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April 30, 2021 By HallieZ 4 Comments

WE. DO. NOT. FORGIVE YOU

We are standing next to one another, all of us, who were impacted by the arrest of Josh Duggar by federal agents, yesterday.

We are the daughters. The sons. The sisters. The brothers. The wives. The ex-wives. 

We are the shunned. The fractured.

We are the voice that will not be silenced. 

We don’t believe there is any justice, and yet, we fight for it every day of our life.

We aren’t sure there is a way out of this tar pit called life, but we keep moving, and we hold every inch of progress we make.

We can’t stop crying today. 

We had put our crying on hold for a bit, bottled the grief up, put a cork on it.  But the cork got popped again, yesterday. Sometimes that happens. 

We are ok with that.

We  were children.

We stood over chairs, your lap, over toilets, with our pants pulled down, and you beat us with sticks. With belts. With electrical wire.

We held the books you bought at the conferences, that taught you how to do this without going to jail.

We dressed in tents, in jeans too big, dresses that tried to drown us in the rivers where we played. 

We were children. 

You taught us that our bodies were not ours to give. 

But you took what you wanted, and called that God.

YOU LIED.

We understood, we obeyed. 

You put the books of another Josh in our hands, and said those were God’s words. THEY WERE NOT.

We were children. 

You kept us from our grandparents, our cousins. You kept us from our neighbors and the world that longed to show us something more… not perfect, not always good, but something bigger,  something REAL. You hid books, and stories, and faces that looked different from ours, and called that GOD’S WILL. 

You lied.

Some of us were born with a uterus, with breast. Blood that came from our body in clumps, or a stream, a curse, and a gift.

We were named Jezebel.

We were called rebellious.

We stood in the shadow of shame, while you told us who we were.

We stood in the shadow of heresy, while you told us what God wanted us to be.

We read the stories of the witches, because we both feared and loved them.

I am a woman. But I know you have hurt my brothers just as much as you hurt me. And I will not dare speak for them, you spoke for them long enough. And you LIED to me about who they were. When you lied to them about who I was? You stole their future. You stole their success. You wounded generations, and you will answer for it.

WE. DO. NOT. FORGIVE YOU.

When you told her an education and  career would be a waste resources, because she’d be busy raising the children? You lied.

When you looked your daughter in the face, and told her “your husband didn’t commit adultery because his penis didn’t GO INSIDE HER VAGINA, and therefore God will NOT allow you to divorce him”.

When you learned your sons had molested your daughters, and you put them on farms, and in “restoration” programs, and NOT IN JAIL, YOU BETRAYED US.

When you saw bruised and broken children, and you “mentored” their parents and did not protect the children.

When you banned us from family gatherings, because we did not “submit” to your patriarchal rule.

When you gathered around one another, and created an echo chamber and egged each other on to further abuse.

WE. DO. NOT. FORGIVE YOU.

Filed Under: DEPRESSION, divorce, Feminism, Grief, healing, homeschooling, life after missions, Sacred Feminine, Spiritual Abuse, Uncategorized

August 7, 2018 By HallieZ 1 Comment

13 Things I Learned

Today is my 15th wedding anniversary. Crystal.

Today is also  my first wedding anniversary as a divorced woman.

We don’t say much, on these days, those of us with the “failed” marriages, who dwell in “broken” homes.

We are kind of outliers… those of use who were married longer than average, but aren’t any more. We lurk in the shadows… conversations about husbands… futures… sort of trail off when we walk up. It’s weird, to have your identity be linked to another person, so intimately, so entirely, and then be, well, just, you.

 

I learned a lot in my marriage.

It was one of the most amazing, passionate, heartbreaking, hopeful, growing things I have ever done in my life.

 

I left my husband.

I filed for divorce 3 months after our 13th wedding anniversary.

That was the bravest thing I have ever done in my life.

My divorce was finalized a few months before my 15th anniversary.

 

Timelines are important to me.

They help me make sense of the years I spent with him. Sometimes, I write them out, as I search for answers, as I try to figure out which pieces fit, look for the signs I missed.

Sometimes, I want to share marriage advice with young grasshoppers, but I feel like I can’t, because my marriage is over.

 

I don’t actually believe my marriage failed.

I don’t believe I live inside a broken family.

And I think, on the subject of marriage, I have something to offer.

So. Today. I give you…


one for every year I was married


  1. Words don’t matter much. I BELIEVE what my partner is telling me with his actions.
  2. My love is NOT going to heal my partner’s wounds. My love can only be a part of the healing they choose.
  3. No partner will ever know me like I know myself.
  4. No partner gets to define who I am. They get to be a part of my life, my story, and that is a gift to us both.
  5. I never want a partner to be with me because he HAS to, I want him to be with me because HE CHOOSES me.
  6. Adultery can be forgiven
  7. I can say NO. No means NO, even in marriage.
  8. Saying I DO was not blanket consent covering all things until the day I died.
  9. Forgiveness is a process, and its ok to come back to the reason we need forgiveness in the first place.
  10. I am worth fighting for.
  11. My children are worth fighting for.
  12. I am capable of more love than I ever dreamed possible.
  13. I am lucky, blessed, honored, to have had those 13 years.

And a bonus for the year I was separated but still married:

14. Marriage doesn’t define us, we define our marriage.

 

All the pain, all the love, all the hope, all the joy, all the freedom, all the gifts that came?

I think they were worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: DEPRESSION, divorce, Grief, healing, love, Sacred Feminine, Spiritual Abuse

June 20, 2018 By HallieZ 5 Comments

Father’s Day, huh?

So. It was Father’s day a few days ago.

 

I did what I have always done, helped my kids prep and wrap their gifts for their daddy.

I sent him a text message that said Happy Father’s Day, hope you all have a good day.

 I cried, because this isn’t how I ever thought our Father’s Days would be.

 

Once I got my heart through all that sorrow/mess, it was time to think about MY father.

That sucked even worse. So I cried more.

My father sent me an email when I filed for divorce that said I wasn’t allowed at his home on special events or holidays.

I mean. I did stop by on mother’s day and give my mom flowers, I told myself, so maybe I OUGHT to stop by on Father’s day anyway. And give him, uh. I don’t know. Like. Jerky or something?

But I didn’t WANT to do anything. I didn’t want to call him. Or drop of jerky. Or anything.

Not just because he said I couldn’t, but because he broke my heart.

I had scheduled cleaning job that day, to help keep me busy, and I cried as I ran the vacuum, and raged as I scrubbed the toilet. I had flashbacks, all day, of things that had happened that were not ok.

I remembered conversations and I remembered the agony of finally realizing my dad was only going to empower and embolden my abuser, not protect me.

I asked the Spirit what the gift was.

I asked the Spirit what was being asked of me.

– HOLD THE PAIN WITH THE BEAUTY –

 

Pain with the beauty?

What the hell.

 

There is only pain.

Images started coming to mind.

Reveling, the first born.

The love, the bond.

How well I remember holding my first daughter for the first time.

Small. Warm.

Nothing I wouldn’t do for you, my daughter.

A diaper change.

A first bike ride.

All this and more, a world awaiting.

So thank you, Papa, for the gift of attachment.

Thank you for holding me against your skin and letting me know your scent.

Thank you for carrying me on your body.

Thank you for changing my diaper.

For letting me feel the grass against my skin.

Thank you for letting me explore the world and know the feeling of dirt.

Thank you for letting me witness the birth of my siblings.

Bringing me into a place of connection with them.

Thank you for telling me stories of the natural world.

A teacher by destiny.

Thank you for being gentle with animals.

For teaching me to hold the plants with respect.

Those first 5 years cemented a character that I give thanks for. Every. Single. Day.

I don’t know how to hold the beauty and the pain in the same place and not explode.

But I am trying.

It’s right here, beating in my chest.

 

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: divorce, Grief, healing, Holy Days, love, parenting, Sacred Feminine, speaking up, Spiritual Abuse

April 15, 2018 By HallieZ 2 Comments

#Proverbs31IRL


A virtuous woman, who can find? She is far more precious than minimum wage. 

She is worth $25 an hour (according to the judge, but her paycheck has yet to be informed).

The heart of her multitudinous children (who ARE a blessing from the Lord, dammit!) trust her, and will have no luck convincing her to buy them an iPad.

She does them good, and does not yell at them, all the days of her life

(well at least, like, 95% of the time, you know, when she remembers her meds).

She is like the ship of merchants, and overstocks her barns with food from Costco. 

She rises while it is yet night and drives her children to school while simultaneously weaving, patching hand-me-downs and doing her magical work-from-home minimum wage job..

She considers buying a field, but realizes that her food stamps probably won’t transfer to real estate.

She perceives her merchandise is profitable, and puts it on her to-do list to start an Etsy shop in 2025 when she’s done doing the laundry.

She dyes her hair with pink, and is clothed with strength and dignity, and she sure as hell ain’t got time for stilettos. 

Her lamp goes out at night, but there are charities who get her electricity back on.

SHE is not afraid of snow, but unfortunately her school district is, so FUGGETABOUTIT! You can sleep when you’re dead!

She looks well in her house in her track pants and her badass tiara, and does not eat the gluten of fatness (unless she just REALLY deserves a doughnut).

She opens her mouth and drops truth bombs like it’s nobody’s business, and she smashes ALL THE PATRIARCHY!

She laughs at the time to come… because she knows she’s gonna prove wrong everyone who told her she wasn’t enough.

She was taught she needed a husband to define her, but the voice of Wisdom was a woman crying out in the streets, and she chose to let Wisdom’s voice define her instead.

Her children rise up and call her blessed, and her Father in heaven EXPLODES with pride, praising her:

“Many women have done excellently, but YOU surpass them all.”

Charm is deceitful, and financial stability is over-rated, but but the virtuous woman who loves the Lord kicks ass.

Give her her child support, and let all the people stand in awe of her amazon strength.

 


 By Deanna Fraser & Hallie Ziebart

I have had enough. Enough beating women over the head with this fictional woman. Enough telling us there’s only one way for us to be awesome. Enough skipping over Jael and Abigail and Deborah and… Enough making the single mamas feel like second class nothing. Enough.

Can you share your IN REAL LIFE Proverbs 31 moments with me?

 #Proverbs31IRL

Or link up a blog or story in the comments!

Or tag a friend and brag on them!

I was ranting to my pal Deanna about this the other day, and she wrote this version of Proverbs 31 for me. It is with her kind permission I share. And say… go check out her album. Deanna was a lifeline for me when we both lived in China. And both made it out alive. Broken, but alive!!!

 

AND… Some links to some stuff that might help you out if hearing Proverbs 31 talked about like this makes you want to rip me apart. Or, if just hearing the phrase made you throw up in your mouth a little bit.

Things you might not know about Proverbs31

A Smart Dude on Wisdom

Filed Under: divorce, Feminism, healing, love, Sacred Feminine, speaking up, Spiritual Abuse, Uncategorized

April 1, 2018 By HallieZ 3 Comments

Find Me Tomorrow?


You seem very far away, this weekend, up on that cross, Jesus.

Or in the tomb.

Or whatever.

I am unable to access the emotions that defined 37 years of Easter Weekends.

This was the holiday he chose to introduce me to his family.

This was the time of hope, life, all bursting out and up.

I feel numb.

I am shaking a fist at you, in my heart.

Why are you doing this? Is it for a perfect forever after? The eternal to come?

Because F*** that, I scream at you,

I want heaven HERE.

It is less depression this year, and more grief.

Do you know what it is LIKE?

ALL MY SIBLINGS… their spouses, my parents. 13, 14 people? Just gone from my life? My husband. The people who should have had my back NO MATTER WHAT. The people who had pledged to love and care for me… Gone.

Forsaken?

Maybe God forsook you, Jesus, but your mom was still there.

What if they had all died in a plane crash, I ask you. What if I was the only one who survived? The grief of that would be enough to kill the average girl. This feels worse. They are dead to me but alive and I don’t know how to grieve the living.

Jesus-on-that-cross. I don’t know how to connect with you. I feel the loss of the old ways, the steady in my tracks normal ways of doing these religious days. I believe you to be real, but all that gives me is a numb sort of peace, today.

I vomit the fear and the worry and the anger out at my friend. She served you too, overseas. We served you SO DAMN HARD. We loved you and it was all for you… and this being forsaken and left alone still happened to us.

What are we supposed to feel? We ask the question of each other, and don’t mind that the other doesn’t have an answer.

I shared a joke on my facebook wall today… about the women at the tomb.

It was funny, and ironic, and it started sinking into my grief-logged brain this afternoon.

I AM these women.

You’re dead and gone and I am lost, forsaken, alone.

Religion kept me from pouring out my love and grief in the days right after your death, so I have finally come today.

I have no hope for resurrection, but with every beat of my heart, I am screaming at God to give me something, anything, to hold on to.

Tonight I wash dishes. (notice how much deep thinking is happening over my sink?)

I imagine myself, walking with the women I love through the garden, toward your tomb. I imagine what I would be feeling, what I would be thinking. I imagine the weight of the grief may feel somewhat similar to the grief I have felt all day as I think of my family.

I want to be first to the tomb. I want to lay my head on your chest, and let the tears fall. I want to beat you with my fist and scream out my anger and fear. I don’t know where you went, but I want you to come back.

I want you to hold me, and tell me the pain was worth it.

I want you to wipe away the blood and the tears.

I want you to wash away the sweat and the exhaustion.

I want heaven HERE, dammit.

I want to the behold the resurrection and the life. I do not want to sit in the darkness of sorrow.

Jesus on-the-cross. Here I am, tonight.

The moon is rising, but it’s dark all around me, and I am numb.

Just me.

Jesus in-the-tomb.

Find me tomorrow?

 

 

 

Filed Under: DEPRESSION, divorce, Grief, healing, Holy Days, love, Spiritual Abuse

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China adoption CHINA ARCHIVE DEPRESSION divorce expat life Feminism fostering Grief healing Holy Days homeschooling kindness life after missions love parenting Sacred Feminine speaking up Spiritual Abuse stuff i love Uncategorized
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