I started writing for her.
I wanted her to know that I was so sorry.
Sorry for ignoring her needs for 23 years.
For hiding. For running. For numbing her.
I was sorry for succumbing to the intensity of the pain and for continually extinguishing the light in her eyes to make sure she floated above and below anything real.
I began a sober journey because
she needed to feel something -anything before it was too late.
She needed to believe that she was worth fighting for.
I wrote and wrote and dug and worked and fought to make sure other young girls weren’t willing to settle or trade their worth for fleeting attention.
•This photo was taken in 2005- my last full year addicted.
My absolute worst year.
The lowest I have ever been.
I got arrested a dozen times. Beat up by a guy who I just wanted to love me. I checked out as a mom. I wanted to die. I wanted to rest. I pawned everything of value I had. High every single morning before any reality could creep into my mind. Always disappointed to have woken up alive. Usually being slapped awake or shaken. Or on my bathroom floor. I hated the girl in this photo.
I don’t remember having this photo taken at work, but I am really glad I showed up to work that day.
I am glad I can look at her knowing I am not her, but also feeling grateful to have been her.
I barely remember this girl, but I needed to be her in order to appreciate who I am now and where God brought me from.
•Now I write for people who feel or have felt like her.
If you are in the thick of the fight –keep fighting.
••••••YOU••••••• are worth fighting for. Don’t give up.
Be still and let Him fight for you. God is good. Real. Relevant. Powerful. Unchanging. Hope giving. Story changing. ✊