The End of the Beginning

Radical faith, raw stories, and the decision to finally show up

The last day of my self-proclaimed writing challenge. I did it. I actually did it.

I sit here with tears filling my eyes. The emotions swirling around me sit on opposite ends of the spectrum. I can see how quickly I could be consumed by them all... why my instinct became to dissociate, to numb. To not feel any of it.

But that's no longer the story. That is not how I cope with pivotal moments like this anymore.

And it's time I start writing about the now. Then is yesterday, and I do not live there.

I have given you 31+ posts to get to know me on a foundational level. The bones of my story. The framework. You know my history, the places I've lived, the key diagnoses I carry, the roots to my existence, and the reasons I keep going.

Me, me, me. My instinct is still to cringe when my sentences start with "I" and circle back to "me." But this is a blog about me, dammit. So... moving on.

You know that I sucked my thumb until I was 13, that my heart still aches for lost loves, that I am a wandering gypsy trying to find my place of peace. I've let you into the haunted chapters. The ones that kept me locked in a self-governed dungeon of torment for decades.

And when I finally started writing, I knew I had to be real. No fluff. No filters. No projections. Only my story. Not theirs. Not yours. Mine.

I have this deep knowing -- maybe even a divine one -- that my words will find the people who need them. Maybe not today. Maybe not even this year. But eventually. So I let go of the timeline. I gave up the fight. The fight with the insane voice in my head that has screamed at me every day to get this story out.

"Start fucking talking!"

I know it's not ladylike to swear. But I promised to write the way my brain speaks to me. And that voice? That calling? I've been ignoring it for years. Decades. I mean, obviously -- I wasn't ready until now. The universe doesn't work in mysterious ways. It works in the right ways. So here we are.

And somehow, impossibly, after all I've revealed... you came back. And you met my vulnerability with love. You blessed me. And I no longer feel undeserving. That was yesterday's me.

Radical Faith

Today, right now, at this very moment, I feel overwhelmed with deep adoration for how radical faith is changing my very existence.

Yes, in harm to none. And that's the tricky part. Because the telling of my story, my truth, may hurt people I love deeply. None of my emotions are new to me. But they are to most people I know in real life. Death of a people pleaser....

Including my mother and father. I've reached a place in my relationship with them where I've let go. I've accepted who they were, and who they are now. I've forgiven the absence. And their presence. And I hope I'll be forgiven, too. Because I do love them. But I don't love their parenting. So I'm rewiring what they wired. Unbraiding their handiwork. Relearning how to be human, without fear, resentment, or abandonment as the template.

Do I hit a live wire once in a while? Yes. Frequently. And those moments? They're sacred. They can't be skipped. They're here to teach me. To ground me. To wake me up. Those live wires... they're what I bring you. Not to shame. Not to blame. But to connect. To say: I've got one too.

I come here as a woman still doing the work. A woman who is learning how to reconnect with better feelings. A woman trying, through all the static and pain, to remember that love always shines through. That's the side of history I want to stand on.

I'm Not Innocent

I have been swallowed by pain and acted in horrific ways to people I truly loved. Some may forever see me as the villain in their story. And they have every right to. It's the shame that held the pen for too long. But I know my heart. I know my truth.

I know that I have been selfish. That I have hurt people. And that I'm trying -- every day -- to be a little better. I walk my life with the intention: in harm to none. Even though my words, my silence, my actions, my inactions, will always carry the potential to hurt. And that... that's where I have to surrender to the universe.

Will a conversation be sparked? Will a wound be healed? Will clarity be given? Only time will tell.

Why I Write

This isn't a sermon. This isn't a script. This is my story. I'm leading from life. From my heart.

— AudraHealing out loud, so you don't have to heal in silence.