When I came back from my trip, my circumstances changed drastically. My mom began to follow God because she saw how much he had changed my life. My stepfather left the house, which made the house peaceful again. I was able to let go of the need for a boyfriend. I was so thankful that God had saved me, both spiritually and physically. I enjoyed the peace and the euphoria that ensued after the trip, even at home.
Although everything was better, there was a fear that my past would repeat itself. What if my stepfather came back? What if my mom changed her mind? What if God changed his mind? I had every reason to be happy, but instead, anxiety continued to live rampant in my life. I would have dreams that my stepfather would walk back into the house. I would question the motives of everyone around me, wondering if they were really being nice to me. Was the past really in the past?
Because I could not believe in the good that was happening around me, I could only see and hear the negative. That was the year that my teacher accused me of plagiarism, crushing my dream of being a writer. Although I gave up on being a writer, I was still in an AP English class with students that I was convinced did not believe that I could succeed. The feeling of being in a dead-end road came back. If I wasn’t a writer, who was I?
Although I never showed it, I had a bout of depression. I still went to church and had a smile on my face, but I never told anyone how I truly felt. Instead of pursuing my dreams, I tried to please God by pursuing a career in the church. I played the violin, and I enjoyed playing in the church orchestra, so I considered leading worship at the church. However, as much as I love music, after being involved in every type of music program – both in school and at church – I could not imagine studying music and then playing music for the rest of my life. I went on another trip with my youth group to Texas, and the only thing I was sure of was that I wanted to use my life to bless others and to glorify God.
It was difficult not having a definite plan for my life. My life was in the hands of God, and as much as I loved the freedom, I did not like the unknowing. It was impossible to know God’s will for my life, no matter how hard I tried to discover it. Yet something kept telling me to come back. I have heard of people giving up on God, but I felt that I could not do that. God had showed himself to me in a mighty way, and I could not ignore that. I held on, trusting God and continually asking for his guidance.