The Courage to Become | Andi Franklin
What I remember, is the silence. The dimly light dining room. My knees on the chair cushion and arms draped over its back, clutching a $25 Target gift card I had gotten as an early birthday present. Curtains peeled back, street lights on, and a cul-de-sac full of cars that were in for the night.
He’ll be here. He’ll be here. He promised he would take me, so he’ll be here.
I don’t know how long I was there, staring and waiting and convincing myself that he would show. But finally, I felt my mother’s gentle hand on my shoulder.
"Its time to go to bed, sweetie. I’m sure he just got caught up.”
Looking back, I think of my mom and hard that must have been for her. I think of how long she pondered what to say to her bright-eyed little girl who sat in a window all night waiting for her dad to show up and take her shopping for her 7th birthday. I wonder if she knew how far gone he was, I wonder if she saw it coming.
That night marked the beginning of my biological father’s exit strategy. I can only remember seeing him one other time in passing before he was gone for good. He never said goodbye. He never told me why. He was just, gone.
My mom explained that he was in the clutch of drugs and alcohol, but I wasn’t buying it. Deep down I knew the real reason he left⏤me.
This belief coursed through my veins and spread in my body like a cancer. Each year that passed I would get sicker and sicker, subconsciously convinced that his love was the cure. Meanwhile, in my conscious mind, I became obsessed with finding him.
The reason changed with each season in my life.
At the tender age of seven, I simply wanted him to come home to me. I loved him, missed him, and didn’t care about the rest. But as a new year turned, so would my feelings toward this elusive man. Emotions? I’ve felt them all. I think that is kind of expected when you are abandoned.
But what surprises me now, is how I let that single event in my life take the driver seat and dictate every future relationship.
My story of becoming, lies here—in the gaping wounds of a woman who spent over 20 years of her life looking for love, when love had been hers all along.
My quest to fill the void of my biological father’s love sent me down twisted, untended, shadowy trails.
It got to the point where I would push for young men to leave me around my birthday because I had convinced myself it was going to happen anyway.
Somehow, no matter what, I would always find myself back where I started:
Seven years old. Curtains peeled back, street lights on, and a cul-de-sac full of cars that were in for the night.
He’ll be here. He’ll be here. He promised he would take me, so he’ll be here.
I would always see it coming, but I would sit and wait anyway.
The leaving. The betrayal. The heartbreak.
My deep longing for love led me into the clutches of manipulation. Young men knew how to work a broken girl, and one in particular was so skilled that it took me weeks to realize he had raped me.
“But did you say no?”
Yes.
“But did you try to fight him off?”
Yes.
“And yet, you still didn’t realize you had been raped?”
No.
Trauma has a funny way of doing that to a person. Especially when it roots back to your childhood and incessant need to be loved.
Fortunately, I clawed my way out of that hell and found myself on the other side. The side that could sit in a space with other women who had gone through it and say, “me too, and I’m here for you.”
I met a man who wasn’t afraid of me and my baggage. A man who refused to leave me around my birthday, despite my many attempts to sway him otherwise.
We fell in love, got married, and therein lies the happy ending, right?
I sure thought so.
I had actively convinced myself that I was cured.
Healed! Praise Jesus, Hallelujah!
I thought the void had been filled and I went on with my merry way with life.
Until the day I finally had to come face to face with him.
Meeting my biological father again for the first time in 18 years was terrifying.
It was my grandfather’s 80th birthday and my father had been clean and sober for about six months, so the family allowed him to come to the event and notified us that he would be there.
I was five months pregnant with my first son.
Palms sweaty, face flushed.
Don’t you cry, Andrea. You’ve gotta stay strong for your brother.
I brought a notebook full of letters, songs, and poems I had written to him throughout the years. I was going to give it to him and show him the pain he had caused.
But when I saw him, I couldn’t do it.
This man, so broken and fragile. Petrified of us—his grown children.
My heart no longer hurt for just me, it hurt for him too.
And so the notebook stayed with me and I left that birthday party, heart still guarded, but softened.
He managed to stay clean for another year and a half and was even invited to my brother’s wedding. Then suddenly, he was gone again. Back into the warm arms of alcohol and Methamphetamine—his oldest friends, and closest enemies.
When I found out, I decided I was done with him for good. I wiped my hands clean, threw them in the air, and proclaimed that I was whole, and didn’t need him.
And yet, no matter what, I would always find myself back where I started:
Seven years old. Curtains peeled back, street lights on, and a cul-de-sac full of cars that were in for the night.
He’ll be here. He’ll be here. He promised he would take me, so he’ll be here.
Three and a half years had passed since I had seen or heard from him and then, my grandpa died.
I knew he would be at his father’s funeral, but I also knew he was on drugs and I was terrified of seeing him like that.
I stepped out of the truck at Green Acres Cemetery, not knowing what to expect.
Palms sweaty, face flushed.
Don’t you cry, Andrea. You’ve gotta stay strong for your brother.
But he never showed. And it was there, at the celebration of my grandpa’s life, that my becoming shifted.
I found out from my cousin that my father was homeless, living on a dirt road somewhere in the desert.
A rumble stirred within me.
Homeless.
I couldn’t accept this. I heard it echoing in my mind for days.
Homeless.
And so, I knew I needed to do something.
I talked to my husband and told him I really wanted to bring a care pack of sorts to my father. You know, toiletries and snacks and things that may help. I knew it wasn’t much, but I also knew it was better than nothing.
But first, I needed to know how to get to him. I decided to send him a facebook message and ask him if what I heard was true.
No response.
Then, an epiphany.
I was lying in bed next to my husband when I became.
I need to tell him I forgive him. Because, I do. I forgive him. And I need to tell him I love him. Because, I do. I love him. And I always have.
Then, another epiphany.
My entire life, I have thought that I needed his love to fill the void in my heart, when in truth, it is MY love that I have wanted to give to him this entire time.
There aren’t adequate enough words to describe this moment.
23 years in the making, I finally discovered my truth:
Conditional love is not who I am. My love is mine to give, and I don’t need someone to love me back in order to give them my love.
That, is unconditional love. And that, is what my soul has always wanted to give to my father.
I sent another message and this time, I told him I loved him and forgave him, without expecting anything in return.
Still, no response.
Then, I sent him this:
I just wanted to let you know that I love you. And I’ll probably tell you that every week from now on, whether you reply or not, because I want you to know that there is still someone living and breathing on this earth that loves and cares for you.
And every Thursday for the past three months I have done just that.
Since then, I was able to see him. My husband and I made the hour and a half drive to the dirt road he’s living on to bring him some things.
He’s created a house of sorts out of an abandoned trailer he found. He scavenges with his girlfriend and they both do drugs.
But, I still love him.
We chatted and laughed and I promised that next time we come, I would stay for a while and catch up more.
He will never be the father I dreamed up in my mind and he may never get clean and sober again.
But I’m no longer seven years old. Curtains peeled back, street lights on, and a cul-de-sac full of cars that were in for the night.
Now, I am a thirty-year-old woman. Eyes peeled open, natural light flooding in, and a heart full of unconditional love that I’m ready to give, freely.
I’ll be there. I’ll be there. I promised myself I would love fully, so I’ll be there.
Essay by: Andi Franklin
You can find more of Andi's writings on Facebook, Instagram and on her website Andi Franklin.
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Weekly Guide
The Courage to Become | Takisha Shelby
My name is Takisha Shelby, I was born and raised in Lubbock, Texas. The Lord blessed me to see 41 years this past 3rd of February. I'm very thankful for that.
Looking back over my life, I can see how the Lord has played a role in it the whole time. I have been through a lot my 41years living on this earth, but I give all the glory to none other than that man above my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
My story of becoming begins about 15 years ago, I was about 26 years old working two jobs. My full-time job at Lubbock Independent School District as a Special Education Teaching Assistant and my part-time job as a Food service worker. I was no stranger to hard work back then and still not to this day.
It was the weekend after working my full-time job I was at my part-time job. I had been dealing with a headache the whole day I thought it was a sinus headache. I had also gotten suspended the rest of the weekend from my part-time job because of some attitude issues I was having.
Only to find out it was all due to what was going on with me physically and medically.
I was supposed to go out that night but didn't due to my headache. I ate me something, thinking that would help but it didn't so I took me some allergy medicine, decided against going out and went to bed. I was awakened in the early morning hours by a bad headache. My head was hurting me so bad to the point I was crying.
The guy I was seeing at the time told my mom he was going to take me to the hospital, which he did. At the hospital, after running some tests and waiting for what seemed like an eternity, the doctors came out and told us what was going on.
By this time my mom had come up there, the doctors had told us that I had a tumor on my brain, in fact; I have several tumors on my brain(looking like little snowflakes all over my brain) but the one they were worried about was the one which was blocking the plumbing and was causing me to have the headache.
The doctor said that it was unusual because it had fluid around it, they would have to admit me into the hospital, go in and put tubes in my head to drain the fluid from my brain before they would be able to do the actual brain surgery to remove the actual tumor causing the problem.
So now, I'm about to be admitted into the hospital because the situation is serious.
They put the tubes in my head so that the fluid could be drained off my brain. A few days later they did the actual brain surgery. The surgery was supposed to take about 17 hours but ended up taking about 11 hours, but God.
Thinking back to that time, I know that the Lord was with me, because after the surgery I was able to see my mama for a few minutes and once I saw her although they had given me medication to sedate me I knew she was there and I was pretty much aware of everything going on around me.
I remember her telling me that she couldn't stay long, and she would see me later.
When she told me that I wasn't trying to let her go, they ended up asking her to leave so I could get some rest, giving me more medication so I could get me some rest.
About a week and a half later, I was out of the hospital on my way to recovery.
I can honestly say that if it wasn't for God bringing through that situation I wouldn't be here right to this day. I feel this more so now at this point in my life than I ever did before. It was by God's grace and mercy that I didn't have to have any therapy only a little speech therapy.
After the surgery because the area where it had occurred was affected, I wasn't able to form complete thoughts; leading us up to that point. After all that had taken place, look at God! Until now I never in a million years would have thought I would be where I am.
This was the beginning of my spiritual journey. I thank God daily that He has blessed me to see another day up to this point. I have always stood on His Word, in Philippians 4:13, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, which is my motto; and the basis of my faith.
It took me a while to move on after the surgery, thanks be to God!
It was only the summer that I was out of work, I was able to return to work at Lubbock Independent School District after that. Praise God!
If there was any advice I had to give to anyone going through this or someone who have gone through anything like this, it would be to hold on to your faith. Pray, pray, and if it still feels hopeless pray some more.
If there is one thing that I have learned throughout this whole experience it is this: Prayer changes things. I know that, without any doubt in my mind.
Just as I know that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me your readers too can do all things through Christ who strengthens them.
Essay by: Takisha Shelby
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
Confidence + Joy Newsletter
The Courage to Become | Penny Williamson Lucas
I am a survivor. I am free. I am blessed.
I say these words to myself often. I have survived abusive marriages and my son dying in an accident when he was 9. Some days I wonder how I’m still standing but then I remind myself that it’s God’s grace and love and the love of the people in my life.
Timmy was my only child from my marriage to my high school sweetheart. My husband was a young alcoholic who saw his dad abuse his mom so it was a normal thing in his world. I divorced him when I was 21. In 1999, Timmy was 9 and he fell on an electric fence while visiting his grandparents and his airway closed up. He was alone at the time so no one was there to save him. I was completely devastated. I grew up in church. Every Sunday morning/night and Wednesdays we were in the building. When Timmy died, especially in such a horrific way, I was furious at God. I didn’t go to church, pray or even let myself think about Him. Why would he take my only child? I couldn’t understand it. Little by little my faith reminded me that God is in control. I will never understand why my child died but I rejoice in the fact that I will see and be with him again one day. I cherish every memory that I have.
Seven months after Timmy died, I was fortunate enough to get a job at the Texas School for the Deaf in the middle school office. Being around the students helped fill the hole that losing Timmy had left in my life. The friends I’ve made in the last 18 years here will be life long friends. About 10 years ago I started doing community service projects with the students and I love it so much. We have prepared lunch at the Ronald McDonald House, served lunch at a soup kitchen, reorganized the library and did sign language classes for the kids at the Helping Hand Home and various fund raisers to send money to different organizations. Helping children fills me with much joy.
I met husband #2 in Dallas night club in 1997. This marriage had a new set of complications because he is black and in the 90’s it wasn’t that common around Austin. I saw a whole different side of life and it was not always nice. As diverse as Austin has a reputation of being, when I was out with him, I was treated horribly. We would get seated in the worst part of restaurants and our service was not as good as I got when I was not with him. I had no problem speaking up about it but it was unreal to me. I didn’t let that affect my marriage or my desire to have children. We are blessed to have 2 daughters who bring so much happiness and laughter to my life every day. I was in that marriage for 8 years and though there was no physical abuse, there was mental and emotional abuse. I wanted to make the marriage work badly. We went to counseling more than once and I tried my best. I couldn’t be divorced TWICE!! But when you are married and feel single, that is no way to live. I struggled with the thought of God being upset with me for yet another divorce. Finally, I just didn’t think that He would want me to be so unhappy and He knew how hard I tried so I went through divorce #2.
By 2008 I had been single for 5 years, really tired of the dating life. I met, online, the biggest mistake of my life. An ex-con who was the sweetest talking, most persuasive man I’ve ever known. I believed everything that he said, including the lie that he wouldn’t hurt me again every time he did it. After we were together for 6 months, he went back to jail, where I married him…I know, what was I thinking!?!?! For the next 3.5 years while he was in prison, I was the loyal wife that visited every weekend, wrote every day, and put money on the books.
When he made parole and came home, he put my daughters, my mom and me through hell for the following 3.5 years. He was abusive in every way. He would disappear, my money would disappear, my peace disappeared. I thought he was going to kill me more than once. At the end of September 2015 was the final time I suffered his abuse. I finally followed through with filing charges and he fled the state. When he tried to contact me, I didn’t respond. I had no guilt in filing for this divorce.
The most often asked question to abused people is why did you stay? It’s a very frustrating question to be asked because it’s impossible to explain. People that know me and those that meet me can’t believe I was in an abusive marriage because I’m not meek or weak by any means. It’s different for everyone. I wasn’t financially dependent on him, quite the opposite. I didn’t need on him for shelter or food. We didn’t have children together. I didn’t NEED him but he convinced me I did. He isolated me from my friends and some of my family. He made me feel that I couldn’t keep a marriage going and that no one else would ever want me. He made me forget that I was God’s child, precious and worthy of being treated that way. I was told once that abused people will stay in that relationship until they hit a wall and I found that to be 100% true. I was so fortunate to get out alive.
I was that girl that always needed to be in some type of relationship. There was a desperate need to fill a void that I had inside me. For a year after that final assault, I went into hibernation and healed. The joy that he had taken away came back. My girls, family, friends and church wrapped me so tight in love, forgiveness, grace and understanding. I finally know that I am 100% awesome all by myself. I don’t need a partner to fulfill me, I am more than enough. I had constantly given that power to other people. No more.
For those who are in an abusive situation. You are worthy of love, you are special, you deserve better. Trust that I know it’s not easy to leave. I know others don’t understand that….I understand 100%. You are God’s child and He wants you to be safe and happy…so do I and everyone that loves you. You have probably been convinced that no one else loves you…please know you ARE LOVED!!!
For anyone who has lost a child, the loss is always there but the burden of it gets easier to bear as time passes. I focus on the almost 10 years that I was blessed to have him here as my boy. I celebrate his life and that I was so lucky to be his mommy. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
I am more thankful than I can express for my mom and my girls. They have loved and supported me at my worst and my best. As much as I tried to shield them, they had to live through a lot of the horrors of my last marriage had and I will forever regret that. My sister, Bonnie and 2 cousins, Terri and Laura (the Fearsome Foursome) get me through life in a constant group text. We support each other daily and I don’t know what I’d do without them.
I thank God for giving me everything that I have. With everything that I have endured and overcome I love the person that I am. I am a good mother, daughter, sister, friend. My life is peaceful. My finances are secure. My house is full of laughter and love every day.
When Catia asked me to do this blog and I looked at some of the former blogs, I was a bit intimidated at first. I don’t have a business, I haven’t written a book, I haven't finished college (yet). I’m just a country girl from Mississippi that has been through a few things. The more I thought about it, there are probably people reading this that have lost a child or have been in, or are still in abusive situations. My prayer is that I can give someone hope that things can get better. I am proof.
I am a survivor. I am free. I am blessed.
Essay by: Penny Williamson Lucas
Hi friend!
I'm Catia, a woman, wife, mama, sister, sister friend, you know -- I wear a million hats just like you.
One of my biggest whys is that I want people to feel good about ALL of who they are. Including you.
The threads running through all my work (I’m an author - The Courage to Become, I’m a motivational speaker - TEDx, Choose Joy or Die , I am a private coach ) are hope, joy and empowerment.
If I could choose ten words that best describe me I would say: honest, welcoming, giving, curious, loving, earnest, empathetic, spiritual, playful, and sassy. Let's add: adventurous. That's 11.
Nice to meet you!
Want to start feeling really good but not sure where to start? Jump on into our virtual classroom (complimentary of course!) and get a weekly guide on how to walk with confidence and joy! You are divine. You are magic. I look forward to serving you!
