You are not your own. You were born from someone else, and we have no say who that is. I am processing a lifetime of lies and deceit. Not done maliciously, of course. Is there such a thing? Can lies and trust co-exist? Ponder that for just a sec. Such a slippery slope to navigate.
My book will tell all the sorted details that took place during a lifetime of discovery. My journey from 4 year old china doll to 49 year old woman with a hole in her heart. This blog tells only a fraction of that crazy and miraculous story. I am over a forth done writing my Memoir. This experience is the largest learning curve I have ever encountered( if you know me I’m technology challenged!) The real fact is, I need people.
Currently I’m working in my new writing space my husband set up for me while I was out of town last week. He posted all my notes I‘ve written carefully on the walls. I wrote all these notes to myself for encouragement, reminders of pain, words of truth and comfort. Most all of them are positive, since I try to stay in a positive, peaceful place. A green index card written a few weeks ago grabbed my attention. It reads...
Why did they let me believe I was no blood kin to them?
Growing up my family never led me to believe that I was blood related in any way. Which kept me feeling different and isolated since I didn’t look like anyone. I felt like I was on an island all alone.
We have the same Grandma!
This epiphany hit me the other day when my niece/cousin Heather and I were hanging out by my pool. Heather and I grew up as Aunt and niece. I was 10 years old when she was born and I loved and nurtured her all her life and still do. But this realization set off a trigger for me. I’d never considered this before. We have the same freaking Grandma, which was the only Mother I EVER knew. She was just a triggered as me. When you mess with someones identity you are playing a complicated mind game with the life of someone you were originally trying to protect.
Can trust and lies live together?
When the adults you live with and you have to trust because there is nobody else, tell you a made up fairytale about who you are, what are you suppose to do, as a kid? I find folks try to make this a gray area. That question keeps me processing my story constantly. If you have any opinions on this inbox me.
As kids we have no power. We have to believe what adults tell us.
We form our identity by what we are told and the environment we are raised. I was told many untruths about my core identity. Every detail about who I am was morphed into something that never existed. I found who I was by being in tune with all the clues and details the Lord put in front of me.
The theme of my first book is about Identity.
No surprise there I’m sure. I never felt complete without my Dad. Finding him filled a longing the size of the Grand Canyon. I recognized that desire, poured my heart out in prayer about it, laid it down and watched the God of the Universe work out every detail in His time. On Valentine’s Day no doubt. What a way to show off!
For me, without knowing who I was completely, all other attributes were not complete either. I never (and I say NEVER) thought I would be a writer. To type that seems surreal. Like I‘m talking about someone else. I’m not. I am here typing away, during a pandemic, that gave me the courage and time to consider the thought that I‘m a writer. Sounds like music to my ears.
So I must “Go my own way.” Continue to write about the miracle God gave me and know I have nothing to say unless He leads my “Own way.”
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