Today after months of agonising I got my answer. No, he is not the one for you. It was expected. Took a while to really sink in but was still welcome and I’ll tell you why.

Jesus didn’t shout. He didn’t actually say no either… but it was the sentiment. You get it.

I would never have called my self boy crazy but my earliest memories at school are of the game kiss chase. The girls would run daintily around the playground being pursued by the boys in the hope that they would be chosen for the prize; a kiss. At the age of 5, I recognised that this wasn’t just a game, this was a matter of pursuit, desire and ultimately worthiness. I was always ready and willing to play. I’m sure that you know where this is going; 5 year old Rhianne never got chased. In that moment a seed was planted. Not just the one. Seeds. Seeds of rejection, unworthiness, comparison and envy. There had to be something wrong with me, that’s why I wasn’t chosen. I didn’t measure up. These seeds grew when my class mates bullied my thick lips (their favourite taunt being big lip Jay -Z – kids are cruel). Fast forward 4 years and my friends were now being chosen to be the friends and romantic interests of the older boys. I however, was being ridiculed for my height, size and breasts.

Different. Strange.

I had come to learn that there was some brokenness in me, not just my personality but my very DNA that had betrayed me. Made me grow and look different, made me unacceptable, undesirable and only worthy of rejection.

I’m sure it was before the age of 10 that I discovered porn in and coupled with those seeds, my mind continued to be warped. Although my body didn’t look like peers, surely like the women I saw in porn, on television and in magazines I could leverage my sexuality. I hit puberty hard and early. My thoughts? If that was the cruel hand I was dealt I would put my body to good use. It gave me a certain capital with my peers at the age of 10. It wasn’t the exact attention that I wanted but it was all I could get so it would have to do.

This trend continued into secondary school, being bigger and taller than the other 11 year olds made me a target. More than that, my confidence and self assurance was not well received. I walked past older boys on the playground and they would shake and scream that there was an earthquake because I was walking past.

I didn’t deserve respect. Why would anyone want something like me.

A particularly bad period of bullying at the age of 13 saw me eating lunch in the P.E toilets for sometime as the campaign against me, started by a frenemy raged on.

Clearly unwanted.

My curves became a school commodity, I dew attention to my chest and gave the go for people to touch me and jest. At least it was something. At least they saw me. At least there was something attractive about me.

I walked to school everyday with my best friend and she was beautiful, tall, slim and fair with legs up to her armpits. She wasn’t just beautiful but stood tall with grace and poise. She was wise, experienced at life, had connections; an immediate hit with the cool kids. Being her best friend I was always around but was not welcomed with the same reverence as she. I was tormented by the cool older boys and girls both inside and outside of school. One particular incident sticks with me to this day. while walking from school with this group I had cross words with a college age boy who proceeded to verbally batter me in front of my peers. The word he said still pricks my heart; beast.

Unwanted, Unneeded. Unnecessary.

As I moved through the years of school the bullying subsided but I was now confident that my desire to be wanted could be met by offering hugs where people could feel my body, by verbally battering my crushes so they would notice me and flirting where I could.

There were countless rendezvous with boys at school of an intimate nature (not sex but more than is pleasing to God). All of it based on my semi desirable body. The dichotomy of hating my body for the way it looked (fat) and loving it because of the attention it got me continued. In my mind my body stopped me from receiving real love and acceptance I needed but bought me the attention, and physical touch I so craved. I resolved in my mind that this was an acceptable trade off.

Close friends and family members began dating the boys I had built friendships with (and almost entered relationships with); my theory was confirmed! I wasn’t as good as the others. I was broken, less than and the very last resort.

Those seeds of rejection, unworthiness, comparison and envy flourished and bore twisted and bitter fruits. My tears moistened their soil but left me dry.

This will be continued in another post.

As always, thanks for reading,


New Beginnings

I have been a Christian for years. Born in the hands of the pastor, mama on the worship team, papa was associate pastor, church every Sunday, know all the right words to say, greeting the brethren in the name of Jesus; church through and through.

Imagine my surprise when God showed me himself last year. In August 2018 my life changed and I didn’t see it coming; it just took 28 years.

I am broken, full of things that look and sound nothing like Jesus but in six months I can say that God has changed my life.  The testimonies and conversations I heard for years with people who were on fire for God and had zeal all fell into place.

The change started with one thing.  One thing that made me weep not only in the moment but for weeks afterward; no matter what I do or I have done God loves me.  He wants me, approves of me, needs to be close to me. No. Matter. What.  That word was given to me by someone in a small group and God used it to begin a work in me that has transformed everything. new-year-new-beginning-2Cor-tree.png

I will be writing more about my story over the last six months but if you are reading this, it is not by chance.  Please know that wherever you are, whatever you have done, God loves you and there is hope for you.  God has plans and a future for you, don’t wait, don’t miss him.  You belong, you are accepted and you are loved.

Until next time my dear,


the sky is falling

When I was a toddler -toddling – chicken little played a massive part of my life (nursery was da bomb right?!).  The story was entertaining but I didn’t get it; not surprising really a three year old who can just about control her bowel didn’t fully comprehend the story.

I didn’t get chicken little until I turned 18 when I realised that my life was imploding and my ‘sky’ was falling.  Seven years later, it is still falling.  At first I thought I was in the midst of teenage angst: I’d just finished my A-Levels (which I, hand on heart, thought were going to kill me) and was heading to university.  I was anxious and confused and let myself be swept up in life, little did I know this was the beginning of my experience of depression. Continue reading