I lost me.

Three years ago, a therapist asked me, “When was the last time you felt joy?” I couldn’t answer because I couldn’t remember.

That was a life-changing moment; I was in denial about how much pain I was in, about how sad I was.

It took time, but I eventually traced my sadness to its source: I was lost. I had ventured into the world without defense, and allowed it to shape me into someone new. I became someone I wasn’t. And I stayed someone I wasn’t for so long, I lost me.

Relearning myself was a slow process. It was an odd process. I was amazed at how I remembered myself, like I was having a conversation with a friend I hadn’t talked to in years, and the familiarity of the time we spent together was resurfacing. And though I began reclaiming some parts of me that were true, a part of me was now also this lost girl I faced in the mirror, and she brought amazing empathy, compassion, desperation, awareness of self, acceptance and a capacity to love–no, an urgency to love–that her former self never knew.

“You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being down, the saving of many lives.”

Genesis 50:20

God, you’re so good.

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