After the confession, after the crying, after the comfort—I was left with something harder: *rebuilding how I saw myself*.
You don't just stop sinning and immediately feel clean.
You don't repent and instantly feel whole.
I had to learn to stop calling myself *"dirty"*, *"addicted"*, *"worthless"*—names I had silently worn like invisible chains.
Names that *God never gave me*.
I remember one night, reading Isaiah 43:1:
*"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine."*
*Redeemed.*
*Called.*
*His.*
That verse wrecked me. Not because I didn't know it. But because, for the first time, I *believed* it was for me.
God wasn't looking at me through the lens of my past.
He saw me through the blood of Jesus—washed, clean, beloved.
He didn't call me "the girl who used to struggle".
He called me *daughter*.
So I began to speak differently to myself.
When guilt whispered, *"You'll fall again."*
I replied, *"Even if I fall, I won't stay down. My Father lifts me."*
When shame hissed, *"You're not pure anymore."*
I declared, *"My purity isn't defined by my past but by Christ's sacrifice."*
I didn't fake confidence. I built it on Scripture.
And day by day, my identity shifted—from broken to *becoming*.
From ashamed to *awakened*.
From sinner to *saved*.
*This is the power of grace.*