16. 🐖🏃‍♀️ The Prodigal Btch*

Because sometimes you don’t come home clean—
you come home cussing.

I didn’t crawl back with a broken spirit.
I kicked the door open with mud still on my boots
and rage still in my throat.

This isn’t a story about shame.
It’s a story about testing the damn grace they said would be there.

I didn’t come back to be forgiven.
I came back to see if they meant it.

✝️ The Prodigal Rewritten

I wasn’t “lost.”
I was done pretending I was welcome in a place
that only loved me clean.

I didn’t waste my inheritance on wild living.
I spent my dignity trying to survive in a system
that confused silence with submission
and obedience with holiness.

When I finally left,
I didn’t go seeking sin.
I went looking for a version of God
who didn’t ask me to disappear
to be loved.

🧠 Psychological + Spiritual Insight:

• The prodigal narrative is often used to romanticize return.
  But for survivors, coming back isn’t soft. It’s strategic. It’s cautious.
  
• Forgiveness without accountability feels like performance.
  If I’m not allowed to show up angry, I’m not safe—I’m staged.
  
• Religious trauma survivors don’t want pity.
  We want truth that holds us, even when we’re still raw.
  

🩸 What Coming Home Really Looked Like

I came home with scars,
not because I believed they’d welcome me—
but because I needed to know
if the ones preaching grace
could actually live it.

I brought my questions.
My cussing.
My coping mechanisms.
My full, unapologetic self—
just to see what would happen
when I stopped apologizing for existing.

💥 For Every Prodigal Who Didn’t Come Back Clean

This is for:

• The daughters who weren’t greeted with a feast—but with side-eyes
  
• The queers, the addicts, the loud girls, the angry ones
  
• The ones who didn’t “repent”—but still had the courage to return
  
• The ones who didn’t come back to be saved
  but to see if anyone was worth being saved by
  

💬 Final Reflection:

They told me He’d run to meet me.
But I didn’t want Him to run.
I wanted Him to stand there,
look me in the eye,
and say, “You never had to earn your place at this table.”

🧨 Closing Hook:

So yeah—call me the Prodigal B*tch.
I came back cussing.
And if grace is real?
It better speak fluent survivor.