Updated March 6, 2017
Welcome to my blog, “Confessions of a Preacher’s Daughter.” Many of the things that I have done and probably will do in the future are not something that I want my family to know about, so out of respect for them and also so that I can avoid any unwanted lectures or personal sermons I will remain anonymous. Also, I want to be able to be completely honest, and in order to feel free to do so, I require anonymity. So, from this point on you can just call me Ginger.
39 42 year old twice thrice-divorced preacher’s daughter with no children and I am from the South, but I’m not your stereotypical southern belle or redneck. I’m a self-proclaimed geeky white girl. I love sex and men, sometimes too much. I love my family and friends. I believe that even though I may not always agree with my family, I still respect them and their beliefs and they keep me grounded no matter what path I choose.
We went to an Assembly of God church until I was about one year old and then Dad (aka, the Preacher) “back-slid” and became an alcoholic workaholic good-ole-boy. During the next ten years the most excitement we had were the Friday and Saturday nights at the go-cart race track where he and my uncles and grandfather would race and drink beer. I would hang out and watch and eat my hamburgers from the concession stand.
I actually had a great childhood. I was surrounded by my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles most of the time. I was the oldest grandchild, and the only grandchild for seven years, so I was definitely spoiled rotten. I believe that being around so many adults all the time, and very few children, made me mentally grow up faster than normal. My Mom says that when I was five I could carry on a conversation like a forty year old. I’m not sure how true that is, but I do know that I have never related that well to people my own age.
When I was eleven Dad woke up one Sunday morning, poured all his booze down the kitchen sink, and told me and my Mom to get ready for church. We did and that Sunday my Dad got saved and then went on to become a preacher, evangelist, and then a pastor. He still pastors at a small country church today.
The years that followed the Preacher’s transformation were not bad until I hit my teen years and then it seemed to me that he was the strictest and most unreasonable parent in the world. I was not allowed to listen to the same music my friends listened to because it was “secular music.” I couldn’t watch the same movies, go to school dances, date, or any of the “normal” things that teens do. Once I started driving I of course had to let the Preacher know where I was every minute of the day when I was not at home. Even on the night of my high school graduation, the Preacher insisted that I be home by midnight.
So as soon as I graduated high school I moved out of my parents house. All I remember about that day is my Mom crying and telling me that I didn’t have to go. I kept telling her that I did have to go because I couldn’t take living with my Dad any longer. I believe the Preacher and I had already been arguing earlier that day about some stupid little thing.
I continued going to church for a few years until my parents moved away and then I started what I like to call my “sowing my wild oats” phase. Granted I was 21 when I started this phase, but better late than never right?
The last twenty-two years have been a non-stop adventure. I’ve lived in several states and enjoyed my time in each. The people that I have met along the way have helped me learn, grow and open my eyes to what is possible. I’ve done things that I knew were wrong, things that I am very proud of, things that I still can’t believe that I did, things that I don’t even remember doing, and things that I should regret. However, I believe that you should never regret anything you’ve done, only learn from it and move on. We all make mistakes and will continue to do so.
I hope that through my writings I can share my story and feelings and views on life. Who knows. Maybe along the way I can also help to change someone’s life for the better. Maybe even my own.