By Kerry Frank
If you grew up with me, or if you know me now, you might be surprised by some of the stories I’ve started to share in this blog and my upcoming book.
I get it. From the outside, I’ve always looked like someone who has it all together. Driven. Strong. Positive. But here’s the truth: that polished surface was built out of survival.
Growing up as a pastor’s kid meant living under a microscope. Everything, from what I wore to what I said, even to the music I didn’t listen to, was expected to be perfect, holy, and well behaved. There was very little space to make mistakes, and even less to explain them.
I remember one moment that still stings.
I had agreed to babysit for a family we knew. Their kids were wild that night, climbing furniture, bouncing off the walls, chaos in every direction. I did my best. The next morning, I was woken up at 6 a.m. by my dad, who sat me down and said, “I got a call. I heard you listened to the radio last night.”
My heart dropped. I was completely confused. I hadn’t touched the radio. But in our house, being accused of listening to secular music was like being accused of doing something immoral. Apparently one of the kids had turned the dial, and the parents told my dad. That was all it took. I wasn’t asked what happened. I was grounded for two weeks.
I didn’t argue. I just shut down.
Moments like that taught me early on that sometimes the truth didn’t matter as much as the appearance of being wrong. So I learned to tell stories, not lies, but versions of truth that helped me make sense of things. That let me stay hopeful. That let me breathe.
When life felt too heavy, I’d reframe it. When I didn’t have control, I’d shift the narrative. It wasn’t dishonesty. It was survival. It was how I stayed soft inside while navigating a world that demanded perfection.
Today, that tendency still lives in me but in a healthier way. I tell stories because I believe in the power of perspective. I believe we can shape our meaning out of our pain. But I’ve also learned to be honest with myself and with others about how hard it really was.
Writing this blog and my book has been like peeling back armor. And I know some of you reading this might be learning things about me for the first time.
That’s okay. That’s the point.
I’m not here to pretend it was easy or perfect. I’m here to tell the truth, the raw, redemptive, beautiful truth and maybe help someone else feel seen along the way.
So here’s my challenge for you today:
What story have you been telling yourself to survive? And what would it look like to tell the truth underneath it, not to hurt, but to heal?
#Authenticity #Resilience #FaithandGrowth #FlightPathRewritten