I told someone recently that the best way to describe my space in life right now is that I’m “in recovery”. And I finally say that without hanging my head. Recovery is a good thing. Recovery means things are healing.

But some days, I still hate the process. I hate that I need to recover. Admitting recovery is admitting that there is a brokenness that needs to be recovered.

I spend a lot of time playing events over and over in my head – past ones, future ones, sometimes even present ones. And I’ve found that one of the hardest things for me to do is accept what my story has become.

When I meet new people who I trust and I give them the three and a half version of my recent past life, there is this mixed response of shock and admiration of the things I’ve gone through and the demons I’ve conquered. And yet, even with their often supportive responses, I still cringe when I voice my story. I’m not perfect. Some things still haunt me, but I’m in recovery.

It’s hard to accept my story, even harder to love my story.

Maybe because it’s hard to accept and love my self and who I’ve become because of the storms. Some changes have been really good, really healthy. Others, not so much.

When you’ve gone through something hard, when something terrible has happened to you, when you’ve made some big mistakes, when God doesn’t pull through for you in the ways you want him to, when people let you down, when you let yourself down, whatever the circumstance, it takes time to adjust to a new normal. But I’m here to finally say: You are not what you’ve done or what’s been done to you.

I told my husband recently I wish I could just rewind time so that some things could be edited out of my story. I feel a lot of regret about the things that have become my story.

Sometimes I’m just mad. I’m mad at how the hurt and troubles have changed me. I’m mad that I can’t have a prettier story. But yesterday I had an unusual moment of gratitude for my story.

I don’t ever recall listening to a speaker and being completely inspired by all the things that worked out. Rather, I am continually inspired by the journey of struggle from darkness into light.

Instead of viewing my story as blackened and ugly, I want to learn to be grateful that I can speak even more assuredly of God’s grace and forgiveness. I want to learn to speak of the lessons that I’ve learned in forgiving myself and extending grace to myself when no one else did.

You see, there’s a powerful shift in our perspective when we start seeing our stories as something that can be used for good – not something we have to learn to hide.

I’m learning to speak my story more freely with less shame. God really can use anything for good. I’m developing more spaces where I can share it more effectively and opportunities to bring redemption to dark times. It’s been pretty amazing to me the number of people who have come out of hiding and shared their stories with me after I’ve shared mine with them.

There is a light that shines when you start opening the dark places. Your story is beautiful. You are beautiful. We’re all in this together.