Honest

The mold that kept returning.

To those new to my blog, or to those who don’t know why I blog. 

I blog (not all the things) but a lot of them to remind you, that the things you feel inside or hear or want to act on–are probably not true. The things that feel the most ugly or hopeless or cause you to want to head for the hills, most likely aren’t your truth. They are distracting you from it like a con-artist duo who just want your wallet.

I’ve felt more ugly in my life of late–most that I haven’t shared on this platform. 

But today, today I want you to know you aren’t alone, that whatever you’ve been feeling or struggling with doesn’t make you less than, that if that thing has come back on a few occasions and tried to get you to be silent because you just must be crazy and no one wants to listen anymore, you are still you–growing and changing and figuring it out.

This is what has been my ugly lately and today I’m choosing not to let it beat me up.


I’ve realized that as much as I’ve tried over the past few years to continually work on who I am as a human there are spots I’ve missed along the way. 

It reminds me of our master bathroom in A3. Our walls kept getting covered in mold and every time they’d clean it, it would just come back. They missed tiny parts of it, so it would grow back or find a way to show up again. I think it didn’t even start in the bathroom. It was the wall outside of the bathroom. And then when that was cleaned up the ceiling up the shower. Then somehow the opposite wall. And it turned out the shower pan of our upstairs neighbor was cracked.

We fought with that mold for what felt like too long without knowing where it was coming from.

I’ve fought with insecurities and disbelief in myself and inability to believe I am loved or wanted for what feels like too long, 

It doesn’t make sense in my brain not to believe those things. I choose to believe them, but don’t naturally do so. And sometimes in life it’s like they all reach up to connect to this one thing that keeps returning to me.

I think, I believe, there is this tiny spot within me that pops up when everything aligns and it causes me to want to run.

This piece inside of me is small, like the first ant you see in your kitchen before you wake up to a kitchen sink full of them.

It comes with a fierceness and it clouds every other part inside of me that has felt true and real.

There are a couple situations that have come up in my life over the last five days that have stirred A LOT of those feelings up. 

I know, that in these situations, there are reasons I want to make choices and decisions that are based on that desire to run. To run from people, emotions, being known. There are pieces of the situations that build to me just want to throw up my hands and say “all done”.

I don’t think I’ve physically ran away from things a lot. But emotionally, spiritually I have closed off and shut down and checked out. I know when I’m doing it and how. I even know how to be “present” without my heart showing up to get stepped on.

I’ve realized I’m much more guarded than I ever thought.

And now, I’ve sat here for ten minutes trying to tie this up for you. Trying to find a way to give you hope. 

But I’m a bit in the middle. I’ve tried to become a human who writes from the middle so that I can truly celebrate the end. Replicating emotions in an afterthought never really works for me.

I think though, what I CAN do is paraphrase something my pastor said this morning that hit me between the eyes and gave me hope. He talked about how we are always changing. We don’t reach a point where who we are marks all the boxes of our identity and we can stare at this to-do list that says who we are and be victorious that we did all the things.

We just keep becoming.

And today, when I still feel words and thoughts and phrases tumbling in my head I have hope that it’s a good thing. That I keep choosing to delve into the ugly to find the beautiful. The bitter to find the sweet.

I can’t tell you right here and now that I feel enough to belong. That I feel peace.

But I have and I will again.

And so, my friend, will you.

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