Once again, there has been an outpouring of prayers, thoughts, and questions about my life, because, after all, that is what I'm writing. Simply because I lack the time to address each of them, I'll address them all (in my own style) here. Know, however, that I have received every thought, question, and response with love, not judgement, and have thought about my answers. And all the quirks of the answers are geared to the general 'you' when the word is used. I have the upmost respect for all who have posed these questions/thoughts and would never dream of insulting any of them.
Question 1: Am I simply a prideful fallen human who has lost sight of God's direction, which may, in fact, be exactly where I am and not where I thought I should be? Probably. And if I'm the only one who will ever answer in the affirmative to that question, there are a boatload of liars reading this. (smirk) As a continuation to the question, Is God breaking my pride and humbling me in order that I may become more dependent upon His strength and not my own? Probably. Coming from the background of Christianity and the guilt that the Southern Baptist culture specifically burns into people, I know the questions, I know the right answers. I know that my help comes from the Lord. I know that all things work to good of those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose. I know that I should present my requests by humbly praying and petitioning the Lord who knows all of my needs and is simply waiting on me to stop relying on myself and ask for help. ....In my mind, that's what I'm doing. It's sort of a dialogue with God. Ok, so it's unorthodox that I present it for the world to see, but that's just the point for me. I'm sick and tired of Christian culture -specifically- requiring us all to be transparent, but not open about our lives. I'm done with Christian culture that demands a "God Answer" when God knows my heart and knows how I really feel. So why should I be forced to keep it secret? Why should I struggle alone? Why should I allow God to change my heart and draw me close for no one else to see? Why should I allow everyone to think I'm perfectly composed at all times? Why should I keep hidden the greatest area for God to do His work? Why should I lie and say that being a mom is the single most fulfilling job and I need nothing other than my husband and my boys to be satisfied? (Let's be honest, I need dark chocolate chunk cookies, too) Why should I act as if my whole life is just what I planned? If yours is, you're a control freak :) who's done a much better job of planning and executing your goals than I have. I can't say that everyday is happy and filled with joy, but I love my boys and my husband--- and strange as it may seem, writing honestly and openly, knowing people are judging me, knowing I'm the topic of gossip among friends/family, and that some are loving and praying me through this, is freeing in a way that I can't adequately explain. It means that somehow I have a connection with you, my reader, either because you're nosy :), intrigued, you love me or know me, or you share some of my feelings. I'm just dumb enough to post them for you to read.
Thought/Question 2: Forgiving and Forgetting, you should try it, it really works. I wish I could forget. Believe me. And if true forgiveness only comes with forgetting it ever happened, well then I'm glad the only stipulation for heaven is a love for Jesus. Because perfect I am not, nor will I ever be. I still remember the first intentional lie I formulated. In fifth grade, I remember telling Chasity that I didn't have white out, but I really did, I just didn't want to get it out. I remember singing Silent Night as backup singers on Britt's grandparents farm in Madison as Daniel sang Stile Nacht one starry night back when life was so much... less complicated. I remember walking through the woods at my house one New Years Eve with my 5 best friends. I remember hearing a voice tell me that I had met my husband. Lilac shirt and all at the dog park 3 years ago. I remember crying myself to sleep, hands wrapping my belly, for two weeks, praying only "Take this cup from me Lord, not what I will, but your will be done". Over and Over and Over. I remember feeling myself rip during Aiden's labor (don't believe the hype, you don't always forget the whole thing, especially if you aren't on drugs) See, memory for me is not an option. Unless, of course, too much tequila is involved. I can read a page and a few months later, still tell you where to find your answer ON the page. I don't harbor (at least I think I don't) resentment about what happened. I've seen what resentment does to people, and I don't like it. I don't think about it all the time. I don't get angry or even hurt anymore when I talk about it. I write about it because it has made me- for better or for worse- get to the point I am today. I'm working out how to get past my past. How to no longer let it affect my view of myself or of men. Or sex. I've long since forgiven what has been done, as much I can as a fallen human.
Thought/Question 3: Don't you think you should maybe, ya know, not be doing this? I've thought about it. I've talked to Keith about it. I considered taking the whole thing down long before I wrote last time. I've thought about not posting to facebook. I've thought about just not writing in case someone might ever see. I've thought about the hurt that may come from it, though I can't fully understand the reach of my words. And yet, what I have gotten in feedback nearly forbids me to stop writing. People writing to say a myriad of things. People calling to have a conversation (allbeit because they think I'm unstable) or a get together. And the funny thing is, I'm more 'together' than I was before I was writing. I'm closer to happy than I have been in a very long time. I'm not the tightly wound stressball I was back when my answer to the standard question was "I'm doing well, how 'bout you?" My head is clearer than it has been in months, maybe even a year. And although it seems that my patients are boycotting the psycho chiro, I'm not willing to sacrifice what sharing my life is doing for me, and dare I say some others. I will, however, no longer to be posting on Facebook. So whether you love me and are rooting for me in this process or just a nosey busybody, you'll have to subscribe to the blog feed to know when and what I'm posting.
Thought/Question 4: Maybe you sit on your journaling for a while before you post it, and read over it again after a day or two, or let someone else read it. Well, you see, the ecstasy of blogging is that there's no editor!!! No one to tell you what you were trying to say, should say, shouldn't say. No one telling you 'that's too controversial' or 'they'll think you're crazy'. The downfall is, there's no one to tell you not to say that. I read and re-read and filter through. And then go back, after I posted, to check for the unintentional grammatical errors. (sorry Sis if you're reading this). So far, at least reading with my brain, I've said what I wanted to and how I wanted to. The problem lies in the fact that I'm about the only person that thinks like me. There is a God :)
Conclusion: I wholeheartedly believe that God is working in me. I don't know exactly what God is up to, but I'm quite sure it has something to do with creating this new Kim, the one I never planned on, the one I never predicted. I'm not totally convinced it's a pride issue, but that most likely means it is. I have an over active memory. Plus, I know it's a stretch, but I'm not perfect. I, apparently unlike any other Christians, have a hard time forgetting, even when I think I've forgiven. (read: I don't drink tequila in large enough amounts on a regular basis) I probably shouldn't be writing for the world to read, but when I wrote just for me, it didn't change anything. I didn't feel better, I didn't do any healing. I think, because of my personality, I need to feel as if I'm helping/serving someone. It's who God made me to be-- and one of the few things that hasn't been altered over the course of time and self destruction. I am not psycho, obviously depressed, fragile, or falling apart. I already fell apart, and now I'm getting put back together. Misery loves company, right?
So I will keep writing. I will continue my literary life vomit. If you want to read, you'll need to subscribe or just hit up the website every now and again to get caught up. In lieu of sabotaging my entire patient base, I will no longer be posting on Facebook after tonight. Except when I rant about things like disease care, fake foods, addictive foods, human nature, the wiles of Christian culture and its effect on the psyche of women in particular-- mostly anything except the really personal crap that should likely be kept hidden (according, of course to current Christian culture). But hey, I've always wanted to write a book or write articles in magazines, so now I'm doing it in blogs; otherwise, I'll never be able to put a check in that box. I love multitasking :)
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