I write because I have a story to tell.
My story is not unique, but needs to be told. Many women have lived a similar story. Some have found a way out of the darkness, but many have not and need to know there is another way to live:
I write for the little girl who doesn’t know how beautiful she is, inside and out.
I write for the little girl who thinks she is stupid and can’t do anything right.
I write for the girl who feels unloved and will do anything just to feel accepted – by everyone.
I write for the teenager who thinks a boyfriend will fulfill her deep craving to be loved.
I write for the teenager who thinks that alcohol, a pill, or that joint is the answer to her inner turmoil.
I write for that girl that thinks fixing the outside will fix the inside.
I write for the perfectionist who pushes herself to complete exhaustion to know everything and know how to do everything, and thinks she can do everything and do it perfectly. Because anything short of perfection confirms that she isn’t good enough.
I write for the young wife devastated that her marriage isn’t a fairy tale where everyone lives happily ever after without conflict and disappointment.
I write for the young mother who can’t get her baby to stop crying, and thinks this is just one more way she is a failure.
I write for the mom who does that thing she said she would NEVER do when she became a mom.
I write for the mom who has a meltdown in a coffee shop when she realizes that she put her kids through much of what she went through.
I write for the woman who numbs because she is afraid to feel.
I write for the woman who is “peeling the onion” of her past.
I write because I was abused – mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically.
I write because I stuffed, suppressed, and numbed with various addictions just to feel “normal.”
I write because I found out that I was loved, and loved deeply, completely, and unconditionally.
I write because even when I felt alone and abandoned, I wasn’t.
I write because I was delivered and am being delivered from my self-destructive and others-destructive behavior.
I write because I found an easier, softer way.
I write because many people loved me until I could love myself.
I write for those who have isolated themselves to the point that they only have virtual relationships – so that they can continue to hide their fear and shame.
I write about cultural christian nationalism, because it infuriates me, and is ultimately about personal comfort in the here and now making disciples of political vision instead of disciples of Jesus Christ.
I write because I love to write.
I write because it is a gift – a gift to be shared.
I write to leave a legacy of experience, hope, and strength.
I write for healing – mine and yours.
I write about my life – my story – what it was like, what happened, and what it’s like now. Not because I have all the answers. I don’t. I just want to share my experiences, the evolution of my faith, and the ongoing story of my recovery/deliverance/redemption from abuse and addiction.