bound.

hey. it's me again. 

(for some reason, as I typed that, I was singing Adele... "hello, it's me...)

I'm trying to insert as much humor now, well, to be honest...

this is gonna be a serious one. 

and for those of you who know me and read my blog, I joke a lot to try to lighten the mood.

but today I'm writing from a painful depth of my heart. 

and while that doesn't mean I've lost my joy, it does mean that i'm setting aside humor for a few moments. 

why, you ask? well, sometimes (99%) of the time, I use humor as a defense mechanism. sometimes, almost as a way of avoiding my feelings.

and that is one of my main things I'll be addressing as I write.

if I didn't lose you by that introduction, fabulous! 

today i'm writing about the personal experience of being b o u n d.

I haven't written a blog since March 7th. 

for no particular reason other than the fact that life gets busy and I just don't set the time aside...

and also that i am extremely picky and very selective about what i communicate.

i cannot just sit down and start writing. 

every time, it is something that the Holy Spirit drops into my heart and it just bleeds out of me with urgency.

so, a lot has happened since i published a post on the 7th of March.

my Pastor did a ten week series on shame that ended just a few weeks ago.

it was powerful. 

it may have been the best series of messages i have ever heard a pastor preach. (shameless plug, head over to www.excelchurchma.com to listen to them.)

it was powerful, it was truthful, it was practical...

but can i be honest? (you can't do anything about it because it's my blog...)

it was P A I N F U L. it made me painfully aware of the fact that i, in fact, had some serious layers of shame in my 30 years of life. 

the series ended and i knew I needed to address a lot of things. 

being vulnerable, at the end of that ten weeks, everything hit me. it hit me H A R D.

every traumatic event that had ever happened to me, every thing I'd done, things that had been done to me - it hit me like a ton of bricks.

very slowly, i've started to address the trauma and PTSD I've suffered through therapy. i mean very slowly. 

but that's not what this is about. 

three weeks ago, my Pastor started a new series called, "Love ON You." 

how clever is he?! we took shame off, and we were gonna put love on.

or, so I thought. 

i've learned over the years, and even recently that when you experience trauma, it can begin to attach itself to you as your identity. 

and I could agree that I've fought hard to not continue to let myself be defined as a victim of anything over the years...

but when you process trauma, you re live things. 

so recently...

I've had to relive the reality of my past.

abandoned. abused. assaulted. unwanted. used. 

and i am working through the shame of all of those things. 

and this is going to sound CRAZY. but it's my truth that I've faced. 

processing shame? not as hard or painful or terrifying as my ability to ACCEPT love.

doesn't it sound crazy when somebody would rather face their shame then ACCEPT love?

i have recently discovered that there is a much deeper root inside of me that has kept me bound.

i have been bound by the fear of l o v e.

i have filtered everything, and I mean every single thing in my life through my fear of love.

I have quite literally been bound. 

this is not a fun conclusion to come to. 

it isn't easy to look back and recognize all of the relationships and things that you've sabotaged because you can't allow yourself to be loved.

in fact it's hard. it's very, very, very hard.

lucky for me, i am free from shame and don't feel any as I sit and spill out my feelings to you as i type.

yesterday in church, an amazing man preached an incredible message called, when LOVE reveals your identity.

anybody who knows me, knows i have a habit of being quite cynical on the topic of LOVE.

I'm just so not into like, romance, and optimism and happily ever after and marriage and a perfect little family with a white picket fence.

I don't cry at rom com's. I don't gush over how adorable people are. I don't tear up or gush at jewelry commercials, (to be honest, I'm gushing more over the huge diamond rings...)

I'm not a physical touch kind of person, I don't like hugs (don't  judge me, I'm working on it.) the best present you could ever give me is to respect my bubble (JK, it's shoes, ice cream and Target gift cards...but the personal bubble thing, too.)

I just FIGHT love. I suppose I've always been like that. 

my circumstances in life have led me to the conclusion that there isn't really hope for true love.

why? because my experiences have shaped and molded that belief.

and, while we're on the topic... I'm about to confess something, so all of the super righteous holy people, skip over this part...

i very much fight God's love. (gasp, I know.)

I can tell you I fight it because as soon as I saw the message title yesterday, I was uncomfortable. 

(you can ask my friend Stephanie. she was sitting right behind me. I spent an hour twitching, shaking my head, nervously shaking my legs and feet with my fabulous shoes, and doing everything I could to keep from crying because, duh, I didn't want my fake eyelashes to come off. the tarantula look isn't a good look for ANYONE, even me.) 

^ sorry, it was getting a little heavy there, I had to give some humor. 

so I sat in my seat. I've never felt so heavy or in bondage in my life.

I suppose spending hours re living and processing pain and trauma will bring you there.

yes. I sat there, bound by just the TOPIC of love. 

I'm sure you're waiting for the point of this blog where it maybe starts to show a little light at the end of the tunnel...

THAT PART IS HERE! yay! *happy white girl dance cuz how many of y'all know a sista cannot dance*

I sat there and listened to Marco's voice. And he was preaching so good. I just wasn't really truly receiving what he was saying.

until he said ONE sentence that broke me. 

and friends, I mean it from the depths of my heart, this moment, this was a BREAKING FREE moment that has propelled me to fight hell in pursuit of what God desires for me. (and it's only been 24 hours.)

"Is what YOU see and believe about yourself aligned with God's love for you? Don't SETTLE for what life has GIVEN you. Settle for what God wants YOU to have."

that was it. tarantula mode ensue. I couldn't keep myself from crying, and I haven't really stopped since. (thank the good Lord for concealer, can I get a WITNESS?)

LIFE hasn't often given me beautiful things. greatness. joy. 

LIFE has thrown some very painful things my way. and I think it's been that way for most, in one way or another.

I've spent lots of life simply trying to survive. ALONE.

fearful and defiant of believing I would ever be loved unconditionally.

 fearful that I would always be hurt by people. 

fearful of ever being filled with hope, because all I've ever really known is disappointment. 

yes, indeed. I've been bound by fear.

but yesterday, as people lingered out of church and I sat outside with a few moments to myself, I heard the Holy Spirit say this was the first step. 

and I kept hearing "perfect love casts out all fear."

and, what I'm about to say next is, like, not super deep, so, sorry...

God's love is the only perfect love. And when I'm in it, I am SAFE. 

He knows how delicate my heart is. He knows whose hurt me. He knows I'm fearful. He knows every tear. every fear. 

and he spoke through an anointed man yesterday divinely - to FINALLY break me and start the process of living truly loved.

God is a good God. He is a safe place. A place of refuge.

and his Spirit urged me, at the end of a very emotionally draining week, after months of a season where I've wanted to throw it all away, to finally allow the only thing in this life that can FREE me - actually invade me and do just that.

for 30 years, I have been bound by fear. I have been bound by being a victim. I have been bound by the incapability to truly love and allow myself to be loved.

but as I was getting in my car - I looked up the definition of the word "bound" - hello, y'all, its me. did you really think I'd write a blog without ONE definition?

1. BOUND - inseparably connected with.

yes. for 30 years I've been inseparably connected to abuse, to being a victim, to fear, to brokenness and running away from anything trying to embrace me.

but as i got home, I kept hearing in my head, "you are mine."

I thought back to a few weeks earlier when I was woken up (VERY early, like, Jesus isn't even awake at 3:30 in the morning...or so I thought...)

and I kept hearing "bind my wandering heart to thee."

I didn't really know why I was hearing it then or exactly what it meant.

but I do now.

no longer am I bound to my past, my shame, my fear and my pain...

but I am inseparably connected to the One who created me...for the sole purpose that He could lavish His love on me.

one step at a time. but with Him, i am wholey loved, and fully safe.

so I kindly, gracefully, oh, who am I kidding, VERY SASSILY take off the harness that the enemy wanted the world to attach to me, and I (not so politely) throw it back at him because...

God's word. God's truth. and God's love have set me F R E E. 

"Christ has set us free to live a free life. So take your stand! Never again let anyone put a harness of slavery on you." G a l a t i a n s 5:1 (MSG)

cheers to the next 30 (and many, many more years) of new and deeper revelations of His GREAT love and living fully free and loved by Jesus. 

"And may you have the power to understand, as all God's people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is."

e p h e s i a n s 3:18 (NLT)

until NEXT time,

X O X O,

C A I T L I N

don't just SURVIVE.

*disclaimer: this blog post is the most transparent one I've ever written to this day. the topic is on domestic abuse and sexual assault. i'm letting anybody reading know ahead of time, so it does not trigger anybody. i have never disclosed the full details of this before.*

a few weeks ago, i was watching an episode of law & order SVU. (fav, although it's not the same without Stabler!)

the storyline was one I'm all too familiar with. the episode centered on a girl who was sexually assaulted and by her boyfriend. 

the entire episode, she walls up, refuses to address it, and is running from what happened to her. 

finally, with the help, support, and PUSH of another woman, she decides to speak publicly about her assault and confront it, as she presses charges against her assailant. 

the episode closes as the woman who was assaulted addressed the press, the detective who coaxed her to speak out, lingering in the corner, nodding her head, almost as if to say, "it's okay. go ahead. you got this."

she turns her attention yet again to the people in front of her, waiting for her to speak, and boldly says the words,

"there is only HONOR in being a survivor." 

and just like that, the episode ended.

the end of the episode had me in tears because I understand it all too well. 

it touched me. it spoke to my pain. i found myself saying "I am a survivor."

but, not even a minute after the show ended, i heard the Holy Spirit.

"you are not a survivor."

I'll be honest, hood me was about to come out on the Holy Spirit.

"excuse you, Holy Spirit? who are you to tell me I'm NOT survivor. RUDE." 

"you are not a survivor."

this time, i wanted to say, "for someone who has inventory of my entire life, you should know I've survived A LOT of things." (#sassy, but Jesus still loves me.) 

but, before i could open my mouth, he spoke again. 

and not in a nice, calming voice. in a sassy, confrontational, in your face kind of way. 

just a side note, I'm a firm believe that God talks to us the way He knows He will get through to us the most. 

calm, quiet voices don't ever really quite get their point across to me in the way I need it.

most of the time, I need a butt kicking or a figurative "slap" in the face. and God is the best at giving me those. (in love, of course.) 

I sass Him, He sasses me back. we're cool like that.

"you are an OVERCOMER."

"there is a difference between surviving and overcoming." 

talk about being rebuked.

also, talk about hearing something that makes you want to run a few LAPS in His GLORY!

after the rebuke and the revelation...I decided to do what I always do, in typical Caitlin fashion. I did some research.

i like to do research when God tells me there's a difference between something.

so, naturally, I looked at the difference in the definition of SURVIVOR and OVERCOMER.

SURVIVOR: a person who survives, especially a person remaining alive after an event in which others have died.

OVERCOMER: to get the better of in a struggle or conflict; conquer; defeat.

see, to survive something just simply means you are still ALIVE. you're still breathing. your heart is still beating.

but to overcome something means that not only are you still alive on the OUTSIDE... it didn't kill you on the INSIDE. 

simply surviving doesn't necessarily HELP others find freedom.

but overcoming ignites a FIRE in you to help others DEFEAT and CONQUER the very thing that is trying to kill them that DID NOT kill YOU.  

that day, I heard from God.

"we don't need need more survivors. we need more overcomers."

and just like that, God told me to share the story and get to work sharing His hope and freedom.

when God tells you blatantly that there are people WAITING on you to SPEAK, SHOW UP, SHARE...

it's a very, very good antidote to your own selfishness. 

nothing helps you take the focus off of the struggles in your own life when you know there are other people who need to hear what YOU have been through. 

honestly, up until very, and i mean VERY, recently, I did NOT talk very openly about my history with domestic abuse and sexual assault. 

to be completely honest, it's been a few years and I am STILL fully healing from it.

but, there's a bigger reason I've been quiet.

I've been quiet on it because I KNOW that God has called me to share that testimony with other women who need to hear it.

yes, you read that right. 

God told me that one day, i would share the story with thousands of women who need freedom.

i have kept it on the inside until very recently, processing it and working through it with a therapist. 

over the past several months, i have truly found freedom and hope.

i have gone from VICTIM to VICTORIOUS. 

I know my story has a purpose to reach women.

I know other women need to know there is hope and a way out.

the day i watched that episode, God unlocked something inside of me. 

it was almost as if, up until THAT day, He knew I wasn't ready. 

but that day something shifted inside of me.

i stewed on His words for hours. 

i went to bed that night - from believing I was just a "survivor" of domestic abuse - to KNOWING in confidence that I am an "overcomer."

don't get me wrong. we have all survived things. 

but how many things have we not only ENDURED and LIVED THROUGH...

...but that we have CONQUERED and defeated? 

it can be a sobering thought. 

because it takes work.

it takes confrontation.

it takes honesty.

it takes realness.

it takes rawness.

it takes vulnerability.

it takes strength.

it takes choosing to BRING yourself back to the horrifying, scary, sad moments that BROKE you into pieces...

for God to put all of those broken pieces back together and use them for His glory.

i will not lie to you. 

this was one of the hardest thing i have ever had to do in my life.

but i knew i didn't simply want to be a survivor. 

there is MORE to my story than that.

and there is MORE to YOURS.

I knew women were waiting.

and I knew I didn't want to just be a victim anymore.

so, by the grace and with the grace of God, back into the darkest years of my life I went.

i found myself back in the beginning of what was a whirlwind romance with a wonderful Christian guy. 

i slowly brought myself back to the date nights at all of my favorite places, being lavished with gifts, my favorite flowers delivered to my work and on my doorsteps every day.

every need i had, he met it. little did I know he'd make sure I'd never forget that, later down the road.

i brought myself back, face to face, with a man I fell so deeply in love with. 

a man who brought me to a church for the first time ever. 

a man who listened, as I poured out the deepest stories of my life and the deepest pains of my heart, and promised me he would never leave me, despite them.

a man who told me he wanted us to stay pure and that he would wait until marriage with me.

somebody who held my hand as I was water baptized. 

a man who I never, in a million years, ever thought would mistreat me in ANY way.

slowly, though, things changed. 

first, mental and verbal abuse began to infiltrate our relationship.

I found myself becoming pressured, guilted, and shamed for desiring to abstain from sex with him. 

he started to say things like, "if you really loved me, you would do this for me."

he started to tell me where I could go, who I could be around, and what I could and could not do without him. 

he eventually made me feel as though I was intentionally and purposely hurting him by spending time with anyone else.

that list slowly diminished, until he was the only one I spent any time with.

he began to isolate me from my family, until I eventually moved out of my grandmother's house with nowhere to go, so that we could, "be alone and together."

he told me "we could be our own family now."

months and months went by without me speaking to my mother, my uncle, my nana + grandad, who lived just a few miles down the road.

he started to criticize me about how I looked and dressed. but not in a blatant way.

he said things like, "who are you getting dressed up for?" 

"are you trying to impress somebody else other than me?"

he began taking me shopping and buying me clothes, only now, I've come to realize, it was to control what I wore and how I looked.

he began to accuse me of wanting attention from other guys and not "loving him" enough.

in the handful of times that we were not together, he was with other girls. 

when confronted, he denied it, and tirelessly told me he loved me and would do anything for me to believe him.

he started drinking and using drugs and steroids behind my back.

the smooth talking man I had come to know changed and began to verbally torment me.

he said things like, "I hope nobody ever finds out who you really are and what you've done."

he threatened to expose things I had shared privately to him and use them to "destroy" me and my relationships. 

he would drink and use and say things like, "if you ever leave me I'll kill myself. you are all I have", crying and threatening me all at the same time.

and still, despite his abuse of me, I couldn't leave him.

I was tied to him in the most painful way.

there were times I'd be laying in bed with him and I'd wake up to his hands around my neck, choking me from his ptsd from being in the military, or in blank stare or blind rage. 

one time, he smashed the lamp next to his bed and stood over me with a piece of glass in his hand, in the middle of a flashback.

he casually would remind me, every now and then, that he slept with a gun under his bed. 

still, I wanted to believe he would never actually do anything to harm me, although he already had.

ABUSE blinds you.

a few months later, I desperately tried to cut my ties with him. 

he showed up (uninvited) at my apartment one night, so drunk he could barely walk and he locked himself in my bathroom for 2 hours at 4am. 

I finally got him out of my apartment. 

he totaled his car that night and ended up in jail.

but I COULDN'T STAY AWAY FROM HIM. 

I continued to spend time with him, after telling myself I would NEVER go back.

I found myself with him all of the time, spending any free second I had holed up at his parent's house while they were away. 

I had no means of transportation, so I was completely dependent on him.

one night, we were out to dinner. i had planned to spend the weekend with him. I went to send a picture on his phone to my sister and saw messages on his phone from him and a much younger girl. 

I confronted him about it and he lied straight to my face. 

I told him to get up and out of the restaurant and that we were leaving.

when I got in his car, i just asked him to tell me the truth so that we could END things in a civil way. 

he kept lying and telling me he loved me.

so angry at him, I poured a bottle of soda out on the seats of his brand new car. 

he became enraged and grabbed me by the neck, choking me and holding me down over his middle console.

at one point, both of his hands were around my neck, and he swerved off of the road. we came within an inch of smashing into a telephone pole at full speed. 

when we got to his house, I pleaded with him to tell me the truth and asked him WHY he had ever told me he loved me when he clearly didn't.

he began listing off all of the ways he did love me, and picked up a picture of him and i. 

I grabbed it out of his hand and smashed it on the ground. 

i have never been more scared in my entire life of what proceeded next. he came after me, and I ran in the kitchen and grabbed a knife.

he laughed. he said, "you think that's going to protect you from me?"

I ran from him, he grabbed me, threw me up against the wall, grabbed my neck with his hands and began to choke me. 

I really, truly believed that I was going to die then. I somehow broke free of him and found a wine bottle close by. I smashed it, took a piece of glass and hit him in his ear with it.

the moments after that are a blur. 

I remember running outside, waiting for my friend to pick me up, and the cops being called.

the next few days, I laid in bed, doped up on klonpin and still, after all of it, I MISSED HIM.

I sat in the police station with a good friend of mine the next night, filing a restraining order on him. 

I remember them taking pictures of the black and blue bruises all over my face and neck, and the cuts and scratches on my arms. 

but I missed him still.

I could not stay away from him. and honestly, no part of me WANTED to.

after suffering a miscarriage a few months later, from what I was convinced what extreme stress and trauma, I was completely broken. 

he found out from a mutual friend after getting out of jail for drugs, yet again, and accused me of "murdering" his child. 

he told the Pastors of the ministry we both served in that I had an abortion. 

he shamed me. he guilted me. he accused me. 

yet still, I couldn't break away from him.

I found myself back in his arms again, except this time, nobody knew.

I lied about where I was going. I would walk miles from my grandparents house and wait for him to pick me up. 

we would get hotels and spend days together, not going anywhere, for fear of people "catching" us and seeing us together.

one day, I told my grandparents a friend of mine had tickets to the iron bowl in Tuscaloosa and he was meeting me at Starbucks to pick me up.

but really, I was going with him AND my friend.

I remember wanting to take pictures, but only could of myself and my friend because nobody could know I was with him.

to my surprise, after a day of a great football game and being lavished with gifts, he proposed to me, right in the middle of Bryant Denny stadium during the game.

I said, "yes", and I remember thinking that it all would have to be a secret from my family. 

we continued to sneak around and be with each other.

things were good with us for a little while, until the vicious cycle began to repeat itself.

to be honest, I can't remember what happened after that. it's a blur.

all I know is that somehow, over the next several months, I managed to escape from the hell that had become my life, and it went from days to weeks to months without seeing or hearing from him.

I remember a leader in our ministry praying over me one night. she specifically asked God to break the soul tie between him and i.

and just like that, I didn't see him for months. 

I had heard through the grapevine he had been in and out of jail.

months later, I was in the lobby at church and I turned around and saw his face.

I remember leaving as fast as I could. 

I never saw him again.

since that day, roughly 5 1/2 years ago, I've heard from him a few times.

when my mother passed away, he reached out to me. all I could think about in the middle of my grief during our brief phone conversation were all of those times I sat across from her in a jail cell and she desperately plead with me to get out.

"I know you think he loves you."

"I know you think it's great right now."

she wrote me a 7 page letter in jail about her own experiences with abusive men and how she knew he was one.

she was not right about many things. but this, she was.

not too long after I was accepted into my internship in ministry school, he reached out to me. 

he wanted to meet face to face so he could ask for my forgiveness.

after consulting my mentors, we agreed it wasn't healthy or safe. 

I told him I had forgiven him and had moved on. that I would be praying for him.

he thanked me and asked me to pray for his two year old son.

it didn't take me long to do the math (although I am terrible at it.)

he had gotten another girl pregnant during the course of our relationship.

I never responded, and I've never spoken to him again.

I couldn't help but think what my life would have been like had it been me who had given birth to his child.

I am thankful I don't have to imagine that.

I survived that. I SURVIVED all of that.

but, sweet friends, it has taken me YEARS to overcome.

and I am STILL overcoming.

not emotionally. 

I have processed. I have cried. I have screamed. I've broken things. I've journaled. I've talked. I have forgiven. I have moved on. 

I have let God's light infiltrate my brokenness and use my voice to further His Kingdom.

physically.

I flinch when people touch me still.

I have a very, very hard time letting men even come close to me.

I back away when ANYBODY goes to embrace me or hug me.

I keep eye contact on any man surrounding me when I am in public.

when I'm dating a guy, ( which doesn't happen often, because #CANTTOUCHTHIS, sorry, this is a really dark blog and it needed some laughter...) he will inadvertently put his hands somewhere on my face or neck in a harmless way and I will FREAK OUT. 

and I don't say these things to say it still has POWER over me.

it doesn't.

it will take time to trust that the man God intended for me will never place his hands on me in a threatening or physical way, and it will take time for me to LET HIM. 

I candidly tell you, just to simply say that the STRUGGLE to overcome domestic abuse and the SCARS it leaves behind is REAL.

it is WORK.

but it is WORTH IT.

a few nights ago I was journaling. 

I had been particularly frustrated with still being SO defensive, nervous, and uncomfortable in my physical body when it relates to others touching me. 

"I just want the scars to go away so I can be NORMAL again."

and God responded back, "the scars don't go away. look at Jesus. He bears His scars, still."

this morning I listened to a message from Steven Furtick. he spoke about the difference between SCARS and WOUNDS.

WOUNDS HEAL.

the wounds of me being scared to be touched by a man? those will heal and they will fade with WORK, and with the power of God.

SCARS REMAIN.

and you know what? i am grateful for the scars.

I would not change one thing.

because now? now I get to pick up the arms of other women, and hold up mine and say to them, with CONFIDENT ASSURANCE...

there is a way out. there is hope. there is freedom. and there is a PURPOSE on the other side.

the privilege to be a VESSEL of brokenness pieced back together ONLY by the grace and glory of God?

it is humbling. it brings tears to my eyes. it ignites fire inside of my bones.

the opportunity to look face to face with the very woman i once was, and who I used to know, and whisper to her gently...

let's do this. and let's do it together. because there is only HONOR in being an overcomer.

this most delicate piece of my heart, well I dedicate it to Tracey. I will never stop fighting for you, and for women like you. I cannot thank God enough for placing you directly in my life, for igniting the very thing my heart has overcome and the very thing it BEATS for. You are not just a survivor. YOU, are an overcomer. You are loved. let's do this. 

U N T i L N E X T T i M E,

X O X O,

C A i T L I N

if you are in an unsafe domestic situation, email me confidentially at ritchie.caitlin@gmail.com OR call the domestic abuse hotline 1-800- 799-7233 

|| there is a way out. nomore.org #nomore week for sexual assault + domestic violence - March 5th to March 11th. 

let's fight to END IT.