Lindsay’s Fine Line Ink

Pieces of Me 🤍
𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵.

The final straw was Christmas. And even then, I don’t think I would have gotten away from him if it weren’t for what happened when my sister flew from Arizona to Atlanta.

I was nervous the entire time she was at my apartment. We had plans to drive up to Tennessee to spend Christmas with family. As wonderful as it was to be with them, I dreaded going back to the apartment. I was worried something bad would happen, that my sister would notice what was going on, or that he would be inappropriate with her. He was already hinting at things and asking very inappropriate questions.

When we got back, he was drunk. I knew it was headed toward a bad situation.

This is hard to admit, but I did what he told me to do. He wanted me to leave him and my sister in the living room so he could “talk” to her.

I went into the bathroom. For those few minutes, I was on pins and needles, afraid of what might happen.

Then she yelled my name.

I ran out to her and confronted him. “What are you doing?”

To protect my sister’s privacy and honor the seriousness of what happened, all I will say is that he attempted to attack her.

The altercation between him and me moved into the bedroom. He was choking me. Somehow, I found the courage to tell him to get out, even though I was terrified that saying it might make things worse. But I think he knew my sister wasn’t going down without a fight. He left immediately.

She and I tried to get me a plane ticket so I could leave with her for Arizona, but the flights were booked. I remember being terrified he would come back to the apartment. I knew it had to end. I had to get out.

So Sis called my Mom, who was still in Tennessee, and said, “Lindsay needs you right now”.

She drove down to get me.

Pieces of Me | A Little Pause, a Lot of Gratitude 🤍

I want everyone to know how beautiful life feels for me today. I know I’ve shared some hard things, but I hope you can also see the joy, love, and peace in the life I’m living now. I am okay. More than okay, honestly.

I’m in one of the strongest, most confident, and most sure places I’ve ever been as a person. I am blessed beyond measure, and I’m constantly reminded of how beautiful my life has turned out.

I’m in love with living. With loving people. With being a Mom and pouring into my family. With doing life alongside my husband, Nathan, and supporting each other’s dreams and aspirations. There is so much about this life that I prayed for, and I’m so thankful I get to live it.

So when you go back and read, please remember where I am today. For a long time, those experiences weighed on me. They don’t hold that same weight anymore. I’ve chosen to live, love my family, pour into myself, and give my life to the Lord.

Sharing my story is something I prayed about for a long time. These are deeply personal parts of my life, and opening them up for others to read took a lot of guts, thought and prayer.

But if even one young woman going through something similar reads my story and feels less alone, if she sees that her life can still become something beautiful, that she is worthy of love, and that God hasn’t forgotten her. Then I did what I was supposed to do.

There are more glimpses to share. Just know that the woman telling this story today loves her life and is so grateful she gets to live it. 🤍

My sweet Maddox. How are you so BIG? ♥️😭

Sometimes I look at you and wonder what kind of man you’ll become. Then I remember... Who you will become tomorrow is shaped by the love you receive today. That’s why we have to make every ordinary moment feel important.

Pieces of Me | Part 4 🤍
𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦.

The abuse didn’t begin all at once. First came the mental abuse and isolation. I think that messed me up more than anything. I could say something harmless, and somehow the conversation would turn into a fight. I was forced to spend hours explaining myself. Most of the time I didn’t know why. I was constantly exhausted and eventually I stayed mostly quiet and tried SO hard to have good days with him.

He was a heavy drinker, and when he was drunk, he was the devil.

Slowly, physical abuse started. I always remember him grabbing two of my fingers and rolling them so hard between his hands that it felt like my fingers were going to break. It would drop me to my knees and he’d keep going and laugh…like it was a game.

I remember him giving me this empty side glare. For no reason at all other than that’s how he looked at me. He had complete power over me. I was very afraid of him and he knew it.

It continued to get worse. He brought other women into our apartment. I was experiencing sexual abuse daily, along with the physical and mental abuse. By then, I became completely numb and a shell of a human. I was a very sad, broken down 19 year old girl.

The person I looked forward to seeing most was his sister and her girls. They were such a light in my life during that time. I loved being around them. 🤍

🤍✌🏼

Pieces of Me | Part 3 🤍

Let me skip around and take you back to when I was four.

We moved from Reynoldsburg to the country, into an old white farmhouse, on a Christmas tree farm. To me, it was magical. Winters felt like a fairytale. We sold Christmas trees and wreaths around the holidays.

I have three beautiful sisters. Technically, they’re my half sisters. I’ve never viewed them that way. They ARE MY SISTERS regardless if we share different parents. The amount of love I have for them is out of this world. When I was little, they lived with their parents, so I spent half of the time playing alone and getting lost in my imagination. Now I watch my son get lost in his own little world, and I see so much of me in him. Eventually, two of them came to live with us permanently.

I was five the first time I saw my parents really fight. They were yelling by the old barn, and I remember thinking it was so odd how far apart they stood. I didn’t understand what was happening. I just knew it made me sad, so I went back to playing with my fairywinkles.

They eventually divorced when I was in seventh grade.

I’ll leave it at this: my parents’ divorce was a very hard season for me, and as a kid, I knew things I didn’t know how to process.

When Dad bought me a plane ticket home from Georgia. I arranged for high school friends to pick me up. I remember getting home very late, being devastated because I realized my childhood dog, Jasmine, went missing with little explanation. Mom was in Arizona visiting my sister at the time. I still remember crying myself to sleep in my sister Heather’s room that night.

I barely stayed home, spent my time partying and doing drugs. I missed my kidney appointment, packed my car full of clothes, and drove right back to Georgia.

The house I thought was his belonged to his sibling. The business he claimed to own wasn’t his. He lied about work, other women, where he’d been, time spent in jail etc. Back then, I wanted to believe we could build a life together. So I ignored the red flags and got us an apartment.

What was I thinking? I honestly can’t tell you.

When your hubby lets you doodle, you don’t ask questions, you just grab the machine. 😘✌🏼

Pieces of Me | A pause in the story 🤍

Today, I want to take a breath from the heavier parts of my story and share where my heart is right now.

I usually leave church feeling peaceful and steady. Today, I left feeling uncertain. I went down for prayer, but I don’t think I found the words for what I actually needed. Afterward, I started questioning something I’ve prayed about for a long time.

I’ve said many times that my business is my ministry. Still, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. What will people think? What will my family think? Will they see me differently? Will they think I’m looking for attention? Will sharing this hurt the business I’ve worked so hard to build? Does it glorify God and what he’s done in my life?

More than any of that, I care about how I’m sharing it before God. I want to be bold, but I also want to be wise. There are parts of my story I may never share publicly because of my husband and son, and I want to protect them.

I’m also realizing that sharing my testimony doesn’t mean I’ve healed from every part of it. I still bring shame, guilt, and unforgiveness to God. Sometimes I think I’ve let something go, and then the hurt comes back. So I pray again and ask Him to help me forgive. I’m still learning to do that.

I don’t have a neat ending for today. I’m going to keep praying, keep listening, and keep sharing what I feel ready to share. My hope is that somewhere in these pieces, someone who needs Him will see that God can meet them in their story, too. 🤍