaped Me

I come from a Cambodian family, deeply rooted in Buddhism. My parents carried the weight of the Khmer Rouge genocide and all the trauma that followed, starting over in a new country, with a new language and unfamiliar traditions. They did their best to raise me well, but pain was still present in our home, just unspoken.

When I was still young, my father left to live in a pagoda as a monk. He thought I’d be fine, I had just graduated high school, had a job, but inside, I was still a daughter who needed her dad. His absence broke something in me. It felt like the fences had fallen, and suddenly, I was free to go wherever I wanted. But it was a false freedom, a trap. I quickly forgot the values my parents tried to give me.

Looking back, my choices and search for affection and recognition were shaped by many deep wounds from the past, not just one event. Pain came from many directions: racism, mockery, betrayal, broken trust, the loss of innocence, and even sexual abuse. These experiences came from people around me in my family, at school, among friends and they left marks that followed me into adulthood. 

Wounded and lost, I began to search, not for healing, but for attention, affection, and recognition. I wanted to be seen and loved, especially by men. I played the seduction game, looking for validation. Partying, drinking, casual relationships... it became my normal. I still lived in my parents’ house, but I ignored my mother who needed me. Eventually, the atmosphere became so heavy that I left.

By 21, I had a child. I wanted to live a respectable family life but I didn’t know how. The fights with my child’s father were constant, and they pushed me over the edge. During the week, I looked stable, working full-time, but weekends told a different story.  Eventually, I made the decision to leave him. I became a single mother, tired, disappointed, and unsure of what came next.

I was caught in sexual sin, looking for love and value in places that could never truly satisfy. For a moment, I felt desired, even respected, but it was all hollow. Deep down, I was falling apart. One day, I broke. 

I couldn’t do it anymore.

When Everything Broke Open

I was exhausted. Depressed. I just wanted someone to rock me like a baby, to feel safe again. But I didn’t cry out to God or Buddha. I didn’t know who to turn to.

One day, I started scrolling through my old phonebook. A name caught my eye, an ex, a friend. And in that moment, I saw a vision: a bright, glowing house. Something in me stirred. I called him.

We reconnected and started a relationship. He moved in with me and my son. Life grew quieter. He introduced me to nature and forest walks. It felt like a fresh start.

I thought maybe this was it, the stable, respectable family life I had been chasing. For a while, things looked better.

But peace built on broken foundations doesn’t last.

It wasn’t restoration, just a pause in the chaos.

The truth was, we were two broken people trying to hold something together. The fights, the tension, the disrespect, they were still there. 

After almost ten years, something unexpected happened, my boyfriend gave his life to Jesus.

We had never talked about faith. I thought maybe this “God” would help him change. But the closer he got to Christ, the more strained our relationship became. I was pregnant at the time. We weren’t married, and I had no desire to know Jesus. Pride drew me back toward Buddha.

Then one day, he told me he was planning to end our relationship. He said we were living in sin and that separating was the right thing to do. He promised to take care of me and the baby financially.

I was devastated, once again, because of something tied to religion.

But in the end, he didn’t go through with it. That same night, God spoke clearly to him, not with anger, but with conviction. God showed him that He didn’t approve of this decision, and that He Himself would take charge of the situation. He would fix what was broken.

And my boyfriend believed Him, with all his heart.

Months later, there was a Christian event in our city. He begged me to come. I went but then left full of pain and disappointment.

I walked into our home alone, heart closed. In my heart, the relationship was over. And I said out loud:

“I don’t want anything to do with any religion anymore.”

But Jesus… He’s not a religion.

The Encounter

Within 15 minutes, my boyfriend walked through the door. The Holy Spirit had sent him. He came straight to me and began to repent for everything he had done to hurt me.

As he spoke, I saw something in his eyes that I had never seen before, not in ten years. There was love. But not a human kind of love… something deeper. It made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t look directly at him, but I kept glancing. There was something unexplainable in his gaze, something pure.

After he spoke, I laid down on the bed and closed my eyes. And in those quiet moments, breath by breath, I felt something fill me. When I opened my eyes… I knew.

I had just met Jesus.

Everything shifted. Suddenly, I wanted to know Him. I wanted to go back to the event. The sadness I carried was gone.

The next day, I returned. I didn’t fully understand what was happening, but when they announced the last call for baptisms, I felt a sudden urgency. It wasn’t dramatic or emotional, just a calm invitation.

And I said yes.

I stepped into the water, not expecting anything. At the time, I didn’t feel much. But in the days that followed, everything changed.

I was clean. I was new.

Six days later, that boyfriend became my husband. 

It’s now been nine years that we’ve been walking this Christian life together. Our journey with Jesus continues to shape us, spiritually, personally, in our marriage, and in our family life, in ways we never could have imagined.

As for Me and My House…

I hold onto this promise:
“As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.” (Joshua 24:15)

Jesus changed everything.
He changed my heart, my thoughts, my desires.

Today, I feel free.
At peace.
Heard.
Loved.
Safe under His wing.