Grieving What Was Lost, Trusting What God is Building

Sometimes I sit with a heavy thought, the kind that doesn’t rush in loudly, but settles quietly in mind, especially in quiet moments.

I think about how different life could have been if I had been given the chance to simply live… instead of constantly learning how to survive.

There’s a grief that comes with that realization. A deep, complicated grief for the version of me that never got to exist. For the childhood that was shaped more by fear than freedom. For the years spent navigating trauma, healing wounds I didn’t create, carrying weight that was never mine to hold. The childhood, teenage years and young adult years that I should have had, but will never have the opportunity to experience them the way I should have.

Surviving trafficking and childhood trauma doesn’t just stay in the past, it follows you into the present. It shows up in the way you trust, in how you rest, in how you love, in how you respond, in how you see yourself. Healing is layered. It’s exhausting. It’s brave in ways most people will never fully know. It's sacred work.

And yet… God was there in all of it.

Even in the survival.

Even in the moments I didn’t recognize Him.

Even when life felt like it kept moving forward while I was stuck trying to catch up.

And now, somehow, I’m doing better than I ever thought I would.

That truth deserves to be spoken just as loudly as the pain.

Because there was a time when “better” didn’t even feel possible. A time when just getting through the day was the victory. A time when survival was the only goal. And now, even with the lingering sadness, even with the questions of “what could have been,” there is growth. There is strength. There is life unfolding in ways I couldn’t have imagined back then.

That doesn’t mean the grief is gone.

There are still moments where I mourn everything I missed... the carefree years, the innocence I should have had, the version of life that wasn’t shaped by trauma. There are still questions I may never get answers to. And sometimes, the hardest part isn’t what happened, it’s realizing how much of my life was spent just trying to survive it.

But I’m learning something important:

I can hold both.

I can grieve what was lost while still trusting what God is building.

I can acknowledge the pain without letting it define my future.

I can recognize that even though my story includes survival, it doesn’t end there.

Because God is not finished with me.

He is still restoring.

Still rebuilding.

Still redeeming what was never meant to be broken.

And while I may never fully know who I would have been without the trauma, I have been discovering who I am becoming because I didn’t let it have the final word.

That matters.

Healing matters.

Moving forward...slowly, imperfectly, honestly...that matters too.

And maybe life didn’t wait for me back then…

But I am no longer standing still now.

I am moving forward each day, stepping out of my comfort zone and sharing pieces of my story and experiences and trusting God will use it in some way to help others.

There is something powerful about choosing to thrive, even after years of just trying to survive and make it through. There is courage in allowing joy to exist alongside pain.

If you’ve lived in survival mode too, I want you to know this:

You are not defined by what happened to you.

You are not forgotten.

And your story is not over.

God can still build something beautiful, even here.

The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit. ~Psalm 34:18