Dear Me,
I see you—curled up in your room, drowning in tears you don't want anyone to notice. Pretending you're okay when you're barely hanging on. You scroll endlessly, hoping distraction will quiet the ache. I remember that ache. I lived it too.
You think no one understands. You think God is far away. But let me tell you something I wish you knew back then: *you were never alone.*
You believed that your secret struggle made you dirty. You believed that if anyone knew, they'd walk away. But the only one who truly knew you—*never left.* Even in your darkest, messiest moments, *He stayed.* He whispered love into the cracks, even when you were too numb to hear it.
Dear Me,
You kept trying to fix yourself, right? Promising to stop, making vows you couldn't keep, and then breaking under the guilt when you failed again. I know. I did the same. But freedom didn't come from my willpower. It came from surrender. From whispering, "God, I can't do this alone," and actually meaning it.
You thought you had to be perfect to be loved. But love—*real love*—found you broken and chose you anyway.
Dear Me,
You'll make it out of that place. Not just barely surviving—but *healed*, *whole*, and *called*. One day, the pain you feel will be a bridge for someone else. Your scars will shine like badges of grace. Your voice will shake walls. Your testimony will free others.
And you'll learn that *God doesn't waste anything—not even this.*
Love,
The You Who Found Freedom.