Perfectly Imperfect

I thought I was losing my mind. I was lying in bed when I heard a voice sneer, “Just look at her,” like I was something nasty. Then I heard laughing. I jumped up, shaking and crying. I cried out, “God, please help me! I am so tired of living like this. Show me what to do!”

My life did not start out easy. When I was two years old, someone slipped a mickey into my mom’s drink at a party. She was never the same after that. Her mental health went downhill, and she could no longer take care of me.

Since my father was in prison, my grandmother took me in. I loved the times I got to visit my mom, but my life still felt broken and confusing. I remember holding my mother’s hand while she walked the streets late at night. My feet were cold. My body was tired. I felt scared and alone while she “did her thing.”

I grew up in poverty — around drugs, drinking and addiction. I was neglected, molested, and abused. At age nine I ran away — only to have the police surround me like a SWAT team and take me back to a family member’s house.

Quiet and awkward, I felt different from the other kids because of my parents. I carried deep shame though I did not have the words to describe what I was feeling. I wanted so badly to fit in. I became a people-pleaser so others would like me.

By age 20, I was a mother of two daughters. I loved my girls with all my heart, but inside I was hurting. I smoked a lot of weed to numb the pain. I looked for love in all the wrong places. I did not manage my money well. I struggled with my mental health. I felt lost, broken, and tired of my own story.All that pain built up until I reached a breaking point — that night in bed when I cried out to God for help. Soon after I prayed, my phone buzzed. It was a text from my cousin inviting me to church that coming Sunday. I stared at that text and thought, Aha! This is my sign. I was scared, but I knew I had to go.

Come Sunday I walked up the church steps with my stomach in knots. I felt shy and small. I thought, I don’t belong here. I’m not good enough to be in church. But I went in anyway. When the pastor spoke, it felt like he was talking right to me. Every word hit my heart. My soul felt thirsty. That day I knew — I wanted more of God.

I kept going back. When I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior, things began to change. Little by little, I learned who I am and whose I am. I am a child of God! I learned that the enemy (the devil) tries to use our brokenness as a tool to keep us bound, feeling unworthy, and lost. But God takes the worst parts of our story and turns them into something good.

I went to therapy for my depression and anxiety. I sat with counselors and told them the truth about my past. It was hard, but little by little, I felt lighter.

As I kept hearing the truth of God in the Bible, I started to change on the inside. My thoughts changed. My heart changed. My view of my life changed. I was no longer just “the girl with the crazy mom and the dad in prison.” I was a woman loved by God, a woman with a purpose!

Today I am a Community Health Worker helping people connect with services and programs so they can become their very best selves, no matter what they are going through. My daughters are thriving. I love to write, laugh, dance, and talk. I try to live each day with purpose and passion. Pray and sashay!

Sister, your life may feel heavy right now. You may feel low, dirty, or not good enough — just like I did. You may be a mama, a survivor, or a woman still trying to figure it out. But this is not the end of your story.

Sister girl, live out loud. You were made by God. Keep your head up and your eyes on Him. Even if your faith feels small, hold on to it. Your past, your pain, and your mistakes do not define you. You are perfectly imperfect and you are deeply loved.