The dam and the ocean.

WARNING: I’m about to get vulnerable. Can you hang? If not, here’s an old post about the time Jillian Michaels stole my shoes. Go read that and laugh at my boy hair. … it was a dark time.

Ok. Here goes.

Be real. Add value.

When I first ventured into blogging in 2011, those two phrases were requirements before I hit publish on any post. There were a lot of blogs out there then, a bazillion more today. For example, did you know there is an entire blog dedicated to mostly not good old-timey advice?

What did I have to say that was any more important than anything else? Why should I push my voice on anyone?

Be real. Add value.

If I challenged myself with those two things every post, I felt what I had to say was of worth. I wouldn’t post gym selfies without a detailed workout, push products I didn’t actually use, or paint a picture of a perfectly-lit, Facetuned life. There is nothing wrong with bloggers who do these things – no judgement. I simply knew this was not that blog.

Until it was.

For about a year, I hit publish and share on post after post that wasn’t telling the whole story. Lurking behind every smile, crouching under each quip, mixed in between the ingredients of a recipe was the anxiety, fear, shame, confusion, anger, pain and grief of a shattering marriage. Mine, for those who have nodded off. The dam of my life was cracking and eroding, and I was spreading my entire body across the concrete in an attempt to stop the rushing water. In a desperate hope that I could patch the problems before anyone noticed the receding shoreline.

But God saw things differently. Finally one day, as my fatigued muscles shook and my eyes fluttered in exhaustion, He whispered in my ear, “Meg. Let go. Trust me. The dam must break for I’m building you an ocean.” Um. I frickin’ LOVE the ocean. More specifically the beach because sharks.

So, I got out of the way and trusted worked on trusting God to keep me afloat. I stopped blogging. I stopped faking. I started sharing.

Be real. Add value.

I confessed to my best friend the painful reason I wasn’t pregnant after eighteen months was because my husband hadn’t touched me in nine. I literally kept a calendar to prove to myself I wasn’t crazy. I told my mom the embarrassing truth that while her son-in-law slept next to me, I lie awake terrifyingly lonely. I, a Christian, said the word DIVORCE to my pastor and almost threw up. I asked a therapist if neglect and indifference were forms of abuse. I talked about the ripple effect of addiction to my hair dresser. I read books and books and books. And I basically became president of the Brene Brown fan club.

And the most incredible thing started happening. People awoke. One friend shared the untold heartache of her miscarriage. Another admitted that her husband threatens her life and battles a different addiction. More than one man took my face in their hands and said, “THAT is not a marriage. THAT is not what love looks like.” I was braced for turned backs and rolling eyes, and instead I got arms linked in mine and tears of understanding. I also got more than one offer to “take care of him” from two well-known Italians. So sweet, but I’ll save that chip for never. 

It’s been almost two years since my last Fiterature post. And I guess I feel like I owe a bit of explanation as to where I went and why I’m back. Maybe you don’t care. Maybe you’re just glad I’m back. Maybe you didn’t even know I was gone. Maybe the explanation is more for me and less for you. It’s my way of paying homage to the dam as I skip a rock across the ocean.

Be real. Add value.

As you can read on my new about page, Fiterature is different moving forward, as I am different. I’ve learned that living a “fit” life is so much more than working out and eating well. We’re still going to laugh and sweat, but we are also going to talk about mental health, pornography, infertility, injustice, crying on the bathroom floor and heartache of all kinds. There is no room for shame here. But that doesn’t mean we ignore it. Nope – we meet it eye to eye, smile and say “No thank you”.

Fiterature is about being bold in your beliefs and knowing you are more than enough exactly as you are. It is about being real and adding value for one another.

… For the record, I want you to know I’m terrified to hit publish. People will read this that don’t know our story. Hearts that took his “side”. Family I have never explained things to. There are coworkers and friends that don’t even know I was ever married. But I’m ready to share because it’s important stuff I’m learning. Also I’m spending like a billion dollars in therapy so you don’t have to.

Ask me questions. Share your story. Let’s go jump on trampolines together when we’re sad and eat bowls of queso when we’re happy.

Come swim in my ocean with me.

 

17 thoughts on “The dam and the ocean.

  1. Oh man. It’s so tough to be brave in brokenness and acknowledge fear out loud. But the cracks in the facade are where God can step in and fill us up. So I’m with you, sister. I support you. I love you.

  2. You are amazing and God is working through you,in you and around you! You have our support, love and strength as always! Love you, girl!

  3. There is a time and season for everything and I’m so glad Fiterature is back in our lives again; harder, better, faster, stronger. And yes, that last sentence was a combination of sentiments from the Bible and Kanye. #mixedmediaquotes 💚

  4. I’m glad you’re back and grateful you’ve decided to share. Totally random, but I was at the Toby Mac Deep Hits Tour last night and Mandisa was performing. One of her new songs is called “I’m Still Here” and I think it might really speak to you and your situation. 🙂

  5. You had me at Ocean, but then you said Sharks and well…now we will be besties. Seriously, I started blogging in 2011 as well…I have not taken two years off, but…I get your point…I totally do. Love your heart. Thanks for sharing it. Keep on.

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