i used to believe in god. i believed that my life was planned out, and if i was good enough, if i avoided sin and did my best, he would direct my life. i spent so many years on my knees at night, begging god to tell me what i was doing wrong. i asked him to tell me what to do to fix my life so i could break out of the miserable cycle i was in.
And then one day, i stopped praying. i stopped waiting. i stood up and i put away my dresses, my headscarves, my narrow mindedness and self righteous thinking, and i became my own savior. i took up the pen and started writing my own story. In my story, i am the hero. No god saves me or directs my life. i decide where my life goes. i am the master planner. If i fail, then it is my responsibility to accept my faults. There is no sin nature to blame. There is no god to ask forgiveness from. i found the god that i had been searching for inside of me, waiting to be set free. i discovered the goddess I was always meant to be.
In my story, i’ve made mistakes. i’ve had to go back and erase paragraphs and re write them. My thought processes, which were once controlled by the box i lived in, can now grow and change. i’m becoming the person i was always meant to be. i’ve been busy at work constructing a new life for myself. A home of my own, somewhere to rest my weary heart. i’ve had to confront my faults, and take responsibility for them. i’ve had to humble myself in front of people who have deeply wounded me.
For a while, i was angry. Angry at the people who hurt me and abandoned me because i chose to leave god behind and write my own story. Sometimes, i can still feel that fire in my chest, driven by a lot of hurt and confusion.
But i’m on an adventure, and i can’t stop to stay in self pity town or anger neighborhood. i’m not responsible for other’s actions, only my reactions. i’m dragging my stubborn self, step by step, into happiness and fulfillment. it has nothing to do with my surroundings, and everything to do with my heart state.
i grew up, and now i’m growing into myself.