My Victory/Identity Anthem – “This Is Me”

If you haven’t seen The Greatest Showman yet, you should.  It’s a beautiful movie that hits all my criteria:  Great acting, great music, a moving story, a meaningful message, and something that can be watched with my kids.

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The story is about P.T. Barnum, the man who started the first circus.  He enlists a band of society’s outcasts, and they form their own sort of family; they understand each other’s scars and come together to support and love each other.

Barnum then gets caught up in his fame, and the pride sets in.  He shuns his loyal troop at a fancy party because he doesn’t want to be associated with this group of outcasts in front of his hoity-toity friends.

The bearded lady then responds with an absolutely stunning musical number, and it resonated with me BIG TIME.  I regularly rock out to this song; it’s my victory anthem.  Check it out.

Here are the lyrics, and here’s the YouTube video.

I am not a stranger to the dark
Hide away, they say
‘Cause we don’t want your broken parts
I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars
Run away, they say
No one’ll love you as you are
But I won’t let them break me down to dust
I know that there’s a place for us
For we are glorious
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
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
Another round of bullets hits my skin
Well, fire away ’cause today, I won’t let the shame sink in
We are bursting through the barricades and
Reaching for the sun (we are warriors)
Yeah, that’s what we’ve become (yeah, that’s what we’ve become)
I won’t let them break me down to dust
I know that there’s a place for us
For we are glorious
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
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
and I know that I deserve your love
(Oh-oh-oh-oh) ’cause there’s nothing I’m not worthy of
(Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh, oh)
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
This is brave, this is proof
This is who I’m meant to be, this is me
Look out ’cause here I come (look out ’cause here I come)
And I’m marching on to the beat I drum (marching on, marching, marching on)
I’m not scared to be seen
I make no apologies, this is me
When the sharpest words wanna cut me down
I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out
I’m gonna send a flood
Gonna drown them out
Oh
This is me

Is Adoption God’s Plan?

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A favourite past time of Christians is to gloss over hard things by declaring that these things are “God’s plan”.  Adoption – and all the loss, the grief, the trauma, the separation, and the damage – is no exception.

So is it true?  Is adoption God’s plan?

I really don’t believe it is.

I don’t believe it was God’s plan for my first mother to be alone and pregnant for the second time when she was only 18.  I don’t believe it was God’s plan that she was born into a family of addiction, raised in foster homes, and then learned to fend for herself at a mere 16 years old.

I don’t believe it was God’s plan for me to separated from my mother and my older sister. I don’t believe God is in the business of broken families.

I don’t believe it was God’s plan for someone to step up to take a baby, but leave a mother alone and wounded – so they could fill their own needs. I don’t believe He is okay with adopters benefiting from a young mother going through a crisis.

I don’t believe it was God’s plan for me to be adopted by parents that would neglect and emotionally abuse me.  I don’t believe it was His plan that I grow up as a lonely little girl, seeking the love and belonging I desperately needed, and having emotional damage that would never be acknowledged or tended to by my adoptive parents.

No.

I believe God’s plan is for every last one of his children to be born into families where love and grace abound, and where they are nurtured and cherished.  I believe God is in the business of people and families being whole.

“But that’s not reality, though.”

Duh.

Here’s a newsflash:  Not everything that happens in this world is “God’s plan”.  In fact, most of it is not.  So why do we call these things “God’s doings”?  Are we really so simple that we can’t accept the great chasm that sometimes exists between our circumstances and God’s perfect will?

Just because it sounds nice and may feel good to believe that adoption is “God’s plan”, doesn’t make it true.  It’s a lie.  And it’s a harmful lie.  I’ve had many people tell me that being adopted was part of His design for me.  I don’t buy it.  Why would His plan for one person be to grow up in a loving, secure home with their biological family, and His plan for me to begin with loss and trauma?  God does not dole out good fortune to one person and less-than-ideal fortune to another; that would make Him a sick and twisted puppet master.  I know it is not in His character to author harm for any of us.

Part of the enemy’s scheme is to convince us that God is the creator of our pain and hardship to turn us away from Him.  The enemy doesn’t have to go any further than finding religious Christians and churches to spread this lie on his behalf.  It’s sick and demonic, but it’s brilliant marketing on his part.  Who better to get to spread his lies than than God’s kids themselves?

And there’s no shortage of religious Christians who will line up to spout this garbage and teach it freely.  Had a miscarriage?  “Well, God’s ways are mysterious, but He must have some plan for you in it.”  You were diagnosed with cancer?  “God wants you to learn through your suffering.”  (*BARF*)  That theology is a lie from the pit of hell and from the mouth of the enemy himself.  God gives us life, and life abundant; He gives us hope, and a future.  It is the enemy who steals, kills, and destroys (John 10:10).  Don’t believe a demonically-inspired theology that will inevitably harden your heart and turn you away from the One Person who can truly help you.  Because that is what that theology and the spirit behind it intends to do.

Adoption was never God’s plan for ANY of his children.  And just think of the damage it causes to the heart of an adopted child to tell them that God wanted this to happen.  That God authored the hurt, the trauma, the grief, and all that goes along with it.  Think about it again:  Why would we tell adopted children that God wanted this for them?

If you were adopted, hear this again:  Adoption, and all the pain and hurt it causes, WAS NOT GOD’S PERFECT PLAN FOR YOU.

He doesn’t hurt us just to turn around and heal us.  He doesn’t harm us then expect us to come running to His arms.  Doctors don’t break our arm and then want to fix it – they would get charged for that, right?  They’re not that stupid or twisted, so why do we think God is?  (Which seems intuitively obvious, yet much Christian theology teaches this mixed-up, harm-then-heal theology.)

So where does God play a role in adoption, then?

He is the healer and redeemer.  He is the one waiting to redeem all the damage done by adoption.  He is the one who wants to help pick up the pieces, while he shakes His head over what messes we humans make of things when left to our own devices.  He is the one who mends what was broken.

He is the one who took my shattered, orphaned soul, and tenderly pieced it back together.

He is the one who has been showing me what perfect Love is and what it looks and feels like.

He is the one who whispers to me, “I never meant for you to get hurt” and draws me into His arms, the same way we do for our kids when they experience an emotional blow at the hands of another human.

He is the Perfect Parent who has never and WILL never leave me nor forsake me.  He is both mother and father, filling in the gaps and lesions I had in my heart.

He didn’t author my adoption.  Because if He did, that means that He authored my mother’s wounds, my abandonment, a life of psychological abuse from a narcissistic family system, and the fact that I will never be part of a “normal” family.

No.

He authored my redemption, when I gave Him permission.

And He wants to author yours, too.  Whatever brokenness you’ve experienced.

Please, let’s stop giving the enemy free advertising by spreading his lies that make God the bad guy, turning people away from Him; instead, let’s learn God’s truth and spread that, so that people can be drawn in by His love.

God is the good guy.  He is in my story, and He wants to be in yours too.

Adoption is not His plan.  But healing, redemption, freedom, truth, and hope?  Those are exactly His plan, which He is just waiting to carry out in each of us, if we let Him.

The Darkness Hates When The Light Exposes It

The truth is all the more important when speaking out results in attacks; it’s a sign you’re on exactly the right track. The darkness hates when the light exposes it.

The last thing an abuser wants is for their victim(s) to speak out about their behaviours.

When this abuse happens within the narcissistic family, it’s not just the narcissistic parent who doesn’t want the victim to speak out – the children who become the parent’s enablers and protectors also make that their goal.

It seems pretty backwards that children who grew up in the same abuse (or at the very least, watched it happen to others in the family) would protect the very person responsible for that abuse. But, as we know, narcissists are experts at grooming those around them to cater to and protect them in every way.  Often, the entire family will protect the narcissist and enable them to continue to abuse; certain children will even become perpetrators of the abuse as well. It’s one of the sickest family trees out there.

I recently received a comment on a post from a sibling who commented with a fake name. (Mistake 1: Underestimating the detective skills of the scapegoat. 😉)

Here is what “Steve” had to say.

This is textbook narcissistic family dynamics.

It is very common for emotional abusers to gaslight those they abuse by minimizing the abuse – they reduce it down to a “pity party”, and/or accuse you of being self-centred.

And if you haven’t yet been able to get out of the abuse, you might even believe those words.

I did for years. “You’re too sensitive, get over it.” “That never happened.” “Mom didn’t mean that, she’s just getting old.”  “You’re all about yourself.”

This is a prime example of the kind of emotional manipulation that the narcissistic family feeds off of, and how they attempt to silence the victim and keep them under their thumb.

If you’ve experienced this – let me tell you: WHEN YOU OPEN UP ABOUT THE ABUSE, IT IS NOT A PITY PARTY.

The “pity party” card is a common one used by abusers and their enablers.  Don’t fall for it. I don’t anymore.

There is no pity involved in escaping an abusive relationship or system. There is no pity involved in opening up about the abuse.

Petty accusations are simply a tool used by someone who feels threatened; if they can’t shut you up, at least they can try to insult you, right? They can try to dismiss your words and try to make you question yourself. They can try to spin you in a negative light so others question your experience too. They can try to intimidate you into shutting your mouth.

But we know better.

The truth is all the more important when speaking out results in attacks; it’s a sign you’re on exactly the right track. The darkness hates when the light exposes it.

And the “Steves” will always be there.  Forgive, give grace (because most of them are still bound up by the lies and abuse), and move on.  But don’t let them squash you.

So keep at it, light shiners. This world needs you. ☀️

Adoptees Are Being Abused, But We’re Too Busy Praising Adoptive Parents to Notice

As an adoptee, the news about the Hart mothers driving themselves and their 6 adopted kids off a cliff last week hits really close to home.

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Link to photo credit.

So much about this situation grieves me:

  • An authority decided these mothers were the best placement for 2 separate groups of vulnerable children on 2 separate occasions.  The second placement happened AFTER allegations of abuse were found to be true.
  • The women isolated themselves and removed their family from the public eye as much as possible.
  • They placed themselves and their family in positions that held up their facade of being a social-justice-driven, happy clan.
  • Their friends, acquaintances, and neighbours felt like something was off, but most of them avoided pursuing it because it didn’t align with their idea of who they believed the Hart mothers to be.
  • The children were regularly showing signs (and in some cases, even verbalizing it to people they thought might help) of abuse and neglect.

But the thing that gets to me the MOST, is the facade they kept up, and how that facade is what prevented so many people from coming forward.  “But they were such a nice family.  They adopted those poor kids and saved them from drug-addicted moms.  They grew their own vegetables and attended political protests in the name of love!”

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https://www.vibe.com/2018/03/parents-of-devonte-hart-child-abuse-neglect-before-fatal-car-crash/

And that is exactly the problem with the saviour complex in adoption.  We’re so busy praising these “selfless” adoptive parents that we’re missing the abuse.  The lenses we’ve put on that positions adopters as sacrificial do-gooders is the very lens that is allowing warning signs to be missed.

I’m an example of this.

My mom abused me physically and emotionally.  She regularly hit me on the bare bottom with a belt when I misbehaved.  She ignored me.  She didn’t play with me or volunteer at my school or take me to the library even though she was a stat-at-home-mom.  She neglected guiding me about hygiene and reproduction.  She lied about my past, my birth family, and my heritage and kept vital information hidden from me.  She gaslights me continuously.  She plays the victim if I try to approach her about anything.  She uses her facade of sickness and fragility to garner an army of soldiers around her who will defend her and her lies, and who threaten and attack me for speaking out about the abuse.  And my dad?  He has stood by for the entirety of my life and let all of this happen.  (She has Narcissistic Personality Disorder, which is devastatingly common in adoptive mothers.)

But no one knew about the abuse and neglect, because all they chose to see was what a “nice” family we were from the outside, and surely someone doesn’t selflessly adopt a child and then abuse and neglect it.

Actually, they do.  Lots of people do.  More and more adoptees are speaking out about being abused in the very homes that were supposed to protect them and help them heal.

Many adoptees were taken from abusive situations, only to end up in another abusive situation.

But see, our lenses are adjusted to see abuse when it’s a young, single, alcoholic mother.  Her children should be taken from her.  She’s not a fit mother.

We don’t see the abuse when it’s a nice, white, Christian, married couple who “lovingly” opened their home to an unwanted child.  Oh, that’s so nice!  John and Martha adopted that poor little baby girl.  You know, I heard her birth mother was a drug addict.  Oh, she is just so lucky to have a nice family now.

You’ve heard it.  Maybe you’ve thought it.  Maybe you’ve said it.

We need to change our lenses.  Kids who are already vulnerable are being hurt.  Kids who were already abused are being abused even more.  Kids who deserve a home that will protect them and help them heal are being put in homes where they are being victimized further.  Kids with trauma and wounds are being placed with people who not only ignore those things, but deny their existence.

We can’t prevent it all.  But this heart-wrenching story tells me we can do more.   We can do better.  And we must.

Please Stop Telling Adopted People to be Thankful – and 9 Reasons We Don’t Need to Be

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As an adopted child, I’ve heard every ridiculous comment about adoption you can think of.  My whole life, I’ve had to navigate awkward conversations, questions I didn’t have answers for, being called names like “bastard”, and being asked why my mom didn’t want me.

But the worst one?  The most cutting one?  When people tell me I should be thankful.

Recently I had two family members on different occasions rebuke me for speaking out about my lack of intimate relationship with my mom.  One of their reasons they used to try to silence me?  I should “be more thankful” that my parents saved me.  Because, you know, adopting me was so selfless and sacrificial, and that should nullify any hurt or negative feelings I had or have.  I’m not showing my thankfulness very well if I am open and honest about my childhood.

But the sad thing is, this attitude isn’t just from family members who are upset about me sharing.  I’ve heard this same sentiment expressed from various places my whole life.

It’s an attitude that needs to stop.  It is hurtful and damaging to an area where there was already so much damage done.  Being adopted is a damn hard road for those of us who walk it, and we don’t need it to be any harder.

So here are 9 reasons why adoptees don’t need to be thankful:

1. Our lives began with major loss.

As adoptees, we experienced major loss at a very young age; we lost our mothers, our chance at a secure attachment, and often times we also lost a sibling or siblings.  Can you imagine as an adult losing all the people that matter most to you, in one foul swoop?  Never mind for that to happen when you were a vulnerable, innocent infant?  Can you imagine if someone were to take you away from everyone and everything you know, and put you in a group of strangers and told you this is where you’ll live now?

But we should be thankful for this?

2. We had to become someone else.

I don’t care who you are, your heritage and your genetics matter.  They are part of who you are.  As adoptees, all of that gets erased the minute we are adopted.  All of a sudden, we have to assume a new identity; we are often given a new name, a new family, a new heritage to take on as our own.  Often there is no more mention of our heritage or our family of origin.  Our genetic makeup, our geneology, and our cultural background is lost and forgotten, and we are given a replacement set of those things that we must accept and become.

But we should be thankful for this?

3. Information about our past is hidden or kept from us.

This one is not always the case, but in my case this is true, and for lots of others.  My adoptive parents knew that I had Indigenous and Scandinavian roots.  They knew I had an older sister.  They knew my birth mom had brown hair and brown eyes and had a small, slight frame (just like me), and they knew she had an aptitude for art and language (like I do too).  They knew my name was “Melissa Joan Carlson” when I was born.

That information belonged to me, not them.  Yet, they hid it from me.  I never got the privilege of knowing that my skills and talents were genetic, that I bore a striking resemblance to my mom, and that – above all – I had a sister somewhere out there.  Growing up with 5 older brothers, I always dreamed of having a sister.  But I was never allowed the right of knowing any of that.  I remember dreading the “Family Tree” unit that would come every year in school, because my true heritage was taken from me, and without apology.  I didn’t know where I came from, and that is an unsettling feeling.  Giving us a replacement family tree and a fake heritage doesn’t fix it.  We live like imposters being told who we are supposed to be.

But we should be thankful for this?

4. We often grow up in a culture of shame.

My parents hid the fact that I was adopted.  They did tell me, so I give them kudos for that at least.  But very few people beyond those that were around when I showed up at 15 months old ever knew I was adopted (and I attribute that amount of honesty to the fact that they had to explain my appearance somehow!).  And that’s the way they wanted it.  I was told it was better if people didn’t know; I would simply get hurt and people wouldn’t understand.  They said they were protecting me, but I know it was themselves they were protecting.  But I complied, trusting their word.  If people know I am adopted, they won’t like me.  Tell me – do you hide those things you’re proud of, or the things you’re ashamed of?  I didn’t have words to put to it, but it created a deep sense of shame within me to know it was a taboo subject.  If it was something to be hidden, it must be bad.  I must be bad.  I carried that burden for many, many years.

On top of that, I was never allowed to talk about it or ask questions even at home.  I remember having questions burning in my heart, but I knew they weren’t welcome.  In fact, even as an adult, my husband made the mistake of asking my parents what my original name had been – to which he received a sharp kick in the knee under the table from my brother, and an explanation afterwards that “we don’t talk about that”.  The indignant looks on my parents’ faces were a harsh reminder of the silencing and the psychological and emotional abuse I had endured growing up regarding my adoption.

But we should be thankful for this?  

5. Our birth mothers (where we come from) are often shed in bad light.

There is an assumption that if a woman gives up a child for adoption, they obviously weren’t fit to be a good mother.  And that assumption may be true in some situations, though certainly not all.  But to shed a child’s birth mother, where they came from, in a bad light is not only selfish, but damaging to a child’s identity.  How do you think it feels to have someone assume you came from a prostitute or a whore?  How do you think that affects the heart of a vulnerable child when you speak with disgust about the woman who bore the child you are now privileged to raise?  Growing up, I never once heard a positive word spoken about my birth mom.  Never once did we pray for her, talk about what a brave thing she did, or how much she might miss me.  We hardly talked about her at all, and the things that were said were hushed whispers about what a screw up she must have been.  Children aren’t idiots – when you talk about where we came from in that way, it affects them.

But we should be thankful for this?

6. Lots of adoptive parents lack the tools to deal with the issues an adopted child might face.

This is especially true, I think, for those adoptees who are now adults.  (I believe, and hope, these things have started to change.)  My parents had an attitude that they would just bring me home, raise me like my brothers, and all would turn out fine.  They never sought out courses on parenting adopted children, on attachment issues, or reached out for help or counsel in any capacity.  In fact, I would even say there was an arrogance displayed there; an attitude of knowing how to raise kids already, because they had done this 5 times before.  I was expected to just adapt, and to never have issues.  But I did have issues; of course I did!  My birth mom had given me up, I had spent time bouncing around foster homes, I was neglected and physically sick for that time, I probably had trauma behaviours, and I was suddenly put in a family and expected to simply adapt.

And on top of all of that, I knew I was not to bring any of it up.  That hole in my heart was never given a voice; it just continued festering through my childhood, until I finally was able to seek help and healing once I was outside of my parents’ care.  So when people say, “but they did the best they could”, I don’t really agree.  And if that really was the best, it doesn’t mean it was good enough.  And it doesn’t mean they did right by me.  And it doesn’t mean I came out unscathed.  They never sought help, asked for support, read parenting books, or even admitted they didn’t know what they were doing raising an adopted child.

But we should be thankful for this?

7. Our adoptive parents are made out to be selfless saints.

Let’s face it – how good do you feel when you are the subject of pity?  How wanted would you feel if someone asked you out on a date and then told it they did it as a humanitarian effort?  As adopted children, we are often made out to be some charity case, and that is not okay.  Adopted parents wanted children, just like biological parents did.  No one fawns over a biological parent and tells that what a selfless act it was to procreate and bring a child into the world who wouldn’t have been otherwise.  So why would we do that to a adoptive parent?  People do it because adopted children are made out to be unwanted; praising adoptive parents perpetuates this attitude.  (And an even worse step is, “Oh, good for you.  But I could never do it.”  I won’t even touch on that one.)

Another sad reality is that a lot of children are being adopted by the very people who are looking for this attention.  Healthy parents are always looking to pour out of themselves into their children, and aren’t looking to get something back.  Often times, with adoption, a mother (or father, but often it’s the mother) adopts to fill a need.  (In my case, it was a need for a daughter, but it can also be a need to look good in the public eye, or to seek praise or recognition.)  Right from the get-go, this is a dangerous situation; it was never my job to fill a need for my mom.  But not only was I supposed to fill a need, and be the perfect little princess for her (my identity was taken away and I was made to be who she wanted me to be), but she gets praised for being a selfless saint for adopting me.  So this act that appears so selfless to some people, is actually the opposite, and creates further damage to the heart of the adopted child.

But we should be thankful for this?  

8. I would still exist if I hadn’t have been adopted.

The truth is, if my family wouldn’t have adopted me, another family would have.  Perhaps even a family that was healthier!  Of course, maybe a family that was more dysfunctional could have adopted me.  We’ll never know.  But the point is, I still would have had life without my adoptive parents “saving me”.  Biological children don’t feel the need to thank their parents for conceiving them, do they?  For “saving” them from the plight of non-existence?  Are biological children told they should be thankful their parents had some hot sex that one night and got pregnant with them?  No!  And in fact, if any child should be thankful, it’s the one who wouldn’t even exist unless their parents had fornicated at that exact moment.  I don’t go around telling people to remember to be grateful their dad and mom had intercourse and his sperm fertilized her egg, because they wouldn’t be here without that.  That’s ridiculous.  It’s just as ridiculous for anyone to expect an adopted child to live in a forever state of gratitude because someone took pity on them.

But we should be thankful for this?

9. We are talked about like we are stray dogs that someone took in.

One common theme that runs through all of these points, is that they all come from an attitude that adopted children are unwanted.  No one sees adoption as a humanitarian effort unless you see it through the lens of “nice family takes in poor, unwanted child”.  If we were to see it as, “family gets privilege of raising and learning from this child, and growing into a mutual love and bond” (and I’ve seen this attitude in adoptive families, so I know it exists), people wouldn’t say these things and hold these attitudes.  It doesn’t feel good to be looked at this way, especially when we already have other heart issues to work with.  Don’t add to it.

But we should be thankful for all of this?

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Please stop telling us to be thankful.

We shouldn’t be pressured into being thankful for things that non-adopted kids aren’t pressured into being thankful for.

And for the record: I’m not thankful that I was placed in a home that not only didn’t recognize my unique needs, but ignored them and then used them against me when I did start speaking up.  I’m not thankful that my being adopted is used as a means to manipulate me into allowing poor treatment of myself and my family, and then to silence me about it.  I’m not thankful that I am told that putting up healthy boundaries isn’t showing gratitude like I should be.

So no – I’m not thankful for any of that.

But you know what I am thankful for?

I’m thankful that in the midst of brokenness, God was there.  And still is.

I’m thankful that it was never His plan for me to be hurt or damaged.

I’m thankful that He had a will and a way for my heart to be healed, and that he put people in my life who support that path.

I’m thankful that I’ve been able to find ME – the real me.  I’m thankful to discover my heritage, my past, and my birth siblings.  I’m thankful for the parts of me that have been woken up, and to see how much genetics do play a part in who we are.  I’m thankful that after years of missing this, I now have people in my life who are related to me by blood, and that we can compare looks and mannerisms and quirks.  I never had that growing up.  I am thankful for it!

I’m thankful that my brokenness as a child has helped me become the mom that I am.  I am thankful for the redemption I’ve found in parenting, that I can be the mother I never had.  Sure, I make mistakes, but I am thankful I learned to hear my kids, validate their feelings, own what I’ve done, and ask for forgiveness.  I am thankful I am able to do for them what my little heart screamed for as a child.

I am thankful when I see adoptive families who do this differently.  I find hope to see adopted kids’ needs be acknowledged and met.  I am thankful to see adoptive parents seek support and knowledge, and put their kids’ well-beings above their need to be praised or thanked.

I am thankful for a husband who has loved and accepted me in my mess.  Who has held me as I’ve cried.  Who’s listened for hours when I’ve had revelations about the past, or pulled back a new layer of my heart.  Who has bore the most brunt of my woundedness, but loved me anyways.  Who is on the same page as me and wants to grow as a person too.

And you know what?  I am thankful for my adoptive family.  I’m not thankful for the reasons I’ve been told I need to be, but I am thankful.  God turns all things for good, and He has certainly kept His promise.

Lastly, I’m thankful to have found my voice and courage to speak up, even in the face of pressure to stay silent and keep things hidden, so that others can hear the truth and find support and freedom we all need.  I would be even more thankful if I knew these words resonated with someone and helped them, which is what my heart truly is.

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Please feel free to share if this resonated with you,

or you feel someone would benefit from hearing this!

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* I suspect already this post will receive some heat, either to my face or behind my back.  I have been told that to speak out when you’re not reconciled with people involved is not okay.  Here are my thoughts on that:  1) Reconciliation only occurs when both parties will acknowledge and validate the others’ feelings, take responsibility for hurts both ways, ask for forgiveness, and then change future behaviour.  All of those things have to happen for true reconciliation to take place.  2) If the door has been open for that to happen, and it has not been walked through, it is no longer my responsibility.  My openness is my responsibility; I am not responsible to make other people open to this.  And truthfully, it may never happen, so my life needs to continue regardless.  3) I am not going to hinge the fate of my calling on someone else’s life choices.  4) These actions were wrong the moment they happened, not the moment I decided to share about them.  5) It is not my job to protect anyone, but it WAS their job to protect me, and that didn’t happen.   6) This is the most important one to me: I have been inspired, changed, challenged, renewed, healed, and encouraged by the stories other people have taken the courage to share.  A lot of those stories were shared in the absence of reconciliation (because then it would hinge on other people taking part), but in the presence of pure motives and a heart for those who would read it.  It is a risk, for sure.  But I’m diving in.  And above all, I care more about what God has called me to do, then what other people think.  I will not allow the enemy to shut my mouth to the things God has called me to open it about.  He is my refuge, even when the storm rages.