Blog #Identity

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Dr. Debby Sharpe Smith thought she was prepared for the empty nest, but when it arrived, it brought emotions she didn't expect.  Through honest conversations, deep spiritual formation work, and leading groups of empty-nest women each year, she discovered she wasn't alone. Her journey led her to write OPEN NEST, a Bible study designed to help women explore identity, faith, and community in midlife.  Her heart is to remind women that their identity is rooted in Christ, NOT in roles that shift with seasons. Debby is Texas-born, but a traveler at heart, having lived in New Jersey, London, Mombasa, and Keiv.  On the theory that everyone has a superpower, hers might be making order out of chaos. She will pick beaches over mountains, tulips over daisies, musicals over concerts, dark over milk (chocolate), Tex-Mex over Thai, sunsets over sunrises, and walking with a friend over any other form of exercise.   Debby has three adult children and one daughter-in-law and lives in Dallas, TX, with her husband.  You can contact her at www.open-nest.com. Debby's book can be purchased through Amazon. Book Giveaway: Be the first one to like and share this episode, comment on what touched you about it, and subscribe to my podcast.   Then send me your address, and I will mail the book out to you. 

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Finding Me!
A Journey of Identity and Resilience

Born into a pure-blooded French family, my arrival was far from celebrated. I was the mistake, the last one born into a lineage rich in heritage yet laden with its own struggles. My father, a WWII disabled Navy veteran, bore the scars of service, while my mother relinquished her dreams of a music career to marry him. Together, they raised me in a small Catholic French town in southern Maine—a sheltered environment steeped in our heritage.

Behind the familiarity of Biddeford, is where the French community thrived. South Portland was a world apart, populated by people who were not French, and it was here that I faced my first battle for identity. Speaking only French, I was thrust into an English-speaking world when I started school. The language barrier was isolating, but the discrimination was worse. I quickly became the target of relentless bullying, an experience that instilled in me a deep shame for my ethnicity. In an act of defiance-or—or perhaps survival—I vowed never to speak French again. The vow was so successful that I lost my fluency, though the ability to understand it lingered like a distant echo of a forgotten melody.

Language, however, was just one facet of the challenges I faced. Home was no sanctuary. I grew up in an environment shadowed by alcoholism and toxicity, a place where love was conditional and stability elusive. Panic attacks became a part of my daily existence, as did a gnawing fear of abandonment. I carried the weight of self-hate, a burden that was only compounded by my struggles with a learning disability and the fact that I never owned a book until adulthood. Words, whether in French or English, seemed to conspire against me, further isolating me from a world I longed to understand.

Yet, amidst the hardship, there was an undercurrent of resilience. The adversity I faced shaped me, not as a victim, but as someone who refused to be defined solely by struggle. My rejection of my language and heritage was not just an act of shame but also one of adaptation, a way to carve out a place for myself in an unwelcoming world. The path was far from linear, marred by setbacks and moments of despair, but it was mine.

This journey has left its indelible marks—both scars and strengths. While I may have lost the ability to speak French fluently, I gained an acute understanding of the complexities of identity and the courage it takes to rebuild oneself from the fragments. My story is not one of mere survival but of transformation, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Today, I carry my past not as a weight but as a map, guiding me toward a deeper understanding of where I come from and where I am capable of going.