Anonymous

From survival mode to surrender. From shame to freedom. From numb to fully alive. I used to be the girl who could smile through anything. Not because I was happy, but because I didn’t know how to ask for help. I wore strength like armor and carried trauma like a second skin. For years, I called dysfunction “normal,” chaos “love,” and silence “peace.” I mastered pretending, but deep down I was drowning. In addiction, in shame, in brokenness I didn’t think I could ever be fixed.

If I’m being honest, I’ve spent most of my life trying to be strong. Not because I am, but because being strong was safer than being scared. But the truth is, I’ve been scared for a long time. Scared of who I really am. Scared of how I became this way. Scared of what would happen if I ever stopped hiding behind the strength.

I didn’t trust anyone with my truth, not even God. Especially not God. Because if He really knew me, the real me, I was sure He’d turn away. But He didn’t. He came closer. Recently, I made a quiet decision that changed everything: I knew I had to start trying to open myself more. Not just to people, but to God, to truth, and even to the parts of me I’ve tried to avoid. I had to understand my demons, not to befriend them, but to disarm them. Because they knew me all too well, and I barely knew myself.

I’ve acknowledged my pain before, many times. But I’ve never truly sat with it.

Never formally introduced myself to the wounded girl inside who had to survive things she never asked for. I never asked God to show me where the wounds started, because I was scared He might actually answer. But now I’m here. Still unsure, still trembling, but I’m here. Willing to sit in the reality. Willing to finally face it all with Him by my side.

The Movement and Momentum groups have been a safe place for me to start that process. To ask the hard questions. To study God’s Word and actually feel like it’s speaking to me. To be surrounded by women who don’t expect perfection but invite my presence. And every time I show up, something inside me breaks free just a little more. I used to think I was too far gone. That I’d never be okay. That the demons dancing in front of me had already choreographed my whole life. That I could never win this fight because maybe… part of me didn’t even want to. But now I know: the only part of me that wants to give up is the part that hasn’t met God’s truth yet.

And that’s what I’m doing now.

I’m letting Him reintroduce me to the woman He created. The woman beneath the pain, beneath the coping, beneath the fear. The woman who doesn’t have to be perfect to be loved. So no, I’m not finished. But I am fighting. And I’m not fighting alone anymore.

God sees me. This group sees me. And I’m slowly learning to see myself too. Not as broken… but as becoming.