Dear younger me
Where do I start
If I could tell you everything that I have learned so far
Then you could be
One step ahead
Of all the painful memories still running thru my head
I wonder how much different things would be

I pull up to a pump at the small gas station in Coppell, put my car in park and turn the key in the ignition, slipping it out and putting it in the front passenger seat. I grab my small wallet and swing the door open, preparing to fill my car before the 30 minute drive home.

Just as I’m twisting the cap off the tank, a truck pulls up at the pump on the other side and parks. I can hear the soft melody of the music coming through its stereo, and for just a second I catch a lyric to a song I haven’t heard since I was a part of youth choir at my old church.

“Oh no you never let go, Lord, you never let go of me”

Suddenly I’m on autopilot, not thinking as I insert the pump and sit back in my seat. I pick up my phone and open Spotify, hit the search button at the bottom of the screen and type in “Christian pop.”

I click on the first playlist to appear and hit shuffle. Moments later ‘Dear younger me’ by MercyMe is playing through the one working speaker in my beaten up old car.

Although the volume is so low that the words are barely audible, the lyrics I can hear cause a switch inside me to flip on. And in that moment I can tell that everything in my life is about to change.

Dear younger me
I cannot decide
Do I give some speech about how to get the most out of your life
Or do I go deep
And try to change
The choices that you’ll make cuz they’re choices that made me

My mind flashes back to eighth grade: the choice to attend Marcus or transfer. The choice in friends I made who broke me and my heart. People who have helped and hurt me more than I can put into words. I’m carrying so much regret it’s almost burying me alive.

Even though I love this crazy life
Sometimes I wish it was a smoother ride
Dear younger me

The next day is Sunday, and I’m surprised when I wake up around 10 a.m. because I don’t work until 2 p.m. As I lay in bed and scroll through Twitter, I see someone’s tweet about her devotional from the day before. I click on the image, reading a few of the lines on the page before deciding I need to buy a copy.

After driving around to three different stores, I finally wander into Barnes and Noble, making a beeline for the section marked ‘Christian living.’ My eyes dart over the spines of hundreds of devotionals before I find the one I’m looking for.

The pink and white words on the spine spell out ‘Live Second, An I Am Second Daily Reader,’ and without a second thought I grab it off the shelf and head toward the checkout counter at the front.

If I knew then what I know now
Condemnation would’ve had no power
My joy my pain would’ve never been my worth

It’s 24 hours earlier and the thoughts running through my head are not ones of hope.

I’m curled up in a ball at the top of my stairs, my knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around my calves as if holding on for dear life. My eyes are fixed on the white wall down the steps in front of me, but I can’t see anything but the words I’ve been telling myself for years.

No one really likes you, they only put up with you because they feel obligated to.

You just guilt people into talking to you and hanging out with you.

No one would care if you were gone; they’re lying if they say they would.

I want to cry; I should be. Instead, the numbness that comes over me is both overwhelming and comforting at the same time.

Numb means no more joy. No more enjoying long walks with my dog, smiling while watching my favorite movies, laughing when I read dumb jokes on the internet.

But numb also means no more pain. No more crying myself to sleep at night, no more wondering if anyone will ever truly love me. No more hating every inch of my body, wanting to rip it all apart. No more wanting a do-over of everything when I can’t get one because life doesn’t work that way.

I’m curled up in a ball at the top of my stairs and in this moment I want nothing more than to die.

If I knew then what I know now
Would’ve not been hard to figure out
What I would’ve changed if I had heard
Dear younger me
It’s not your fault
You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross

Fast forward a week as I pull open the bright green door at the back of the small white building. In front of me sits a small hallway with doors on each side. I walk a few steps and look through the first door on the left.

After a nervous “Is this where youth meets?” interaction, I sit on the couch closest to the door and wait for the two friends who invited me to arrive. I feel a little awkward, but not out of place. As the other youth arrive, no one gives me any weird looks. They welcome me with open arms, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I found somewhere where I won’t be judged. Somewhere where I almost belong.

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed
Every mountain every valley
Thru each heartache you will see
Every moment brings you closer
To who you were meant to be

I have so many people to thank for helping me come back to this path I am on. From people I’ve never met who happened to do the right thing at the right time, to people I’ve know for years who helped keep me alive.

And most importantly, the one who truly saved me.

The God I now truly love.