Seven years ago I began a journey and now it is coming to an end. Something wild and free needed to be released. And so, I let it be. I love this picture of me. This was right in the middle of the most painful part of my journey. This was when I wasn't sure I would make it. This was when I didn't know where I was going or where it would end. I love this picture because it isn't photoshopped or filtered. It is just me. A little messy. No makeup. Unsure. Determined. Hurting. Taking it one day at a time.

And now, here I am. I have written two books. I have deconstructed, advocated and told the whole story. Now, something is changing inside me. I can feel it happening. My art is calling. And it looks a little something like this....

OK, let me back up a bit.

I've spent the last seven years of my life deconstructing my past and advocating for victims of spiritual abuse. It's been hard work. I found myself often fighting two battles: those in religious power who wanted me to be quiet and sometimes, the victims themselves who wanted me to say more, do more or do it differently.

Sometimes, helping those who have been spiritually abused feels like rescuing a drowning person—the victim may lash out and struggle against their own rescue. The rescuer can sometimes drown alongside them.

The point is, I know what it’s like to make mistakes while advocating and deconstructing. I have often been too reactionary to those in power and I have often taken personally the lashing out of drowning victims. There were times when I should have done more. There were times when I should have done things differently.

What I have learned is that I cannot fight every battle and I cannot save everyone. I wish I could. But I can’t. If I try, I will drown, too.

In the past year I have stepped away a bit from advocacy work—to reflect on my involvement in it, to check my motives and to ask myself where I need to go from here. My focus was beginning to shift from deconstruction and advocacy to rebuilding and recovery.

I wrote a second book (more about that in the New Year!).

I am so very proud of this book. It is the culmination of everything I have learned in the process of recovering from spiritual abuse, religious addiction and finding my way back to healthy, thriving, sustainable faith. 

Since finishing my 2nd book, I have taken a rest from writing. The last seven years of intense writing and blogging and speaking about fundamentalism, religion, faith, finding my out of abusive relationships….all of it had utterly exhausted me.

I needed a break.

In some ways I have felt like an artist who was called away from her art and home to fight a battle she never wanted, a war she never started, called to clean up a mess she didn’t make. I answered the call. And now, I’ve returned home to my art and while the war isn’t over, my part in it HAS been completed.

It is time for me to move on.

It is time for me to be human again.

Yes, the world is broken and darkness threatens to overwhelm, but in my own little corner of the world, there are books and Beethoven and sewing.

Here in my corner of the world, we are focused on recovery. We are focused on building connections.

I am done deconstructing.

I am ready to enjoy my life.

I am giving myself permission to be happy and enjoy my life.

I'm giving myself permission to wear silly, fun Christmas sweaters. EEK! The cuteness.

sweater from the wonderful Tipsyelves.com

I'm giving myself permission to re-discover my passion for long-forgotten hobbies.

For example, a couple of months ago, I came downstairs one morning to find that my husband had set up my sewing machine. “I just thought maybe you’d like to tinker around with this,” he said.

So, I did.

What happened next took me by surprise. A well of creativity bubbled up. My burned out, exhausted brain began releasing new ideas—not for writing, but for art, costumes, dresses, pillows! What started out as: “Well, I guess I’ll just finish this dress I started seven years ago” became a full-fledged Victorian costume complete with detachable bustle.

And then, suddenly, I was on a roll. I sewed all these other things:

And also, I began drawing and painting greeting cards:

All this to say, my art is calling. I have to answer.

It is another avenue of storytelling that I am excited to explore.

I am not built for sustained warfare. Although I have spoken loudly and fought fiercely when necessary, the very truth of who I am is much different. Under my hard shell, I am a cuddly, soft, gentle little bookworm. I don’t like fighting. I like making pot roast. I don't like arguing. I like baking chocolate chip cookies. And painting pictures of dancing hippos. And sewing Victorian costumes. I don't like deconstructing what's wrong with the world. I like watching "The Sound of Music" and singing along. I like going to Mass and praying the Rosary. I like sitting quietly in front of the Blessed Sacrament and resting on the heart of Jesus. I like talking on the phone with my sister. I like cuddling with my twins on the couch and watching “A Charlie Brown Christmas.” I like making up nonsense songs for my dog, Darby. She's a good listener.

As I go in this new direction, I see glimpses of my writing future. I have a few ideas percolating quietly. I am content to let them take their time to develop.

I think I will keep blogging. I do like this medium so much.

Most of all, I want to thank all of you who have stuck with me through all these years. Thank you for growing with me. Thank you for emailing me and talking to me. The time you spend here is a beautiful gift to me and I don't take it for granted.

I am excited to see where my art takes me! I hope you'll come along.

And most of all, I'm very excited to share my new book with you very soon! STAY TUNED!

Much love and peace to you. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

*big thank you to "tipsy elves" for letting me pick out a super cute christmas sweater!*

Welcome to Day 4 of the EE Christmas 2015 Book Giveaway!

Is there anything more wonderful than a good book? I think not. Well, the only thing better than ONE good book is a BUNCH of good books, amen? :)

So, I've done a lot of reading this year (over a hundred books) and to celebrate YOU, my faithful readers, I'm giving away a few bundles of my favorite books! Merry Christmas!

Friday, 12/18: THE SPIRITUALITY BUNDLE

To win this 3-book bundle, simply subscribe to my "EE Newsletter" (in the form below) and you will be automatically entered to win!

*If you are already subscribed to my "EE Newsletter," you may enter the giveaway by leaving a comment. NOTE: the "EE Newsletter" is DIFFERENT than a subscription to my RSS blog post feed. The "EE Newsletter" only arrives a few times each year whereas the RSS blog post subscription arrives every time I publish a new blog post. Winners will be notified via email by Saturday, December 19th. One bundle/bundle-type per winner.

Welcome to Day 3 of the EE Christmas 2015 Book Giveaway!

Is there anything more wonderful than a good book? I think not. Well, the only thing better than ONE good book is a BUNCH of good books, amen? :)

So, I've done a lot of reading this year (over a hundred books) and to celebrate YOU, my faithful readers, I'm giving away a few bundles of my favorite books! Merry Christmas!

Thursday, 12/17: THE HISTORICAL BUNDLE

To win this 3-book bundle, simply subscribe to my "EE Newsletter" (in the form below) and you will be automatically entered to win!

*If you are already subscribed to my "EE Newsletter," you may enter the giveaway by leaving a comment. NOTE: the "EE Newsletter" is DIFFERENT than a subscription to my RSS blog post feed. The "EE Newsletter" only arrives a few times each year whereas the RSS blog post subscription arrives every time I publish a new blog post. Winners will be notified via email by Saturday, December 19th. One bundle/bundle-type per winner.

Welcome to Day 2 of the EE Christmas 2015 Book Giveaway!

Is there anything more wonderful than a good book? I think not. Well, the only thing better than ONE good book is a BUNCH of good books, amen? :)

So, I've done a lot of reading this year (over a hundred books) and to celebrate YOU, my faithful readers, I'm giving away a few bundles of my favorite books! Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, 12/16: THE MEMOIR BUNDLE

To win this 3-book bundle, simply subscribe to my "EE Newsletter" (in the form below) and you will be automatically entered to win!

*If you are already subscribed to my "EE Newsletter," you may enter the giveaway by leaving a comment. NOTE: the "EE Newsletter" is DIFFERENT than a subscription to my RSS blog post feed. The "EE Newsletter" only arrives a few times each year whereas the RSS blog post subscription arrives every time I publish a new blog post. Winners will be notified via email by Saturday, December 19th. One bundle/bundle-type per winner.

Is there anything more wonderful than a good book? I think not. Well, the only thing better than ONE good book is a BUNCH of good books, amen? :)

So, I've done a lot of reading this year (over a hundred books) and to celebrate YOU, my faithful readers, I'm giving away a few bundles of my favorite books! Merry Christmas!

Today, Tuesday 12/15, I'm giving away THE FICTION BUNDLE!

Come back on Wed, Thurs. and Fri. for the Memoir, Spirituality & Historical bundles!

Tuesday, 12/15: THE FICTION BUNDLE

To win this 3-book bundle, simply subscribe to my "EE Newsletter" (in the form below) and you will be automatically entered to win!

*If you are already subscribed to my "EE Newsletter," you may enter the giveaway by leaving a comment. NOTE: the "EE Newsletter" is DIFFERENT than a subscription to my RSS blog post feed. The "EE Newsletter" only arrives a few times each year whereas the RSS blog post subscription arrives every time I publish a new blog post. Winners will be notified via email by Saturday, December 19th. One bundle/bundle-type per winner.

This year I read over one hundred books. My main focus was fiction, spirituality and recovery. Today I'll share with you my favorite fiction books from 2015!

AND COME BACK TOMORROW FOR THE BEGINNING OF MY FOUR DAYS OF BOOK GIVEAWAYS!

 

FICTION:

The Girl on the Train: couldn't put this one down. Page-turner. Dark. A bit depressing. No positive takeaway but compelling and gripping read.

All Fall Down: one of Jennifer Weiner's best books. An overwhelmed mom's struggle with addiction to painkillers. Redemptive. Real. Beautiful.

All The Light We Cannot See: the quick-shifts between narrators, settings and times was interesting but also required a level of alertness I couldn't sustain while reading before bed. Best read when fully awake! Ha! Amazing WWII story. Gorgeous descriptive writing.

Goldfinch: worlds-within-worlds. Densely packed narrative and in-depth character development. Rich, languid pace. Will read again and again.

Lila: slow-moving redemptive story, Marilynne Robinson does not disappoint. This is a master writer at the peak of her craft. Such a treat.

Life After Life: very intriguing premise, a bit repetitive at times but well-drawn characters keep it interesting throughout.

The Signature of All Things: probably my favorite book of 2015. Elizabeth Gilbert is a genius. This book is expansive, well-researched, a transport into a different world and time period. Highly recommend.

A Delicate Truth: a subtle examination of the fog of war. Le Carre's understated characters contain all the stiff-upper-lipedness you'd expect from Bristish soldiers and undercover agents, but this only enhances the dire state of the war on terror.

Everything I Never Told You: an enlightening portrayal of an Asian-American family, the ties that bind, tthe unspoken—and yet heavy—expectations upon immigrant families and their children. Heartbreaking. Raw. A bit of a tragic read.

Among the Ten Thousand Things: I finished this book mainly because the author is such a good writer, not because I was terribly interested in the book. It got too depressing for me. A father's affair leads to the disintegration of a family. Beautiful writing, dark subject matter.

Orphan Train: loved this book so much. An eye-opening look into a forgotten piece of American history. Orphaned children separated from any remaining relatives and shipped to the Midwest on trains. Heartbreaking and beautiful.

Elders: an in-depth look into the life of a young Mormon missionary. Utterly fascinating. Tragic. While this is a fictional narrative, it is probably the closest, real look into the life of Mormon missionaries. I came away wondering why in the world ANYONE would send their young 18 or 19 year old kid on a 2 year mission. It also made me think that the Mormon church is way more cultish in practice than I realized.

COME BACK TOMORROW FOR THE BEGINNING OF MY FOUR DAYS OF GIVEAWAYS! :)

*post contains affiliate links*

via GIPHY

Guys, it’s hard disliking Adele’s new song. Hello—what’s wrong with me? When I tell people I don’t like it they say stuff like: “Oh. So, what DO you like? KILLING BABY ANIMALS?” They are THAT horrified about it. I wish I could like it. I feel so alone. Hello from the outside, indeed.

So, I got to thinking. Maybe I'm not the only one? Maybe there are a few of us out here who aren't all swoon-y about this song? I mean, how does Adele's ex feel about "Hello"? Does he forgive her for breaking his heart? DID HE EVER GET OUT OF THAT TOWN WHERE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED? These are important questions. We need answers!

Well, you're in luck because Adele's ex got in touch with me and gave me all the answers I wanted to know.*

*this is a lie. i don't know Adele's ex. i am making up the answers. please don't sue me.*

Hello, it’s me—Adele’s ex-lover. I've been wondering if you'd like to go over everything that happened? Yeah, me neither. But it don't matter. We're here now, aren't we? There's a reason why I "never seem to be home." This is how it really happened. Hello from the other side of the story. 

1.     “Hello, it’s me…”: Yeah, I know.

2.     “I must’ve called a thousand times” : That’s how I knew it was you. Stalker, much?

3.     “But when I call you never seem to be home” : Oh, I’m home. I’m just screening your calls. Caller ID. It’s a thing. P.S. you’re not tricking me by calling from an “Unknown Number.”

4.     “I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to go over everything” : NOW you want to go over everything? It’s been YEARS, Adele. Years. And no, I don’t need to go over ANYthing. I’m pretty clear about what happened, thanks.

5.     “I must’ve called a thousand times” : Yes, we’ve established this. Repeating yourself isn’t creepy AT ALL. Do I need a restraining order? Look, I’m not the bad guy for ignoring you. I’m trying to keep myself safe FROM A STALKER. See #2.

6.     “It’s so typical of me to talk about myself” : Yes, it is typical. This is why we’re no longer in a relationship. I quit dating narcissists. P.S. Only YOU would write a line saying sorry for talking about yourself while STILL TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF.

7.     “It clearly doesn’t tear you up anymore” : Actually? I'm not torn up because you can’t make me feel bad about myself anymore. But I AM annoyed. Stop calling me.

8.     “Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?” : Oh, so now you’re insulting my hometown? Ohhhkaaay. You should stay in California. Pretentiousness suits you.

9.     “It’s no secret that both of us are running out of time” : Speak for yourself, lady. Time is on my side. I’ve never felt better.

10. “At least I can say that I tried” : If by “trying” you mean exploiting our breakup to write a song all about yourself then, yep. You really “tried.” Congratulations. Here’s your trophy. Now get the hell out my life.

My words have abandoned me—book writing burnout, I suppose. I know better than to try and force it. My writing muse needs to rest and so I'm giving her a much needed sabbatical.

I've turned my creativity toward sewing: one of my first loves. I decided to make a "Victorian Lady" Halloween costume for Jasiel.

I learned how to sew in 7th grade on my mother's old sewing machine from the 1970's. But before that, I'd always loved dresses—especially period costumes. One of my favorite pastimes as a child was playing dress up and playing with paper dolls. I had a paper doll book from the Smithsonian Museum which showcased dress styles from the 1800's. I adored it. I practiced drawing the costumes I saw in the book. 

I've always been fascinated by clothing rituals. In college, I wrote a huge semester research paper on  the intricacies of Victorian and Romantic-era dresses and how it related to the status, wealth and ownership of women. Aside from the intellectual and feminist implications of female dress, I've always maintained a deep admiration for the artistry of handmade garments. 

About seven years ago, I purchased a simple flower girl dress pattern. My idea was to sew up a nice special-occasion dress for my oldest daughter, Jewel. She was 9. Well, I only got as far as cutting out the fabric for the skirt. My twins were eleven months old. What was I thinking trying to sew when I had baby twins? HA.

Fast forward to last week. I took out my sewing things—just for fun. I needed to PLAY. I came upon the long neglected, unfinished dress. And I had an idea. Why not tweak the pattern and create a Halloween costume for Jasiel?

My sewing philosophy: keep it simple and PLAY. Believe it or not, this costume was incredibly easy to sew. It LOOKS complicated, but it's not. Anyone with basic sewing skills can make this costume. 

Here's how I did it:

This is the pattern I used: McCall's MP295 (it looks like McCall's no longer carries this pattern). 

But that's ok. All you really need is a simple, straightforward "special occasion" dress pattern. I would go with something like this from Simplicity. 

Now, let me explain my process. I always look for ways to make things simpler. In my opinion, dress patterns are ridiculously difficult to understand. All the symbols, dots, arrows, wrong-side/right-side, double-thickness fold...ACK! It's just too much. It kills the joy of creating! Remember my philosophy? KEEP IT SIMPLE AND PLAY! 

Trick #1: Sew the skirt first! I always cut out the skirt and sew up the side hems because BOOM! Hardly any time at all and I feel like I've accomplished something. Then I cut out the remaining fabric pieces and begin work on the bodice.

Trick #2: Play with the sleeves! For a costume piece, nobody is gonna see the inside of the sleeves, so instead of lining the sleeves, I used the lining (which is just a second piece of sleeve fabric) and added it to the cap sleeve. Voila! A fancier, "more Victorian" 3/4 length sleeve. To make it even fancier, I sewed PRE-MADE hair bows to the bottom of the sleeves (see above pictures).

Trick #3: Tulle covers a multitude of sins. Got a messy seam? Cover it with an explosion of tulle. Also, tulle is amazing. It adds mystery and whimsy. I tore apart one of Jewel's old dance costumes and bunched it up on one of the shoulders as a kind of flowing, side-cap (note in the pictures, I also used it as a collar/shawl around her shoulders). I hand-stitched the tulle to the shoulder and fancied it up with a sequined, flower hair clip.

Trick #4: Why use zippers when you can just use velcro? Zippers are annoying. For me, at least. I mean, sure. I'll USE a zipper if I have to. But in a costume, we are PLAYING. So, instead of a zipper in the back of the dress, I just stitched in a long strip of velcro.

Trick #5: DETACHABLE bustle, yo. Nobody has time to sew a bustle ONTO the costume. I used a large square of fabric, stuffed it with a whole bunch of excess tulle (TULLE IS AMAZING!), gathered the fabric toward the center and used a rubber band to secure it. Above the rubber band, I created draping and folds in the fabric, securing with pins and later running a straight stitch over a few places to keep it together. Below the rubber band/fabric knot I folded a separate rectangle of fabric to create the bustle "tail." I sewed the top of the bustle to a half-circle of fabric that I'd made stiffer using iron-on interfacing. Then I attached the half-circle to a sash that could be tied around the waist.

Trick #6: A pretty sash makes everything pretty. I folded a long piece of rectangular fabric in half and attached a pouf of tulle on the inside. This sash sits on top of the bustle sash (to hide the bustle sash) and is attached UNDER the bustle in the back. 

I purchased a "mini top hat" and black lace fan from Amazon. To make the dress pouf out, I used an old "southern belle" costume. I cut off the bodice and ruffles until all that was left was the wire hoop skirt which Jasiel wore under her costume.

I had SO MUCH fun putting this costume together. I kept coming up with new ideas and just PLAYING as I went along. When we took some pictures, Jasiel really got into it—as you can tell from her facial expression in this picture. HA. It was a blast. I can't wait to sew something else!!

I'm no sewing expert, but if you have any questions about this costume I'd be happy to answer them! Thanks for reading! XO. EE.

Writing is lonely business. Especially for those of us who haven't received the "validation" of a book contract or thousands of blog readers, we may wonder if we can even call ourselves "writers." I was there. I wrote in obscurity for decades before people started reading my words with any regularity. Today, I want to use my space to encourage you. To highlight the beautiful work you are doing. This past week I posted a call for submissions and am happy to present these fine pieces to you. Please take the time to leave a comment and follow these writers on Twitter. Here's what my agent always tells me: "If you can't NOT write, then you are a writer." Keep writing, friends. Your words MATTER.

Dear Congress, I write you this letter so that you can see the face of a survivor.  I write you this letter as someone who saw with my own eyes the horror of a mass shooting, a shooting that took the lives of my twin and younger sister and injured my father at New Life Church in December 2007. And most importantly I write this letter to open a dialogue about the role that gun violence has played in our country. —Laurie Works (blog) and @LaurieWorks (Twitter)

When a woman tells you her story, please don't ask why she never spoke up before, what she could/should have done to avoid it, or why she didn't press charges...If they tell you their story now they are being brave and need you to listen, believe them and don't search for a way to make their sexual abuse or rape their fault. Please just allow them a safe place to free that painful, awful secret. —Carole Turner Smith (blog) @CaroleTurner (Twitter)
 

These are lovely Scriptures, really, and they make such lovely memes when superimposed over pictures of babbling brooks, majestic mountains, or sandy shores. And for some people, that's what they need. But when you live with chronic anxiety sometimes those verses are a reminder that you've failed. You are a Bad Christian. —Rea Tschetter (blog) @ReaTschetter (Twitter)

While time seems to fly by, a lifetime can be pretty long. Our paths may once again cross with people we have shut out years ago. We might even need to ask for help from a person we'd long forgotten. —Stephen Robles (blog) @StephenRobles (Twitter)

Racism’s heritage still exists in theological institutions beyond the issue of slavery or inerrancy. Whenever we associate purity with whiteness (the song “Whiter than Snow”, for example); when students of color feel uncomfortable in chapel service; when a majority of the faculty do not reflect the diversity of our nation; such racism continues to manifest itself. When white students aren’t challenged to read people who are different and think differently from them, they believe their theology and practices are correct and the norm, thus implicitly presuming a white perspective is the best perspective. —Kate Hanch (blog) @KateHanch (Twitter)

With God on their side, many Christians take the liberty afforded to them from on high to run roughshod over any boundaries I’ve set, even over boundaries set by societal norms, in order to convince me to change my ways. After all, the Word of the Lord will not return void. So who cares if anyone has a problem with it, amiright? —Dani Kelley (blog)  @danileekelley (Twitter)

Bravery is waking up each day and still being here.  The gift of a day has become almost a curse with a body that is not willing to cooperate; however, he still opens his eyes to face the day. It's the face of a ninety-one year old veteran, who still shares stories of life in Italy.  It is this man who has bravely lived life fully despite the loss of a wife and son many years before.  —Janene, Everyday Extraordinary @Everydayeo (Twitter)

What I needed was not to figure out what to do in the silence, but how to be at peace with it. How to be at peace with empty arms, a quiet house, no cradle in the nursery, no stroller on the sidewalk, no baby at my breast. How to be at peace in the silence..."LORD God, please look upon your servant's misery and grant her a child. I am your servant. May it be to me according to your will." This prayer has changed me. Yes I still long for a child, deeply. But when I pray this prayer, the excruciating hollowness inside me floods with peace. True peace. —Jillian Burden (blog) @jillian_burden (Twitter)

The church is supposed to be a safe haven for the hurting, a hospital for the sick, a lifeline for the drowning. People should be able to walk through the doors of every single Christian church and feel accepted, loved, and a sense of belonging. They should be safe. An overwhelming “we are so glad you are here” should be the church’s response. People should be able to bring their doubts, fears, insecurities, and baggage and find refuge,  peace, and protection. —Angela Clavijo (blog) @angelaclavijo (Twitter)

Modesty culture teaches men that women are scary. All of them. All the time. Yes, you should “treat them like sisters,” but really, you should be terrified of them. They could “reduce your life to a loaf of bread.” It’s really best to domesticate them. We don’t want any wild and free women roaming the countryside, luring unsuspecting holy men.Women are powerful, a force to be reckoned with, and if you’re not careful, they will ruin you. That’s why women need to dress modestly, cover their power. So be cautious. Keep them at a distance, lest you be snared. —Jonathan Trotter (blog) @trotters41 (Twitter)

Depression is not fair. I hate that I find both relief and unspeakable loneliness in isolation. I hate that I struggle to connect with people, to find deep friendships. I hate that asking for help sometimes feels like putting a burden onto people I love, so sometimes I don't ask. My depression cycles always end at some point. That gives me great hope, or at least enough oomph to carry on. —Brenda Marie (blog)  @justbrendap (Twitter)

A couple of weeks ago, I was invited to be a guest on the Drew Marshall show. We discussed everything from the definition of a cult to warning signs of abusive churches. And then I got all fired up about how other people don't get to tell us how to feel about our own experiences. If your experience as abusive, nobody gets to tell you otherwise! Take a listen and let me know what you think. BIG PROPS TO ALL THE SURVIVORS OUT THERE. xo.

Reba Riley & Elizabeth Esther

The Drew Marshall Show

My lovely, whimsical, soul-deep friend, Erika, has written a beautiful book called Bandersnatch: an invitation to explore your unconventional soul. 

I'm so proud of her! It's the kind of book we ALL need. The kind of book that encourages us to ask ourselves who we are. Erika has generously offered a free copy of her book to one of my readers.

To enter the giveaway, simply leave a comment. But first, watch this GORGEOUS book trailer for sneak peek at the surprise that awaits you in Bandersnatch.

I'm always open to sharing the sacred, tender stories of abuse survivors. Sharing our stories helps us know we are not alone. Today's post was written by a young woman named "Ellie" who grew up in conservative Christianity. Please honor her bravery by leaving an encouraging comment. If you'd like to submit a story to be published on my site, please email me through the contact form on my contact page. All my love to you, courageous ones. xo. EE.

These are the lessons I learned from being spanked as a child:

1. I am not strong enough or good enough to make wise choices on my own.

Spanking was framed as a way to train out the sin and rebellion in our hearts and remind us to do better next time. But by relying on punishment rather than respect and teaching me that I was sinful and rebellious at my core, spanking taught me I could never be trusted to do the right thing on my own. I learned to follow the rules out of fear of punishment, even though I called it love for God.

I did not learn that I was capable of examining a situation and making good choices until I was 25 years old. This led me to stay in several very painful situations, including a job with an abusive boss, rather than recognizing my gut instinct that the situation wasn’t healthy.

2. It taught me that I was a passive recipient, not a person with agency.

Parents have responsibility for their children, so they do have some authority. But authoritarian parenting goes further. It says that parents have total authority over their children—physical, emotional, and spiritual—and that they are stand-ins for God’s authority.

This taught me that I couldn’t leave a bad situation, set boundaries with people to keep myself safe, or defend myself when I was unjustly accused. I had to wait for God or another authority figure to do it for me. If they didn’t magically fix things, then God was using the situation to teach me something, and I needed to submit to it to learn my lesson as fast as possible.

This taught me a lack of agency, which is not something that is unlearned when they turn 18. I had no idea that I had the power or the right to take steps to improve my own life (other than pray more for God to intervene, or change my heart so that I could be happy in a toxic situation).

3. It taught me that pain is healthy and loving, not an indication that something is wrong.

I genuinely believed that everyone should endure pain patiently because it’s for our own good. I embraced this philosophy wholeheartedly and buried my emotions and feelings. I stopped listening to my body because I believed it would lead me astray. I stayed in painful situations that damaged my health because I thought I was supposed to—and because I thought the pain was making me holy.

This belief was so ingrained that I didn’t even realize I was being emotionally abused by my boss. I was so trained to obey authority that I had no idea he had crossed the line from unpleasant to unhealthy. I simply wasn’t aware of the toll it was taking on my mental and physical well-being.

4. Spanking taught me that perfection is more important than resilience, and that the consequences of mistakes are bigger than grace.

Resilience says that even if I make a mistake, I can recover and do better. Perfectionism, on the other hand, says that nothing but Plan A will ever be good enough. Mistakes are disastrous.

In perfectionistic systems, any deviation from Plan A means I have to pay penance, experience guilt and shame, and be punished so that I don’t deviate again. Then, an external agent (community, church, Jesus, society) has to restore me to Plan A—as a “sinner,” my only job is to suffer obediently.

True grace says that mistakes don’t ruin us. It says that life after mistakes can be great, even though it may be complicated or require a little extra work to repair things. And to tell the truth, none of us are living Plan A. It’s much healthier to teach kids how to make Plan B (or X, or ZQF, or WTF) awesome than to tell them they’re second best if things aren’t ideal.

Understandably, growing up under perfectionism led to hypervigilance and anxiety for me, because I was constantly making sure I didn’t forget a rule or make a mistake. I learned that there was no grace for mistakes—people who make mistakes deserve to suffer and be punished. This leads to both shame and judgmental vindictiveness can instill a permanent sense of shame in a child, as well as lead to a judgmental, vindictive attitude towards the people around them.

5. Spanking taught me that love—especially God’s love—looks a lot like punishment.

My parents made very clear links between their authority and God’s authority, and they taught me that punishment was an essential part of love. Even though I don’t believe that anymore, my image of a loving God is deeply tied to this system. In some ways, it would have been better if my parents had spanked us only when they were angry. At least then, I would have associated pain with anger (recent research has upheld this as well).

It might have been better if spanking was an erratic, occasional punishment rather than a systematic way to root the rebellion out of our hearts. At least then, I could chalk it up to a mistake they made rather than blaming myself for being broken and deserving of punishment.

I still love my parents, and we are working through these lessons. But they were quite literally beaten into me over more than a decade and are now deeply ingrained in my body and soul. If the research is to be believed, I may deal with them for the rest of my life.

It’s no wonder that I’m afraid of making mistakes or doing what I think is right if it means breaking the “rules.” My mind, soul, and body were trained for over a decade to believe that such a choice would be swiftly rewarded with pain and punishment. And that I deserved it.

Before you spank your child, ask yourself if these are the lessons you want to teach them, too.

Ellie grew up as a conservative Christian who was "sold-out for Jesus." She grew into a very different kind of faith when she studied abroad in Europe for five years. Now, she explores her past, present, and future on http://ellieava.tumblr.com/

The unscheduled hours often felt like a cavernous vacuum. We didn't know how to live our lives without someone telling us what to do, where to go, when to arrive, and when to leave. What did normal people DO with all their spare time?...I'd told myself that leaving The Assembly was the solution we'd been waiting for, that freedom was all we needed to create our new-and-improved lives. I'd assumed that I could easily cobble together a patchwork quilt of belonging. If I drank Diet Coke, wore the right clothes, attended a thriving megachurch, and made friends with Southern California Christians, I'd find my place. I'd find my home. —excerpt from Girl at The End of the World, page 152, 154

Here's one thing I know for sure: loneliness is real and it keeps coming back.

Perhaps loneliness is a kind of homesickness.

What if my loneliness is homesickness for God? What if loneliness is homesickness for home I've rarely known, a home more Person than place?

I've tried to assuage this homesickness with everything other than God. I've done this with "good things" like small groups and Christian conferences and scrubbing toilets to pay for my daughter's ballet tuition. I've also tried to fill the homesickness with dangerous things like alcohol and sarcasm. All of these things end in disappointment.

Do you want to know the times I've felt most lonely? Directly after a big, success. Right after a big speaking engagement. Right after an appearance on national television. Right after a packed-out book signing. Right after a conference. Right after a deeply intimate moment with someone I love. 

I'll be flying home or going back to my regularly-scheduled life and I can feel it: a black cavern of loneliness cracking open inside me. Sometimes it makes me scream.

I've worked through some of this in therapy—the panic and emptiness is sometimes a result of self-sabotage. One of my core negative beliefs is that I'm not good enough, that I don't believe I deserve success or good things in my life. So, when good things happen I feel like it's a mistake or a fluke. I feel like a fraud. 

But there's another aspect to my loneliness: success truly highlights how empty and unfulfilling it all is, how NOT GOD it is. In fact, the bigger the success, the more NOT GOD it feels. The bigger my accomplishment, the more lonely I feel.

I am learning that a tiny sip of God is much sweeter than an ocean of personal achievement.

I am learning that I am precious and free. These days I find God in the backrooms and basements of 12-step groups. I find God in our common fellowship of brokenness, not successes. 

I find God in the deep, bottomless chasm of my loneliness. I find God in the nothingness.

This nothingness takes me to the beginning, to the the nothingness before creation. It is "formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep..." (Genesis 1:2, NASB).

I am learning that darkness is nothing to be scared of because even in the darkest nothingness, God is there, the Spirit of God is "moving over the surface of the waters."

And in that nothingness, I breathe a prayer: "God, all that I am—please, take it. I'll do whatever you want because my way has led me down all the wrong paths. My way leads to greater pain and disappointment. Teach me Your way."

I am just so tired of trying to fill my homesickness with something other than God. I don't have any other ideas. I don't have any more "tries" left in me. I need Jesus and that's all there is to it.

Here's another thing I know for sure: all of us are lonely and when we help each other, some of that loneliness melts away.

I feel the least lonely when I make food for my children and teach them about God's love. I feel the least lonely when I help old people, when I do volunteer work, when I buy the homeless guy a lunch, when I go to bed numbering all the things in my life, when I call my mom just because I know she likes phone calls, when I write a note of encouragement to someone who is going through a stressful time, when I hold space for a friend who is struggling, when I help a young mom who is frazzled with her new baby, when I listen to my husband talk about his business, when I smile at a stranger.

Service is the antidote to loneliness. 

Pope Francis' visit to the United States inspired me to dedicate more of my life to service. Today, I am putting that into action. This afternoon I'll begin teaching First Communion classes to 2nd graders. I am terrified and feel inadequate. But I can feel the Spirit "moving over the surface of the waters" and so I'm stepping out in faith...God, I offer myself to You. Do with me as You will for Your will is always good.

Don't you miss the good, old days when you could push two chairs together and call it a bed?

Me, too.

These days I find myself waking up at 4:28am shouting epithets at Donald Trump. Or Tea Party Republicans. Or the California drought. And just when I'm feeling all ridiculous, I remember that I'm an old lady now and waking up at odd hours to worry about things like incontinence and government shutdowns is totes norms. 

I gotta say, though, old age isn't all bad. It's a relief to ease up on obsessive attempts at being good and let myself be real and honest instead. 

Speaking of honesty, having five kids has ruined my bladder. 

"Mom, why do you cross your legs when you sneeze?" my kids ask. I have no good answer for this except: "It looks prettier that way! Like a curtsy!" GAH.

Anyway, 4:28am. I heave myself out of bed and hobble to the bathroom—yes, hobble. I'm the oldest 38 year old you've ever met. My bones ache. My back hurts. I'm a hunched over heffalump. It's super sexy.

Now that I'm an old crone, my latent hypochondria has flared up. I worry constantly that maybe I have a serious, deadly disease. I pose this question to my sixteen year old daughter who is the Voice of Reason in my life and she rolls her eyes, "You don't have cancer, Mom. You have five kids." 

This answer actually works for a variety of questions: "Why am I so tired?" Because I have five kids.

"Why am I never organized?" Because I have five kids. "Why did someone carve a happy face in the dining room table?" Because I have five kids. Why do I yodel in the grocery store? Because I have five kids. Why do hipster dudes in skinny jeans tell me: "Dude, you have kids EVERYWHERE"? Because I have five kids.

This answer also works for a variety of kid questions: "Mom, why can't we do organized sports?"

Because we have five kids.

"Mom, why can't we have a house and boat up in Lake Arrowhead?"

Because we have five kids.

"Mom, why does Savannah get to have a big birthday party every year?"

BECAUSE SHE IS AN ONLY CHILD.

I don't really mind growing old except that I live in Orange County, California, where you're supposed to look young even when you're seventy because WHY ELSE THIS LIFE? 

The comment I hear most often is: "Wow, you don't look like you've had five kids!" which I guess is a compliment in a backhanded kind of way. I like to reply by saying: "Well, my bladder looks like I've had five kids." 

[My mother is dying of embarrassment because I'm writing about Private Body Issues on my Public Blog and WHAT would the Brethren think?]

But bodily dysfunctions aside, the dead giveaway that I'm an old lady now is that my most exciting recent purchase was....a mattress.

Other ladies go bonkers for Jimmy Choos, I go bonkers for individually wrapped coils. And cooling gel pillow tops and foam cores and EGADS, IS THAT A SHREDDED LATEX PILLOW? 

Sidebar: Do you know ANYONE under the age of 60 who uses the word "egads"? No? Point proven. I'm geriatric.

ANYWAY: mattress. I researched it for months. I took naps on hundreds of mattresses. I sprawled out in showroom after showroom. It took me a long time to find my favorite because not only am I an old lady, I am also as sensitive as The Princess and The Pea. I finally found my perfect fit and it was called the Black Diamond because that's about how much it cost. 

Welp, I didn't buy it. BECAUSE WE HAVE FIVE KIDS.

In the end, I bought a mattress I didn't even try. I bought a mattress that was highly reviewed and quality tested and about a quarter of the cost. It arrives tomorrow and I'm about as giddy as if I just popped Donald Trump in the schnozzle. WHAM! BAM! SHIZAM! I may be an old lady, but I'm still a superhero. I'm The Princess and The Pee Party.

My board of directors says I need to remind people that I WROTE A BOOK AND YOU SHOULD PLEASE BUY ONE OR FIFTY. Then tell your friends that I wrote a book. Because book. I wrote. Read, please. Thanks, The Management.

It will always hurt this much. It will never go away. Nobody cares. You are all alone. Better off dead. 

This is what Depression says to me. And it is a lie. All lies.

The truth is this and it is ALWAYS this:

It will pass. It gets better. I am loved. I am not alone. My life matters.

****

It was hard for me to get out of bed one morning this week—and not because I didn't get enough sleep the night before.

It was Depression, hanging heavy around my neck. I dragged it like a ball and chain to the bathroom, then down to the kitchen to fix breakfast for the kids, then back up upstairs where I crash landed in bed.

The tears came. Hot and fast. Not again, I thought. Please, God. Not again.

But Depression isn't something I can control. It comes when it wants, it leaves when it wants. 

Still, I am not helpless. I have my tools: daily medication, daily meditation, prayer, exercise, healthy food, a support network.

When I feel the darkness closing in, all I want to do is fall asleep because sleep is an escape.

But it is not a solution.

This is the truth:

Depression wants me to give up, give in, let the darkness take over.

I don't have to let it. Even when the darkness is all around me, I have choice.

I have agency.

****

I didn't stay in bed today. I let myself cry for five minutes because it's good to cry but it's also good to stop. And I need limits and boundaries.

I asked for help. 

I talked about it.

I got out of bed and did my hair. I put on makeup. I got dressed—and not in sweatpants. I wore nice clothes.

"Mama, you look so pretty!" 

The children notice. It means something to them that I get out of bed and fix myself up. It makes them feel secure, I think. Like their world is ordered and stable. If Mama is OK, then everything is OK.

And so I do it for them. And I do it for me.

Getting dressed doesn't fix everything, but it is something. And that something is always better than nothing, always better than burrowed deep under the covers with dirty hair and unbrushed teeth.

I don't know why lipstick helps, but it does.

****

I met up with some friends. Man, that was hard. It was hard to get in the car and drive to meet them. It was hard to park and get out of the car. It was hard to walk across the parking lot. Depression was pushing me back every step of the way. Like walking against 100 mph winds.

But I kept going.

Smiles met me.

Depression says I need to be alone. Depression says nobody wants to see me. 

But those, too, are lies. Depression thrives in isolation.

The truth is that my friends want to see me. They are happy to see me. Their smiles are like sunshine. And it dissipates the fog of melancholy. Yes, I'm struggling. But I'm not struggling alone. That makes all the difference.

****

I went for a walk. This is what I've learned: it's hard to stay really depressed when I'm outdoors. The sunshine, the breeze, the sky, the birds....being in nature soothes my worried mind and restores my soul.

Going on a walk feels like a Herculean task when I'm depressed. But I go anyway. And about a half mile into it, I feel the weight lift. I feel the inner sigh of relief. 

It might be hard to get outside when I'm feeling bad inside but when I do, I always feel a little bit better. And every little bit helps.

****

This is what I want you to know: it's not your fault. Please hear me. It's not your fault. You didn't choose Depression. 

I also want you to know there is hope. Every day. There is always hope. You are never, EVER alone. If you feel like nobody cares, keep looking. There are helpers everywhere.

You are infinitely and unconditionally loved. Your life matters. Do you hear me? YOU MATTER. Yes, you. We need you here. I need you here.

Just for today, get up. Just for today, reach out. Just for today, don't listen to the lies.

Just for today, believe that you have a life worth living.

Now look around you. Can you pick out ONE good thing in your life?

Just one thing. I know it's tough to see the light when everything feels dark.

But the good is there. Look for it.

See it? YES?! Me, too!

I'm holding onto the good today.

I'm holding on with you.

We're gonna be OK.

If you're like me, you stared in helpless horror at the image of a drowned little boy washed ashore on a Turkish beach.

If you're like me, you couldn't sleep that night. You tossed and turned. You couldn't get that image out of your head. His little blue sneakers. 

If you're like me, you started reading and reading and reading. You wanted to know what had happened and WHY. And when the magnitude of this disaster hit you—nearly 12 million people displaced by ISIS, 50% of them under the age of 18—you felt helpless. What can one person do to stop this horror?

I felt this helplessness. I know I can't do much. But I can SOMETHING. I can do ONE or two things. Maybe three.

Here's how I helped and how you can, too!

1. Make a sign with the hashtag #RefugeesWelcome or #RefugeesWelcomeHere and tag your local or state representative on social media.

2. Donate to humanitarian organizations already on the ground, ready to serve. I donated to World Vision. They have a special crisis relief fund especially set up for Syria. You can FIND THAT HERE.

3. Partner with the Justice Conference, World Relief and Ann Voskamp to help welcome refugees.

Alone, we can't do much. Together, we can change the world. Let's be the church. Let's be the hands and feet of Jesus. #RefugeesWelcome #RefugeesWelcomeHere

Lots of fun stuff has been happening around here, not the least of which is:

1. I finished my 2nd book ("Spiritual Sobriety" hits shelves March 2016! WOOT!)
2. The kids went back to school
3. I started a podcast!

Yep, I've joined the ranks of the podcasting. And let me tell you, it is SO MUCH FUN. I feel a new freedom! So much of my writing is serious. Podcasting offers a way for me to explore topics more loosely and in a casual, relaxed format. Plus, you get to hear my voice! My tone! My inflection! 

My podcast is called "Accidental Expert" because I'm an expert on things I never intended on being an expert in. 

I talk about everything from movie reviews (I just watched The Breakfast Club for the very first time!), tips for managing depression & anxiety, time-management for ADD, my irrational fear of the DMV and how I'm learning to reconfigure my understanding of God. Check it out! Here is the latest episode!

Episode 5: "OH MY WORD the Breakfast Club + A Phrase That is CHANGING my life"

Elizabeth Esther

My plan is to do about TEN episodes of "Accidental Expert" and then sometime in October, switch to a new, book-themed podcast. Of course, I'll keep all the fun stuff because what's a podcast without the fun?

You can see ALL of my "Accidental Expert" podcast episodes here. You can listen on any device by pressing play or by opening it in your own podcast app.

Please give it a listen and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your feedback, comments and suggestions.

Other interesting stuff that happened in the last few months:

I wrote an article for TIME magazine about the Duggars (this was before the Ashley Madison hack):

"Whenever I watched TLC’s 19 Kids & Counting, I never questioned what I saw—I questioned what I didn’t see. I just knew too much. I grew up in a similar religious environment. As a little girl, I knew how to put on a good public performance, and I also knew what happened when nobody was watching."

I wrote an article for Christianity Today about the Netflix show "The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt":

For those of us who left isolationist, abusive, or restrictive religious environments, “making it” in the outside world is often much harder than we expected. There is so much to learn and so much to unlearn. It’s disconcerting to realize that even though we’ve left the cult, the cult hasn’t left us. And many of us need therapy, support groups, and an ongoing commitment to “deprogram” harmful patterns of thinking. Even with a super-positive attitude like Kimmy’s, adjusting to mainstream America was bewildering.

And today, September 2nd, I'll be joining my friend Jennifer Fulwiler on her radio show! SiriusXM, channel 129 @ 3:20pm EST, 12:20pm PST.

Have you subscribed to my email list yet?

Insider updates coming soon—ONLY to email list subscribers!

Internet, stop gloating for one hot minute. Sure, we saw this coming. Sure, we TOLD YOU SO. Sure, we are not surprised. But reveling in someone else's tragedy? Is that the kind of person you are—the kind who gets pleasure out of other people's suffering? No? Ok, then knock it off. 

Have a little decency. Imagine what it's like to be Anna Duggar right now:

In the span of three months the world finds out your husband molested little girls—his sisters!—then you have a baby and then? THEN he's exposed as a cheater. Your husband confesses to being the "biggest hypocrite ever" and just like that you're having the worst day of your life. And PEOPLE ARE HAPPY ABOUT IT. Heck, they're practically gleeful.

Tabloids are screaming and everyone has an opinion. Everyone seems to know what is best for you. Thousands upon thousands of people are saying hateful things about this man you love. Thousands upon thousands of people are saying the most hateful things about this family you married into. On top of that, your heart is shattered. Did I mention you just found out your husband cheated on you? Did I mention you just had a baby? 

Here's what's up: leave Anna Duggar alone. She doesn't have to make a decision RIGHT NOW RIGHT NOW BECAUSE THE INTERNET SAYS RIGHT NOW. Anna gets to make her own decision. We don't have to like what she decides but we don't get to decide FOR her.

It's enough to know that the Duggar family is screwed up fifteen ways from Sunday. It's enough to know that Josh Duggar is one sick puppy. It's pretty clear Jim Bob and Michelle have no clue WHAT is happening or how to fix it.

It's pretty clear this problem is much  bigger than the Duggar family.

This isn't just about Josh Duggar. It's about an entire system of abuse (see also my article for TIME magazine).

This isn't just about one guy's sexual screw-ups. It's about American Christian culture as a WHOLE and OUR really messed up relationship with sexuality. 

This isn't just about the downfall of one family, it's about an ENTIRE Christian culture that is now reaping the bitter fruits of our misguided, ugly "culture wars." This is about an entire CULTURE of American Christianity that equates political victories with moral ones.

The biggest mistake we can make right now is to believe that what is happening in the Duggar family is an isolated incident and isn't indicative of the broader, American Christian culture.

This is about an American Christian culture that made insane promises like: "If you just wait until you're married to have sex, everything will be wonderful."

This is about an American Christian culture that turned purity into profit; using a 21-year old kid named Josh Harris to promote the fantasy that if you just "kiss dating goodbye," you'll end up with a faithful, godly, loving spouse for the rest of your life.

This is about an ENTIRE culture of American Christianity that has wreaked havoc in the physical, emotional and spiritual lives of millions. This is about an ENTIRE culture that has traded an authentic relationship with God for the trappings of "good Christian living."

This is about an entire culture of Christianity that became so obsessed with 'looking like a good Christian' that it created an impossible standard of "purity" and made it completely unsafe to be a real, broken human being. 

This is about a Christian culture that sets people up for failure. 

This isn't just about Josh Duggar, it's about our really sick, twisted relationship with sex, shame, self-loathing and perfectionism.

And if we can't see that, then NONE of us will get better.

Further reading:

"I Kissed My Humanity Goodbye: how evangelical purity culture dehumanizes women."

"I've always wanted to write a book." This is, by far, the most frequent response I get whenever I tell someone I've written two books.

My response: "Go for it!"

Followed by: "Even if it never gets published."

Here's How To Start, Keep Going & Enjoy It!

1. Write a book because you have a burning desire to WRITE and TELL A STORY—not because you have a burning desire to get published. (Or make money! HA!)

Getting published is a nice bonus but truly, writing is its own reward. I know, I know, it's easy for me to say, right? But hear me out: long before I was a published author, I loved writing. I wrote because I couldn't NOT write. Writing fed me, healed me and fascinated me. I can tell you with 100% certainty that even if my work didn't get published, I would still be writing. Why? Because getting published didn't make me a writer. Writing made me a writer!

This is good news because it means the joy of writing is available to you, right now, today. You don't need a book contract to experience the joy of writing. You are allowed to love writing and be a writer right NOW.

And if you want to share your writing with others, then write what you know and write for the people you know. Start there. Who knows? Maybe you'll end up writing for millions. Or maybe you'll bring joy to five people and listen to me, THAT matters. To this day, I write to five very specific people in my life. I can't write for five million people—I don't know them! But when I write honestly and beautifully for my five people, then those words make wings and fly to all the other people who need my words, too.

Secondly, most authors I know can't make a living just by writing books. Most of us have to do something else as well: teach, tutor, create e-seminars, host sponsored podcasts or just work a regular 9-5 job. Only a very tiny, TINY percentage of published authors make enough money to live on. Even NYT bestselling authors often have to subsidize their writing income with other work like paid speaking engagements. My point is, don't write a book because you're hoping to get rich. Write a book because you can't NOT write a book.

2. Set specific goals.

When I first started blogging, I had a specific goal in mind: to build an online platform large enough to attract the attention of a literary agent. It wasn't enough to say: "I'd like to write a book someday." I needed to be more specific. Wanting to write a book is a desire, but unless you have a specific action plan it's not a goal. Blogging worked for me. As a stay-at-home-mom, I wasn't able to attend writers' workshops or get an MFA in writing. A long time ago, I read a piece of writing advice that said: "Just get your work out in front of other people." Blogging did that for me. These days there is talk about the death of blogging and that bloggers aren't getting book contracts anymore. I say: ignore the negativity. Even if you don't blog everyday, having a personal website can act as an excellent portfolio. Agents and editors are always looking for compelling content. You can do that by providing high-quality writing through blog posts and links to your published works (or guest posts!). The point is, get your work in front of people. Even if blogging doesn't land you a book contract, the practice of writing for an audience is beneficial. It hones your writing skills.

Other specific goals might be: 1. attend a writer's conference to learn more about the craft and business of writing, 2. join a writer's group, 3. research writers in your genre (pro-tip: a writer will often thank their editors and agent in the Acknowledgments sections of a book—this is an easy way to see which agents are representing the kind of book you're interested in writing).

And if you're really serious about getting a book contract, you will take the next step:

3. Write a book outline or book proposal.

Maybe you already have a good idea about the kind of book you want to write. Awesome! Outlining your book will take that idea and make it a concrete reality. I love the snowflake method. It's an easy-to-follow guide for turning your book idea into tangible, helpful structure. For my first book, I did a book proposal instead of a full, snowflake outline. I did this because I already had some solid sample chapters ready and had written one full draft even before I got an agent. Believe me, when you approach a literary agent (or the agent approaches you), you want to be ready. You want to be able to say exactly what your book is about—preferably in one sentence. Good agents and editors are busy. They don't have time for rambling explanations. You don't necessarily need to have your whole book written (although some agents require a complete first draft, especially for fiction) but you need to have done your homework.

4. Set limits.

I learned the hard way that I need to set limits on how much I write everyday. I can produce high-quality writing for two hours. Then I need to take a break. I need to do something entirely different. I know there are some writers who can write for 4-6 hours. They amaze me! I can't do it. I've tried. My best writing happens when I write for two hours in the morning and (maybe) 1-2 hours at night. In between, I live my life. And sometimes, all I can do is two hours in one day. That's OK. Two hours of good writing is better than no writing at all and it's also better than 6 hours of crappy writing. Good writers do other things besides write: they read extensively, they exercise, they have relationships.

Writing requires discipline, organization and patience. Being a writer isn't romantic. Try not to get swept up in the romanticized idea of a "Writer's Life." Smoking all morning, drinking all afternoon and hanging out in a writers' Facebook group until the wee hours isn't the same as actually writing. There's this old Earnest-Hemingway-esque adage that says "write drunk, edit sober." I think that's a bunch of crap. Writing is like any other job: you need control of all your faculties and you have to work hard. Just like other jobs, you can't do that very well when you're drunk. Set limits on your writing time, your drinking and your Internet. You'll be a better writer for it. 

Lastly, setting limits often means saying no to things you love—for a season. Book writing season is for book writing. Try not to remodel the house at the same time. DON'T ASK ME HOW I KNOW. 

5. Set deadlines.

Most writers, myself included, can attest to the magical powers (and agony) of a deadline. We need deadlines because without them, the work doesn't get done. And while people like to say: "You can't force art!"—it's amazing how much you can do when you have a little deadline motivating you. If you don't have an editor or agent yet, you can still set deadlines for yourself. In fact, self-made deadlines are my favorite. I get really anxious when someone else creates a deadline for me. I'd rather set my own pace, thankyouverymuch. If you're just beginning your writing journey, set a deadline for everything I mentioned in this blog post: set a deadline for setting goals, set a deadline for writing an outline, set a deadline for writing a book proposal. You can even set a deadline for setting limits. For example, while I was writing my books I had to set limits on how much volunteer work I was doing at my kids' schools. I loved volunteering so much that I knew I wouldn't have stopped unless I set a deadline for stopping. 

This is important: if you don't meet your deadline, forgive yourself. Here's my dirty secret: I've missed a bunch of my deadlines. I've learned that hitting the deadline isn't as important as having a deadline. Write it down. Start working towards it. Editors are more willing to give you an extension if they can see you are making progress. That said: don't take advantage of the deadline. Make every effort to be prompt. A finished manuscript is better than no manuscript. Let yourself turn in imperfect writing (that's why we have editors—or friends who will read it and provide feedback). Resist perfectionism. Here's the thing: every time I finish a book, I'm always convinced I could have done a better job. It's never gonna be perfect. And that's ok. I completed two books. That's amazing!

I hope this inspires you! Please let me know if you have any further questions or comments!

If I can help, I'd love to share what I've learned!

XO. EE.

Dear Feminist Sisters,

Have we forgotten who we are? Feminism is not about gatekeeping. Feminism is about throwing gates open.

When I was locked deep inside patriarchal fundamentalism, feminism was the beacon of hope that told me my voice mattered, that even if I didn't agree with every feminist—we stood together. Among the feminists I met in college, there was mutual respect. We didn't attack our own and publicly humiliate them. We didn't try to silence each other. We celebrated our differences.

Today, I know who I am. I know what I believe and, yes, I am pro-life. This does not endanger my feminism.

The way I see it, the only thing that endangers feminism is feminists tearing each other apart. 

This must stop.

Listen to me: feminism needs pro-life feminists because without diversity, feminism won't thrive.

Without pro-life feminists, our cause is in danger of becoming a hyper-polarized, ivory-tower feminism that is completely inaccessible to the everyday, potential ally who isn't up-to-date on all the approved terminology and dogma.

I believe in a feminism that finds common ground. I believe in a feminism that loves and respects men. I believe in a feminism that doesn't demand conformity.

 You can write hurtful blog posts saying you don't "trust pro-life feminists," you can leave unkind comments on my FB page telling me you "literally don't even care one little bit" that the Planned Parenthood videos disturbed me, you can use your social media platform to tear me down— but that kind of behavior says more about you than me. I've earned my stripes. I know how hard I've worked to become the woman I am today and I am proud of my pro-life feminism. Nobody can take that away from me—not even other feminists.

But here's the thing: when feminists tear down other feminists, it hurts our cause. It hinders our ability to gain allies. It diffuses our efficacy and potency. 

Maybe you can't see it right now, but believe me—feminism needs pro-life feminists because if the only "feminist-approved" response to the Planned Parenthood videos is "BUT EDITING!" then feminism looks heartless and inhumane.

Feminism needs pro-life feminists because if the only "feminist-approved" response to the Planned Parenthood videos is "BUT IT'S NOT ILLEGAL!" then feminism looks amoral.

Feminism needs pro-life feminists because if the only "feminist-approved" position is to side with adult women, then feminism looks like it sides against the women in our wombs.

Feminism needs pro-life feminists like me who cry out that something is terribly wrong with discarding a baby while preserving its organs. Feminism needs pro-life feminists because feminism is not an either/or cause. It is both/and. Feminism can support mamas AND babies both. 

I need pro-choice feminists to stand with me and say, "Hey, maybe we don't agree on everything but your voice is important because it reaches people outside my sphere of influence and so we need to work together." 

And the truth is that there is so much that unites us. For me, being pro-life encompasses so much:

• Being pro-life means I support mamas and babies before AND after birth. 
• I don't believe tax dollars should go toward Planned Parenthood but I DO believe in subsidizing low-cost/free prenatal care, WIC, free school lunch, subsidized preschool, food stamps and affordable housing.
• A consistent pro-life ethic means that I am anti-death penalty. Because ALL life is sacred.
• My pro-life ethic means I stand with St. Francis when he says that "the only way to win a war is never to go to war." America, let's stop going to war and instead, spend that money feeding and educating our kids!
• A pro-life ethic means I don't stigmatize ANY pregnant woman. I support my local teen pregnancy shelter.

Sisters, we need each other. Our cause is big enough for all of us.

Let's stand together.