Caught Between the Swatter and the Fly

As many of you know, I live in the UK. I actually moved here from sunny Alabama. Now, before you yell “Roll Tide” at me, just understand...I am a proud Midwesterner. I am generations deep from Gary, Indiana.

My dad was in the FIRST graduating class of West Side High School. My mother graduated during the illustrious bicentennial year. So being a West Side Cougar is in my blood.

I moved to the South as an almost 27-year-old adult.

One thing about living in your own space is that you begin understanding why your parents were the way they were...grumpy.

I have memories of my mother screaming threats about leaving her door open. Meaning the front door. As a hardworking mother, wife, and First Lady, she wore many hats, including walking around with a fly swatter ready to kill the buzzing, seemingly giant housefly...or the child who accidentally welcomed one in while trying to bargain for spare change to buy penny candy from the IGA closest to Vermont Court.

I have always had a disdain for flies. They have always been a nuisance.

My AuDHD brain decided to do a quick deep dive to learn its purpose. Maybe understanding them would change my opinion.

However, today, a fly is where my revelation begins.

As a new plant mom, I was repotting my plants. Due to constantly moving between outside and inside with the door wide open, I allowed flies into my home. Insert well-deserving momma fly-swats to the bum for this decision.

I stand before you, having spent an hour swatting flies at windows. Getting some. Missing others.

Eventually, I got down to one.

The big one.

We will call HER “Matilda.”

She landed. I swung. Missed.

She flew away.

This happened many times. I could tell she was looking for an opening to escape outside. She would fly toward the foyer, spin the block, then return to the windowsill. Over and over again.

Just as I was about to give up, I saw her sitting on the windowsill flapping her wings, but not moving.

VIOLA.

I got her.

Just as I was swinging, I realized what was happening.

Matilda was caught in a web.

She had my swatter on one side and an approaching spider on the other. Tiny...but still a spider.

At that moment, I had already committed to the swing.

I missed.

But the force of the swat loosened her from the tunnel web.

She flew away.

And just as she reached the foyer, my husband opened the front door.

Matilda flew out of my home.

For her, it was freedom.

For me, it was a revelation.

For the spider, it was probably the promise of an instinctively long night of rebuilding.

Immediately, nature spoke to me:

“The thing that is trying to kill you may actually be repositioning you for greater.”

And suddenly...everything made sense.

Just like the fly caught in the web in the window, I found myself close to freedom, yet trapped in a web of lies, rumors, character assaults, broken friendships, and emotional exhaustion.

I was devastated.

There were moments I felt myself fighting against things that wanted to keep me stuck. Misunderstood. Wounded. Angry. Distracted. Small.

But just like Matilda, I was never meant to die in the web.

I flew toward freedom.

Toward therapy.Toward prayer.Toward strength.

And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I realized healing is not weakness. Leaving cycles is not betrayal. Outgrowing spaces that no longer honor who God created you to be is not failure.

It is freedom.

This year has been amazing. I have walked into spaces I never imagined experiencing. Some spaces I dominated. Some spaces exposed new areas of growth. Through it all, the things that hurt me the most pushed me back into therapy.

Not because I was broken. Not because I was drowning in my past.

But because I finally realized I was ready to let go.

Therapy opened me up to another revelation: a good community is necessary. Not a surface-level community. Not people who only know how to celebrate your strength while avoiding your wounds. I mean the kind of community that knows what to do with my messy emotions as I release trauma I have already survived and healed from, finally learning to trust myself, trust my calling, and trust the plan God has placed on my life.

Healing is holy work.

Deep work.

And God prepared me for this season long before I realized I was entering it.

The people I thought would walk with me into this chapter...will not. No bitterness, just freedom.

At first, that reality hurt. The realization that God is invested in my growth over comfort was a comforting reality.

This season of my life is sacred.

Everybody cannot go into sacred spaces with you. Some people were assigned to previous versions of you. I am leaving them with so much gratitude for the space they held in my life.

So while some relationships revealed their true colors and fell away, God also began bringing people into my life who were strong enough for this journey. People who do not fear honesty, softness, grief, accountability, or growth. People who know how to comfort and confront!

My chosen family.

And maybe that was part of the pruning, too.

Because I asked God to align me. I asked Him to remove what was no longer healthy. I asked Him to break cycles. I asked Him to reveal what was hidden. I asked Him to heal me beyond survival. Every "swat" that scared me actually positioned me toward freedom.

I realize that answered prayers sometimes arrive carrying scissors. While prayers make good journal entries, they process is messy, exhausting on its way to be exhilarating.

Pruning is painful.

Alignment is uncomfortable.

Growth requires separation.

But God does not prune what has no purpose. He prunes what is still called to grow.

I do not know what happened to Matilda after she flew through that door.

But freedom allowed her to continue the journey she was created for.

"Same, Matilda, Same!"

Affirmation:

I release what no longer serves me. I trust God, I trust myself, and I embrace the freedom attached to my becoming.