This week reminded me of the cost—and the gift—of telling the truth.
When you write a raw memoir, you don’t just get applause. You also get judgment. I’ve had a couple reviews this past week that said my book was about “careless living” and that I “need Jesus.” Another reader questioned the flow, judged my choices, and even commented on whether my English leaned U.S. or U.K. Yes, I'm Canadian....somewhere in between, eh?
At first, it could have stung. But the truth is—it didn’t.
I could see it for what it was: projection. Their story, not mine.
Because here’s the thing: I didn’t ask to be saved. I saved myself.
Jesus Christ Within Us
Neville Goddard taught that Jesus Christ lives in each of us. My mentor reminds me of this, too. Divinity isn’t outside us, waiting to swoop in and rescue us—it’s within. It’s the spark that allows us to choose differently, to rise again, to resurrect ourselves when life feels impossible.
So when someone says my memoir is about sin or bad choices, I smile. Because I know my story is really about sovereignty. About reclaiming myself, forgiving myself, and choosing to rise.
From the Page to Real Life
And this isn’t just theory. It’s showing up in my life right now.
I’m currently in a legal process with my ex-husband, standing up for my daughter. She deserves to be heard, valued, and comfortable with both parents. For years, I compromised. I stayed silent. I swallowed my words in the name of keeping peace.
I recently met with legal counsel about the ongoing family matters. While the conversation included practical realities we may need to navigate, I also reached a boundary: I’m done protecting others at the cost of my daughter’s comfort. Standing up for her—and for how we want to be treated—was a turning point for me. My voice is not for swallowing anymore.
I felt the fire rise in me. I said: “I’m done sucking it up. I’m done staying silent and compromising my daughter’s comfort. I won’t swallow my voice anymore.”
That was a powerful moment. For me. For my daughter. Because she needs a model of what it looks like when girls and women use their voices, when they say “no more,” when they refuse to shrink to make others comfortable.
The Bigger Thread
And that’s what ties it all together: the memoir, the reviews, the Jesus comments, and my real life right now.
This is sovereignty. Not waiting to be saved. Not handing our power away. But standing in the truth of who we are and what we will no longer accept.
Some people will call it sin.
I call it sacred.
A Story Inside a Story
In the video I’m embedding below, I alchemized something my ex-husband recently said about my memoir—a judgment he used in an attempt to distract or instill fear in me.
It didn’t work.
If anything, the fact that he actually read my memoir after we’ve been separated for ten years and divorced for eight speaks volumes about where his focus still is.
I know exactly who I wrote this memoir for. I write for adults. I didn’t write it for my children, nor do I read my books to them. Maybe one day, when they are grown, I’ll share pieces if it supports their healing process or sense of identity.
Looking back, I can see how every moment like that—whether in a relationship, a courtroom, or a book review—was training me to rise.
Closing
If you’ve read my memoir I Was the One I Was Waiting For, you know this is its heartbeat: sovereignty over sin, reclamation over silence, self-resurrection over waiting for rescue. Learn more about my memoir right here.
If it spoke to you, I’d be so grateful if you left a review. Your words help my story find the women who need it most.
Because telling the truth won’t please everyone.
But it will set you free. 🌹
1 comment
Well done!