Every Painted Skyy a Canvas of Your Grace

“I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still” ~Sylvia Plath

I’ve walked as a ghost lingering in the background. Observing and mourning not thinking I belonged in such love. One thing I have recognized in myself is when I am seen, the real person behind the depression, addictions, anxieties, etc… I want to run. It’s uncomfortable. If God, or people, see the real me then I will be truly alone. I am wretched. I fail, I fall, and I lash out when I am scared. The truth is being seen is only the beginning of healing, but I’ve had some bad days sewn together with some bitter experiences. I don’t feel uplifting. I feel a little bit lost.

Faith isn’t a choice I thought I would make… again. Are we not to learn from our experiences? Do we not find growth in awareness? I have always hovered around the idea of faith, the idea of a loving God, it is mesmerizing. There was an 8-10 year period I proclaimed I was an atheist, and sometimes I was the heckler tearing down the faith of others. I couldn’t possibly believe in a universal truth. How could there be when the religion you are raised in highly depends on what part of the world you were born in? I am shaky with my personal beliefs. I still have uncertainties and questions to explore. I have so many questions…

Life-altering tragedies lead me to believe I was beyond finding hope or even redemption. The chaos in my mind became a fortified prison. I had functioned: I finished my degree, I found employment in what I thought was a dream job, I had the beginnings of a home, and I even brought a dog into my bubble. All the pieces were coming together but it did not mean anything. The grief of my father passing and all the drama included mixed with an unceasing chronic depression crippling my soul. I shed weight like it was nothing, I resorted to every bad coping skill I ever had learned, and when that was not enough I resorted to sleeping. I slept more than I was awake.

Where do you find hope when everything feels lost? Between mental health failings and addictions grasp I find myself to be well educated, unemployed, and homeless. I am definitely not writing from a place where I have it all together, but I do have a glimmer of hope that keeps reappearing. I have hope in the fact that God drew me to the places I would find rest. That I could find healing from all of my mess. I abandoned faith, but my heart keeps pulling me back. I always come back to this place. Even in my recklessness, God’s love resurrected my heart.


“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.  I will put My Spirit within you” (Ezekiel 36:26-27)

When I look at the tattoos I have covering my skin, they represent more than beautiful personalized art and ink. They embody powerful moments in my life: Breakthroughs, hope, and love. Every painted Skyy a canvas of your grace.

  One thought on “Every Painted Skyy a Canvas of Your Grace

  1. March 31, 2019 at 11:21 pm

    I enjoyed reading what you wanted to share. It’s powerful and I can’t imagine it’s terribly easy as it means you may be seen. I find it also resonates inside of me on different levels.


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