There’s been a part of my story that’s been weighing heavy on my heart for the last year now. I’ve hinted at parts of it here and there, but the time finally feels right to share it with you all.

I’ve been contemplating publishing this post for weeks now. It’s vulnerable, shows me in a weak light and it’s really terrifying opening up about the lowest part of your life. I truly believe that there is someone out there who needs to hear this story. That needs to hear that you can pull yourself up from that dark spot, and that you are not as alone as you may feel.

Growing up, my parents always told me “you are who you spend your time with.” I never understood that statement, from my perspective I was my own person. I had my own thoughts, and how would I turn into someone else?  This naive way of thinking allowed me to walk into one of the worst periods of my life. My hope today, is that if you only take one thing away from this post, it’s this: what you surround yourself you will become, and what/who you listen to you believe.

Before delaying any longer, let’s go ahead and rewind to 2011. 

2011 was the year of my life where I told God, my friends and family, that I had everything under control was the year I discovered how truly powerless I was. There I was motionless on the bathroom floor, staring at the ceiling after hours of crying. My eyes were bloodshot, my side was throbbing and all I could think was, “there has to be more to my life then this.” In this moment of pure desperation I finally saw what my parents, my friends and strangers had been telling me all along. I was broken, and I was lost. 

You learn a lot about yourself when you’re laying on a cold bathroom floor. I learned that I was messy and lacked attention to detail. The corners of my bathroom were filled with dust and who knows what else. It smelled slightly like hairspray and Dove deodorant. The floor was hard and cold, the kind of cold that sinks straight to your bones. In the moments that I lay on the floor, there was not a warm or comforting moment, just a harsh reality. With bloodshot eyes and pain throbbing through my side, I pulled myself up by the bent in towel rack. 

The next hour was a blur. I remember staring in the mirror trying to recognize the girl looking back. Who was this skeleton of a human with the lifeless eyes. The funny thing about hitting your rock bottom, you start to notice small details that used to seem irrelevant. Like our own eyes. My eyes were dark, almost grey in color and held no spark. The bags under my eyes were swollen, the kind of swollen that takes place when your body has no fight left. 

I remember lifting up the side of my shirt to reveal a bright red patch of skin engulfing my ribs. My back was covered in red marks that matched my towel rack perfectly. The thought of laying down seemed like nothing short of pure torture. I just kept staring into the mirror. Like I was searching for someone or something that would make this person looking back at me recognizable. Instead, nothing but dead eyes looked back at what felt like hours. 

As I lay on my back that night, feeling the pain of my past mistakes sink in, I made a vow to myself and God. I told Him that if He was really still there I would never look back. I didn’t care how hard it was or impossible it might seem. I would not go back to a life that left me empty and hopeless. I just needed a small sign, something to know that I wasn’t as alone as I felt. So I prayed, something that I hadn’t done in what seemed like an eternity. In that moment I wasn’t even sure if God was listening or if he could hear me. All I knew was that I needed Him and if He showed me a way out of this mess I wouldn’t go backwards. 

 I lived over a year of my life being told I was alone. That my family didn’t love me, that I was never going to be accepted by them again and if I left, no one would ever love me. That I was purely damaged goods. I wasn’t skinny enough to not be cheated on, I wasn’t smart enough to see past the manipulations and I surely wasn’t going to make it anywhere in life. Because according to him, no one wanted me. 

I heard it all and I listened to it all. The artfully manipulative words rang through my ears day in and day out. So why wouldn’t I believe them? They were my reality. 

Your perception and reality of yourself does a funny thing when you’re being lied to. You start second guessing everything around you. “Did that girl look at me funny because she knows something?” or “Do they think I’m lying to them? Because that was a weird glance they just made.” Were thoughts that ran through my mind every day.  Everyone and everything started having a hidden agenda. If someone offered me a way out from the hell I was living in, they couldn’t possibly have pure reasons for helping. 

When your soul has been hurt, you are mentally unable to give another human the benefit of the doubt. And sometimes the goal of survival is enough and more times than not, it’s all you have. 

The days after pulling myself up from the floor were lonely. I had burned and ruined so many relationships it seemed like I had nowhere to turn. But this time was different. I had experienced a sort of freedom that comes only from having the wind knocked out of you. A type of freedom that sends chills down your spine, knowing that your whole future and life is ahead of you for the first time in a long time. 

Regardless of what tomorrow looked like, I knew today would be a better day. Any step away from the bathroom floor would lead to a happier tomorrow. These steps were not easy and you can not walk forward alone. I had done life by myself for so long, I wasn’t even sure how to ask for help.

But I knew, before I was able to move forward I had to address something I would’ve rather ignored. Why and how did I end up on the bathroom floor? Where did it all go wrong, was it a slow process or was there one monumental moment that changed the course of my life? 

Just like everyone’s bathroom floor looks different, everyone’s journey to this place also looks different. Mine started with the simple desire to be loved. I wanted to feel needed, wanted and cared about, so much that I was willing to risk everything that was good in my life for it. When I take a moment to think back even today, there was never a monumental moment where my life took a turn. There was no single moment where I thought, man that’s when you lost yourself. No, instead it was all thoughtfully put together. My weaknesses were found and used against me. Helping to twist my reality of the world, my friends, my family and ultimately myself. My desire for love and to feel wanted, took me down a path of abuse and destruction. 

When I hit the bathroom floor, it was like my life started playing before my eyes. I believe now that when we are faced with the reality that life may stop, there is something inside of us that desperately searches for happy moments. You try and find one or two memories that will  convince you that your life had some beautiful events. You want to reassure your mind that you lived a full life, one that is worth being remembered by those close to you. 

I searched for those moments, any memories of happiness. While the blood rushed through my body and time stood still, my mind raced. The harsh reality was that in the past year I hadn’t loved those who loved me enough, I hadn’t given back to the world, I had left no mark on the earth. Instead I had a list full of regrets and words I wish I could have taken back. Writing those words today bring tears to my eyes. Having to put myself back into that mentality is painful, but remembering what forced you to come so far is important. 

I now knew why and how I ended up on the bathroom floor. Now it was time to learn how to walk again. Figuring out how to put all of the pieces of my life back together, into something that resembled living. Regaining self worth and control over your life doesn’t happen in one day. Or one year. It’s a slow and everyday journey of recovery. 

It took a month for the bruises to fade, two months for my head to finally clear, six months for me to be able to breathe easier and it took a year for me to finally love myself again. 

A lot of people run from their darkest moments and chapters in life. The truth behind my dark chapter was something I wouldn’t really comprehend until almost a year and half later. I don’t believe that one day we wake up and suddenly have a calling for something or a passion that starts burning from a single match. I also do not believe that God has bad and torturous things happen to us, so we can discover our calling. What I do believe, is that God can take these painful bathroom floor type of moments and turn them into something beautiful. 

My pain and shame has given me the voice I have today. It’s helped me to draw strength and acceptance in who I am as a human. A human who was created to share their story, in the hopes that one single other human will realize they have been designed for more. It’s why I am so passionate about helping women discover their worth, not settle for anything less and chase after their desires. 

You were created for something special and you are influenced by those you spend your time with. Let them be good, encouraging and positively encouraging people.