Growing up, my imagination was weird and wonderful. In my mind, there were fairies everywhere. I also had an imaginary sister (her name was Sissie), because unfortunately I only had one older brother who didn’t care for playing dress up with me. But my favourite dream was the one where I was a princess, and my prince would stride in on his white horse ready to sweep me away. I dreamed daily of true love and how it would change my life forever.
My dreaming stopped when I hit my teen years, and I suddenly realised that real life wasn’t about fairies, weddings, love-hearts, pretty dresses and prince charming. I became aware of myself and my surroundings. Over the next few years I started to feel more and more self-conscious. I realised that I wasn’t enough. At school, I wasn’t clever enough. At dance, I wasn’t confident enough. When I was with my friends, I wasn’t pretty or funny enough. When it came to doing my exams, I couldn’t concentrate for long enough. In my eyes, I was never good enough and there was nothing I could do about it.
I went to university, with an attitude of starting again. I decided to study primary teaching, because I wanted to be that teacher who spoke life and confidence into the little girls who were away with the fairies. I wanted to be what I needed when I was younger.
I moved to Oxford for my degree. It was the first time I was living away from my parents and I loved it. I loved the freedom. I made new friends and we had probably too much fun. We went out every night and laughed about anything and everything. I found a confidence that I never realised I had – I had friends who loved me.
It all started to go downhill when I realised I hated teaching (oops). The days were long and tiring, and as each day passed I grew more and more frustrated. I dreaded waking up and going to placement. I probably I cried 90% of the days I had to go in. It was at this point that I realised I was an introvert, and working with children who wanted and needed my attention all day every day was seriously not my thing.
The more I despised my future career, the more I found myself in my friends. I went out more. I fell in love easily and always ended up hurt and disappointed.
When everything fell apart – my future and my heart, I found myself depressed. All I wanted to do was to stay in my bed and not talk to anyone. When I needed to leave the house, I felt anxious. My throat would tighten up and I would suddenly feel claustrophobic. In the end I made excuses for everything and stayed at home. I quit my university placement and chose to write a dissertation in order to finish my degree.
It was at this point that I started writing in my journal. I wrote down every single prayer to God, asking Him why He would let me be so depressed. Why was I such a failure? Why did no one love me? Why wasn’t I good enough at anything?
I wrote to Him every day, and as time went on I fell in love, again. But this time someone was there to catch me. I encountered God and from the moment I realised how much He loved me, I gave Him my entire heart. It was broken, all I had were a thousand tiny pieces. But He took it anyway. He pieced it back together, one by one.
He was my prince charming, my knight in shining armour who strode into my life, and put the light back into my life. He was my saviour.
Over that next year, He placed the right people by my side and slowly but surely I started to love life again. I planted myself in a church with people who encouraged me and lifted me up.
God told me to keep writing. Keep writing to Me. And I did. I now have too many journals to keep count of. Every page holds a part of my love story with Him.
In February 2015, I started a blog. I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote. I wrote about everything but most of all I wrote about my love for Him and His greater love for me. I wanted write what I needed to read when I was younger. I wanted every single girl to know that they were good enough and more loved than they ever knew. I wanted every single woman to know their worth in the One who created them.
July of 2014, I met a boy named Bradley. He told me he liked me straight away. I told God I was too scared to have my heart broken again. God smiled and said, trust me. And so I did.
We’re getting married in three months.
And now here I am, March of 2016. Two years ago I thought my future was dark and empty, but my future is only just beginning now and I couldn’t be more excited. I have my God, my love, my journal and my pen and I’m ready to go.