and went to church on Easter Sunday. I have not been to church in almost 3 years I’d say. It was a personal choice I made and one I’m still analyzing. I went to church not just because my father asked me to, he’s asked me to go to church with him for the last 3 years, but because my Grandma is in town and I will drop everything to spend time with her. She’s getting older and looking more frail and I want her to know that I appreciate the matriarch she has been to our family. 


You see, my father was a minister at the church we went to on Sunday. I grew up being a Pastor’s Kid (PK) and learned to live with the reputation my father’s job placed on me. I’ll tell people that my father was a minister and their usual response is: “Oh, that explains a lot…”

Why? Why does that explain a lot? I’ve always struggled with the social stigma PK’s get. We are the rebellious ones. I mean sure we tend to go off the deep end sometimes, but what teenaged female doesn’t? My response to people is, “I’m not overly rebellious, it’s just that you expect me to behave so much better than everyone else.” And that’s true. People don’t realize that they are placing social expectations on children because of their parents. This isn’t just something that’s going on with a community and the PK’s, this is something that’s applied to all children. I could really talk about this for a long time, hell I have talked about this for a long time… but this is on my mind because of Sunday.

I got off work Sunday morning at 3am. I went to bed and woke up around 9:30 am. I got up and decided to dress appropriately for an Easter Sunday church service. I wore a wrap dress, stiletto heels and did my hair in an up-do… well it was appropriate compared to what I wanted to wear, PJ’s baby! I walked to the cafeteria (yes, my father started a church and they meet at a school) and my father introduced me to those I didn’t know. It was priceless, the looks on peoples’ faces when they heard my father had a daughter. My younger brother plays in the worship band and my older brother is often talked about because he’s married and has 2 sons. All I do is work and perform on stage… not exactly the stuff to brag about in my father’s eyes. I saw people I haven’t seen in years and they were all smiles and wondering what I was up to. Rogue, theatre, Tale End performing in San Francisco and working 2 jobs was my canned answer… they were all impressed. And then they remembered they heard me on the Ray Appleton show talking about ‘something performance or whatever’ and the proud gleam in their eye sparkled. I had to laugh.

These people watched me grow up. These people helped raise me. These people watched as I went into rebellion head first and didn’t look back. These people are still wanting me to come back and be the good little christian girl I was raised to be. These people really don’t understand who the real me is at all.

And of course they wouldn’t ever have the chance to. I have a social mask I’ve learned to wear since birth. I’ve know what I was supposed to say, how I was supposed to act/dress and I heard about what was exprected of me every week. I was a role model for the other kids my age, and ended up being resented for it. The pain and loneliness was very hard to cope with.

This is why I can be in a crowded room and feel like I am all alone.

I found myself slipping back into old habits. I felt good about myself for being able to report that my life wasn’t crap and I was working very hard and that I had found my niche. Hell I was spouting about how I’m going to go back to school for my PR degree. Am I thinking about it? Sure… but the fact is, I talked about it because is made me sound like I was on the right track. I still care about their good opinion. I still know how to posture myself into their mold.

Sunday, I reverted back to when I was 11 years old and everyone was happy and proud of me.

Old habits die hard…

old wounds still hurt even after they have healed…

I need to get out from under this rock and stand up for myself…

Happy Easter. 😛