Do you ever write a thing (or paint a thing, or say a thing) and then you want to bring those words right back? Well, that was a bit what it was like writing my essay, “I am a Desperate Woman,” for Everbloom: Stories of Deeply Rooted and Transformed Lives.
I wrote about bleeding and being a woman and at first, I wished I could take it all back. But here’s the thing friends, I’m done with pretending that we all don’t need to hear the human experience from the perspective of being female (or male for that matter). I think men should be able to read essays without blushing about birth and menstruation. After all, I read things all the time from a male perspective. So I’m standing by my essay in its vulnerable depiction of health gone awry, of the challenges of being female.
I threw my essay into the lot and it’s now a part of a book by some amazing writers and women from Redbud Writers Guild.
You guys, it’s a gorgeous book. I sat curled up and devoured stories from my writer friends. It’s gutsy and encouraging, poignant, sad, and laugh-out-loud funny.
There’s essays. There’s heart-wrenching personal narratives. There’s poetry. There’s prayers. There’s writing prompts for you to tell your own brave story.
And I’m giving a copy away to ONE LUCKY READER!
Here’s how to enter. Two things. It’s simple:
- Sign up below for my monthly newsletter (if you haven’t done so already)–>
- To whet your appetite, I’m giving you a little bit of my essay below. Please stay tuned, because I’ll have excerpts from other essays this week! Don’t miss it.
Most of my breakdowns happen on bathroom floors. When I did not know much about pain, I cried on the rug in my college apartment over a wedding decision standstill, feeling pulled between daughter and soon-to-be wife. A few years later, when I once had the hope of new life within me, I howled, hunched over the toilet as I miscarried my first baby. Since then, I’ve shut the bathroom door for alone time, hoping to find some inner calm. I’ve cried on the bathmat when the world felt like it was spinning out of control, when I could no longer be the one to hold together all the loose strands. The bathmat has been my altar – soaked with tears and the vessel to hold my sin, shame, and suffering.
This last October, I cried in the bathroom because I couldn’t leave the toilet for more than an hour. I wouldn’t stop bleeding. I didn’t know what was wrong. My body felt twisted, confused, and ridding itself of its life force. This was it, I figured: my body was irreparably broken. I cried for healing and still the blood came, day after day, hour after hour.
Find out more about how bathroom floor breakdowns helped to show me God in Everbloom.
If you just can’t wait, pick up your copy today! If you buy it today on Amazon, you get the pre-order price guarantee of $12.20! Crazy deal!