I’m so happy for you Kendall—your kind, awakened heart deserves all the bounty of a relationship founded in generous mutualism. I too dated one of those tongue suckers! And then I found my husband, 20 years ago and counting. He was raised in a fundamentalist Baptist church, followed until he was 30, and as soon he left —prompted by the birth of his neurodivergent and disabled daughter and the church’s bereft consoling “It’s God’s will”—he says he became a dramatically kinder, more empathic human. Go figure.:)
Oh wow, there's a whole entire story arc in this one sentence, Kimberly : " He was raised in a fundamentalist Baptist church, followed until he was 30, and as soon he left —prompted by the birth of his neurodivergent and disabled daughter and the church’s bereft consoling “It’s God’s will”—he says he became a dramatically kinder, more empathic human." It grieves me that the church falls flat on its face so often, but I also celebrate your husband's choice to lean into kindness and empathy. And thank you for the blessing, truly. I'm carrying that in my heart. xo
Wow. This is wonderful, Kendra. The irony is with your oratory skills you'd make a great minister or pastor. But I like that you're using them for this. Lucky us. ❤️
Ha, it is ironic, isn't it? When I was twelve, before I was told I "couldn't", I was intent on becoming a pastor. Maybe in a different timeline. This is better, though, getting to write these stories unfiltered. Thanks, Bonnie!
"He would go to her and sit perfectly still in the firestorm of her emotions until she sobbed and then hiccupped and eventually sighed..." I have such a man Kendall, a man who is so completely my opposite, so unsuited in the traditional way of the world and no, life hasn't been perfect - does such a beast even exist? - yet we have trust and friendship and those two things alone go far beyond all else where a marriage is concerned. This year will be our thirty-fifth together.
Those signs and small wonders are not for ignoring, often they are the most serendipitous moments we are ever likely to witness - in my very humble opinion its best to pay attention to them! I am so glad you did.
Trust and friendship, yes. There is something to be said for the steady ones, the ones who are reliably good and unconcerned with the opinion of others. This is such a grounding message, Susie. Thirty five years! There's a whole lifetime of stories written there. And yes, the signs and wonders are maybe the most real things I know these days. Thank you for being here!
Boy oh boy, I am thrilled the Substack algorithm brought me to your writing. So many great lines in this one, but I was especially struck by a few in particular:
"He would reach into the box with his big carpenter’s hand and scratch at the shavings like a mother hen would, teaching them to use their feet to dig for worms. Afterwards, they would curl up in his proffered palm and sleep, fuzzy yellow feathers covering his rough callouses."
And later:
"This is parasitism parading as mutualism. If I could talk to the fish, I would tell it that I understand."
Your inner wise woman knew and knows. This is what you are teaching Finley. To go within and to listen. My mom taught me this as a wee one. I would ask her a question and she’d first inquire as to whether I had asked myself first? A practice we began as early as I can recall.
It cuts out the noise of all the opinions and we seek ourselves first and not last.
Oh, Kendall, that yoke was never meant for you, ever. You and your husband are building a life together of equality teeming with mutual and shared respect.
Another 🌈 rainbow story to add into my orbit. I adore signs and welcome them all. Even the cosmic two by fours!
Big love dear one. Another brilliant read. Thank you. 💕
Thank you for sharing that question that your very wise mother asked you about whether you had asked yourself first. I'm going to start doing this with Finley! This explains why you are the woman that you are- brilliant. Yes to cutting out the noise, the cosmic two by fours, and seeking ourselves first. Thank you, Joanie!
I often find myself wanting to tell you the first time I teared up during one of your stories. Then I tear up a bunch more and don’t know which moment to highlight.
Here’s where this one got me : “The wild, grown-ass woman inside of me could not abide his arrogance, and she kept sneaking in snide remarks and hints that she would not be subdued.”
I was raised in a similar religious organization. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons I feel such a kinship with you.
I love this beautiful story of rainbows and safety in the arms of a man and a wild woman who used her voice! oh, and the fish too. You’re brilliant with analogies, my friend.
I absolutely feel that intuitive sistership of survival- I think we set off some kind of beacon in one another. Thank you for telling me the moment that you teared up, and how this often happens and you don't know which moment to comment on. That's the greatest thing you could say- and I share that so specifically when I read my favorite writers here (you and Kimberly Warner to name a couple!) Sometimes I wait to say anything because I am so overwhelmed by the whole of it. This reminds me to just say THAT. Thank you, thank you. xoxo
I love the way you right and 'teach' Kendall and have a familiar feeling about indoctrinating the young. I too 'escaped'. So beautifully written I think I have fallen for your husband!! ;)
Ha! I will tell him he has an admirer 😉. And thank you so much- I love the essays where I get to put my science-teacher hat on and then weave those fa to into something relatable. What fun we get to have as writers!
Your words draw me in like the tide—pulling gently, insistently, until I am fully immersed. There’s something profound in the way you move between past and present, between memory and metaphor, weaving a story that is both deeply personal and universally resonant.
I felt the weight of that first relationship, the slow erosion of self under the guise of righteousness. The way you describe losing your voice, your agency, your very tongue—it’s visceral. And yet, you were never truly lost. The wild, grown-ass woman inside you never let you fully disappear. That clarity, that resistance, even when muted, carried you to the life you now live.
Your husband’s quiet strength, his steady presence, the rainbows, the baby chicks, the unwavering safety—this is the kind of love that heals. Not because it is perfect, but because it is mutual. Because it does not demand you to shrink or change or submit. Because it does not siphon from you but instead offers, receives, and grows alongside you.
And that final message to your younger self? That is something I wish we could whisper to so many. It’s not your fault. There’s a better way. You are not required to yoke yourself to anyone for any reason. That truth holds a weight that could unburden so many.
Thank you for sharing this, for writing with such raw honesty, and for reminding us that we do not have to settle for anything less than real, reciprocal love.
Thank you for reading with such reverent attention, Jay. I also find myself drawn in like the tide, and I know that you already know this, but attention given by a person who is awake, and filled with love, is the greatest gift in the world. I'm receiving all of these words with so much gratitude, and am so humbled by what you bring into the circle of connection we're building in this space.
This is just so lovely, Kendall. I mean the subject matter is often hard to swallow (see what I did there?) :) but the way you handle it, the gentleness, but fierceness with which you share your upbringing and then your introduction to his gentle man. I love this line, "What a thing, to feel safe in the arms of a man."
And how you weave the story of the eels and the perch as part of the narrative of parasitism and mutualism and tie that back to the man you almost married (gasp) and the life you chose for yourself instead (joy), is just incredible.
This, "If I could talk to the fish, I would tell it that I understand." That got me.
I love how you moved us through your deepening relationship with your now husband, how you moved towards each other.
And that last note to your younger self. Oof. Just.So.Good.
Thank you again for sharing these stories. I feel so lucky to read them. xo
Hi friend! Thank you so much, again, for the beautiful comment. I love how the things that move me as a writer are often the exact things that move you as well. It makes me feel like I'm swimming in bigger waters, you know? Love all of this, and love seeing you here every single time. xoxo
There is so much in this beautiful essay, Kendall. I love that you chose yourself and found someone who chose you for you, not who you represented. I was in a very uneven marriage, though not for reasons of religion, it was emotional maturity. I grew and he didn't. My current relationship is balanced, imperfect, and deeply satisfying. Feeling loved, cared for, and held as you are, is incredibly healing. Thank you for sharing this story!
I'll take "balanced, imperfect, and deeply satisfying" any day! I think this is a sign of your emotional maturity, Janine. it takes so much grounded knowing to embrace the parts of our partners that are no perfect in the greater context of what beauty they bring. To know when those "imperfections" are untenable, as you did in your first marriage, and when they are to be embraced with grace. Thank you for giving me so much to think about here!
Beautiful Kendall, such evocative descriptions and wonderfully contrasting and connecting imagery. You description of your daughter and quiet rabbit, and the chicks in his hands - just wonderful. I’m so pleased to have found your writing 💛✨
Thank you, Emily! It's so interesting writing about a person's goodness in a very distilled sense, when there are so many stories swirling around that you could pull from. I'm so glad that "quiet rabbit" and the chicks in the palm resonated! I'm also pleased that you have found you way here. ✨
I’m so happy for you Kendall—your kind, awakened heart deserves all the bounty of a relationship founded in generous mutualism. I too dated one of those tongue suckers! And then I found my husband, 20 years ago and counting. He was raised in a fundamentalist Baptist church, followed until he was 30, and as soon he left —prompted by the birth of his neurodivergent and disabled daughter and the church’s bereft consoling “It’s God’s will”—he says he became a dramatically kinder, more empathic human. Go figure.:)
Oh wow, there's a whole entire story arc in this one sentence, Kimberly : " He was raised in a fundamentalist Baptist church, followed until he was 30, and as soon he left —prompted by the birth of his neurodivergent and disabled daughter and the church’s bereft consoling “It’s God’s will”—he says he became a dramatically kinder, more empathic human." It grieves me that the church falls flat on its face so often, but I also celebrate your husband's choice to lean into kindness and empathy. And thank you for the blessing, truly. I'm carrying that in my heart. xo
Wow. This is wonderful, Kendra. The irony is with your oratory skills you'd make a great minister or pastor. But I like that you're using them for this. Lucky us. ❤️
Ha, it is ironic, isn't it? When I was twelve, before I was told I "couldn't", I was intent on becoming a pastor. Maybe in a different timeline. This is better, though, getting to write these stories unfiltered. Thanks, Bonnie!
"He would go to her and sit perfectly still in the firestorm of her emotions until she sobbed and then hiccupped and eventually sighed..." I have such a man Kendall, a man who is so completely my opposite, so unsuited in the traditional way of the world and no, life hasn't been perfect - does such a beast even exist? - yet we have trust and friendship and those two things alone go far beyond all else where a marriage is concerned. This year will be our thirty-fifth together.
Those signs and small wonders are not for ignoring, often they are the most serendipitous moments we are ever likely to witness - in my very humble opinion its best to pay attention to them! I am so glad you did.
Trust and friendship, yes. There is something to be said for the steady ones, the ones who are reliably good and unconcerned with the opinion of others. This is such a grounding message, Susie. Thirty five years! There's a whole lifetime of stories written there. And yes, the signs and wonders are maybe the most real things I know these days. Thank you for being here!
We sure have a few tales to tell between us Kendall, I just hope I have enough life left to write them all down!
Boy oh boy, I am thrilled the Substack algorithm brought me to your writing. So many great lines in this one, but I was especially struck by a few in particular:
"He would reach into the box with his big carpenter’s hand and scratch at the shavings like a mother hen would, teaching them to use their feet to dig for worms. Afterwards, they would curl up in his proffered palm and sleep, fuzzy yellow feathers covering his rough callouses."
And later:
"This is parasitism parading as mutualism. If I could talk to the fish, I would tell it that I understand."
A stunning piece. 🤍
Thank you, Michelle! I'm delighted the algorithm brought you to my little corner as well! xo
Your inner wise woman knew and knows. This is what you are teaching Finley. To go within and to listen. My mom taught me this as a wee one. I would ask her a question and she’d first inquire as to whether I had asked myself first? A practice we began as early as I can recall.
It cuts out the noise of all the opinions and we seek ourselves first and not last.
Oh, Kendall, that yoke was never meant for you, ever. You and your husband are building a life together of equality teeming with mutual and shared respect.
Another 🌈 rainbow story to add into my orbit. I adore signs and welcome them all. Even the cosmic two by fours!
Big love dear one. Another brilliant read. Thank you. 💕
Thank you for sharing that question that your very wise mother asked you about whether you had asked yourself first. I'm going to start doing this with Finley! This explains why you are the woman that you are- brilliant. Yes to cutting out the noise, the cosmic two by fours, and seeking ourselves first. Thank you, Joanie!
I often find myself wanting to tell you the first time I teared up during one of your stories. Then I tear up a bunch more and don’t know which moment to highlight.
Here’s where this one got me : “The wild, grown-ass woman inside of me could not abide his arrogance, and she kept sneaking in snide remarks and hints that she would not be subdued.”
I was raised in a similar religious organization. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons I feel such a kinship with you.
I love this beautiful story of rainbows and safety in the arms of a man and a wild woman who used her voice! oh, and the fish too. You’re brilliant with analogies, my friend.
I absolutely feel that intuitive sistership of survival- I think we set off some kind of beacon in one another. Thank you for telling me the moment that you teared up, and how this often happens and you don't know which moment to comment on. That's the greatest thing you could say- and I share that so specifically when I read my favorite writers here (you and Kimberly Warner to name a couple!) Sometimes I wait to say anything because I am so overwhelmed by the whole of it. This reminds me to just say THAT. Thank you, thank you. xoxo
I love the way you right and 'teach' Kendall and have a familiar feeling about indoctrinating the young. I too 'escaped'. So beautifully written I think I have fallen for your husband!! ;)
Ha! I will tell him he has an admirer 😉. And thank you so much- I love the essays where I get to put my science-teacher hat on and then weave those fa to into something relatable. What fun we get to have as writers!
Kendall,
Your words draw me in like the tide—pulling gently, insistently, until I am fully immersed. There’s something profound in the way you move between past and present, between memory and metaphor, weaving a story that is both deeply personal and universally resonant.
I felt the weight of that first relationship, the slow erosion of self under the guise of righteousness. The way you describe losing your voice, your agency, your very tongue—it’s visceral. And yet, you were never truly lost. The wild, grown-ass woman inside you never let you fully disappear. That clarity, that resistance, even when muted, carried you to the life you now live.
Your husband’s quiet strength, his steady presence, the rainbows, the baby chicks, the unwavering safety—this is the kind of love that heals. Not because it is perfect, but because it is mutual. Because it does not demand you to shrink or change or submit. Because it does not siphon from you but instead offers, receives, and grows alongside you.
And that final message to your younger self? That is something I wish we could whisper to so many. It’s not your fault. There’s a better way. You are not required to yoke yourself to anyone for any reason. That truth holds a weight that could unburden so many.
Thank you for sharing this, for writing with such raw honesty, and for reminding us that we do not have to settle for anything less than real, reciprocal love.
– Jay
Thank you for reading with such reverent attention, Jay. I also find myself drawn in like the tide, and I know that you already know this, but attention given by a person who is awake, and filled with love, is the greatest gift in the world. I'm receiving all of these words with so much gratitude, and am so humbled by what you bring into the circle of connection we're building in this space.
I am glad my words found resonance with in you and I am humbled by what you mirror back to me. Love you.
Absolutely loved this.
Thank you, Rebecca! Welcome!!
This is just so lovely, Kendall. I mean the subject matter is often hard to swallow (see what I did there?) :) but the way you handle it, the gentleness, but fierceness with which you share your upbringing and then your introduction to his gentle man. I love this line, "What a thing, to feel safe in the arms of a man."
And how you weave the story of the eels and the perch as part of the narrative of parasitism and mutualism and tie that back to the man you almost married (gasp) and the life you chose for yourself instead (joy), is just incredible.
This, "If I could talk to the fish, I would tell it that I understand." That got me.
I love how you moved us through your deepening relationship with your now husband, how you moved towards each other.
And that last note to your younger self. Oof. Just.So.Good.
Thank you again for sharing these stories. I feel so lucky to read them. xo
Hi friend! Thank you so much, again, for the beautiful comment. I love how the things that move me as a writer are often the exact things that move you as well. It makes me feel like I'm swimming in bigger waters, you know? Love all of this, and love seeing you here every single time. xoxo
Swimming in bigger waters together. I feel the same way and so lucky to swim them with you! ❤️❤️
What a riveting tale, Kendall. Thank you for sharing. You are a brave and clear-eyed soul.
Thank you so much for this lovely comment, Julie! ❤
You are most welcome, Kendall. Thanks again for offering me a glimpse into this pivotal part of your life story.
There is so much in this beautiful essay, Kendall. I love that you chose yourself and found someone who chose you for you, not who you represented. I was in a very uneven marriage, though not for reasons of religion, it was emotional maturity. I grew and he didn't. My current relationship is balanced, imperfect, and deeply satisfying. Feeling loved, cared for, and held as you are, is incredibly healing. Thank you for sharing this story!
I'll take "balanced, imperfect, and deeply satisfying" any day! I think this is a sign of your emotional maturity, Janine. it takes so much grounded knowing to embrace the parts of our partners that are no perfect in the greater context of what beauty they bring. To know when those "imperfections" are untenable, as you did in your first marriage, and when they are to be embraced with grace. Thank you for giving me so much to think about here!
Beautiful Kendall, such evocative descriptions and wonderfully contrasting and connecting imagery. You description of your daughter and quiet rabbit, and the chicks in his hands - just wonderful. I’m so pleased to have found your writing 💛✨
Thank you, Emily! It's so interesting writing about a person's goodness in a very distilled sense, when there are so many stories swirling around that you could pull from. I'm so glad that "quiet rabbit" and the chicks in the palm resonated! I'm also pleased that you have found you way here. ✨