First, let me say I LOVE Jesus. Throughout the past 4 years and all that’s happened, I never turned my back on Christ. His Church on the other hand has driven me to the brink of insanity and the very end of my rope. The SBC has deemed women as less than and apparently doesn’t see value in women, other than birthing babies and keeping house. I will say my husband is not one who has fallen into this horrible trap and mentality. Wish the rest of the convention would follow suit, but that’s apparently wishful thinking at this point in the game.

I had no clue that when the mess hit the fan at SWBTS in 2018 that it would be the start of my deconstruction. I remember sitting my car on a Wednesday morning, staring at the church and not wanting to walk in. I wasn’t angry with anyone in our church, or on our staff, but I was angry. I was texting my favorite pastor’s wife, attempting to find the courage to walk in the doors of the church. When I was finally able to walk in, I went straight to my office and took my SWBTS diploma off the wall. It was truly the first time I was ever embarrassed to be SBC. A little over a year later I was laid off as a part of budget cuts. We continued to attend that church, but people around me kept talking about my lay off. Even though I loved being on praise team, there a came a point where I was having full blown panic attacks in the parking lot and fighting them off while in church. We eventually changed churches. To be honest, I was against going to another SBC church. We ended up in one anyway.

In 2020 the pandemic hit and no one was going to church. Other than choir, I really didn’t miss it. I will admit watching Christmas and Easter at home was bizarre. There was not much drama and we were all caught up in survival and staying healthy. 2021 brought about the #sbctoo movement and all the things broke loose. As more abuse came to light, convention took a nose dive. I also realized I don’t agree with a great deal of what I’ve been taught growing up.

My early childhood was spent in the Episcopal Church. Sadly, I was brat and didn’t realize and appreciate the beauty of that church. We were invited to an SBC church that was much larger than our smaller Episcopalian Church. The SBC church was big and beautiful. It offered so many programs. Honestly, being a military brat and not a native of my hometown, being SBC was much more appealing. It seemed the majority of the kids I knew were either SBC or Methodist. Joining the SBC church didn’t make me feel like quite as much as an outcast. It wasn’t all bad. I formed relationships with many wonderful people, as well as had some pretty incredible opportunities. It led me to a college where I made lifelong friends and honestly, eventually led me to my husband. These are things I will never regret, or wish I could change.

2022 was the first time I wish I could have attended the SBC Annual Convention out in Anaheim, CA. I was so angry at all that had happened and wanted to be a small part of a catalyst of change. I had a small glimmer of hope that the Guidepost Report was going to be a part of the much needed change. It turned out, that was nothing more than a smoke screen. On top of the long list of pastors who had been identified as perps, Hunt and Chandler were called out. Then much to the disgust of myself and so many others, these “men” were “restored” with zero call for actual repentance or change. Their actions technically led them to be biblically disqualified as pastors, but their friends determined otherwise. This year has been proof the SBC will continue to support the “Good Ole Boy” system. Women and sexual assault victims/ survivors will never mean anything to these so called pastors. We will always be seen as less than and viewed as the outcasts in our churches. I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t and won’t support what so obviously goes against scripture.

All of this brings me to the title of my post. While I typically love the Christmas season at church, I stepped foot in our church for the first time this morning in almost 2 months. It appears only 2 people have even noticed my absence. It’s hard to accept when you’ve gone to being involved to absent and no one seems to notice and/ or care. I struggle hard with church. It’s not that I don’t want to be in church, I just don’t want to be in our church. With my kids’ schedule and where my heart is, I stepped down from choir back in September. While I have missed being an active part of a church body, this morning was wicked hard. I put on my “happy camper face” and played the part I was expected to play. I have never really fit in, in our church and am not sure I ever really will. My heart just isn’t in it. I don’t think Jesus ever wanted, or intended for church to be this hard for His people.

Tonight, I had the opportunity to attend “Lessons and Carols” at a local Episcopal Church. It’s a church I’ve wanted to check out for a while. The church was simply decorated. Y’all, the service was so simple and yet, so extremely beautiful all at the same time. It was literally the reading of The Scriptures and the singing of hymns. I will add the guitar solo almost moved me to tears. I’ve been so used to pomp and circumstance and all the frills, I had honestly forgotten how precious and beautiful the liturgy of the Episcopal Church is. I have realized it doesn’t take flashy programs and services to praise and worship the Lord. It doesn’t take a mega church “super star” pastor to ring in the Holy Advent season. I’ve come to realize Jesus was born in a lowly, manger. He didn’t come with all one would expect of a King. There were no flashy services, only the darkness illuminated by the Bethlehem Star. Why should we expect to ring in the Advent season with pizazz, when our own Savior didn’t?

Even though my soul feels like a homeless wanderer without a home, I know Jesus will always be my north star. I desire to be in a church where I can worship wholeheartedly with my husband and kids. At this point, I have no clue as to what that looks like, or where it will be, but my faith remains steadfast in my Savior. In spite of what others may think of me, I know the Lord loves me. I can only pray at some point the Lord will allow me and my family to land in a church where He will be our sole focus and we can worship as a family. The only thing I can do in this moment is to pray for peace in the searching and the waiting.

Disclosure: I adore all things musical theater, ballet, monogrammed and Vera Bradley. Beyond those things, there is nothing girly about me.

If you have followed me on social media at all this summer, you know my faith is a struggle. I have more questions than answers. While there are some core theological ideologies I align with, I struggle many of the core beliefs of the SBC. I have been willing to acknowledge I am probably wrong in many things I’ve held true for so many years. This is causing waves, but I won’t pretend to be the “perfect little church girl” anymore.

The more I get into my struggle and walk through the hard questions, it boils down to this. I DON”T FIT! I am NOT who the SBC expects me to be as a woman, wife and mother. I DON’T fit the mold. If I am honest, I am a people pleaser and growing up, I desperately wanted to fit in and be accepted. Because I am not girly and don’t enjoy the girly things, I am not what is expected. I have “failed” as woman in our convention. This is only one aspect of my deconstruction piece. There are other pieces and they will be discussed in later blog posts.

Truth: I LOVE all things outdoors. I love camping, hiking, kayaking. I prefer sitting my Adirondack Chair, by my fire pit, with my dogs, a rum and Diet Coke, with a book in my hand, over shopping and getting my nails done. Because I love my kiddos, I am a cheer coach with our local football/ cheer league. Honestly, I would rather be the OC for the boys, than the cheer coach. I LOVE watching football. I am a die hard BAMA fan. RTR!!!! I yell at Coach Saban and the players on Saturdays and then at the Titan’s players on Sundays. I am a fantastic “Arm Chair Coach.” I joke one of the reasons my husband married me is my love of football. Not only do I love watching the game, I actually understand the game and what is happening on the field.

Yes, as a little girl I dreamed about getting married, having kids and owning a house. My husband and I celebrated 17 years of marriage this summer. We have 3 kids, 2 dogs, a mortgage and a minivan. To the average person, this is a great life, and it is. To those in the Conservative Evangelical Churches/ SBC, this is good, but I’m not who I need to be.

I worked full time until after my youngest was born, then I was a stay at home (SAHM) for a few years. Now, I am back working full time. While I love my hubby and kiddos, I didn’t love being a SAHM. I wasn’t cut out for it. I have a better relationship with my hubby and kiddos working full time, than I did when I was at home.

When you walk into my house, you know we actually live there. My house will not pass a white glove test. Even though we’ve moved beyond the toddler/ preschool toys, another set of stuff has taken over. We have 2 tweens and a teen. You will find electronic chords, tablets, Pokémon cards, backpacks, and dog toys for days. Our dining room table needs to be unearthed several times a month. It’s like school work, mail and other things just seem to grow up from under the table. Most meals are eaten at the kitchen peninsula. I will say my hubby is fantastic and doesn’t shy away from cleaning house. He is typically the one who cleans the kitchen and scrubs the toilets, among many other things. There are things he does that others would look at and say “that’s women’s work.” Right now, there is a pile of laundry on the bench at the end our bed. Thanks to the new puppy, our middle child is sleeping on a pallet on the floor to keep the new pup from crying all night. Our house is clean, not perfect, but what I am coming to realize is considered typical. In the CEC, women are taught to keep a home that looks like something from a “Good Housekeeping” magazine. If this is the house you are expecting, please don’t come over. If you want a comfortable and lived in home, then come on over. Well, only if invited, because let’s be honest, I’m an introvert and can only handle people for so long. I digress, let’s get back to the topic at hand.

My husband and I both cook. He is much better than I am. I don’t come home from work every night and cook my family a 3 course meal. There are nights when throwing frozen chicken patties in the microwave, putting them on buns and serving them with a side of chips is typical. When there are 3 kids, running in 3 different directions, meals have to be something that can be thrown together quickly. This coming weekend the weather is supposed to be beautiful and I’m looking forward to grilling brats and burgers. Yes, “I” am the one who will be grilling. I know, that “should” be the man’s domain. Guess what? Girls CAN grill too!!!

Clothes, hair and makeup is what really sets me apart from what’s expected of CEC women. I can count one hand the number of times I wear makeup every year. I am staring down the barrel of 45 and have only had my hair professionally colored twice. You read that right; twice. I “might” get my hair trimmed 2-3 times a year. I went from February of 2020 to March of 2022 without a haircut. Due to Covid, I wasn’t even coloring my hair at home. I lived in messy buns. When I finally made it to get a haircut at the beginning of this year, I had the lady cut it short, so I could wash it and go. I’m finally wearing my hair in it’s natural curls. My flat iron is currently collecting dust.

For clothes, I’m happier in my yoga capris, t-shirts and my Chacos. At work, I live in leggings and tunic tops. Even though I’m in the choir, I will either wear something like I wear to work, or wear jeans and a cotton top. I care more about comfort than fashion. I also wear the same jewelry every single day. I do have more pieces in my jewelry box, but rarely wear any of it. I will say I do see the value/ need to dress up when the occasion calls for it. That being said to keep up with all of that on a day to day basis seems exhausting to me.

Another thing is traditional women’s ministry. Once I was out of college and invited to join those events, I pretty well stopped going immediately. It was all fluff. I was always jealous when the guys went to ball games, hiking and canoeing. They really dug into the Bible on a deeper level. The women’s events were/ are about arts and crafts, making our homes look “perfect” The only reason I attended the last women’s ministry event was because a close friend and I were leading a breakout session on a topic that is near and dear to my heart. I also see a disconnect between the older generation and the younger generation, and I think some of my frustrations play into this.

I am OVER hearing lessons about Ruth, Mary, Martha, the woman at the well, as well as Proverbs 31, along with the words of Paul being used to shame us into quiet submission. We should be treated as people who have an education and are capable of teaching and leading. I will own I’m a Hebrew dropout. That being said, I love hearing a preacher state “In the Greek or Hebrew, _____ word means _____.” It puts things into context. Instead of chicken broth in women’s events, I’d love a good ribeye when discussing the Bible. Women are intelligent and capable of a deep dive into the scriptures. We are capable of talking about more than just a few women in the Bible. It would be nice to not have passages watered down. My views on women in the pulpit might be another blog post down the road. Yes, I am in full support.

All of this to say my line of thinking, who I am as a person and what I hold to be true about women don’t fit into the mold most CEC expect of women. I want to be accepted for who I am and not not what others think I should be. I want to know myself and other women like me have value in the church.

To those reading this and identifying with what is written here, I SEE you!!! I am standing WITH you.

This morning, a Facebook post struck a nerve and honestly made me angry. I will admit, I don’t think the person had any ill intent in the post. I will also admit, given my current struggle with faith and my past, the post hit me in a way it may not have in the past. It was also a reminder of the amount of damage and lack of compassion/ thought the current Conservative Evangelical Church (CEC) has when preaching, teaching and posting.

It seems to me the CEC is more intent on using Scripture as behavior modification, than heart transformation. You can change behavior all you want, but unless there is a change in the heart, you have really accomplished nothing. The CEC seems more intent on how you look and behave, than anything else. I just can’t imagine Christ would give this mentality an “Atta Boy.” Pretty sure the Lord would throw out the verse “Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD sees the heart,” I Sam 16:7. Even the Pharisees “acted” correctly, but their hearts were hard. I’d rather be the woman who gave her last 2 Mites to the Lord (Luke 21: 1-4), than be thought of as a Pharisee.

When one says “Nope, I don’t agree,” the decision to write that person off, is deemed appropriate. I had a lady I respected and look up to, unfriend me and stop talking to me because I dared to agree with a post by Beth Moore. I was told “My mental health can’t take what you shared, so I am unfriending you.” When I told this person it hurt me they chose to write me off, instead of attempting to see where I was coming from, they became angry. This person saw zero issues in dismissing me because I chose not to agree with what they believed. I am still upset with this person. I loathe this seems to be acceptable in the church. We seem to have zero margin for disagreement or different views. I am not even talking about the major theological issues, but man made rules.

When I look at who Christ spent His time with and the things He deemed important, I struggle to imagine He would be pleased with CEC as it stands today. Yes, the CEC is great about taking care of the poor and the orphans. On the whole they are good at carrying out The Great Commission, overseas. Stateside, the CEC will mostly reach out to the people who walk in their doors. Beyond that, they want you to be “careful” about the people you choose to hang out with. There is underlying encouragement to stay in the “Holy Huddle.” And, as long and you look like you “Should” and hang out with the “Right” people, you are golden.

If I only hung out with the “right” people, I would have missed out on some pretty amazing friendships. I am an introvert, so my inner circle is small and tight. That being said, outside of that my friends are unique and diverse. I have a large number of friends who would be deemed as “undesirables.” Honestly, my life is more rich because of them. I learn from people who don’t think and look like me. Honestly, I have friends who are non-believers who have shown me more love, support, encouragement and compassion, than those who who profess to be believers. There are those inside the church, I had sadly expected to walk alongside me in this season of life, and they are the very ones who have chosen to ignore me. I do have a couple of ladies who have been there in the thick of it with me, but a couple others I hoped would be there, but haven’t.

I grew up in a CEC. I went to college and earned my master’s degree from from CEC institutions. I guess to be in the place I am now, seems weird. That being said I have walked too much and experienced too much to accept the CEC status quo. The more I read from women like Beth Moore, Dr. Beth Allison Barr, Jen Hatmaker, and the late Rachel Held Evans, plus being the mom of a tween girl, I just can’t seem move forward with same ole, same ole. It doesn’t work for me anymore. I can’t look and act how I am expected. I can’t limit my friend group to only those deemed acceptable. It seems like the CEC is more about limiting than moving people, especially women forward.

For the the LOVE, can we PLEASE STOP using Proverbs 31 as a way to control women. Can we please STOP using it to shame women and girls into acting a certain way? Y’all this passage is about WISDOM!!! It is used in the feminine voice. It is NOT an actual woman. For years I read a Proverb a day. This meant I read Proverbs 31 several times a year. It didn’t always bug me the way it does now. Proverbs 31 is now my least favorite passage of Scripture. Yes, I said it. It’s no longer a passage that steps on my toes. It is one that makes me angry. The anger now comes from how that passage is thrown in the face of women to control them. Again, not sure Christ would approve of the use of this passage.

While I do believe the pulpit is place to be protected, it is not women it needs to be protected from. It is not a place we don’t belong. I don’t feel called to preach or teach, so I know I don’t belong in the pulpit. There are some amazingly gifted women whom the Lord has called. It is past time the CEC allows those women to step up and encourage those gifts. I am sick of the “Good Ole Boy” system that exists within the CEC. I am sick of the patriarchal mentality in the CEC. It seems we are limiting, rather than expanding our reach because there is a “fear” of women who have been gifted and called.

Being the mother of tween girl, who will be an official teen this Spring, I want to be careful and intentional about what I teach her. She is my artsy child and has a great love of music, art and writing. I don’t yet know how the Lord will grow her, or lead her down the road. That being said, I refuse to teach her that she is limited because she is female. To tell her she can only go so far because she is female, is to fail as a parent. I have prayed for her spouse since before she was born. However, should the Lord call her to be single and serve Him in other ways, does not mean I have failed as a mother, or that she has failed either. My job is to support and encourage her. My job is to allow her to be whoever the Lord has called her to be.

I can see where this post seems to be all over the place, but really it isn’t. I am so over the CEC and its limiting mentality. I am over the judgmental mentalities. I am over being told a woman can only do so much because we are female. I am over the church being known more for what it’s against, than what’s its for. I am over being told who I should and shouldn’t hang out with. I want Jesus to be pleased with me. I want Him to be pleased with who I am as a wife, mother and friend. I want to be known for who I love and what I am for, than what I am against.

My name is Heather. I am 44 years old. I am a survivor of rape and sexual assault. I have PTSD, GAD with OCD tendencies, Disordered Eating NOS, and take Lexapro. I also have nasty migraines and take a script when needed for these as well.

This past year has been a roller coaster of a year. There have been some extremely high highs and wicked, valley lows. I won’t say I wanted to see this year end, like I have the past two. I have been challenged in ways I never expected. Difficult boundaries were set. When I say difficult, I mean many tears shed, prayed and sought out godly counsel before I made any decisions. There is nothing easy about this post. It’s long and filled with hard things. You will want to settle into a quiet place and might even want a glass of wine to get through the whole thing. My goal is not to be petty or vindictive, but for you to see me as I am and not who you think I “should” be.

I’m a part of an amazing group of badass ladies, called #the4500. I would need an entire separate post to talk about all I’ve seen the Lord do in and through these ladies. We are literally a group of launch team rejects, who were all picked to a part of another launch team and the Lord allowed us to bond online. I’ve had the privilege of meeting some of these magnificent ladies in real life. We have been on online community for five years now. When they pray, things happen. Lives are changed.

All of that to say, every year we are challenged to pick a “Word of the Year.” My word for 2021 was “Forward.” I had NO clue as to what that was going to mean. I had no idea the Lord was going to open the door for an incredible full time job. I had no clue it was going to mean setting boundaries like I’ve never had to before. Certain friendships were fortified. I had a group of friends surround me like I never imaged. They have hugged me as the tears fell. They prayed over me and with me. They cheered me on and encouraged me when I started my new job. These same friends surrounded me when other relationships came to a screeching halt. It hasn’t always been easy, but they have been by me through the good, the bad and the ugly of this year. I don’t even want to think about where I’d be without them.

My “Word of the Year” for 2022 is “Truth.” Honestly, this word has been on my heart for months. When the “Word of the Year” conversation in #the4500 came up, I didn’t even have to hesitate or pause before I responded. I am a people pleaser in recovery. I never in a million years would have ever thought I would identify as a people pleaser. Through five years of intense therapy, it’s a reality. I can’t stand for people to be upset with me. It terrifies me. I have spent my life hiding the reality of my past. I have spent most of my life pretending my childhood was wonderful. I “honored” a certain person by keeping things secret, so as not to bring “shame” to them or anyone else around us.

I am DONE hiding. I am DONE pretending. I AM a sexual assault SURVIVOR. To let you in on the depth of my “acting” skills, I was a raped as a 5th grader and then had another perp sexually assault me through all of 6th grade. It was during this time, my temperament changed. I had a quick temper. My hygiene changed. My weight greatly increased. I did have one teacher notice the changes, but she NEVER asked a single question. I was “reminded” about the importance of good hygiene, diet and exercise. I am guessing that others noticed the changes, but chose to stay silent. I don’t know if I would have opened up if asked, but it would have been nice to have at least one adult in my life to keep asking questions and to see through the anger and the weight changes.

The brain is an incredible thing. It has the ability to “file” things away and “protect” you. While the overeating and the anger issues continued, the memories of the assaults disappeared. Fast forward to my junior year of college. Several friends were volleyball players. I was a Human Performance minor, and often called lines at tournaments held on our college campus. It was during a volleyball tournament when the second perp walked into our college gym, as a coach for one of the visiting teams. He saw me and hugged me like I was a long lost friend. I felt the urge to punch him and throw up all at the same time. Pretty sure I didn’t call lines correctly that night. Once the night was over, I went back to my room and ate until I literally got sick to my stomach. At that point, I “liked” the sensation of eating to the point of being sick and then “losing” it. Honestly, when he hugged me, ALL the memories came flooding back. Binging and purging became a constant part of my life for the next two years.

Once I graduated from college, the Lord called me northwest to Wyoming to serve as a Semester Missionary through the North American Mission Board. When I arrived, my new housemates were all in TN for a conference. I was completely alone in the apartment. On one of my first nights there I went to the grocery store. Looking at what was in my buggy, one would have thought I was having a get together with friends. The harsh reality was I set myself up for one my largest binge and purges sessions I have ever had. I sat on the floor, with my back against the kitchen wall, with food all around me. I ate until I was sick. I returned to my spot and did it one more time. Eventually, I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep. The next morning, I threw everything in a garbage bag and placed it in the dumpster. No one was any wiser as to what I’d done.

I was able to get away with a few more bring and purge sessions before Christmas of 2000. All of the people I was serving with, across the state had a Christmas Party. I ate until I was beyond full. The urge to purge was strong, but I didn’t want anyone to hear me get “sick.” Later on that night, when I thought everyone was asleep, I went to the bathroom to release all the food. The next morning, there was a knock on my bedroom door. One of the other girls came in and sat on my bed. She was the first person to ever ask me point blank what I had done. She had been there and earned the Bulimia t-shirt. I was embarrassed and scared. I knew if she told one of the pastors over us, I would be sent home. I had zero desire to be sent home in disgrace. At this time, I was also working part time for the local YMCA. She understood me better than I realized and made me promise I would confide in the fitness director, who was also one of my bosses. I went from binging and purging to restricting and working out for several hours a day. My boss at the Y made me keep a journal of what I was eating. She made me track my workouts. I started working out with her. Thanks to 500 calories a day, I dropped to the smallest I had ever been. From then until now, my weight has continued to fluctuate. About the time I think I have a handle on my weight and health, something happens and I tailspin in a downward spiral.

Fast forward several years, two engagements, seminary/ grad school, marriage, several miscarriages and three kids later to 2014. My husband and I were in the process of buying our first home. My brain had once again put the assaults back into their “files” and I was living life. Food and weight were still very much an issue. That summer, the memories and flash backs came back with a vengeance. My husband and our realtor, a long time friend, both thought my emotional outbursts were due to the stress of the homebuying process. What they didn’t know is that I wasn’t really sleeping at night. Every time I fell asleep, it was like I was being assaulted all over again. I could almost physically feel the assaults. I was far too embarrassed to tell them what was really going on.

This season was one of the darkest I would ever walk. To be completely truthful and transparent, I wanted to die. I prayed the Lord would call me home and/or for the courage to end it all. There is a picture of my daughter that sits on my dashboard, taken when she was in day school. Every time I thought I was ready to follow through, I would see that picture of my daughter. When I looked at her picture, I knew I didn’t want to punish her, the boys, or my husband. The guilt was wicked. I was also way too embarrassed to let anyone in on what I was feeling. I also feared the Lord would send me to Hell, if I chose to end my life before He was ready to call me home. It took almost 3 years of therapy before I was able to state out loud, I wanted to die.

It would take another 2 years before I finally spoke up. It seemed my brain refused to “file” the assaults away again. A long time friend and someone I greatly respected shared his story on Facebook. I loved and hated him for it. His story let me know I really wasn’t alone. Why couldn’t I be that brave? Why couldn’t I speak up? At the end of February of that year, I finally told my two closest and dearest friends. What I expected was to be met with shame, or to be told I wasn’t believed. I expected to be asked ” Why didn’t you speak up sooner?” Instead, I was met with love, support and encouragement. The one friend “strongly” encouraged me to find a therapist. If you know her, you know the “suggestion” was more of a command. It was all in love, but she was not afraid to speak truth in love to tell me what I needed to hear and not what I wanted to hear. Therein was the problem for me. I hold a Master of Arts in Marriage and Family Counseling. I “know” healthy coping skills. I “know” how to help others through their issues. I “shouldn’t” need anyone to deal with my past. I “should” be able to cope with all the things and move on. Truth, I had no idea how to move forward. I hated that she was right, because I honestly wanted her to be wrong. She was far from wrong. Even though it was hard to hear, deep down, I knew she was right.

I made the decision to wait to another couple of weeks to tell my husband. I was afraid he would see me as less than. I was afraid he would see me as dirty, used and not worthy to be his wife. Even though I know him to be a great man of honor and dignity, I was afraid he would feel he married me under false pretenses and leave me. Instead, he met me with the same response as my two friends. I waited until the craziness of the Easter season was over before I even had the courage to look online for a therapist and finally make a phone call. The counseling center I felt the most comfortable with had a waiting list. Even though I made my first call towards the end of April, had an intake at the end of May, it was the beginning of July 2016 before I started my counseling journey. My original therapist moved over to private practice less than a year in. Due to insurance issues, I couldn’t follow her. She transferred me over to one of the most experienced therapists in the center. She knew the type of therapist I needed. I was hesitant, but I made the switch.

Honestly, it took a little over two years before I could finally even attempt to go below the surface with the new therapist. I said all the “right” things, but my therapist knew I was blowing smoke, and yes, she called me on it more times than I can count. She showed and has continued to show a great deal of patience over the past several years. She has allowed me to say ALL the things. I find I can speak freely in her office and not have to filter anything. When I say no filter, that means certain words I don’t say in regular conversation come out frequently. You see, in therapy, words fly and they are often needed in order to move forward. She is better at reading me and what I’m not saying than I’d like. She has known when to push and when to let me sit in silence. She has given great “homework” and “homework” I’d rather not do. It’s only been in the past year that I have been able to face certain things with certain people in my life.

She was able to walk me through the things I thought was going to cost me my marriage and even a great relationship with my kids. There were boundaries I was terrified to set because of guilt. I also knew the cost of not setting those boundaries. I honestly felt and still to a certain extent still feel like I can’t win. To work towards a healthy marriage and relationship with my kids, unfortunately meant stepping away from another relationship in my life. I pray it’s not a permanent stepping away, but I had to for my own mental health and other relationships my in life. My peace and my future were on the line. I had to decide what and who I wanted more. I will choose my husband and children every day of the week. They are truly God given gifts and I won’t blow it with them.

I had a confrontation with someone who “should” have been there to protect me. This person, once they knew the truth “should” have comforted me. Instead, this person sided with my rapist. They spoke his name in comparison to and over my children. The last time I spoke to this person and reminded them of what I walked, they shushed me and they went on the defensive. Later, this person accused me of being “controlling” and was angry I refused to have a conversation on their terms. I laid out a strict set of boundaries and was met with anger and defiance. My heart aches and it’s not at all what I wanted. I “know” the Lord calls for peace and reconciliation. I have no idea as to whether or not that will happen this side of eternity, but I do pray it does.

As I have walked the past five years, I’ll be honest, my faith has taken a massive hit. Deconstruction is a term I didn’t know existed until I was well into my healing journey. It’s a path I never expected to walk. I believe my foundation is strong, but also believe I was given subpar materials to build my “house of faith.” I have questioned and still question everything I was taught growing up. Many women who have walked this same journey have landed as agnostics, or non-believers altogether. I can say I have seen and experienced way too much to land there. I have watched the power of prayer and faith from others work. I still identify as Christian. I still believe in the virgin birth, the death, burial and resurrection of Christ. I still believe in the cross and a relationship with Christ is required for salvation. All of the other things, I just don’t know at this point.

I know I have a stronger personality. I can’t believe Christ made a mistake there. I can’t believe the way I was wired was a mistake. Reading books by women like Jen Hatmaker, Rachel Held Evans, Dr. Beth Allison Barr, and the current teachings of Beth Moore have opened my eyes to a different interpretation of Scripture. I have seen women viewed in a different light. While I hold to the basic tenants of my faith, the other seemingly manmade, overly patriarchal rules don’t really make sense to me. I no longer identify as conservative, but more as moderate. While I do hold to the absolute core of what the SBC believe, I don’t know that I completely identify as SBC at this point. It’s an ongoing process. I can’t say when or where I will land. There are those whom I know will cheer me on and support regardless and others may get a case of the vapers based on what I say and come to believe. I just know my faith needs to be truly mine and not what someone else tells me it needs to be. As one who likes to do what is “expected,” this is a difficult path to walk. I promise, it’s not one of defiance, but one of wanting a complete and genuine faith, that is mine and mine alone.

I haven’t shared all of this for attention, or for anyone to feel sorry for me. I have shared this because I am beyond exhausted from pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m tired of trying to be the person other people want me to be. I just can’t and won’t do it anymore. There are things about myself I know to be 100% true. Other parts of me I believe have only been an act. I am trying to discover who I truly am and who the Lord created ME to be. If you have made it this far, thank you. If read to the end, please don’t make any snide comments. They aren’t what I need. If you’ve made it this far, I hope only to receive support and encouragement as I move forward. I love my hubby and kiddos more than life itself. They are my top priority. If your choice is to cause drama in my life, I can’t and won’t deal with it anymore. If your choice is cheer me on in my healing and faith journey, along with cheering me on as a wife and mother, I welcome you with open arms. Again, my word for 2022 is “TRUTH.” I only need people who are truly willing to listen to the truth of my story and the truth of healing journey. If you can’t. I respect that and will allow you to quietly depart from my life. I am ready to turn a new page and write a whole new chapter. My truth will no longer be hidden to make those around me comfortable. I am Heather. In the words of a song that has carried me through this season:

I am brave, I am bruised
I am who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum
I’m not scared to be seen
I make NO apologies, this is me!
(“This is Me” from “The Greatest Showman”).

If you are a victim/ survivor of rape/ incest/ sexual assault, please know there is help. Please call R.A.I.N at 1-800-656-4673 for assistance. You are NOT alone!!! I am here for you. I was encouraged to speak up because of a long time friend and mentor. I hope you will also find your voice and speak up as well. We are in this together. We can’t walk a healing journey alone. Please reach out and speak up. You are braver than you think! Share your story and speak your TRUTH!!! Let’s face 2022 head on!