Radiant Redemption

Let’s start with the truth: I did something I never thought I’d be capable of. More than one thing, actually. Things that still make my stomach turn when I think about them. And for a long time, I let those moments become my identity.

During the peak of my addiction, I was so desperate to escape myself that I convinced people I had a terminal disease. I lied, manipulated, and watched people rally around me with compassion I didn’t think I deserved. I hated myself so much that I genuinely believed the people who loved me would be better off if I just disappeared. I crafted an exit plan—not just from my life, but from their lives. I was going to leave my family. Not because I didn’t love them, but because I thought I was the problem.

And for a long time, that’s the moment I lived in. That’s the identity I wore like a scarlet letter: manipulator, liar, coward.

But recovery taught me something I never expected to learn: I am not the worst thing I’ve ever done. And neither are you.

Yes, I lied. I hurt people. I walked into darkness willingly. But I also walked out. And the version of me that did those things? She was drowning. She wasn’t evil. She was terrified, unhealed, and completely detached from the truth of who she was.

If you’re carrying the weight of your worst moment, I want to tell you something radical: that moment does not define you. It can inform your growth. It can be a cautionary tale. It can even become a tool for compassion and connection. But it is not the whole story. It is not the final chapter.

Shame wants us to believe that we are our brokenness. That our worst day is the sum total of our identity. But shame is a liar. And if we’re brave enough to step into the light, to do the hard work of healing and making amends, we start to uncover the truth:

We are not monsters. We are not hopeless. We are not unlovable.

We are complex, messy, beautiful humans learning how to live without numbing. Learning how to show up with integrity. Learning how to be honest, even when it’s terrifying.

So if you’re stuck in the spiral of “I can’t believe I did that,” hear me: That doesn’t have to be the end of your story. It can be the beginning.

Because when we stop letting our worst moments name us, we make space for redemption to take root.

Take a few quiet minutes this week and write down three truths about who you are beyond your shame story. Who are you when you are honest, grounded, and present? What does shame try to erase that recovery is helping you reclaim?

And if you feel brave, share one of those truths in the comments or DM me. You never know who needs the permission to believe it for themselves.