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He Met Me In My Ruin
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For most of my life, I carried invisible wounds. Childhood trauma left deep marks--emotional, physical, and spiritual--that I didn’t know how to face. I learned to survive by pretending everything was fine, but inside, I was unraveling.
To dull the pain, I turned to anything that could distract me from it. Food became comfort, alcohol became escape and relationships became my way of feeling seen. I kept searching for something to fill the ache, never realizing what I was truly longing for was peace--the kind only Jesus could bring.
Then came the night my soul broke open. It was the darkest night I had ever known; the kind where even your own heartbeat feels painful. I sat alone, surrounded by silence, holding a handful of pills, and whispered “I just wanted to go home… wherever home was.” I truly believed everyone would be better off without a shattered mess like me. The pain inside felt unbearable, I was ready to let go.
And then, in that stillness, something sacred happened....
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