I write when I feel inspired. It’s like the words can’t help but fall from my lips, or fingertips, rather. The past 3-4 months are evidence of a lot of inspiration ….but also evidence of a lot of chaos which has come as a result of absolute panic.

Remember I said I had a secret? Well, the secrets keep unveiling themselves, secrets that I didn’t even know I had….are you seeing a pattern? Apparently I have a lot of them (patterns… And secrets) 😬

If you know me, you know that I’m about as authentic as they come. I have a fierce need to be genuine, to be real. There’s nothing more painful, exhausting, and awkward for me than to be fake or not myself… I’ve only ever been “fake” or dishonest about one thing, one person. Anytime I’ve felt like I have to be something other than I am/was with this person or in regards to this person I FLAILED and flailed hard. Like a chicken with my head cut off. Like a fish out of water.

I panic. I act crazy. I act so out of character and it’s like I can’t stop!!!! I embarrass myself, I embarrassed this person. I broke their trust with my flailing. They trusted me. They hoped I would be who they thought I was… Calm, kind, soft, sweet, silly, safe, warm, inviting, thoughtful, considerate.

But I wasn’t. They trusted me and I flailed and therefore, I failed.

I’ve been wearing a mask.

I’ve been walking with one shoe.

I’ve been painting with the wrong end of the brush.

I’ve managed to keep very essential parts of myself hidden, unseen, unheard, and mostly untouched, and consequently, I’ve disrespected myself, my values, my boundaries, and my needs for most of my life.

How has this happened. How could I, Kitty, have been so disillusioned for so. long.??

It just doesn’t add up. It doesn’t add up to my true nature and who I am at my core. A free spirit, a lover, a force of unbridled passion, creativity that frees and inspires, and a life full of compassion and grace… This is who I know that I am…. yet… It just doesn’t all add up. How can I be so genuine but keep some things so hidden. I’m still uncovering this reality. It’s a painful and humbling process.

(I just had a realization while proof reading…. If I flail and draw attention to that chaotic part of me then it will distract from the deeper hurting powerless part of me. The part of me that experienced the fullness of love but believed she couldn’t have it. The inability to be true to myself in this way is the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. I flailed because I was in pain. Insurmountable grief. Heart shattered. And a grief that hasn’t stopped in ten years.)

So, yeah, I have secrets that are spilling out, some like acid on soft skin, burning the tender parts of those who get too close. Or that I pull too close. My heart feels like it’s a caged wild bird, full of rage and emotions that come on strong and fast- I’m doing anything and everything to break free from this prison. I’m having realizations and gaining information that is almost too much to process all at once.

When I slow down and take an honest look at myself though, I realize that I’ve been processing all of this slowly for years.

I’ve been quietly untangling every delicate thread and I didn’t even realize it.

I’m not the type to rip and tear unless the thread, or the chain seems unfixable or not worth the untangling effort.

Have you ever helped your grandma untangle a bunch of necklaces?

I was about 14 or so and my Grammy had a few necklaces that got tangled up. She got ‘flustrated’ and offered me a try. Little did I know, I loved the careful process of untangling and unknotting. It was so relieving when I was finally able to pull one loose, to make big progress and work out a giant knot. It’s exhilarating, weirdly. As they say, idle hands are the devil’s playground and when you’re untangling knots, well, it’s impossible for your hands to be idle. Not saying I agree with this sentiment now as an adult, but it was this kind of stuff that was forced into my mind as a kid. Like me and every other overworked and underfun-ed evangelical ever…. we’ve believed some bs.

As a result of the bs lies and a trauma response/anxious/insecure coping mechanism, I meticulously untangle every knot in my mind. Maybe I like doing it. Maybe it’s to my detriment. Maybe it’s both and then something more.

I’m not ready to share my secrets. And maybe I never will, publicly anyway. But, I will say that this is what I realized:

For 10+ years I’ve been untangling one giant mess. I’ve been untying a knot, so to speak.

As I work through it, I find nuggets of truth and hidden gems. Sometimes I flail as I get close to uncovering a diamond or gold. The flailing is, I’m realizing, a response to panic and desperation.

Just imagine that you’re realizing that you’ve been a tangled up mess full of diamonds and gold you didn’t even realize and then one day your Spirit is like “WAKE UP!!! You have gold all tangled up in there!!!! Time to excavate.”

It’s like living in a desert, desperate for water, seeing a mirage and running for it. I’ll always think of Fievel Goes West when I think of mirages.

Admittedly, I haven’t handled this excavating process as delicately as I probably should have. I used hammers and drills when I should have used brushes and picks. I would probably not make a great paleontologist. Or maybe I would… I just need some time on the job.

It makes me sad to think that I may have destroyed precious gems that have been buried deep inside the crevices of my heart, mind, and soul for over a decade.  That I didn’t understand until now how delicate this process is. I was so desperate for freedom, for a solution, for love that I flailed. Yes, I flailed.

I set fires with my words, I pushed boundaries with my body and choices. I have not honored myself, my needs, and wants for most of my life so therefore I cannot and have not honored others boundaries. When I’m flailing, I’m unpredictable chaos. Like the high speed chase down RT 15 that ended with the lady’s car on top of the Chinese restaurant…. How did that actually happen anyway???

It’s just embarrassing. I’m humiliated. I’ve lived a life that I thought was good, right, authentic, and God honoring. I’ve done my best to follow the rules, consider scripture, and live a life modeled after the spiritual leaders I respect.

But, I failed. And I flailed.

My favorite coworker and I used to say “everybody panic!!!!” as a joke. Little did he know that I would take him seriously one day.

So yeah. I panicked and pushed you away by trying to pull you close to a hot stove. I flailed and revealed the ugliest parts of myself.

It’s crazy when the thing you love the most is the detriment… Let that sink in.

You can think again, when the hand you wanna hold is a weapon and
You’re nothin’ but skin.

As you can tell 😬 I’m feeling a bit sorry for myself today. I’m being hard on myself because I think that if I do it then everyone will leave me alone. Or it won’t hurt so bad when others do it. Maybe they’ll think “she’s already punished herself enough”. It never seems to work out that way. In fact, my vulnerability and transparency seems to set me up for more lashings. People loooove to come after the scapegoat standing on the chopping block. (Hint, it’s me). It’s interesting that I have no problem taking ownership. Too much ownership. Codependency is a bitch.

Yet, it’s no coincidence that on the day I’m feeling guilty and sorry for myself is the day we celebrate the birth of our youngest, Anna Grace.

She’s 7 today. And amazing. My mini. ❤️ She’s everything I dreamed a daughter would be and so so so much more. I would do a lot of things over but not a single second that brought her to me. God knew she’s exactly what I needed to finally learn to love myself. There’s nothing that’s a better teacher than a baby girl who looks, acts, loves, and sees the world like you do. Every moment with her is like watching myself. As a childhood abuse survivor, this is heartbreaking and incredibly healing. Because if I want to do better by her then I have to heal myself. Because a love that pure only can come from a place of deep self love and respect. A deep KNOWING of who you are- holy, perfect, good, and worthy. Not a sinner.

I’m unlearning so much. For her. For all my kids. For myself. They’re worth it. I’m worth it.

She gets a childhood I didn’t have. Stable, peaceful, full of childhood “problems” and joys. She gets the full experience of just being a kid. Giving her this experience is worth every tear, every sacrifice, and every flail. It’s worth every moment that I’ve been untrue to myself. Because I lied for her. I denied myself to give them joys and stability and consistency and love that I never had. And because of that, I don’t regret a thing.

But, time is up now. It’s time to pay attention to my soul. My soul has been quietly screaming, behind closed doors, behind a caged up heart. Very very very very very few people know the reality of my experience – it’s depth, my pain….how hard I’ve tried. How much I’ve cried. How desperate I’ve been to fulfill the law as defined by my spiritual (religious) guides.

I’ve followed the leading of the holy spirit. I’ve committed my life to prayer and to the fruit of the holy spirit. I’m constantly learning, growing, pouring myself into wisdom and goodness. And I’ve still failed. Because I’ve lied. I lied so good I believed it was the truth. I genuinely believed.

It’s crazy how what we believe influences how much we know, even about ourselves.

The good part of all of this is grace.

And now that I’ve spent some time feeling bad and guilty and beating myself up, it’s time to talk about grace, grace, God’s grace.

When I was pregnant with Anna, this song would come on the radio, A LOT. At 2:42 you’ll hear “let me introduce you to grace, grace, God’s grace” and it sounds like angels singing. Every time I heard this frame I would burst into tears uncontrollably… There was just something so compelling about it…

Anna didn’t have a name until she was about 3 hours old. We had discussed naming her Anna if she was born on the 24th because that is also her great grandfather’s birthday, and his mother’s name is Anna. As fate would have it, she was indeed born on grandpa’s birthday. We already had the middle name Grace picked out.

My mom asked when she was about 6 hours old what “Anna” means… Go ahead and Google it. I’ll wait.

So, here she is, Grace Grace- our double portion of grace. How cool is that.

I often wake up around 3am full of emotion – mostly love, especially these days. Sometimes I wake up crying, grieving, full of love so deep that I could drown in it. I so desperately want to be held in these moments. I’ve felt so alone throughout my 39 years…even with the company of the 4 warm bodies that adorn my bed from time to time.

Because the truth is that there’s nothing that comforts better than God’s embrace. I’m sure He’s held me more times than I’m aware of.

Our first night together, I fell asleep breastfeeding my brand new almost 9 pound bundle of girly goodness and woke up, about 3am to this song, her song, playing in my head. Anna looked up at me as I heard the lyrics, and angels sang, ‘Let me introduce you to Grace, Grace, God’s Grace.’

I flashbacked to every moment I heard that song while I was pregnant with her. Every moment I had to pull over in the car because I was overwhelmed by God’s love and embrace. Every time I fell to my knees because it was like angels were singing inside of my womb.

And then, there she was, Anna Grace- the girl who would have only been named Anna if she was born on that day… TEN LONG DAYS after her due date. It was meant to be. ❤️

Three short years before this I got caught up in one of the most difficult, life changing moments of my existence. I felt incredibly guilty for my choices, for such a long time. I beat myself up more than necessary, especially as I see it all so much more clearly now.

For yearsss I’ve been so unkind to myself because of guilt. I’ve denied myself because of this ongoing guilt. I’ve made myself small, accepted mistreatment, and completely denied my needs because of this guilt. Go ahead and tell me that I’m already forgiven…. Ya, I know. But y’all will go ahead and tell me that I’m a sinner and should feel guilty the second I wanna talk about it. The second I find a thread of good in the tangled up mess.

Side note: Evangelicals are so quick to destroy each other. That’s why I’m done. I’m an exvangelical.

I’m still a believer though, in fact, I think my spirituality is stronger and more faceted than it’s ever been. I feel more and more spiritually rooted everyday. I’ve flailed as recent as Friday last week but as I finish untangling this mess I’m beginning to really see how beautiful all the different threads and colors are. I’m beginning to see how all my flailing and chaos was a result of being all tangled up. Of trying to be an efficient spool of thread while actually being a tangled up mess inside. And I’m over here like I’m fine. Everything’s fine.

After all, that’s how we’re supposed to be when we’re walking with Christ, right? Some would say it’s normal to be a hot mess. Honestly though, I kinda hoped life would be more than that. That I might actually be fulfilled, whole, happy. That the fruit would be multiplied without having to kill myself to make it happen. I think I’ve been doing it wrong. And no one even noticed.

But how were they supposed to? I didn’t even notice.

I know God will redeem all of this. I know it simply because he is good. He is a good good father. And his grace is sufficient. It’s sufficient in all of my humanity. I am perfect and holy.

In my walking with God, I may be called to depths you’ve never explored. I may do things you never thought I would do. You may doubt and question everything.

Here’s the simple truth. I don’t care what you think. I care what God thinks. I’m going to continue to pursue the Divine with all my heart and soul and trust that the universe has my best interest at heart and that they are leading me towards love. Anna is a literal gift of grace. God saw me hating myself and beating myself up for so long. And all He ever sang over me was grace. I couldn’t hear it past all the noise so He had to put it in me. Grace. Just grace. It wasn’t an affair. It wasn’t sin. It wasn’t wrong, bad, evil, deserving of eternal or even earthly punishment. God sees it for what it was/is and His grace prevails. I will not live in shame or condemnation anymore. If you don’t get it, that’s a you problem, not a me problem.

His grace covers me, His grace is in my veins, it’s in and behind every tear, every word, every misstep. His grace is sufficient. I am whole. I am peace. I am free. I am fire.

This freedom is what sets my soul on fire. This love is what gives me the ability to bask in grace, grace, God’s grace.

Fire without grace is a hot flailing mess.

Grace without fire is…well… codependency. And boring lol.

Honest. Kind. Shine.