I was asked recently, why I no longer use my real name on my blog. My answer became more of a blog post. Lol
So, here goes…
“When you stand and share your story in an empowering way, your story will heal you and your story will heal somebody else.” ~
It’s so nice to have a place to share my thoughts, life experiences and my heart. I’ve never been able to do that. I grew up in a VERY strict environment. I put on a smile for the church members and kept my mouth shut. I became overly responsible for my own choices and mistakes after seeing so many people in my life NEVER taking responsibly for their own. I blamed myself for things I shouldn’t have and I let people bully me into making some horrible mistakes.
Sometimes, us preacher’s kids can feel like God’s unlimited grace and 2nd chances are for everyone EXCEPT us. We are not allowed to make mistakes, we are supposed to be perfect. And when we do mess up, it will never be forgotten.
I finally had a very real “Come to Jesus moment” at 28 years old. I had VERY strong convictions. I became extremely sensitive to sin and I wanted nothing to do with anything that even resembled something that could be misunderstood. I wanted nothing to do with anything that would hurt my Savior. I became overly cautious. I changed the way I behaved, I changed the way I dressed and I was determined to be the best mom I could be for both of my daughters. I bought my daughters the cutest dresses and took them to church with me. I taught them right from wrong. In my parenting, I was constantly trying to keep my oldest daughter from making mistakes.
I would give her advice and one day it occurred to me that I had never shared my story… my unfiltered story. I just kept pushing my past, my experiences, my true feelings, my own thoughts and all of my heartache deep down inside. I did that for so many years while I put on a smile and took whatever people dished out. I cried alone and fell to my knees at home.
My oldest daughter is the ONE person in my life who really wanted to know who I was. She wanted to know me the person. When I expressed emotions, she wanted to understand where they were coming from. She wanted to know why I behave the way I do, why I tolerate the things I do, why I give so much grace to everyone around me and why I am so much harder on myself. I can never fully receive the love that she or the men who really do love me so desperately try to give me. After she decided she wanted to be a therapist, she started taking psychology classes in high school and began analyzing me. Once she knew my story, my fears, my unexplained crying, my trauma started making a lot of sense to her. She began to explain things to me that I didn’t understand about myself and other people.
After my daughter started college, I became one of her “subjects”. Most of the time when she needs a participant for a paper she’s working on or group discussions, she comes to me and I’m always willing to participate (I’m sure I give her more than enough material to work with!). She sees exactly who people are and she’s not afraid to point it out. She’s much bolder than I am. She sees truth.
My daughter taught me that it’s okay to feel the way I feel, it’s okay to talk about my past, it’s okay to have boundaries with people who can’t stop hurting you and it’s perfectly okay not to put on a smile all the time and fake it front of the members. It’s okay to be… ME and it’s okay to be REAL. People can handle it. She says all the things to me no one else does, she makes me see my worth when I overlook it, she makes me believe that I was placed here by God for a purpose, she shows me examples of why my life matters, she always points out the truth that I missed and she forces me to see it. On my darkest days, she pulls me back from the edge. She is my rock.
She started a blog at Dollfaced Writer and encouraged me to do the same. She thought it would be therapeutic for me. At first, I did use my real name on my blog as I didn’t even know if anyone would read it! It occurred to me that ANYONE who knew any of the many preachers in my family or any of my Ex’s could stumble upon my little blog and recognize me, I thought it best to use a pen name. It’s much easier to write about ANYTHING I want when using a pen name. I feel free to let my wounds bleed and allow God to heal them without naming names of Ex’s or making family functions even more awkward.
Why “Purple Rose”? I love purple and men have constantly given me a rose or roses at the start of just about any new chapter good or bad in my life.
My thoughts, my feelings, my story and my opinions are my own. I don’t want to cause any trouble for my family members who are preachers and the ministries they have built. I love and respect them. It is not my desire to hurt anyone or the images they have made for themselves. That being said, I am not above or beneath anyone and I have a right to share my story just like anyone else.
Amazed By His Grace,