I asked Kimmie nearly a month ago to write for me and she asked if February 18th was still available. I only found out yesterday that February 18th is the anniversary of her mother’s death. I am so profoundly honored to have been given the opportunity to share her voice on this day.

I admire Kimmie for a whole number of reasons but I sincerely admire her ability to share such deeply personal traumas. I often censor myself telling partial truths or half truths for fear that what might be deeply emotional to me might be minimized by someone else. However, after reading this post I can see the healing that has taken place because of her close friends and family willing to take her at her worst to bring out her very best.

Please help me in welcoming Kimmie Easley.



Daria Nepriakhina

Daria Nepriakhina

A WEE CHICKADEE by Kimmie Easley


Yes, I’m a romance author, and as such, I jump at almost any opportunity to brazenly promote my work. However, when you’re invited to speak your mind on a major “voice” blog like Hastywords, you go with your gut, and in this case, my gut is banshee screaming at me.


Before I started writing romance, I had one storyline that ticked away at me until I finally broke down and almost literally, bled the words onto paper. It took a couple of years to finish. During which time, my family suffered through my rollercoaster ride of elation and depression. Elation, because I was actually writing (something I had wanted to do since childhood) and depression because it was like being hit with boulder size balls of acid with every turn of the page.

I started writing Souls Set Free thinking I would be able to respect the line between truth and fiction. Emma was a fictional character, after all! Or was she?

Every time Emma’s heart was slashed open, I felt my own scars begin to fray. With every tear Emma shed, I shed at least a hundred more. As her pain bled onto paper, mine bled into real life. As Emma’s husband Jansen had to fight to hold the Carter family together, so did my own saint of a husband. He hates that saint part, by the way.

So the lines became blurred.

The memories came flooding back. The heartache and abuse. Part of me reverted to that scared little girl who thought she had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. The little girl who had to learn to make scrambled eggs at the age of seven just to feed her siblings or hide in the laundry room when the cops were sent to the house to check on anonymous abuse calls. Key word there is anonymous…

Making my way to the middle, I relived the moment I lost my innocence (for lack of a better word). It was a time I had pushed from my thoughts for decades. The only problem with pulling the thread on one memory is that it starts the unraveling domino effect. I was reminded of the way I thought of myself; used… trash… worthless. Depressed and riddled with wounds and gaping holes.

I dug out old articles and clippings from my mother’s murder, wanting the story to be authentic and raw. Talk about a hurricane of emotion. I remembered the way her once vibrant face had been bruised and bloody. The way her petite body lay on the slab, broken and fractured. Cold.

I kiss her goodbye.

I was ready to kiss myself goodbye, but life wasn’t ready to let me go. My faithful husband once again helped heave my fat rear end over the monster hurdle.

I learned quite a few things during this process. My depression will never go away. It’s always there, lurking. It’s ok not to be perfect. It’s ok to need a break from your children. It doesn’t mean you love them any less, if anything, you love them more because you want to allow yourself to be better for them, solely for them. It’s ok to allow yourself to be loved. When you have someone in your life who loves you in a way you’ve never been loved before, it’s ok to say yes. On the flip side, it’s ok not to be loved. Not everyone has to adore you. Life moves on. It’s ok to make new starts – Every. Single. Morning.

It’s ok to be you.

It’s ok to be me.

I know I’m rambling at this point, but my heart simply takes over. I don’t have much of a say. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Reach out and connect (contact info to follow). I’m also adding the link to Souls Set Free for those who might like to read it.

Remember, it’s ok to be you.


Dedication: Dedicated to a beautiful soul, finally set free, my momma. Love always, your chickadee.

41s1kjX4GoL._UY250_Souls Set Free on Amazon


Kimmie is an author who grew up traveling the country, rarely settling in one place for much longer than a minute. Being no stranger to heartache, she allows her unconventional childhood to fuel her writing.
Kimmie is addicted to all things books, wine, cupcakes, and flip-flops. She is a homeschool momma, southern wife, and pug wrangler.
Kimmie can be found somewhere in the south writing wine worthy stories.

Gutter Princess coming in 2015 from Swoon Romance.

Kimmie’s website
Kimmie on Facebook
Kimmie on Twitter
Kimmie on Amazon
Kimmie on Goodreads

15 thoughts on “A WEE CHICKADEE

  1. Pingback: A WEE CHICKADEE | kimmiewrites

  2. Bravo Kimmie – this is a heartrending tale and I’m so glad you were able to use writing to help heal yourself. Hasty’s blog is perfect for this, and I think the message is one she promotes so often, and so well – we’re ALL a mess, but with help and support and love, we can all make it through.

    Keep going, and keep writing 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I channel emotions WAY too easily and I’m in tears reading this. What a message. I struggle with depression myself, I struggle with similar feelings you’ve described. No wonder I connected so strongly to Souls Set Free.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Depression is an ugly battle, one that I’ve come to learn is here for the long haul. It should never be taken lightly. Just another connection we share! Thank you for always supporting Souls Set Free! ❤


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