Writing Through The Wreckage

I remember the first time I said it out loud.

Not the watered-down version I had rehearsed and repeated so many times before.

But the ugly truth. The whole story. My story.

For years, I was so ashamed. I tried desperately to lock away the pieces of myself that I was most regretful of. Fear pierced through my soul anytime I met someone new, and they wanted to know more about me. Those innocent questions threatened to unravel the carefully crafted image I had worked so hard to create.

We all know how hard it is to fit in, even more so when we believe we were never meant to.

Whether it was the ‘school moms’, the ‘church moms’ or colleagues at the office ‘moms’, I was never very good at blending in or conforming. I was just that person. Add my colorful past into the mix, and I assumed by all measurable standards that I was not someone anyone would be interested in getting to know. At least not the real me.

Once they saw past the surface, the façade I called my life, I assumed they’d run. They’d judge. They’d condemn.

Until the day I trusted someone enough to share the whole story …

It was in that moment that a change started to emerge.

The weight began to lift. Relief started to filter through. I began to see that I was the one running, condemning, and judging. I was so busy convincing myself that people would never accept me, that I hadn’t recognized that I was the one who didn’t accept myself.

I lived my life wrapped in shame, guilt, remorse, self-loathing, and insecurity.

I don’t know about you, but it often felt like my self-esteem was much easier to tear down than it is to rebuild. Thank goodness, I had a Builder who knew precisely what He was doing.

It took me years to fully embrace my past and to begin to trust that I was enough. To see my past as a part of me, not what defines me. To be able to share my story without fear of rejection or panic jolting through my body like an electric shock. In those times of weakness or relapse, even today, I need to remind myself to view my value through His lens, not my own.

And then one day, out of nowhere, God decided to take that healing process one step further.

He commissioned me to write Wayward Daughter(s).

My comfort level was shaken to the core, but in faithfulness, I decided to move forward and abide in His will for my life. In case this massive responsibility wasn’t enough, I wasn’t only called to write and share my own story, but also that of three generations of women in my family.

This was no small task. And as you will learn in my full memoir, it wasn’t easy, and it didn’t happen

overnight. But it did happen.

I went from the girl who did everything she could to hide who she was, to the woman who now shares with the world the untold, unfiltered, messy whole story of three generations of women.

Maybe you’re carrying a story that needs to be shared.

But like me, your insecurity has kept you paralyzed. Your silence; has kept you safe.

If that’s you, I get it.

Trust me, I do.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s time to stop allowing your self-doubt to speak louder than God’s truth and finally share your story too.