To the Ones who have Hurt me

This is a hard thank you letter to write. Why? Because it is so counter cultural. But it is so needed.

Thank you for hurting me in the way you did to help me grow in the places I have. Like a piece of china that was shattered and filled with gold, what was broken in me did not stay wasted. Your actions cut deep, your words cut deeper. There are things that were said and done that I will not pretend were small. There are moments I still remember that changed how I saw myself, how I saw people, and at times, how I even saw God. They shaped me in ways I did not ask for, and in seasons I did not feel strong enough to carry.

There were nights I replayed words that were never meant to be gentle.

There were days I questioned if I was the problem.

There were moments I believed the silence meant I did not matter.

There were places in me that learned fear before they learned safety.

And I need to be honest: that was real. That was painful. That was not okay.

But God.

But God did not leave me there.

Somehow, in the middle of what felt like rejection, abandonment, misunderstanding, and pain, He began to rebuild something in me that no human apology could have fixed and no human approval could have completed. He met me in the places I learned to hide. He sat with me in the parts of the story I did not know how to tell out loud. He did not rush me past it. He did not shame me for still feeling it.

He stayed.

So I can say this with honesty: thank you, not for the harm itself, but for what God refused to waste within it.

Thank you for teaching me that my identity does not belong in the hands of people who misunderstand me, misuse me, or discard me.

Thank you for teaching me, through painful contrast, what love is not. And in that, I began to understand more clearly what God’s love actually is: steady, truthful, patient, and never rooted in control or manipulation.

Thank you for teaching me how strong I am—not because I always felt strong, but because I discovered I could survive moments I thought would undo me completely. Moments I did not think I would come back from emotionally. Moments I thought would define me forever.

Thank you for showing me what it means to lean into God when people become unsafe, when words become weapons, and when silence feels like abandonment.

I learned in those seasons that God is not fragile when human relationships are.

He stays when people leave.

He speaks when others go silent.

He holds what others mishandle.

He restores what others dismiss.

There were moments I questioned my worth because of how I was treated. Moments I wondered if I mattered at all. Moments I internalized lies that said I was too much, not enough, inconvenient, or forgettable.

And those lies did damage I cannot pretend away. Damage I still have not fully gotten over. Pain that is still lingering and things I broke free from.

But God did not agree with those lies and I am constantly learning that.

He kept speaking identity over me when others spoke rejection.

He kept calling me forward when others tried to define me by my lowest moments.

He kept rebuilding what life tried to fracture beyond repair.

And slowly, painfully, truth began to rise where lies had lived for too long.

What people did to me may have shaped parts of my story, but it does not get to define my ending.

I have learned boundaries I did not know I needed.

I have learned discernment I had to grow through tears to understand.

I have learned that not everyone who speaks with confidence carries truth, and not every absence of love is my fault to carry.

I have also learned something I wish I did not need pain to understand:

Healing is not pretending it did not hurt.

Healing is no longer letting it have authority over who I become.

It is bringing it honestly before God and trusting Him to hold what I cannot fix, rewrite, or undo.

So I release what I cannot carry anymore.

Not as denial.

Not as justification.

Not as forgetting.

But as surrender.

Because I refuse to let what wounded me become what defines me.

I am still here.

Still becoming.

Still healing in layers I cannot always see.

Still learning what it means to live whole in the hands of a faithful God.

And I can say now, with deep truth, that even here—especially here—God has been present.

Not approving of harm.

Not excusing what was wrong.

Not minimizing what was done.

But refusing to abandon me in it.

Redeeming what I never thought could be redeemed.

Rebuilding what I assumed was permanently broken.

Restoring pieces of me I thought were lost forever.

And for that, I am grateful.

Not to you in a way that erases truth,

but to God who never left truth unredeemed.

With honesty that is no longer afraid,

boundaries that are finally strong,

and a peace I did not fight my way into alone,

So thank you for hurting me in ways I never knew would grow me. Thank you for teaching me lessons you didnt realize you taught me. Thank you for all you did yo shape me into who I am.

And more importantly, I forgive you for it all.

Kelsay