Six years ago this week

This is the time of year where Facebook Memories reminds me daily of how far I've come.
Six years and a couple days ago I posted about just being thankful to have any roof over my head and to wake up someplace where I wasn't afraid of what anyone in the place I was living was going to do that day.

Of course, the new place the kids and I were living was a campground and I had no idea what was in store in the coming months. It was just day one.

Things got way worse before they got any better.
At one point I lost all hope that anything would change for us... And yet, here we are. 


Some days I'll see the status updates from back then and remember what really happened that day... because I was too ashamed to admit the truth to anyone. Other days I'll just wish I hadn't re-read it because that girl was a hot mess!

If I could have seen this far into the future back then, I would have laughed and told God He had the wrong girl... and I would have been right. I barely recognize that girl when I look in the mirror these days. (That's a good thing.)

I wasn't going to post this, then my 14yo randomly said to me, "Can you imagine if someone had told us about our lives now back when we moved into the camper? We would have laughed."

Laughed. Cried. Run and hid. We would have done something!

I don't know what all of my friends are struggling through right now... but know that if I could tell you now how much better your life will be when you just have a little faith... you would probably laugh at me too.

All I can say right now is just hang on... and keep your eyes open. God has a plan, but He won't force you into it. So, when God puts opportunities in front of you... take them.

And when you look behind you, don't beat yourself up over all the things that pulled you down. Grace and mercy have followed you for a reason. Look behind you and see them there, covering everything else and be thankful.

I know some of you are thinking, "Kindall, you've done what you've done because of YOU..." And you are partly right. I hear you... and I LOVE that so many people believe in me and are proud of me.

It is true that I saw opportunities and I took them. Work needed to be done and I worked my butt off. Parts of me were broken and I went and found the help that I needed to fix them.

But I didn't have the strength to do all of that myself... not until I understood what God really thought of me, that I could be secure in my belief that He ONLY wanted good for me. That He doesn't just care about eternity, but also my life while I'm here... that He wasn't just waiting for me to make a mistake so He could make an example of me. 

Some people have told me, "You're just blessed. Whatever you touch works out." Haha. Not quite. But when you look at the things that HAVE worked out and wonder why... know that God doesn't love me any more than He loves you. 

Good is coming.

Believe it and look for it.

Don't be scared. Just jump in.

Something amazing is about to happen. 

For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Ephesian 2:10

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory!

Ephesians 3:20

On Valentine's Day

I originally wrote this last Valentine's Day, but I never published it. As I was re-reading it I realized it is still something I want to share. So, here goes.

Whether I am your sister or your sister-in-Christ I want you to know that I care about you. I've made a lot of bad choices in my life. While I can't change them, I hope that, occasionally, some of my mistakes are lessons for more than just me.  

I still don't always get it right, but thankfully I have grace to get me through. God is good... all the time. 

Know that wherever you are today, I have been there before. Broken-hearted? Perfectly content being single? Dating an abuser? Happily married? I've been there. What is different now is that I used to let my relationship status on any given day define who I was.

Nearly six years ago, a long term relationship I was in ended abruptly. Devastated, I chose self-destructive ways to deal with it... although I didn't see those ways as self-destructive at the time.

The next four years were rough. Even when I chose to show hope and happiness on the outside, inside I was a self-loathing mess. I desperately wanted someone to show me that I wasn't as easily cast aside as a few key men in my life had made it seem.

I believed I only needed one man to prove it to me. Surely in all of the men in all of the world, there was one... but one after another they let me down.

By 2015, life in general had begun to turn around. God had rescued me from my own bad choices, and I credited Him with that fully... but spiritually I was fading. I honestly believed that God didn't care if I was happy.

Then, something wonderful happened. At what I thought was just going to be a regular coaching session, God spoke to me. As I talked to my coach, and he asked me why I reacted to this one way and that another, I started to see that every decision I was making was wrapped up in my self worth... and I didn't know what that was. 

I had begged God over and over through the years to show me my worth. I had read great stories where others came to understand theirs through one perfect moment or divine appointment. I didn't know why He wouldn't tell me mine... but I had formed some ideas. They were wrong.

Two years ago, God showed me how all of those I times I begged Him to show me that I was worth something, He had been trying... But I would ask Him and then look to people for my answer. I had done again and again.

That's when I asked Him to help me break that cycle. He showed me that the people I was looking to were "just people" and my thoughts about myself should have nothing to do with how they view me.

While I know you won't understand your worth until you are ready to understand... I have to share this with you. So that you know why it is so important to me that you know who you are in God's eyes... not who you are in the eyes of another person.

Whether it is Valentine's Day, Christmas, New Years Eve, or Thursday afternoon... Please remember that there is nothing in a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates that tells you your worth. No ring on your finger or marriage license means you are worth more or less than anyone else in this world. No amount of respect or lack-thereof from someone else changes who you are.

No man or woman in your bed with an arm around you can show you how strong you are or how loved you are or how amazing you were created to be.

Only One can do that... your Creator.

Here is what God sees when He thinks of you... read it out loud to yourself. Faith is voice activated. When you say it out loud, you believe it.

Self respect vs him

I've admitted to knowing that my relationship with D is unhealthy.
When I'm unavailable due to distance or emotion, he tends to try harder.
When I come around emotionally or when he gets back into town from a trip,
he is suddenly no longer interested in spending time or even talking to me.

I've been working on coming to terms with this weird push-pull.
 
While we haven't been dating over the last several months,
I wanted to believe something was there over these last weeks.
I wanted to believe all the best in him that I knew I had seen.
I wanted to believe that D and I would work, were PTSD not involved.

I hope I can truly say that this particular roller-coaster ride is over.

It is not uncommon for people in my life to tell me they will do something
but not follow through for one reason or another. Often waiting until
the very last moment, or beyond, to cancel or make an excuse for backing out.
Over the last year the lack of respect in this has become increasingly irritating.

Still, every time D did it, I made an excuse for him, PTSD. Even upset, I let it go.

He's been doing it more and more lately, then flashing a smile and asking
me to forgive him as though he had no control over the circumstances.
This afternoon he tried it again, this time cutting an entire evening of plans
down to what would amount to an hour on Friday for a quick dinner.

I told him that if I'm not important enough to make time for, then to forget it.

I truly think he thought he would call my bluff by saying, "Forget it then."
I told him "Thanks for letting me know." I'm sure he was waiting for more.
I started to tear up and then I told myself, this has nothing to do with you.
He has proven himself not worth my time and energy any longer.

As I told a friend, "That could change in 10 minutes..." but it hasn't yet.

I think that when he realizes I really am upset enough to not care anymore
he will try to get back into my good graces. That's how this game is played.
I pray I have the strength to resist. I pray God takes my feelings for him
and tosses them deep into the sea, leaving them there, on the ocean floor.

In the battle of self-respect vs a man's attention there should be a no contest.

Should be no contest.  Those are some very important words there.
Does that mean he won't try again? No. Does that mean I wont fail? No.
But to get back to that healthier person I thought I was a few months ago
I am going to have to try harder than I have been, and be more determined.

Prayer changes things. I know this. Please pray for me. With God I know I can do this.

Pray for us, for our conscience is clear and we want to live honorably in everything we do.
~Hebrews 13:18

She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future. 

~Proverbs 31:25

Pray for us, for we are sure that we have a good conscience, desiring to conduct ourselves honorably in all things - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Self-Respect#sthash.ss31L6We.dpuf

Pray for us, for we are sure that we have a good conscience, desiring to conduct ourselves honorably in all things - See more at: http://bible.knowing-jesus.com/topics/Self-Respect#sthash.ss31L6We.dpuf

She said

He raped her while she slept.
She told the story
like it was no big deal.
He was a pig,
lucky she didn't press charges
it happened
but it's in the past.


Our stories are very different
in some ways
but not all.


Still,
I didn't feel guilt
coming from her.
I didn't feel pain.
I didn't feel self-loathing
seeping through her words...
Just a matter-of-fact story.


If other people can shrug it off, why can't I?


(added later) I think maybe it's because I still hate him, regardless of the details....

Funny how many of the stories I used to write included that "rape fantasy" where she said she didn't want it, but she really did. Before I understood the reality.

In reality it's a whole different ball game.

Search and destroy or let it go?

So as I wrote through the last several posts,
it began to bother me that the stories and poems I used to write
are still out there for people to read.

It's funny how difficult it is to call it what it is...
but I know I have to take a hard line with this.
I know that if I let the lines get blurred
then things that are not okay will become "okay" again...
If not for me, then for someone else...

So once again... Porn. I'm talking about porn.

It doesn't have to be a video. There doesn't have to be a picture. No audio is necessary.
It can be 100% written words, but it is what it is...
   glorification of lust, degradation, abuse, lack of self worth, rape, disrespect, and so much more... all written in a way that suddenly makes it "acceptable" to the reader. Even those romance novels that my grandma used to keep in the back closet that ended with "true love" but were full of those other things...

     It is still porn.

As for the stuff I wrote...
There is nothing out there even remotely connected to my name.
Nobody will ever know any of it was mine
     except for one person who knew about one story...
          but seeing as he was the guy I wrote about in Trashcan,
I doubt it will ever come up again.

Still, I thought that maybe I should go and have the stories taken down. Then I could delete them and never think about them again...

Problem... In an attempt to find the stories I wanted deleted forever... I came face to face with a lot... A LOT... of stuff I work hard to avoid these days.

So I think I'm going to give up on that.
I'm going to pray nobody I know ever reads the
things I came to think were 'normal' and 'fun'...
     maybe they can be super-naturally deleted from cyberspace.

Praying for a lot of grace over these... not sure what else to do.

Thinking about how these were part of "the process" that I need to forgive...
but I don't know yet if I can...
this part of me might be too broken...
I can be sorry for things I know are wrong, and attempt to erase them... but the truth is, if I hadn't forced myself to stop reading and writing this kind of stuff... if I didn't know it isn't pleasing to God... I would still enjoy it very much... and what does that say about my character?

It can't be good.

Used To Be

This isn't just a story I wrote. It really happened. All of it. I titled it "Used to Be" because the man in this story put so much value in what he used to be... to this day he still does. Until recently our daughter would proudly tell perfect strangers, "My daddy used to be a cop." because he had said it to her and in front of her so many times. For his sake and for hers I pray that he someday does something he can be proud of so that he no longer has to tell people what he used to be.

Used To Be

“I know what I'm talkin' about. I used to be a police officer.” he says as I mop the floor of the gas station. “I'll never work with this town's department. It's too political. I'll find a cop job somewhere though.” I nod and smile genuinely, sure that he will. I don't answer audibly, but he's the kind of guy who really doesn't need an answer to continue with a story.

“I was good you know. I graduated top of my class. You know that guy who was in here earlier? Harry. He graduated like, eighth. They like him here though because he does what they tell him to. Never mind that he's a bad cop and he beats his wife.” I pause for a moment and look at him, expecting more of an explanation as to how he knows this, but I don't get one. He just continues, “Cops know how to do it and not get caught ya' know...” he stops talking for a moment to concentrate on what he is doing.

I've finished mopping the front of the store except for the path where we walk out and he's counting the money from the cash register so I move on and inventory the cigarettes. I carefully use the step-stool to reach the packs that are stored particularly high so I don't fall gracelessly in my short denim skirt and pink sweater. My heeled sandals aren't meant for cleaning a gas station so those are already kicked off and waiting for us near the door. I count each cigarette pack and case, writing totals lightly in pencil so he can re-do the page his own handwriting.

He writes a number down on his register tape and continues “Did you know the top of your head doesn't bruise?” He pauses and I realize he actually wants an answer.

“Really?” I say incredulously.

“Well, if it does nobody can see it under all the hair. Between your fingers doesn't either.”

“Oh, I didn't know that.”

“Yep. You learn a lot of things like that as a police officer.”

He finally declares himself finished and punches out on the time-clock as we head towards a late movie in the next town over. I make a joke about how I worked harder to close down the store than he did and I didn't even work there. He takes it as a compliment, “Well, I guess you just couldn't wait to get some time alone with me.” I just giggle in response.

Seven months later, I remember that conversation with chills. I lay in bed and wrap my arms around my growing belly that holds our daughter. My head aches, inside and out as I sob, remembering how he used my hair to drag me from the bed just the day before. Replaying every moment in my mind, I see myself running to get away from him, his every step in pursuit pounding in my ears. Eventually, I give up. He holds me down on the couch with his knee and screams viciousness at me. I cower and curl into the fetal position, arms and legs pulled up and wrapped around to protect the only part of me that has any innocence left.

There were no bruises to convince the judge, but there was fear, and that must have been enough. Now I grip these papers that a judge handed me this morning and wonder if they will be enough to keep him away.  What is a piece of paper to a maniac? What is a piece of paper to a man who argued with the judge, “I shouldn't have to give up my guns. I know what I'm talkin' about. I used to be a police officer.”

I know who I used to be. I am reminded daily in a million different ways. I still fight daily to tell remind myself that that girl doesn't exist anymore. But I am fighting. I'm not giving up.

I am so thankful that God doesn't care who I used to be. He doesn't look at the things I'm doing today and tell me, "You know what stupid choices you've made... you should probably not try to succeed at anything new either." He doesn't tell me I'm worthless. He doesn't tell me I'll never be anything more than I used to be.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!

2 Corinthians 5:17

Thank you Lord for using me... my stumbles, my falls, my triumphs and my stories... for Your glory. My life is yours. Help me remember that every single day.

I don't ever again want to be what I used to be.