Category: Adultery

Honesty Saves Pain

As I went through the steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, I came to a deep understanding of myself that rocked me; it shook me to my core. My entire foundation had been victimhood for most of my life, and that platform no longer existed. It was no longer a ground I could stand on in defense of my behavior, my actions, my words, my dependency on alcohol, men, shopping, rearranging furniture, etc. I came face-to-face with a level of dishonesty in myself that, deep down, I think I had always known, but I had never admitted to a single person. Not one.

I cannot remember a time in my early life when I shared my honest thoughts or opinions; I kept those to myself. I was not taught to participate in debate or conflict; instead, I learned to keep my mouth shut and my head down, and I proceeded forward a “good” little Christian girl who knew Scripture, did what she was told, could answer all the Sunday School questions, and was the apple of my parents’ eyes … until a certain boy came along. I was 14, soon to be 15. He was 17. My father put his foot down and said, No, I could not date this boy. I did, though, behind their backs for over a year. This boy was unlike any person I’d known up to that point in my young life. He listened to me. We talked. I shared my thoughts and opinions with him. He didn’t take my virginity because, in his words, “I don’t want to do that to you; I want you to be my wife.” I was beyond confused as to why this young man, who respected me, was, in a sense, the ‘devil’ in my church-going family’s eyes. Our meeting in secret was discovered, and, at the age of 16, I found myself grounded indefinitely. I broke it off with the boy, but my heart broke too. There were lots of fish in the sea, right? I would find another boy – one like the first one – one that my parents approved of, one that my preacher-filled, extended family would welcome with open arms. And so, the first love became the standard by which I judged all other future prospects. None was him – not for another 33 years, but I pushed forward. Never honest. Never telling anyone how I truly felt and what I wanted. I tried to be who I perceived everyone wanted me to be. Long story short, I found myself married to a man, a Bible College professor’s son, who fit the ‘bill.’ He was a sort of ‘bad boy’ with a solid Christian family. He was looking for someone to be like his mom (which I portrayed that I was, but I was not, and he could not have known that, as we dated long distance before the days of everyone having a cell phone), and I was looking for someone to check off my boxes. We were oil and water. Volatile from the beginning. Two weeks in, we were fighting, and over the next 23 years and 6 children together, that escalated and became dangerous. I took up drinking, and I will not speak for him – his actions and behaviors are his story to tell in his own honest appraisal of himself. Never in all those years was I fully honest about why I married him, what my expectations were. It’s not that I didn’t have love for him, but, in retrospect, I was much more in love with what I perceived I wanted and needed. Never did I admit that I had never let go of the boy from high school in my heart, who had grown to be larger than life in my mind – a completely irrational perspective, though I had no idea I’d put him on such an unrealistic pedestal – he was godlike to me. Never had I even told a friend these things; I had ignored them, pushed them away. I tried to focus on the life I had chosen and make the best of it. I tried to control it all – make it all into the ‘perfect’ life I wanted everyone to see that I had.

I took up drinking at 32 years old. Out to dinner with our preacher, actually, and he informed me that I wouldn’t go to hell if I had a strawberry daiquiri. Oh, it was delicious, and I found that I could relax around my husband. I could stand up a bit, say what I thought here and there. Soon, vodka was in our freezer, and bottles of wine were in the cabinet. I shopped the alcohol section at the grocery store with all 6 children in tow – clinging to the basket and in car seats – praying no one I knew would see me. Only recently, my 26-year-old daughter informed me she used to sneak drinks of my vodka. Man, I had no idea.

I’d become so self-involved. All I was concerned about was my broken life and poor me … unloved, unwanted were my perceptions, and so I painted my then-husband as the bad guy when I sought advice from people about what to do about him. Never looking inward beyond Christian counselors telling me I should pray for him more and that I should greet him at the front door with a smile. I even read a book on submission and tried to be a dutifully submissive wife, though inside I boiled and hatred grew. I never spoke of the hatred – that would discolor the good little Christian girl perspective people held of me. The mom of 6. The perfect little wife. My reputation and how people looked at me were important. I certainly never told a counselor about the alcohol. I was not giving that up. My bravery. My courage. My sleeping “pill.”

Social media made it possible for me to do the unthinkable. And to protect others as the Big Book directs, I will only admit to my own dishonesty and behavior. I found validation in other men. This became addictive and set me on a destructive course that destroyed what did exist of that marriage, damaged six children, and hurt the extended family that was unaware of the depths of my hate and disgust because I was so good at living a double life. I ran away. I left that life and fled to my parents; I holed up, drank, and cried. We “tried” to work on the marriage, but neither of us was honest in that venture; it was a ruse, and it landed me in the psych ward for a second time, suicidal, perhaps homicidal. We divorced, and I understand it was devastating to a large number of people who had no idea how volatile that relationship was. The children only knew the life we led – the fighting, yelling, spewing hate on the other side of our bedroom door where they listened; I know this now. Some of my children possess a quality that their mother lacked for nearly 50 years – they are brutally honest, and I am grateful for that. On the outside, however, back in the last days of that marriage, in all the days of that marriage, we could put on a show. Some knew something wasn’t right, but they never knew how much of its demise was my responsibility because I was so good at being the victim.

I went on living with my parents. Working. Pursuing validation in men. Drinking myself into oblivion every night. Never honest. Always the victim. Miserable. Trying to control my life.

In December 2020, a conversation occurred with an individual from the past that severed that invisible thread of the ‘perfection’ I thought I’d missed out on in life. Two weeks later, I met Patrick. My now-husband. A man who told me from the get-go that God is first, and I will always be second. He is now 38 years sober; he is authentic in his faith, raw in it, and people tend to shy away from his brutal honesty. Not all people appreciate his manner of speech or his directness, but there are those who do. Like me. Honesty was not something I ever had the capacity for, and I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He led me through the 12 steps of Alcoholics Anonymous after some time together; I internally fought it because taking a deep dive inside of myself and my motivations was uncomfortable and not something I welcomed. I could ‘pretend.’ But that was never good enough for him because he saw straight through my facade, and he called me out on it. He led me through the 12 steps without taking me outside of the Big Book of AA. No workbooks. No outside sources. Just was Bill and Bob and the first 100 recovered alcoholics wrote down in 1939, and I saw myself. I looked in the figurative mirror – my words and my life were all written down on paper, and I saw the pride, the anger, the greed, the fear, the envy, the lust, the dishonesty … levels of each that were vile and overwhelming, and it broke me.

I saw that the double life I had lived for years – portraying the good little Christian girl on the outside but being fully proud, angry, greedy, envious, fearful, lustful, and never honest on the inside. I hid the true me from everyone. Always. Even trying to hide from myself, which resulted in drinking and affairs, and it nearly destroyed me. I’m saying “it” but let me clarify that I know “it” is the devil. See, he did not want me to learn the truth about myself. He wanted me confused, lost, and dishonest – double-minded and unstable in all that I did.

I used to be told that I was crazy a lot, and I took offense at that – you know, out of pride. Now, I laugh at it. Yeah, I’ve got a touch of the crazy, and I’m okay with that because I understand what was going on for years in my head and my spirit and my heart. It was a spiritual battle for my life and my soul, and I, in trying to control it all myself, followed the wrong voice. I followed the voice that told me to only be concerned about myself and what I wanted, and I festered in it, and I was lost and broken. Now, I understand that had I not had so much pride, anger, greed, envy, lust, or dishonesty, my life would never have gone down the path it did. Had I learned at an early age to speak my mind, say what I wanted, and what I thought instead of trying to be someone everyone around me would be pleased with, my life would have been entirely different. So much of the pain I went through and that I caused others, including God, would NOT HAVE HAPPENED.

But it did, and I cannot change the past. I do pray for my ex-husband, and I encourage our children to maintain a good relationship with him. We both love them and our grandchildren wholly, and for that, I am grateful. My daughter tells me that he is a great grandpa, and my grandchildren talk to me about him, and I’m glad of it.

So now, I spend my time encouraging young people to think for themselves, to find their voices, to be true and authentic, to understand that they are unique and special – that every person is. That we are all valuable. That there is a reality around us that we often cannot grasp because we are so consumed by self. That every person has their own values, their own thoughts, their own opinions, and that we have the right to express those – at least in this country. That we are all capable of a good life, a peaceful life, despite our circumstances, if we can but learn to let go, be honest, and step into each moment as if it is the only moment. Personally, I know this is accomplished through an honest relationship with Jesus. And understanding that a battle for our souls wages around us, and the devil is a liar. He wants our eyes on ourselves in pride, anger, envy, greed, fear, lust, sloth, dishonesty, and not on God, and he, the devil, is good at mucking things up, and we – humans – fall into the drama and chaos of his ways. I fight this now. I am pushing back, and I am teaching young people to think for themselves, to get their eyes on others, and to be of service to one another, for it is only truly in serving others that we find purpose in this life. I tell my story at every opportunity, and I live an honest life. I am no longer double-minded, and I am a grateful woman.

I wish I had learned this level of self-discovery and authenticity when I was young. I wish there had been someone in my life who would have encouraged me to be honest and authentic – to have given me the tools to debate, to experience conflict, and to not be afraid of failure, life, rejection, of being alone, and of being so focused on me, me, me, me. I can’t live in wishes though, so I take the opportunity now to be an influence in the lives of the young people I encounter because honesty saves pain. It keeps us from unnecessary pain.

Let us be open to opposing perspectives – discovering why people believe as they do and allowing them to have their opinions apart from ours.

Let us be honest – about ourselves and our experiences – our failures and our struggles – how our values conflict – how we wrestle – how we grow – what we believe and why.

Let us be compassionate – to all. Each person has the capacity to step into the light. Not all will choose it – and that’s their prerogative, but speaking for truth and holding respect for debate and opposing perspectives will never be wrong in the eyes of God.

Let us be willing to serve others – get our eyes off ourselves and onto meeting the needs of others. The exact opposite of a devil-driven, self-absorbed nature is where we find purpose and peace.

Let us be change-makers instead of miserable, insecure, and self-involved pain-makers like I used to be. For far too long.

He Looks at Me and Wouldn’t Change a Thing …

The lies I believed over the years concerning who I was are far removed these days.

Lies like “No one will love you.” “It would have been better if you hadn’t been born.” “You abandoned your children.” “No one will want you.” That I was responsible if you killed yourself. That I didn’t know what abuse was. That I was crazy. That my body was ugly. That things that happened to me were solely my fault. Lie after lie. I remember the words, but they no longer pierce my soul. Not even the lies I told myself, like, “God won’t answer my prayers because I don’t matter.” “You did abandon your children.” “You don’t deserve to be loved.” “You’re an adultress, not worthy of love, not worthy of forgiveness.” “You’re just a blob. No one really sees you.” Somehow, my face was blurred in my mind to people around me. I was unmemorable. I was wretched. I deserved nothing good. I didn’t matter. And I believed it all … and I drank, and I chased relationships, and I shopped … always seeking to fill the God-sized hole inside my soul. Then, I encountered Grace, and I knew what it was to be the woman caught in adultery in John 8:2-8.

2 At dawn he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people gathered around him, and he sat down to teach them. 3 The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group 4 and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. 5 In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” 6 They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. 7 When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.

9 At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. 10 Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

11 “No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”

God’s grace came for me and to me, and I have been on a path of healing for several years now. Thinking back over it all now, I have a smile plastered on my face. God’s provision is evident in my story. My favorite hoodie says, “You Don’t Know My Story.” It doesn’t say that because I’m ashamed of it – to the contrary, I wear it to start conversations. I wear it because I understand now that my experiences are avenues for God to move in the lives of others as I see myself through His eyes, and I know the depths of His Grace. My story is that over the years, God allowed me to bumble along my way, cause chaos, and find myself in desperation and agony until, after hitting rock bottom, I had to look up and ask for help. I was out of options. Out of excuses. Out of being able to try to do anything myself about the incomprehensible demoralization of my life. I’m stubborn, and He is patient. He loved me through others and through His Word. He led me, and I eventually found myself where He wanted me to be … in AA, learning about service, learning more about Grace, learning more about Mercy, and learning to love who He made me to be. He has restored me to sanity. Step 2 … “We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.”

2 Timothy 1:7-9 says, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. 8 Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor of me His prisoner, but share with me in the sufferings for the gospel according to the power of God, 9 who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace which was given to us in Christ Jesus before time began,

This gift of Grace I’ve been given emboldens me to share all about it! “You Don’t Know My Story” but I will tell you! Each day I ask that God use me as He sees fit – that I may be of use to Him, and I walk into the day just as II Corinthians 12:9-10 says …

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

No more holding on to the past. No more shaming myself over weaknesses or allowing myself to be shamed by others who do not hold the keys to Heaven and Hell.

No more lies today.

I continue to seek the truth about myself, and not truth from human mouths, but truth from God the Father. I’m only interested in God’s view of me, and it for for Him that I choose to live each day – wanting to please my Father, thanking Him each day for His Grace and His Forgiveness, for His Mercy, and for His Peace. Today, I know that I am useful to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, and that is enough.

Yesterday, my sweet friend Carrie sent me this song, and I cannot stop playing it on repeat. The chorus says …

“The truth is I am my Father’s Child. I make Him proud, and I make Him smile. I was made in the image of a perfect King. He looks at me and wouldn’t change a thing. The truth is I am truly loved by a God who’s good when I’m not good enough. I don’t belong to the lies; I belong to YOU. And that’s the truth.”

The message in this simple song is one that most every woman I know needs to hear … and not just the women. We all need to understand that how God, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, sees you is what matters in this life.

“I know who I am because I know who YOU are!”

Amen.

Thank you to God the Father for His Amazing Grace. Thank you to Megan Woods for writing this beautiful song, “The Truth.” Thank you to my friend Carrie for sharing it with me.

#meganwoods #godlovesyou #godlovesme #thetruth #daughteroftheking #childofgod #nomorelies

I Tried to Control My Own Life, But It’s Not Mine to Control

Open heart surgery is in my near future. Yesterday, I found this out, and I have spent the last 24 hours in contemplation. My mitral valve is “severely leaking.” Those are the words used by the doctor. I’ve known since the eighth grade that I have Mitral Valve Prolapse, meaning that my mitral valve doesn’t function “normally” – it is supposed to control the flow of blood into the heart, and mine has always done its own thing. Beat to its own drum, if you will. Over the last few years, my mitral valve “disease” has progressively worsened to this point where the doctors have said it needs either repaired or replaced – as this is early-stage heart failure. They won’t know which of those, repair or replace, will be done until they get into my heart. So … I sit with this knowledge now, waiting for the pre-surgical procedures to be scheduled, and as I said, I have spent the last 24 hours in contemplation.

In those hours, I had a bear hug from my bonus son, who would not allow me to cook dinner last night but sweetly made macaroni and cheese with chicken for us. My husband Patrick and I surrounded ourselves with our physical family and our chosen family. I reached out to friends who I know would, after the fact, have found out that I had open heart surgery. and wanted to know why they weren’t informed ahead of time so that they could be in agreement and prayer with us as we step through this. This was humbling for me as I realized how many people fell into that category – and my gratefulness cup is overflowing this morning.

I called each of my six children and spoke to them individually – explaining the situation and expressing my love and gratefulness to be the birth giver of each one.

To my oldest daughter, I ended up inadvertently, in true me style, saying something that drew a strong reaction of “Mom!” from her, and I’ve thought it over a lot since the words rolled out of my mouth – somewhat in jest. To Kennedy, I said, “I’m not scared. They’ll put an IV in my arm, and I’ll go to sleep. I’ll either wake up in recovery with healing to do, or I’ll wake up with Jesus!”

“Moooooooommmmm!”

Can’t you hear that reaction? I’ll never forget it.

But do you know what? I meant it. I will either wake up with healing to do, or I’ll wake up in Heaven with my Savior, Jesus Christ, the Son of the Most High God, the Creator of All who loves me more than I can understand – who loves each one of us more than we have the capacity to grasp! This is what I believe. To my core.

There are people in my life who don’t believe that Jesus is the Son of God. There are people in my life who choose not to believe in God Most High. To each of you, I say … test it. Test the idea of Him. Test Him. With an open mind, actually, pick up a Bible and read it. Do not read it with pre-set bias. Forget what you thought you knew or the people in churches who hurt you. Keep in mind that with biases and a closed mind, you encounter no growth. That’s a fact. If you choose not to set aside preconceived notions, then you choose a closed mindset – and with that, there is no opportunity, on a personal level, to encounter new information, potential growth, and self-awareness. 

This is how I teach my Comp II students – encounter information with an open mind. Yes, hold your own viewpoints, but be open to possibilities. See what you experience! Test it for yourself – on a personal level. An individual level. No one needs to know you’re doing this. It is for you. Your own curiosity. Your own future. … I mean, hey, can you truly stand on your own belief until you can encounter opposing information and justly, with research, refute it? No, we cannot. So … choose to encounter new ideas. Or don’t. That’s your call. But me? I have read the Bible, and I have lived my life on my own terms, ignoring what the Bible says.

I have lived as a good church girl – raised to not drink or smoke, to not cuss, to not fight, to not question authority, to not be open about my sin struggles – especially at church, to not dance or play cards, to not have sex before marriage, to be a good girl – and I was the best “good” girl; I became judge and jury of anyone I felt didn’t meet standards I believed were “Godly.” I even went to Bible college, got a degree, and married a Bible College professor’s son, with whom I had 6 amazing children; I faithfully took them to church, making sure we all looked our best – all while never being truthful about the hardships or pain of my life whether they were of my own making or someone else’s.

See me? I’m a “good” girl – the best.

Yet, I tried to control my own life – not understanding the true freedom that Christ came to provide – I chose to live by rules taught to me in churches. I lived consumed by law and by fear. Long story short, in the midst of unforeseen life circumstances, I stopped going to church. I turned to alcohol to be my savior. I became an alcoholic. I became a workaholic. I became an adulteress. I left my family because of my sick mind and soul. Found myself in two psych wards – suicidal. I thought everyone was better off without me – I was told I was unlovable and that no one would want me, and I believed those words. I jumped on any motorcycle. I flirted too much. I drank too much – alone, blacking out most nights, isolated and sick. I set about finding a ‘hero’ on dating sights to save me from all of the pain. I lived in misery – abject misery trying to ‘control’ my own world and always on an invisible suicide mission – and I failed life in a heartbreaking, heart-wrenching way. Only when I was so broken, with no strength left of my own to even try to manage my own life, that the only place to look was up and cry out to God for His help did I begin to truly encounter Him!

I discovered what it was to be the woman in John 8, where Jesus tells those wanting to stone her that the one without sin can cast the first stone. Those standing in condemnation left. Then, Jesus said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” 11 “No one, sir,” she said. “Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” – John 8:1-11. She got up, full of gratefulness, a recipient of the greatest grace and mercy! On my right forearm, now tattooed on my flesh, are the words “By Grace.” A daily reminder that I am saved by Grace! God’s grace! Just as that woman and innumerable others who have found themselves in an utter lack of control, living in abject misery, unable to manage their own lives, and believing that only a power greater than ourselves could restore sanity.

In my life, and because of the ridiculousness of my own devastating behaviors and actions, I have discovered that God is REAL as I have encountered Him outside of the rules I was raised with and according to a whole new mindset—one of grace, forgiveness, and self-discipline, where true freedom exists. I have tasted His love, His mercy, His forgiveness, and His peace.

I believe that He exists, and I believe that Jesus is the Son of God. He did come to earth, live as a man, and die a beyond-painful and humiliating death on the cross at the hands of the very people He came to save – who, to this day, still reject Him. He rose from the dead and is now preparing Heaven for all of us, no matter our background or nationality, who choose to believe in His name and that He is the only way to the Father! God is good, and He brings peace.

I am able to look back over my life and see the journey – understand why this or that occurred, and I choose to let go of the past, let go of guilt, let go of hate, and let go of shame. To those I have hurt, I admit I was wrong, though I ask no forgiveness because that is between you and your own higher power. For me, though, with the people I have held onto resentment for and for how I want to walk with God, I choose forgiveness – because I have a personal relationship with God the Father and Christ the Son now – and only in that is there peace. This is my relationship, not yours (though you could test the idea of God and see what you discover about whether or not God is there—your choice). This relationship that I have found is for me and my eternity. I will stand alone before the throne of God one day, responsible for my own actions and choices, and knowing this, I live in gratefulness. I have peace because I know that I am covered by the blood of Christ.

I meant it when I told my daughter that I would either wake up with recovery to do or I would wake up with Jesus. NEVER before I came to know Christ on a personal level could I have said such a thing. Never. This is MY experience. I tested it … didn’t realize that was what was happening as those wretched years rolled out, but in retrospect, I see that my stubborn self, in order to come to a personal walk with my Savior, had to encounter a wealth of “opposition.”

Again, I say to you, test it. Or don’t. That’s your decision. Really, though, do you have anything to lose if you pick up a Bible and read, let’s say, the book of John for a few minutes? Not really. You don’t have anything to lose in the here and now other than a few minutes of your life. You might discover that you have much more to lose than you thought … or you won’t. I can’t walk that path for you; I am on my own path.

That said, my intent here is not to push my beliefs on you; I am simply sharing my own experience here, and I will, though, lay down this challenge of open-mindedness and critical thinking. Just like I teach my Comp II students, to write an effective argument, you must encounter opposing information. You must know and test opposing information. You must be able to strengthen your own argument to stand up to the “opposing” side with research and fair-mindedness. Until this (actually encountering new and/or opposing information) is done, any argument is biased and unfair – and true growth won’t happen, nor will peace be found.

I shared with my sister-in-law Veronica last night what I had said to Kennedy, and I told Veronica I was contemplating writing a post the night before surgery telling everyone that Jesus is the answer! She said, and God bless her for her gift of bluntness, “Why wait until then?” And do you know what? She’s right! Why am I just contemplating that as I’m facing a major surgery with unknown outcomes? Great question!

So, here I am, writing this post in the face of something major like open heart surgery, saying things I should have been saying all along – and maybe I have, but I don’t know that I have, and what I’m contemplating is that I mean what I said to my daughter, though it was said with a sense of jest; I meant it. Does that suggest there’s not some anxiety in me about the unknown? No, it creeps around, but I’m pushing it away as it comes and choosing to trust that God’s will for my life will be done. If He keeps me around on this earth after this surgery, then so be it – and I’ll keep on keeping on. I’ll teach those critical thinking skills! Because each person needs to be able to make their own critical life decisions and have the skills to do so! As I wrote the first few paragraphs of this post, the song playing in the background from my cellphone was “Even If” by Mercy Me, and I cried … but amazed and submitted tears. Wow. Just wow. Yes, Lord, EVEN IF.

“They say sometimes you win some
Sometimes, you lose some
And right now, right now I’m losing bad
I’ve stood on this stage night after night
Reminding the broken, it’ll be alright
But right now, oh right now, I just can’t

It’s easy to sing
When there’s nothing to bring me down
But what will I say
When I’m held to the flame
Like I am right now

I know You’re able, and I know You can
Save through the fire with Your mighty hand
But even if You don’t
My hope is You alone

They say it only takes a little faith
To move a mountain
Well good thing
A little faith is all I have right now
But God, when You choose
To leave mountains unmovable
Oh, give me the strength to be able to sing
It is well with my soul

I know You’re able, and I know You can
Save through the fire with Your mighty hand
But even if You don’t
My hope is You alone
I know the sorrow, and I know the hurt
Would all go away if You’d just say the word?
But even if You don’t
My hope is You alone

You’ve been faithful, You’ve been good
All of my days
Jesus, I will cling to You
Come what may
‘Cause I know You’re able
I know You can

I know You’re able, and I know You can
Save through the fire with Your mighty hand
But even if You don’t
My hope is You alone
I know the sorrow. I know the hurt
Would all go away if You’d just say the word?
But even if You don’t
My hope is You alone

It is well with my soul
It is well. It is well with my soul”

BAW – Let’s Be Honest – Who Am I? – Who Are You?

“Let’s pretend there is something under the mask. Is there? Who are you?” p. 52-53

I am:

I’m not:

I adore:

I detest:

I have:

I have never:

I like:

I don’t like:

I love:

I hate:

I need:

I want:

I can:

I can’t:

I’m always:

I’m never:

I’m afraid of:

I’m not afraid to:

I’m pretty good at:

I’m no good at:

I want more:

I want less:

This looks daunting, and I am already calculating what I am willing to answer and what I am not willing to answer with honesty. Ironic when the point of the Burn After Writing challenges is to be authentic. Here I sit facing this list, and I am thinking about how to not be my real self on more than one of these. How often do we do this in life? That’s a question I ask myself, but I also ask in general (of you). We hide behind a mask, don’t we? We don’t let others see us. The question is, why? Why are we afraid to be authentic? Why are we so good, masters in fact, at only putting forward what is ‘socially’ acceptable by the elusive “they” out there in the big wide world? We are so good at this that I venture to say that a majority of us running around concerned about what others think and holding back our authentic selves do not even truly know ourselves well enough to answer these questions. This will be my attempt to be authentic and to not hold back. I’m going to give it a go. See what happens. I will be honest at the end about whether or not I accomplished the task at hand.

I am: concerned about answering the following questions with authenticity.

I’m not: going to let that stop me.

I adore my husband Patrick. He is my best friend, the love of my life. He never raises his voice at me. He is patient with me. He teaches me. He challenges me. He laughs with me. He tells me I am beautiful every day. He treasures me. He loves God. He has been sober for 36 years, and he has encountered God in ways throughout his adulthood that most people I have come across just don’t or won’t – including myself. He has lost two children, and he has maintained his faith in the goodness of God throughout his pain. He stands on his convictions, and he lives life on a day-at-a-time basis – full-steam ahead. He’s all man. And he loves me.

I detest gaslighting and narcissism. The more I learn about it, the more I have come to realize that those who have narcissistic traits know what they are doing to their victims. Somehow they justify their behavior, and the drama and trauma they strew about this life are disgusting – actually, it is evil.

I have my dream job – being a professor is what I am made to be. At least at this stage of my life. When I was younger, my parents (who were both teachers) said to me that I should be a teacher, and I was like – heck no! So, I ran from that – until, in my mid-30s, I sat in a classroom beginning my journey toward a master’s degree, and the teacher was boring. She was beyond boring. She was a drain on my time and every student in that classroom, and I determined sitting in her class that I could and would do it better than that. It clicked, and I was on a course to be the best teacher in higher education that I can be. I will be engaging and passionate about my subject because that’s what keeps students listening and learning, and growing. I love what I do.

I have never been good at dancing – a wallflower, if you will. And I am married to a dancer. Patrick is an incredible dancer – he can two-step and other dances and fly around that dance floor, and I stand by feeling all awkward … when, here’s the truth, I am too concerned about what others think about how I look out there on that dance floor. I need to and will just put myself into Patrick’s hands and let him spin me around. Just like I do with him in so many other areas of my life. I trust him in so many other ways – this one feels superficial now that I’m writing about it. Apparently, we need to go dancing. He will be thrilled. Oh, I just remembered that recently, “Sweet Child of Mine” came on at home, where we listen to music a lot, and Patrick was sitting by the fireplace smoking, and I let myself go … just for him. Danced like crazy – as much like Axl Rose as I could – felt the music – just for Patrick. He loved it – and I have no idea how it looked, but that man would love me in a paper sack and clogs with my hair in pigtails, so I didn’t care at that moment. Now, Dacia, translate that to the public … why do you let the ‘public’ stop you? Good question. Ugh, to the public. Be your authentic self!

I like pizza. Unabashedly, it is my favorite food, and this is immediately where my brain went when I saw the words “I like.” I like pizza so much that when I’m creating multiple choice questions on exams, I often will toss pizza into the wrong answers, and I tell my students, “Don’t pick pizza.” It’s always on my mind. What do you want to eat, Dacia? Pizza. Where? Oh … see, there’s the rub. Recently, we discovered a restaurant called “Mando’s,” and the pizza there is the bomb-diggity. I freaking love it. It’s “authentic” – whatever that means. It’s delightful, is what it means. I like it.

I don’t like most vegetables. Talk about a superficial answer, but it’s the truth. I settle for helpings of raw spinach in my salads. That, I can eat. Peppers and onions don’t really count, I think, but I like them. Banana peppers – oh yes, load me up. Again, those don’t count so much. I can stomach cooked green beans if I have something to wash them down with. It fills me with pride that most of my children eat vegetables. How that happened, I do not know. It is not because of anything I fed them. The older ones discovered what they were missing out on, and now, Keenan, Kennedy, and Kadi all eat ‘exotic’ vegetable concoctions. I mean, ew, but also, great for them! I’m going to stick to pizza veggies. Well, except mushrooms. No mushrooms.

I love that I have love in my life. I am blessed with a husband who adores me and with relationships that are lifelong; I am indeed a blessed woman, and I know it – In my life, I have collected friends and family that I will always treasure, who I know treasure me. Patrick, Kennedy, Kadi, Lana, Jackie, my Dad, my brother, Veronica, Sonya, Maureen, my mother-in-love Patricia, Jenn Reedy, Sandy, Lauren, Karri, Joanna, Debbie, Rebecca, Jamie, Becky, Rhesa, Kimbra, Dawnnell, Tammy, Lynne, Kristi, Jessie, and more that I am typing too fast to allow my brain time to recall. On any given day, I know I can reach out to any of these people, and we will pick up where we left off because there is love there between us – love that is authentic and honest. Through the years, I have been naturally drawn to people who were strong and honest, and I look through this list, and I see it on all of them. Strong. Lovers of God. Loyal. Dependable. My people. There are days that I forget about how much love I have in my life because I focus on my failures as a mother, and I beat myself up, and I cry, and I think because I am not raising my youngest children, that I am not somehow worthy of love. What’s interesting is that not one of those people I listed above thinks this way of me because I am not raising my youngest children. They know my story. They love me and the fight I have given to survive and find myself, and the growth I have experienced. I am grateful for the love I have in my life.

I hate that I do not see my children on a daily basis. Of all things in life that I might ‘hate’ – that is it. To be a mother without her children is the worst. I addressed this above, and I do let it cause me to fall into self-hate at times when I let pathos rule my mind and heart, but then, I think. I push aside the emotion, and I remember my story. I remember what I walked through that brought this situation into existence. I remember the anger, the hate, the abuse, the narcissism, the drugs, the alcohol, the lying, the adultery, the psych ward stays, the suicidal thoughts and plans, the diagnoses which were wrong, the medications I was given, the therapy, the counseling, the torment, the fear I lived in for far too long. I remember the healing years – not days, not months, but years. I know what PTSD is. I remember that I was not in a healthy state of mind to fight for myself or my children for a very long time. I believed the lies that I was unworthy, that I was nothing, that no one would want me, and the one I told myself – I might as well be dead. I hate all of that. I hate remembering my story – BUT, God has given me many opportunities to talk with other women who need to be told they are worthy and that they are beautiful, and that there is forgiveness and love and life beyond pain. So, I focus forward. I am here on this planet at God’s will, and while I am here, I will be a woman who shares hope. That is what I will do – move forward each day focused on the day at hand – pursuing hope and peace – and telling my children they are loved as often as I can. I pray for each of them daily, and I ask that God direct their paths – that He brings them into His arms and His peace and that He uses them for His glory! Amen, and amen. It is for me to be in this day – and be what He needs me to be. Get thee behind me, devil; you may not fill my head with your anxiety, fear, or past torments. Not today. I am God’s – bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus Christ. Amen!

I need not much – in truth, I have what I need. I’m sitting here thinking over what I “need,” and nothing comes to mind except that I need to make a dentist appointment. I do need to do that. I have two cracked teeth. Eek! Maybe admitting that on here will ensure that I get that accomplished.

I want the dramas in my family’s life to come to resolutions. Father-son scenarios. In-law scenarios. Ex-scenarios. These are not all my stories to tell on the internet, but suffice it to say, I want peaceful resolutions so that we can move forward with happy get-togethers and build healthy grandchildren! Yes, to that! Right? Yes! Let the next generation be healthy by those of us living in today’s world getting our shit together. Holy cow. I mean, really. Fix your drama. Get over yourself. Life is short. Stop letting your feelers get hurt, don’t stay hurt, and stop holding on to grudges. CHOOSE to be at peace with people so that we can concentrate on raising up small, healthy warriors who have a crazy future ahead of them! They need to be armed with as much love and clarity as possible! Oh, my word! I want to knock some heads together.

I can only do what is mine to do. Patrick and I talk about this a lot. I naturally want to take responsibility for the actions of other people, and this is something I can no longer do. I am responsible for myself only, and I will do what is mine to do. That is … love on the people that God puts in my path. That is what I can do, and that is what I will do. I can and I will. End of story.

I can’t hold onto the past or its pain any longer. I will not live in fear, nor will I allow the past to cloud my future.

I’m always grateful. Every day I am grateful. Three years ago I had “By Grace” tattooed on my arm as a daily reminder that I am saved by Grace, and I am to live by Grace. I am grateful for Grace. I am grateful for God’s Grace in my life – that no matter what I’ve done, He works with me, and He directs me, and He forgives me, and He loves me. He wants me to choose each day to know that I am His – living in His Grace. I know this, and I am grateful. No one can take this away from me. No one. It is a beautiful thing to live under the Grace of God the Father. It took me looking at up Him – like the woman in John 8 – for me to grasp my need for His Grace, and I am unwavering in that understanding now. That is why it is tattooed on my skin. It is a daily knowledge.

I’m never unsure of my husband’s love. This is what came to mind first with “I’m never.” I know that I know that I know that this man loves me. He and I would spend every waking moment together if we didn’t have jobs that took us away from each other during the day. I’m a professor, and he’s in construction. Not sure how to marry the occupations, though when I’m not teaching and working on school stuff, I am at his side – learning about building, remodeling, and handing him screws – which I do quite well. I’ve gotten so adept at being his helper, that 9 times out of 10 I can anticipate what he needs before he needs it. That’s fun! I may be unsure of other things in the world, but never that this man loves me.

I’m afraid of a couple of things – though when I think on them both – I know that eternity steps in and the fear subsides. First, I’m afraid of my time with Patrick being cut short. We are older. He’s almost 60, and I’m 50. We didn’t meet until later in life, and we want to live each day to the fullest while we can. There are times when the reality of our ages and that construction has taken a toll on him over the 45 years he’s been working reminds me that time is fragile, and that makes me fearful because I do not want to be without him, nor does he want to be without me. Life is unpredictable, though, and we cannot go around living in fear of death. Neither of us is afraid of death because we believe Heaven awaits us, but neither of us looks forward to some time left on the earth without the other if one goes before. Live each day to its utmost. That’s the goal. With gratefulness. The second thing I’m afraid of is losing one of my children. Patrick has been through that twice – and I cannot fathom the depth of the anguish he feels. I hold his hand in those moments when he’s overcome by missing his son Brad who passed on at the age of 27 in a car accident or when he is missing out on what could have been with his son Collin, who passed away in his first day of life. I don’t want to know what that feels like. He does, and I love him through it the best that I know how. I do know a level of grief because I live without my children – it crushes me some days and moments and I can only imagine what that compounding with never see again in this lifetime would feel like. Those are my fears – but again, I know that this life is short, and on the other side of it, there is Heaven with the Father and with Jesus Christ. So, I choose to not live in fear.

I’m not afraid to admit that I have weaknesses and faults and I have failed in exponential ways in this life. I choose to be open about where I have fallen short because it also affords me the opportunity to talk about God’s Grace. In my extreme fear of conflict, for many years, I never learned how to stand my ground or stand up for myself. I lived in fear of the unknown and fear of the known. I just lived in fear. To this, I will not discuss fear of what – though it was many things – I will not, though, out of respect for my children discuss their father. I will only discuss my own part in the demise of life in those years. I developed agoraphobia and rarely left my house for years; I developed a dependence upon alcohol to get me through my life instead of relying on God – because I believed my prayers for help went unheard and unanswered; I believed I didn’t deserve the grace of God – He didn’t hear me. I was a blob – an unlovable blob. I became an alcoholic, but I also turned to men – attention seeking and drinking – both drowning my pain as much as I could, but it was never enough. I committed adultery – and found myself farther down any hole I could have ever have nightmares about being inside! Drowning pain was all I knew, and I lost my ability to reason – drowning in alcohol, fear, emotion, hate, succumbing to anything and everything that might make the pain stop. None of it did. I found myself divorced, living with my parents, diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, and clinging to life – struggling to believe God could heal me from any of it much less even want to heal me, forgive me, love me … but He did. Today, I am on no medicine. I have no Borderline Personality Disorder – it was PTSD and alcoholism. I have been sober for 2 years and 4 months. Daily I thank God for his Grace. I am whole – and coming more fully into understanding what it is to live a sober life – sober in a fullest sense – a thought-provoked existence based on the knowledge that I am bought by the blood of Jesus and my life is His – not my own. None of this am I afraid to admit. This is me, and what I know is that God is good. I cried out to Him from the depths, and He heard me. There was no quick fix to my failures; it was a process of my own coming to terms with my responsibility to my Father in Heaven with this life that He gave me – what I do with it and how I love. Again, I am grateful.

I’m pretty good at engaging my students. This is where I shine. In front of a group of people, encouraging them to think for themselves – to consider possibilities – to research – to learn communication techniques and skills! It’s like a funny switch gets flicked, and I’m suddenly an educational funny gal who is passionate about helping people better themselves! I say I’m an “Edutainer.” Not sure if I made that term up or not, but I claim it. I teach Comp I, Comp II, Creative Writing, and wrap History, Government, and Psychology in wherever I can – always pushing students to think for themselves! Critical thinking skills are always the goal. In my own life, I understand my great need for those, and so I push and encourage and teach my students to develop those NOW, not later in life like I did. I tell them I will never score them low because I might hold a different perspective than theirs – as long as they can support their belief or opinion, then they get the “A.” I am not out to make apostles of Dacia, but I am out to have each one of my students able to navigate life and argument and critically think through all that life tosses them. At the core of it is my love of Jesus – who told me to love God first and to love my neighbor as myself – which I strive to do – and when asked – outside of the classroom, sometimes my students and I talk about God and religion and we have church. The Scripture says where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am also – meaning Jesus, and He shows up. Every time in conversation, I present an argument. They present an argument. We consider one another’s perspectives. We move forward with life. It is not for me to know what their choices are beyond the window of time I am given to speak into their lives. Good stuff. I wish more people could develop the ability to respect opinions outside of their own. What a world we could live in if folks would try that way of living.

I’m no good at math. Hahahahaha. I tell my students not to ask me to help with their math homework. It’s not that I’m bad at math, I actually got an “A” in Calculus my senior year of high school, and I quite enjoy Algebra. It’s that Geometry crap – and decimals and fractions – and real world math. That’s what fingers and calculators are for.

I want more time with my children. If I write much more here, I will cry ugly tears. One day. That’s what I tell myself. One day. It’s not for me to determine – God plans my path now; I am not trying to interfere with what He has in store. But yes, I want more time with my children. Want, want, want, want. But … I will do each day as it comes.

I want less ugliness in the world. A couple of years ago, I was connected with a few coworkers on Facebook – on one of their threads, I read a conversation between my coworker and their friend where it was stated that anyone who believed [politically] different from them should be shot in the head, so that the “good” people can get on with their lives. I sit in faculty meetings with this individual, and I think to myself while engaging with this person, you’d be okay with me being shot in the head – and yet, here you sit oblivious to the fact that I’m one of those people because I am able to separate work and politics. I am not at work to make political or religious followers. I am work to create a capable work force – giving TCC a strong reputation for assisting the Tulsa community with quality employees. Needlesstosay, I cleared my Facebook of those I am not of one accord with. In fact, I shut that account down, and only recently, started a new account that is full of those who I would share pictures of my grandchildren with. That’s my thermometer. It’s private. Not many have need to know about the inner workings of my life and the lives of my grandchildren, so it’s staying smallish this time – my social media. There’s just so much ugliness out there on the internet and in the world. It is my belief that I am to be a light in the darkness, and that is what I will strive to do while I am able, as long as God has me here, but I will do that in the classroom and in line at Lowe’s – not on social media.

And there we have it. This BAW list is complete. And yes, I was honest – bluntly so. I’m grateful for that – to be in a space now where I can say, “Hey, y’all, this is me. Like it or not. This is me.” I’m going to live each day to the fullest and strive for peace in all things. I will declare that God is good. I will live gratefully – knowing from what and where He has brought me and looking forward to where He takes me.

I challenge you to complete the list too. Be honest about who you are. See where it takes you.

“You Don’t Know My Story” – I’m a Beautiful Disaster

It is the greatest ache in my soul to be separated from my children. Three are grown and living their own lives. Three are not, and they’re not with me. The older three and I talk and are in each other’s lives; that is good. Good, good, good. But the younger three … often I catch myself staring off into space – thinking of them – thinking about how I failed them – thinking how I miss them – wondering how they are – wondering how they are doing – what they are doing. Often I lay awake at night thinking of them – thinking how I failed them – thinking how I miss them – wondering how they are – wondering how they are doing – what they are doing. Tears fall – though I’m better able now to hold them back now.

It’s coming up on the sixth anniversary of the day I left St. Louis – in a panicked flurry, I packed my things into my car and drove six hours, through floods of pain and grief, to the safety of my parent’s home in Tulsa. Part of the drive, my brother – who was in Kansas – kept me on the phone in an effort to keep me “sane” and “calm.” My hysterical crying scared him, I know. He understood that I was driving away from a volatile situation and that if I had stayed that I was not going to survive. Not physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. I would have died had I stayed. So, I fled – and began the ‘fight’ of my life.

Fear was my constant companion. So much so did it consume me that I was incapable of rational thought and incapable of the real, legal fight to get shared custody of my children. Paranoia gripped me, and around every corner and behind every door, I saw the potential, impending danger. My mind created terrifying scenarios one after another, and I was terror-stricken, flailing insanely in a dark pool of water – and no matter how many people told me to put my feet on the floor of the pool and feel the bottom, I could not. I would not. I was tormented and only capable of small breaths above water – frantically trying to survive and swim away from what tormented me. Then, the decree was signed, and I lost my children. Fear and shame shrouded me, and I drank away the pain as time passed.

The first three years of healing are blurry to my memory now, though I know they were full of fear, confusion, and self-hate. Snippets of memory come to me in unexpected moments, and I find it hard to digest that those are things and events that I endured, caused, and survived. In my fight to live, I had two stints in psych wards and was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and Bipolar disorder – and I was put on medication. I was ostracized by good Christians, some even family, for my sins of adultery and divorce – most choosing judgment instead of discovery of root causes and healing. It was said of me that I was a bad influence, and young family members were encouraged not to talk to me. I’m not bitter; those are their conversations to have with Christ. They did not stop to consider years of volatility that I was not equipped to navigate, nor did they ask before passing judgment. Not making excuses for my past behaviors; I am stating facts. I was naive, sheltered, and brought up in a traditional Christian church environment where I did not learn tools to face abuse, drug use, or narcissism. I came to a place of depression and hopelessness where I believed that I was unloveable and unworthy of answered prayers, and I gave up. I died inside, and my life became a quasi-suicide mission with a smile plastered on my face. I remember the feelings, but it all blurs together now … the couple of years where I “lost my mind” and the first three years of “healing.”

It wasn’t healing that happened in those three years, not really. It began, but I also found myself dependent on alcohol. More and more, I drank myself into oblivion at night. Killing the pain. Killing the self-hate. Killing the guilt. Killing it – and not understanding myself. I wanted to live for my kids and show them I could be better, so war raged inside me. I wanted to be better. I wanted to deserve God’s love. I wanted to deserve my kid’s love. I wanted a man to love me. But I also did not believe, despite what I had endured over years of private hell, that I deserved any of those things. I had been told for so long that I was unwanted – I believed that lie, and I snapped and stepped into despicable sin – then, I believed I was a walking sin, undeserving of forgiveness or grace. I wanted to be numb, to let sweet Vodka drift it all away. I went to therapy, sure. I dated, absolutely. For so long, I’d been told I was unattractive and that no one would want me, and I needed to prove that wasn’t true to myself. Vodka was my private therapist.

In all that ‘healing’ time – and to this day – because of my love for my children, I have kept my private hell story locked away from them. I do not speak hate-filled words, have not, and won’t about the past. There are things they do not need to know … not until they ask, and I believe they’re mature enough for the conversation, and perhaps, not even then. It is not for me to seek vengeance or comeuppance. That is God’s department – and mine is to seek restoration of my heart, soul, mind, and body and to pray for my children. That is what I am to do.

Four years into healing, I began to talk to God more, and I listened to Him as well. Long story short, God took the reigns from me – and He taught me how to accept His Grace – and not walk in fear. I found myself to be the woman in John 8, and I tattooed “By Grace” on my right arm as a daily reminder that God loves me! I am saved by Grace! I am to live by Grace! I am to love with Grace! No longer do I take medications for depression or disorders. No longer do I ascribe to the diagnoses given to me by doctors who did not know my whole story. No more do I accept or claim Borderline Personality Disorder or Bi-polar. I suffered from PTSD (which I do not want to merely gloss over here with a slight mention – PTSD is real; it is debilitating. I was disabled by it. Crippled. Lost.) and a lack of honest, authentic faith. God led me to AA, where I have learned to take a deep look inside of myself and get honest regarding my instincts and responsibilities and the greatness of God my Father as I understand Him, and then, He, this great Father God, led me straight into the arms of Patrick Cunningham. It is an act of God that he and I met. We know it, and we are grateful to God for His mercy and kindness. Patrick has his own story, and suffice it to say that as a result of his own struggles, his faith is rooted in knowledge and experience. God is real to him, and he’s the most authentic person I’ve ever known.

People don’t understand how any mother could not fight for at least joint custody of her children, and I no longer feel I need to defend myself to any of those people because I know my story. I see it through clear eyes now, and I know that I was mentally ill – emotionally drained, spiritually sick, and consumed by fear. I know that, but then … I waiver at times because I miss my babies. It is a battle inside of me waged between knowledge and feelings. I’m no longer living in fear or self-hate, but guilt creeps in … the guilt of leaving my children – or, in the words of another person, the guilt of abandoning my children. When that creeps in, I take a deep breath and pray; I look at the tattoo on my arm. I thank God for bringing me to a place of healing and grace, and I ask Him to remind me that I am His. Yes, I miss my children desperately, and I think about them constantly, but I know at this point in my life, it is for me to be about the tasks God, my Father, sets in front of me each day. I continually pray for my children, and I thank God for each one of them. I pray that they will know beyond anything else in this life that God is real and that Heaven and Hell are real, and it is for them to choose for themselves where they will spend eternity. This I do, and I remember that God’s grace is sufficient for this disaster of a woman that I have been and am. The devil wants to push guilt on me, and I, at times, let that guilt in, but I know this … it is not now and never will be guilt at leaving a volatile situation. For that wild escape in the midst of a mental, emotional, and spiritual breakdown, I am grateful.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now I’m found. Was blind, but now I see.

This sweatshirt is from "Beautiful Disaster" - a company who supports survivors of domestic violence.

The American Queen is Live!

“The American Queen” is available now on Amazon! This is a story I am proud of and excited to share. It was originally published in 2013, but the publishing company went out of business a short time later – and not because of this story. Wink, wink. In the years since that unexpected loss of publication, my life became tumultuous, and I was unable to put pen to paper, much less resurrect my previous works. Recently, my ability to focus returned, and I discovered that once a book has been published through a publishing house, most other publishers are not interested, so I reworked it and self-published it on KDP – Amazon.

Here is the prologue for the story – which explains how “The American Queen” came to be.

On July 29, 1981, Lady Diana Spencer married Prince Charles at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, and I watched. At nine years old, I had no need for Disney Princesses because I had Princess Diana to look up to and emulate. Her kindness and grace were a model for me as I moved into my teenage years and young adulthood. When she died on August 31, 1997, I stood with a month-old baby girl in my arms and cried over the loss of my Princess. I watched the news, saw the footage, and wrestled with what I heard. Skeptical me always believes nefarious things may be afoot, so a strong part of me desires to believe she’s still alive – despite the crunched car, despite the broken body, despite the witnesses, and the extensive news coverage. Call me a conspiracy theorist; I’m cool with that because my heart cannot believe that my Princess Diana is gone, so I picture her somewhere lying on a beach, living a life of freedom – laughing and loving as she deserved – living as she never could have as part of the royal family.

On January 20, 2009, Barak Obama became the President of the United States. Having always been a news junkie, I watched CNN and FOX throughout his Presidency – always observing his body language and those around him. The non-verbals of politicians and celebrities became a fascination for me, and I studied them – I became most fascinated by Michelle Obama, the First Lady of the United States. It is possible that I was/am way off base with what I’m about to say, but that holds no bearing on the end result of my supposition. It became my firm belief that Michelle Obama was unhappy – for whatever reason – but I surmised that being the First Lady of the United States was a position that came with not only a lack of privacy for the rest of her life but also pressure and danger like most other people on the planet cannot fathom. Her husband was the leader of the free world and either loved or hated the world over. I watched her smiles – in most pictures and video clips, her smiles appear forced. I did not observe movement near her eyes which would indicate true smiles. And I began to toss around thoughts about what it would be like to be the First Lady of the United States … and my consensus after some thought was no, thank you. That’s definitely not for me.

My musings on Princess Diana and Michelle Obama formed a story idea.

Alice Hatcher is the First Lady of the United States, married to the most powerful man in the world. She has everything – or so people believe. She speaks on issues of education and kindness; she wears designer clothes, her husband is powerful, her children have the best education, and people love her. More than love, the people adore her. She and Don make a striking couple, and their faces grace the covers of magazines worldwide. Her life is glamorous, and women everywhere wish to be her or, at least, be her friend. Only, she wishes not to be her. The spotlight is not something she ever wanted. A secret service agent convinces her that her death can be faked, and Alice takes the risk. She wants the freedom to live according to her own desires, do what she wants, live quietly, and be out of the spotlight, never to be on the stage again with flashing lights blinding her as the paparazzi swarm. Once “dead,” Alice discovers freedom is not always what it seems, people are not always who they claim to be, and someone knows she’s alive! She sets off to chase her “freedom” ….

I Took My Eyes Off of Jesus

The crazy thing about all of this anger, hating, and finger-pointing is that no single person is infallible.  Unfailing.  Error-free. Faultless. Each person alive is capable of inciting hurt and anger, of committing wrong.  Sometimes knowing it is accomplished, and at other times, a person has no idea of the pain left in his or her wake. Ignorance, in the truest sense of the word meaning a lack of knowledge or information, exists in each person walking this planet.  No one is capable of knowing how each action or word is perceived and what the ripple effect is as time plays out its game of Life.  

Jesus said, “Father, forgive them because they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:24) in response to the crowds’ riotous behavior as he hung on the cross – to die for their sins.  Even as he hung there dying, he wanted forgiveness for his persecutors, and he offered unconditional love to the thief next to him who begged, in his recognition of the deity of Christ, for forgiveness – at his own eleventh hour.  Jesus gave it.  In the midst of his anguish, the Son of God wanted peace for those who mocked and tormented him, for the sinners before him, and for those to come.  

When issues arise, it is easy to choose sides, take eyes off of Jesus, and forget that God wants all people to come to salvation and knowledge of Him.  He wants all people to accept His grace, peace, and mercy.  He is not a puppet master. He allows free will and choice.  He waits with open arms … and people argue and fuss and fight and push and pull and keep all focus on hurts and prejudice and fear and hate grow.  

Writing this, I realize it may come across like I am standing outside and speaking to all people other than myself, as if I am not a sinner or not responsible for causing hurt to others.  At one point in my life and as the holder of a Bible College Bachelors degree, I would have secretly held this to be true, thinking myself to be righteous and ‘good’ because of the legalistic way I approached life. Committing no obvious wrongs (never had an alcoholic drink until I was 32 years of age, and even at that point, thinking lightning might strike).  I looked down on others and judged their ‘righteousness’ according to their outward behaviors – thinking I was above reproach. This is shameful and not the truth about me, not the inside of me.  I take my eyes of Jesus.  I forget.  I don’t keep my mind and soul on the things of God like I should.  Life happens, and I fail.

Sadly, it is easier to see the speck in someone else’s eyes than the plank in my own.  However …

In the recent past, I took my eyes off of Jesus and people were hurt by the results of my anger, my sin, my choice to look away from the faith I grew up in, and to succumb to a numbing of all of my own pain because I felt like God had abandoned me.  I stopped attending church.  I closed off and found myself in turmoil  – much of my own making.  I could not care for anyone outside of myself as I dwelt in anxiety, fear, isolation, victimhood, alcohol, and adultery.  Twice I had hospital stays in mental health wards on suicide watch.  In sin and fear, my marriage crumbled, and my children’s worlds turned upside down.  Like a zombie hopped up on medications and fear, clinging to a variety of diagnoses, I lived through months of self-medicating ugliness which turned into at the least a couple of years of turmoil, and at the end of it all, I found myself in desperate need of the mercy and grace of God.  

I found God’s arms wide open, and I now know what it is to be the woman in John 8. 

8 1 but Jesus went to the Mount of Olives.

2 At dawn, he appeared again in the temple courts, where all the people gathered around him, and he sat down to teach them. 3 The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group 4 and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. 5 In the Law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now, what do you say?” 6 They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. 7 When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” 8 Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground.

9 At this, those who heard began to go away one at a time, the older ones first, until only Jesus was left, with the woman still standing there. 10 Jesus straightened up and asked her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?”

11 “No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.”

All the legalism is stripped off of me, and I state straight out … I am a sinner, and I am grateful for the grace and mercy of God.  I do not deserve it for the hurt I’ve caused, for the muck left in my wake.  But, I know that it is mine.  That God loves me despite myself and the ugliness I have possessed inside in so many forms.  There are consequences to sin, and I walk through those now, knowing that God loves me and that He has a plan for my life.  I am grateful to Him, and I pray He continues to give me the opportunity to share His love with people every day.  

It is not mine to condemn others nor to judge them, nor to drudge the sins of others through social media or share them over back fence posts, trying to justify myself and claim some variant of ‘salvation’ or ‘rightness’ on my own. It is not mine to try to justify my own sinful behaviors upon the actions or words of another or others.  Life has happened, and I have been worthy of Old Testament stoning in my response to the ugliness I existed inside, BUT God interceded for me with the blood of Jesus.  He saved me just as He longs to save every single person alive and to come – no matter who they are, what they say, or what they do.  His grace is sufficient, and it can, it does, and it will cover over a multitude of sins.  

At one time I had thought I would use this blog space to work through my pain and to talk about it all – that was my intent back in January of 2019 when I first attempted to start writing again.  My ability to write ceased while I walked through all of the horror of the consequences of sin.  So, my intention was to use this as therapy, telling myself to put it all out there “to help other women” going through similar things.  But, the words didn’t come through my fingers to the page.  They’re all inside me, and God has given me one-on-one opportunities to share His grace and mercy and my testimony, but that has been in person and not in writing.  I still do not feel the call to spew ugliness here in this space, and as much as I want to say my intent would have been to have been helpful to others, that is not the absolute truth.  My intent would have been to establish ‘rightness’ for myself and justification of my choices.  And … truly, looking at it all objectively now … the part I am responsible for as I stand before the Lord is my own actions, my own behaviors, and my own responses.   I see my inability to put the words to paper last year now for what it is … the Holy Spirit saying ‘No.’  God will give me opportunities as He needs me to share mercy and hope.   I am good with that.  

I am also good with this … God loves each person.  I have to keep that in mind as I remember my past.  People who have hurt me, people I disagree with, folks who I’d rather not see again, people who don’t want to ever see me again … God loves those people.  As He loves me.   He wants me with Him just as He longs for each and every other person on this planet … each one created in His own image. 

Who am I to judge someone else in light of that?  No one.  I am no one to do that.  Yes, other people have different opinions than me, and I do not always understand why … but I do know this, and I share it each semester in my classroom, that each person alive has value and holds opinions and ways of seeing the world that are based on their unique environment, the way they were raised, their culture, their life experiences.  Close to 7 billion unique perspectives exist all at one time.  We are all shaped by life as it unfolds around us.  Those things create who we become, and there are reasons behind each person’s beliefs.  THIS validates the way people see things … it doesn’t mean that each person walks in absolute truth – but, they do walk in their own truth, which is often relative – based upon their individual life experiences. 

There are few things that I firmly hold to be TRUE in life – and these are based upon my upbringing, my education, and my personal experiences.  For me, that God is real and that Jesus is His Son and that LOVE is the second greatest commandment … these are unshakeable.  These are TRUTH.  Most anything else merits discussion and consideration … understanding the why behind other people’s perspectives. This is missed when there is yelling, talking over others, hating, violence, rioting … jumping to conclusions, needing my own voice to be heard for personal validation that only my truth is right and real and must be believed by all.  As long as these things ‘win’ in my, and truly, in our spirits, discord will continue to exist.  

We must be people who listen more than talk.  People who recognize our own failures and admit our fallibility.   Humbly accept that we do not have all the answers.  Understand and acknowledge that each person’s life experience has shaped their values and beliefs.  Without an ability to do this, honest conversations will not happen. 

This puts me in mind of my educational guru – Christopher Emdin – who teaches Reality Pedagogy.  His ideas hit a chord with me. As a teacher, I cannot expect to be effective with my students unless I know my students, unless I am willing to walk in their shoes, see where they come from, understand or at least try to understand their ‘why’ in how they approach learning.  Meet them in their space … and then challenge them to grow, based in a respect for each one’s story and uniqueness.  (  https://youtu.be/2Y9tVf_8fqo – Christopher Emdin – Ted Talk on Reality Pedagogy.) I’ve written other posts regarding his message.  One reached the man himself, and he commented on it, calling me “Fam” … and I don’t think I ever fan-girled more.  Asked my students what “Fam” meant, and they said, “Ms. D, he’s calling you ‘Family.'”  AWESOME!  So … Reality Pedagogy.  It applies not only to the classroom, but to life and every person I interact with.  We all have value, and we are all beautifully fallible.

Having been knocked off my high-horse and made to look up and see myself as unworthy and riddled with errors, I can now admit that life is not about just me and what I have going on, nor is it about appearing ‘righteous’ or accumulating the most Sunday School stickers or collecting church bulletins as a billboard to proclaim any sort of thing, or even just about being right and making my voice louder than someone else’s despite the consequences.  That is not what life is about.  Not for me anymore. Life must be about seeing the plank in my own eye before pointing out the specks in the eyes of others.  Recognizing my perspective is NOT the only one that merits justification or being heard.  I do fail in this, have failed in this, and I regret that my choices and actions have grieved God and have hurt others – and for some, there is no forgiveness for me – anger and bitterness burn, and I understand that – cannot change what is done and in the past.  However, I can admit that I am fallible, BUT I cling to the mercy of God and to this TRUTH … Love is key.  

Matthew 22:37-40 – 37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

Galatians 5:22-23 – 22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, 23 gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.

I Peter 4: 1-11

4 Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because whoever suffers in the body is done with sin. 2 As a result, they do not live the rest of their earthly lives for evil human desires, but rather for the will of God. 3 For you have spent enough time in the past doing what pagans choose to do—living in debauchery, lust, drunkenness, orgies, carousing and detestable idolatry. 4 They are surprised that you do not join them in their reckless, wild living, and they heap abuse on you. 5 But they will have to give account to him who is ready to judge the living and the dead. 6 For this is the reason the gospel was preached even to those who are now dead, so that they might be judged according to human standards in regard to the body, but live according to God in regard to the spirit.

7 The end of all things is near. Therefore be alert and of sober mind so that you may pray. 8 Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins. 9 Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling. 10 Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms. 11 If anyone speaks, they should do so as one who speaks the very words of God. If anyone serves, they should do so with the strength God provides, so that in all things God may be praised through Jesus Christ. To him be the glory and the power for ever and ever. Amen.

I Corinthians 13: 1 -10

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears.

Maranatha!

 

 

 

“I’m gonna make you f$#%ing afraid of me”

It has been almost a month since I stepped away from an unhealthy relationship.  I have not once doubted that decision – and I am not one to defame another on social media, so I have refrained from commenting much other than a previous post or two regarding the harassment/harassing behaviors I have endured since December 26.  He is blocked on all social media and his emails do not come to me.  I have blocked his number on my phone, but the voicemails he leaves still come through.  Today, I received another unwanted voicemail (there are over 40 now), and I promptly recorded it to another device and filed a police report.

Pardon the language – but here is the text of the voicemail.

“Hey, you need to get with me about paying that goddamn money back for that fucking windshield.  I’m gonna go by and get a copy of that goddamn receipt if I have to and uh, you’re gonna pay me that goddamn $200 back.  You wanna fuck somebody over, well goddamn you better pay me back my goddamn money or I’m gonna take it out of your ass.  Do you understand me? You wanna be scared of me? I’m gonna make you fucking scared of me.  I’m gonna give you what you wanted, just like you told me before.  I told you I wasn’t gonna be hateful to you, but you wanna act like a goddamn little kid, I’m gonna treat your ass like one.”    1/23/2018 – 12:01 pm.

This has been addressed today – dealt with – and my hope is that it will stop now.  He has been told not to contact me or my family again.

In the past month, he contacted my ex-husband, three of my children, my father, my mother, my brother, my best friend.  All in the name of “concern” for me – thinking that through any of them, he could get me to talk to him.  Lines crossed.  Major lines crossed.  Contacting my 10-year-old son.  Who does that?

And $200?  He wanted me to have the windshield.  I said it wasn’t necessary, that I could drive around with the cracks.  He thought the windshield would fall in on me, so he wanted it fixed.  So now, I owe him back?  When I didn’t even think it was necessary … I just can’t.  There is so much more the nasty in me wants to say, but I choose to not say more.  Just … I can’t.

From this point forward … I will walk with trepidation toward and around relationships.  Trust seems nonexistent.  How could I?  After what I endured in my marriage, and now this – yet another man who swore to love me.   Ha.  I have one Protective Order filed, and if the harassment doesn’t stop, another one will be.  It seems ridiculous to me, and I wonder what it is about me that causes this … is it me?  I am dissecting that.

It crossed my mind today that perhaps I should become a nun.  Hidden away in a convent.  That wouldn’t work though. I would be worse than Maria trying to be a good little nun.  “How do you solve a problem like Maria?” would be nothing compared to Nunnery lyrics written concerning me.

I try.  I really do.  I want to love – to love and be loved … but, I question whether it truly exists and if it does – if it exists for me.   Perhaps, like Maria, my Captain Von Trapp is out there.  Perhaps.  I don’t know.  Maybe after everything I have done, I don’t deserve it.  I don’t know that either.

What I do know today is … I will not be abused again.

RED FLAGS will be noted and heeded with immediacy.

I will listen to the voices in my head and my wounded, distrustful heart.

Here’s to tomorrow.  A new day.  I pray it contains no voicemails.

Truth Harder Than a Lie

This hurt to read.  That song did play repetitively when I would get in my car during my affair … it ate at me and ate at me … and I didn’t know how to let my behavior or my sin go – just do it, right? But I couldn’t, didn’t, wouldn’t.  I was addicted in some awful, twisted hero complex-needing a savior from the pain of my marriage – and he – my affair, was in my everyday life – I answered to him and he wanted me when the one at home did not – when he called me names and hurt me – I clung to the one who was not mine – and still even HE wasn’t enough to fill that void in me – he wasn’t the only one – I was insatiably drowning in deprivation, but I wouldn’t change the radio station.  Refused.  It was another life-line somehow … maybe it was more that I felt I was still a “Christian” if I listened to Christian radio.  I wasn’t.  I was an adulteress.  A hypocrite.  A wretched whore.  I hated myself and that damn song played every time I got in the car.  But I listened. Still – in the midst of it all, I wanted to be different. I wanted to be good.  I wanted to be loved.   You can understand that just a few short months later, I was suicidal and in a Psych ward.

Written on June 6, 2016

Truth is Harder than a Lie

For a while now this song has played most every time I sit in my car to drive.

If We’re Honest by Francesca Battistelli

Not as often now as in the recent past … the lyrics cut me.

Truth is harder than a lie

The dark seems safer than the light

And everyone has a heart that loves to hide

I’m a mess and so are you

We’ve built walls nobody can get through

Yeah, it may be hard, but the best thing we could ever do, ever do

Bring your brokenness, and I’ll bring mine

‘Cause love can heal what hurt divides

And mercy’s waiting on the other side

If we’re honest

If we’re honest

Don’t pretend to be something that you’re not

Living life afraid of getting caught

There is freedom found when we lay

our secrets down at the cross, at the cross

Bring your brokenness, and I’ll bring mine

‘Cause love can heal what hurt divides

And mercy’s waiting on the other side

If we’re honest

If we’re honest

It would change our lives

It would set us free

It’s what we need

I say it cut me more then than now … because now, I’m listening.  Now, I’m recognizing the darkness which held me – wants to keep me.  Now, I’m feeling the conviction, the pain, the coming back to the light … the lyrics to that song were written for me.

Those words encompass everything I have been and have done … pretending to be something that you’re not. Living life afraid of getting caught.  I’m such a mess.  Have been a mess for a very long time.  Have been very good at exteriors – giving off perception of always being together – being the go-to believer.

“How do you do it?”  People have asked that for years … my response … smile and in false humility attribute it to God … Horrible.  How did I do it?  I didn’t.  I faked it all.

Inside a festering pile of nastiness.  Anger. Bitterness. Loss. Regret. Envy. Desire. Hate.

I walked each day longing for something I could not have … growing deeper in my rage and in my internal fight. Hiding it all.  Letting self overtake me … the downward spiral began. Separated myself from anything I knew was good for me.  Wanted only what fed my desire, my longing, my fantasy.  And I’d sit in my car … and “Truth is harder than a lie; The dark seems safer than the light/ And everyone has a heart that loves to hide …” played from my radio.  Somehow in the midst of the darkening spiral of behavior and need, I kept the radio on JoyFM.  So grateful now for that St. Louis based Christian radio station.

I do believe God does this. Uses songs, conversations, interactions – as His voice.  And THIS song.  THIS particular song held His message to me. I’d say “I hate this song” but I stopped changing the station when it played. Now, I cry.  Now … I know.

I’m not resurfaced completely from it all at all … not sure that any of us ever completely resurface from the struggles of temptation.   But I’m healing.  I’m seeking … trying to. Wanting to.  The struggle is real.

Pray for me, please.  An authentic life is what I do desire. It’s not something I think I’ve ever lived.  Authentically who God has created me to be … instead of trying to please externally while inside burning with all manner of negative emotions.  Instead of thinking myself better, holier … suppressing/justifying bad thoughts and behaviors by offering up words of love and goodness to anyone listening.

Pray that I know life is what I make it.  Pray that I can let go of the past.  Forgive hurt and perceived injustice that I’ve held for nearly 30 years – that has consumed and shaped me. Accept where I am and who I am and whose I am.  Accept love.  Move forward with eyes toward Heaven – without focus on protecting and feeding self.

Pray that I can follow my own advice in so many previous blogs.  To allow Micah 6:8 to be the guiding function in this life …. What does the Lord require of you?  Act Justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.

That I accept these words each new day …

‘Cause love can heal what hurt divides

And mercy’s waiting on the other side

If we’re honest

If we’re honest

It would change our lives

It would set us free

It’s what we need
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