Feral Forties.

Feral refers to, "returning to a wild state, especially after escape from captivity or domestication."

My 40’s have been a returning.

Although I question myself sometimes as to what exactly I am returning to because even as a young girl I was shy, not confident. I was the girl that tip toed around everyone else’s feelings. The girl who thought that she was “to be seen, not heard”. This was partially due to the overwhelming bias of gender roles placed specifically on females in the South, as well as the way that religion seems to traverse my bloodlines without asking my permission.

And when I say religion, I do NOT mean a relationship with Christ, I am referring to those man made rules disguised as Christ’s path to righteousness. It created shame + oppression instead of acceptance + freedom.

Let me give you a small example of the type of man made rules, (which are usually more for women, than men) that I was encouraged to participate in or would be at risk of being ostracized.

I once attended a summer youth camp service the same summer that I got saved. (For those of you who are not familiar with the terminology of “getting saved”, it is the act of accepting Jesus as your Lord + Savior, + committing to following Him, His words, the rest of your days.) When my cousins + I arrived at the camp, we went straight to chapel, which was where the service for the evening was being held. We entered from the back of the building, found an empty row + started singing along with the praise + worship band. My eyes were closed. I was completely unaware of anything happening except worship. After the first song or two, I was tapped on the shoulder + immediately asked to leave. Why? Because my tank top had spaghetti straps, not the 1 to 2 inch thick strap that was required + deemed “appropriate” attire for the girls who were attending the church camp.

Let that sink in…

I was worshipping. Fully engaged. Not being disruptive. But the church leaders saw me + decided that because of what I was wearing I could be seen as a stumbling block for the males attending the camp.

And the kicker?

I complied.

I didn’t want to be seen in a negative way. I was 19 years old, a new Christian navigating unknown territory, yearning to belong, to be accepted. Yet instead of the contents of my heart being the path that led to righteousness, what they told me (subconciously) with that one decision was that all I really had to do was look the part, more or less. The content of hearts don’t matter, only what you wear, how you speak, what you watch + listen to, who you are with, + how that looks on the outside, is what matters. I think through my eagerness to be accepted, somehow that ideology seemed right to me. I mean, the foundation of my entire existence up to that point had been immersed in the same ideology - pleasing others in order to gain their love + acceptance, so what was one more surrender?

Challenging that authority seemed so much harder than just complying, + so I didn’t challenge it that day, nor in the years that followed.

I spent the next 20 something years following that untruth. I was a repository for everyone else’s ideas on how to live my life, raise my children, + interact with my spouse - in small seemingly insignificant ways, but in big ones, too. I looked to others for that acceptance instead of within myself. Lame but true. It lead to a lot of heartbreak that belonged to not only me, but also to my children + their father. By the time I reached 36, I felt like I was living a lie, and I kind of was. Not on purpose, I would never do that.

The hardest betrayal is the one to self.

That is why truly knowing yourself - why you do the things you do, what your intentions are, what you think, + why, gives birth to true freedom. I have no one to blame for my compliance but me, myself, + I. Healing taught me that I am responsible for every decision I have made, no matter the trauma that got me there.

I am thankful for those traumas, it has contributed to the woman I am today, but I am done with it, too.

I am now in my 40’s, undoing, unlearning, unmasking - returning to a restored state…pre-domestication. Figuring out what /who stays + what/who goes. There is freedom in letting go too.

Feral Forties.

I am no longer here to behave by anyone else’s rules for MY life. Actually, rules are optional. Intentions are everything. I am more than willing to be uncomfortable + speak my truth in order to live a qualitative life. I am pursuing a life of real love, real belonging, real relationships. I know that peace within is far greater than any approval + if you try to mess with that peace, I will cut the tie that binds.

Go ahead, judge. I know the contents of my heart + thankfully so does HE.