I didn’t start thinking about sacrifices in my life until after I was married and realized everything I gave up to call myself a wife. For me, marriage was about giving, not receiving. For twenty-one years, I gave up who I was to accommodate his wishes.

The first thing I sacrificed was my identity. I was so and so’s wife. I gave up my name. Then I became a mother, and everyone knew me as my children’s mother. Not by name.

I sacrificed my desires. I listened to more negative criticism about my ever succeeding as an author, let alone a Christian author. My husband neither believed in me or supported me.

The day came when I realized what I sacrificed as a wife and mother, and when asked my name, I told them it was Valerie, not wife or mother. Those were titles for who I was. It wasn’t my name.

Then the day came when I stopped sacrificing my dreams and stopped listening to negative criticism and read and learned everything I could about writing. When my marriage ended, my life as a writer took off. I took a correspondence course and received high honors. My first short story got published in an ezine. That was in 2006. In 2012 I published Scarred, and the rest is history.

My sacrificing my dignity and desires ended the day my marriage did. My name is not a title, it’s Valerie. I am a mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and author. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

What sacrifices have you made? Thanks for reading. The image belongs to me.