Sometimes it is easy to forget who I am. It is easy to lose my voice and let other people define my worth. Sometimes it is easier to believe lies than to remind myself of the truth. This past year my life became a hurricane of emotions. Everything seemed to change in the blink of an eye. The overwhelming joy of discovery quickly turned into unforeseen sadness marked by the pain of facing my trauma.
There were so many days that I didn't even want to get out of bed. Tears would flood my pillow at night desperately wishing the pain and brokenness would subside. Words of life were hard to form against my lips as time and time again I would hear nothing but deceit ringing in my ears. I was overcome with lies that declared that I wasn't worth fighting for. That I was an unwanted problem and had caused nothing but trouble. That I brought nothing but heartache to people that had done nothing but "selflessly" try to love me and give me the best life they could. I felt responsible to somehow heal all of the grief my life induced.
Each day was a constant fight and it often felt easier to just succumb to these beliefs in order to find rest. Like somehow lying in my own misery would in some way help bring peace. Allowing my identity to be defined by the ramblings of slanderous words twisting my story became easier than clinging to the truth of who I am. Days marked by suffocating panic attacks and overwhelming grief had stricken me to the point I felt paralyzed. A constant lump plagued my throat fighting against hard swallows to stifle my sobs. My heart constantly aching, crushed by the weight of loss and an incredible burden that I have carried for so long. And yet for all of this I am grateful.
I am grateful for the increase in compassion for others because of my imperfect story. I am grateful for the increase in grace towards my brothers and sisters who have struggled far greater than I. I am grateful for the increase of sight to what God has overcome on my behalf. I am grateful for the increase sound of his voice in my ear reminding me that He gives me my identity and NO ONE else. I am not a mistake or a life that never should have been. I am not a taint on someone's record or a "problem" that would magically go away. I am not Plan B or a second choice option. I am a human life who was chosen before the foundation of the world by the maker of heaven and earth. And HE calls me His daughter. I was Plan A by the creator of the universe who knit me together, numbered each of my days and knows every strand of hair on my head. No one can mess with that identity. No lie will ever make that untrue. He fought for me when no one else did. And He is fighting for you.
You are wanted even when you don't feel it. You are worth it even when you look in the mirror and your reflection appears distorted by brokenness. You are loved even when you lose your voice and forget who you are. You are adopted because you are His child and He will not let you go no matter how many lies you try to believe. Face your trauma. Cry if you need to for as long as it takes. But always remember the truth of who you are. You are His and you are loved. And no one can mess with that identity.