The other day one of my coworkers noticed the collage of pictures next to my computer.

“You look really happy,” he said.

I’ve been getting that a lot lately. Friends and family members have been saying how happy they are for me. A great boyfriend, a beautiful dog, my first real job, a new apartment. It’s true. I am the happiest I have ever been.

But it took me awhile to get here.

Throughout most of my childhood I never really felt comfortable in my own skin. I was a four pound, twelve ounce ball of anxiety straight out of the womb. My parents divorced when I was five and that really affected me. I mean, how could it not? I may have been young, but I knew what was going on. Not much could get past me: all four eyes and three feet of me.

As I got older, the more fearful and insecure I became. Fearful of what people thought of me. Fearful of change. Fearful of trying new things. Fearful of letting people down. Wherever I went, there I was: the same ball of anxiety. I started looking for things (and people) to make me happy. I tried everything, and I mean everything to get out of myself. I just wanted to be numb. I was a people pleasing, insecure, fearful human being who was going down a scary road. I told everyone, “I got this” because I wanted people to think that I was okay. And it worked…

For a while.

Until one cold December morning about four years ago. I woke up to my very worried mother sitting on the edge of my bed. I remember feeling different. I felt defeated. There was a lot that I felt unsure about but the one thing I knew for certain was that I didn’t want to feel that way anymore. And my mom assured me that I didn’t have to.

So on that very day it began. My journey of growing into myself.

I became honest – for the first time in my life – about how I felt. I started to actually like myself. I began to look at myself in the mirror, really look at myself, and not feel disappointed. I started to believe in myself, for the first time…ever. I starting connecting to people. I began to develop true relationships. What they say is true: how can I care about others if I don’t care about myself?

At the time of my so called “coming to Jesus moment” I was going to college down in Virginia. I knew that if I was really going to start over, I would have to make a pretty tough decision. I decided to leave my big fratty football school in the south and transfer to a much, much smaller school just eight minutes from my house. Although I was terrified, and sad to leave my friends behind in Virginia, this turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life. So back home I came, to my large dysfunctional, loving family. (Little did I know that I would graduate cum laude from my new small school in the forest).

Recently while going through old folders on my computer, I came across the transfer essay I wrote when I was re-applying to schools. The last paragraph reads:

“I will never stop taking risks. Part of life is not only taking risks but also realizing that sometimes a particular risk may not be right for me. I have gained a lot of acceptance and willingness these past couple years, finding my path in life. The most important asset I have acquired is trust in myself. Trust that I will do what is best for myself and not settle for anything that does not bring out my best qualities.”

I hope that my blog helps at least one person to believe in their self. To trust their self. To stop being so scared. I spent so many years scared of EVERYTHING, until one day I just had enough.

I truly believe that God did for me what I could not do for myself on that cold December day four years ago. I was miraculously given the strength and courage to start over.