Breaking The Cycle

By Terra Johnson

Hiding true intentions!

Looking into my past is hard, but the deeper I dig, the more I find out. My family history makes me cry! Sometimes I wonder if I was born back then would I have been able to change our faith from what it is to what it could have been? In my heart, I know it was all a part of God's plan to make us stronger. Instead, it destroyed my family because no one took time to call on God when things got too hard. I'm not trying to hurt anyone. I love my family! I am just being obedient to the Lord.

My past is so disturbing I had to start from the beginning. I am not trying to hurt the people I love; I am just being obedient and start the healing process that begins with me. I hated my family for as long as I can remember. I always believed they didn't care for me either, and that's why I moved around to stay away from the people that allowed so much hurt to linger in my life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781639856114

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Breaking The Cycle

Terra Johnson

Copyright © 2022 Terra Johnson

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

Published by Fulton Books 2022

ISBN 978-1-63985-610-7 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63985-611-4 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Prologue

Dedicated to Carson Teller (1978–2014)

Duke Files

Dedication

I give God the glory for everything He is doing and has done in my life and how He is changing my life Thank you God.

To my soul mate you came into my life when I was addicted to self-harming and suffering from night terrors because of the past and you never judged me. Even though you didn’t understand everything I was going through, you stuck by me through thick and thin. You had my back no matter what and I truly love you, unconditionally. I thank God for sending you when I didn’t know I needed someone.

To my children, you all are truly gifts from God and I pray for your walk with the Lord.

To my family I’m sorry for wasting so much time hating you guys and running from the will of God. I can say I truly love you all so much. I realized, I was chosen for this walk.

Grandma Dynamite, you were truly a strong woman and always called on your black Jesus. I thank you for looking to God and reading your bible every day because it paved the way for me. I love you more than you will ever know (RIP) Granny.

Last but certainly not least, to all the victims of sexual, physical, mental, and emotional abuse, man, woman, or child, I want to let you know, you are a survivor and God loves you. He is carrying you when you only see one set of footprints in the sand. Please don’t give up. When you feel like you can’t fight anymore, fight harder, pray, and talk to God. Talk to Him like you talking to a friend. He is listening. I dedicate this book to you!

Prologue

I am not trying to hurt or harm anyone! I’m just trying to heal my mind, body, and soul. It’s a battle in this world, and we have to choose a side. So I say to you, stop wallowing in your sins. We all make mistakes; you don’t have to lay down in them. Learn to repent and put the devil underneath your feet. God loves us all evenly. The same grace and mercy He has given me and so many others are also available for you. Hurt, guilt, shame, and not being able to forgive are not of God. That is the trick of the enemy to keep your faults hanging over your head. God wants us to admit our mistakes by confessing them at the altar. Once you repent, you’ll be walking in freedom. You might feel like you lost everything and everybody, but we still have redemption! The longer you wait, the harder it will be, but God is waiting patiently. There is no right or wrong way to come to God.

Growing up in my family was no easy task. As I look back at the life of my grandmother and her children, I now understand why history kept repeating itself—because they sweep a lot of things under the rug. My family cycle repeated itself because things were not to be talked about or you would get beat down nonetheless. People have come into our family as wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing, making the weak their prey and willing to pay whatever the amount is.

Some people in my family said I don’t have the right to tell anyone’s business, but yes, I do! My suffering is a direct result of your business! So your business became my business when you all decided to close your eyes and turn your back on the victims. I have enough family members that have told me their story, but it’s not my place to tell anyone else’s story—only the parts that were the cause of my life changing.

Some tried to dictate what I put in my book because they want their secrets to stay hidden and covered up. My children’s future and their children’s future are at stake because history keeps repeating itself, and it was the last straw when it happened to my baby by the same man that preyed on me. For us to be set free, we have to set these secrets free! Meaning we have to fall apart once more before we can all come together as one! This walk with the Lord is so fulfilling, and I can’t even explain it. I just know it feels good not to carry these burdens anymore. Take your power back in the name of Jesus! Amen.

I never got a chance to question my grandmother about her family tree because she was so busy treating me wrong that I didn’t talk to her very much. After her passing, I heard a lot of disturbing things that happened to her and the immoral things she did to her children! A wise man told me a long time ago, don’t let anybody tell your story because who can tell your story as you would? No one. But when you leave an impression on people, you will tell your story through them. It rocked my brain and made me start analyzing what kind of impression I would leave on people who are left behind after I’ve fulfilled my duties on this earth. In 2010, my grandma Dynamite passed on. The Lord spoke to me and told me to write a book. I didn’t know anything about writing a book, but I love to read and write.

I started this book, and on the first and only ten pages, I started pouring out so much hurt and anger I just gave up because I did want to deal with or relive what I been through. Life was about my babies and protecting my six blessings. Plus, I didn’t know anything about writing, and once everybody found out what I was up to, they wanted this and that in this book. Then the lawsuit threats, so since I couldn’t prove it, I buried those ten pages along with my granny’s obituary and didn’t give it a second thought.

God wasn’t done with me though because as I sat back and remembered, I was always telling somebody or whoever would listen I was writing a book. I didn’t get it then, but I kept speaking and claiming this book. Now, eleven years later, I’m writing a book and taking typing classes! My granny’s obituary and those harsh mean papers showed back up, with her lying on top of them. I know she wanted to free our family, and she guarded those papers through every move, and obstacle I went through with the help of the Lord! Thank you, Lord, for keeping me and keeping my heart pure like yours. I love you, Lord, more than I love life, and I’ll give everything up to be where You are, God. I called on the Holy Spirit to take over in the supernatural, and as the Holy Spirit works through me, I look up, and I’m done. Amen.

I was told my grandmother was born down South, and no one knows when or where she was born. All I can tell you is she was born the year of the great Mississippi flood to a Black man and a White French woman. My granny never met her parents because her father was lynched for laying with the woman he probably loved, even though she wasn’t Black, and her mother died giving birth to her. Great-grandma was disowned by her family for sleeping with a Black man.

My great-grandmother’s name was Cary Thomas. Great-Grandmother Cary died trying to give birth to Grandma Bernice. The story was told to me: She was in bed when Great-Uncle Lester Banner came to check up on her and the baby, but Great-Grandma was unresponsive. By the grace of God, my Grandma Dynamite was still holding on in her mother’s womb, and without her, there wouldn’t have been any me that God could use to break the generational curse (breaking the cycle). Grandma Bernice came into this world fighting, and a fighter she was up until she took her last breath.

My granny was born November 18 (year unknown), and Great-Uncle Lester Banner gave her the name Bernice Dee Thomas. Great-Uncle Lester raised Grandma Bernice as one of his children until she became a woman in his eyes. I was told Grandma Bernice conceived four children with Great-Uncle Lester Banner—three girls and one boy—while she was so young. My Granny Bernice came to Chicago, and the rest was history. I guess she figured she would deal with the children back home later, not knowing they would turn against her.

My granny was very young, and she had it hard when she decided to make a home for her children in the big city, but Chicago was a big city and the land of opportunity. It was bigger than the place she left behind! Nevertheless, she decided to call Chicago home. During her time in Chicago, she took up residence on the Westside, and one of her known addresses was on Kedzie Avenue and Franklin Boulevard. Grandma Bernice could not read or write, but later in life, she learned to read by reading her bible.

Growing up wasn’t easy, and I say this because of my story. Don’t get me wrong—I’m a firm believer of when you think you had it bad, there is always somebody that had it worse. My story starts before I was born! I can’t tell anybody else’s story the way I can tell mine, but the tie that binds us is a heavy load.

My mother started lying from the day she conceived me about who my father is! I learned that it was one of three possibilities; it wasn’t until I was in the double digits that I learned about the other possibilities, and it was a long road of no trust, lies, and all sorts of abuse. It was the winter of 1979, the month of December, and the twenty-sixth day. My granny Bernice Dee Jordon, aka Grandma Dynamite, told me I was born on one of the coldest winters ever.

My dad, Donatello Jordon, and my mom, Glenna Jordon, told me when the nurses brought me out, I was one of the prettiest babies they ever saw and the first one with two pigtails. My dad said normally babies came with a hat, but I came with two pigtails and that was a first. My dad said the nurses had to cut my hair because it could have choked me.

My dad said when they took me to meet my great-great-grandmother, Genevieve—whose birthday was the day before mine, December 25—Daddy said that when she held me, she just stared down at me, and she closed her eyes as she spoke to my parents. Great-Great-Grandma Genevieve told them to be careful with me because if they didn’t protect me, I would suffer a terrible deal. Dad said that when he tried to take me from her, she held on a little longer, staring at me and shaking her head. She wanted to raise me herself, but my parents just brushed it off like she was crazy and went about life like Great-Great-Grandma Genevieve didn’t warn them.

She prophesied over my life, and they didn’t take it seriously, but thank you for trying, Granny. She hit the nail on the head or whatever! Had my parents listened to my dad’s great-grandma, I would have never tried to commit suicide and cheat death so many times. Even when I didn’t try to commit suicide, the devil tried to take me out, but it didn’t work so I laugh in his face now. I believed I was allowed to go through this so others can open their eyes and start the healing process, so we can come together, save our children, and fight these demons the devil released on this world. I’m here to teach forgiveness, redemption, and prosperity. Here’s my journey to freedom!

My mother loved gambling and men. My dad, Donatello, was a drug addict. They were imperfect parents who didn’t have their priorities straight, and addiction had the both of them, and I don’t know when their addictions started. Because of their addictions, I was abused mentally, emotionally, and physically. Mom and Dad didn’t have a very good relationship because my mom was never home. Sometimes we could hear them yelling and fighting. Mom didn’t take motherhood seriously because most of her children were molested or beaten physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I guess it was hard on them with one child coming right after another—my oldest brother, Spencer, and then came me. Spencer and I are fourteen months apart in age; but we still dealt with the same things—a gambling mother and a drug-addicted father. I remember my dad had a good job as a janitor for CHA, in the Stateway Gardens. I guess my mom didn’t want children, but she birthed eight of us: Spencer, myself (Taylor), Duncan, Victor—who was given away at birth to a family in the projects, a building over 3833—then Melinda came alone, William, Arizona, and then Noah Jordon who is deceased but is truly missed.

We all lived in a two-bedroom apartment in the Darrell Homes Project—building 727, apartment 508—and Granny lived on the fourteenth floor. We all are very close in age; we never had enough to eat because my mom would gamble with all the food stamps and money like she didn’t have children. My daddy was addicted to drugs, but he kept his job with CHA to cover the bills and his habit. My Grandma Bernice would feed us, and she would leave Uncle Ronny with us—this is my mom’s baby brother, but he had the mind of