in the midst of metamorphosis

Several months ago, I shared about my walk away from religion (you can read that  here ). Looking back, I realize that the path away from organized religion had really started years before. Back when I was a teen questioning the black and white rules. Back when I was an idealistic new wife and mom questioning the patriarchy within the church. Back when I dared to voice my belief in a large gray area where grace resided and love covered all. Every one of these thoughts, and more, was conceived inside of my heart before I ever gave birth to their words aloud.. As a (former) people pleaser, I didn't want to offend, to alienate. I didn't want to be different, the outsider. I wanted to belong. I wanted acceptance. I wanted love. And the price tag for that was the silence of my truths. Can I just tell you how very damaging that silence was? How every time I swallowed down what my heart was telling me, another piece of me was buried? Another facet of  who I am  was layered under

**Warning- this post contains adult themes/images** ********************************************************* Freedom. Acceptance. Family. Belonging. Camaraderie. Pride. Love. Anticipation. A deep knowledge of who they are, of being firmly rooted in that, and living from that steadfast place. Home. Open. Honor. Togetherness. Peace. Respect. Identity. Transformation. Wholeness. Laughter. Excitement. Being one. Overcoming. Fun. Lightheartedness. Freedom. I felt so much acceptance there to be exactly who I am, to be free to be the person I was designed to be. I know my identity. I know who I am. And yet the struggle to live that way, completely me, is overwhelming. The sting of rejection, of abandonment, is real and painful. Being enveloped in that atmosphere gave me a renewed sense of the overcoming spirit that is within me. I can do this.  There is a wide, wide world out there just waiting for me to live in it fully, as me, the real me. That may take me to places

You may wonder what that is behind me. Let me introduce you. It's my closet. I take it with me wherever I go. Like Superman, I walk in, then reappear in costume. I have a lot. Too many. So tonight, I'm cleaning out my closet. . There's some old ones shoved way in the back. They haven't been worn in years, but occasionally make their way to the front. They taunt me. I did my best to do them proud. I failed. . There are worn ones. I wear them often. They don't fit me, but they do fit other's ideas of me. Grudgingly, I put them on and become what they want me to be. Each time, I lose a little piece of me. I hate them. . There are fancy ones. The good ones. Reserved for times where I need to impress others with who I am, or who I think that I want to be. I keep these separate. In my mind that somehow makes them better. They're not. . There are tight ones. Constricting. There is no flexibility, no room for growth, and change, and newness, and creativity.