My name is Carrie, and I am a beloved daughter of Christ. He is helping me overcome shame, pride, bitterness, anger, fear, control, trust issues, multiple eating disorders, and self-harm.

I have many happy memories growing up: family gatherings, vacations, camping, friendships, and church. But behind the smiles, I was hiding deep pain that I didn’t know how to share or handle.

Around the age of seven, I was abused multiple times by a trusted family friend. As I grew older, whenever the memories surfaced, I told myself it had happened to someone else. I was confused, manipulated, and slowly began to hate myself.

I didn’t realize how deeply this trauma would affect me until a few years later, when I witnessed my best friend being sexually assaulted at a local park the summer before starting fourth grade. I remember being frozen with fear, unable to move or call for help. For many years, I carried unbearable shame and guilt for not helping my friend.

That was when I started building walls. I lost my trust in people, and it was also when I began thinking about different ways to die. I started self-harming for the first time in sixth grade.

I was warned that if I didn’t stop, I would have to go to the hospital. I was required to attend therapy, but it was short-lived because I refused to open up. Around that time, I also began purging, which continued until the start of my freshman year. I had no way of knowing then that years later these struggles would return with a vengeance.

In 2010, I began a Bible study about breaking free. As I went through it, a chapter on the bondage of abuse came up, and fear overwhelmed me. Flashbacks and nightmares returned, so I shifted my focus to my weight.

One day, I felt intense guilt over what I had eaten and purged. I don’t remember exactly what triggered it, but I had no idea the consequences that moment and decision would have on my life and on those around me.

I began constantly researching weight loss online and came across calorie cycling. I thought, This is it. This will teach me self-control. I had no idea how wrong I was. Within a month, it consumed my thoughts. If I went over my daily calorie count, I purged.

I worked 8–12 hour days and then walked eight miles before going home. The more weight I lost, the more obsessed I became with losing more. It was never enough.

Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw disgust—someone dirty, someone not good enough. I convinced myself that this was the cause of all my pain and that I deserved it.

I pushed myself harder and harder. I placed a scale in front of my refrigerator and weighed myself before eating. If I hadn’t gained weight, I could eat. If I had, I punished myself by purging, including the extreme use of laxatives.

Even when my weight dropped to nearly 100 pounds, it still wasn’t enough. I still saw a “chubby girl” in the mirror. All I felt was shame and self-hatred. That was the day I began self-harming again.

I remember feeling numb—and liking it. The numbness didn’t last, but self-harm became my chosen punishment whenever I made a mistake or broke my diet. I convinced myself I had more willpower than others and that perfection was worth any cost.

Within six months, I began experiencing serious physical health issues—hair loss, dark circles under my eyes, dizziness, fainting, low blood pressure, and chest pains. I ended up in my doctor’s office, where he told me my heart wasn’t beating properly and that I could die. My response was, “Good.”

I was ashamed, exhausted, and deeply trapped. I was hospitalized five times over the next three months for my health and safety. During the last hospitalization, I insisted that I was an adult with rights and that no one could tell me what to do. That’s when I learned what it truly meant to be a ward of the state by court order.

I realized the only way to go home was to convince them I could take care of myself. After three months, I deceived them into believing I was well enough to leave. Sadly, within days of returning home, I resumed my destructive behaviors—doing the same things over and over while expecting different results.

Now comes the part of my testimony where I found joy, hope, and healing.

My sister knew I was struggling and refused to be blind to my isolation and destructive behaviors. She invited me to Celebrate Recovery at Inspiration Ministries week after week. I kept saying no. I was angry with God and wanted nothing to do with Him. Eventually, just to stop her asking, I agreed to go.

The people were warm and welcoming, but I still had deep fear and trust issues. As they sang and praised Jesus for His goodness, I felt angry. What had Jesus done for me? Yet despite my fear and resentment, I felt drawn to return—and I did. Week after week, I kept coming back.

Over time, I felt safe enough to participate and eventually joined a step study. I didn’t realize it then, but Jesus was already working in my heart. I saw how desperately I had tried to control my hurts and circumstances, when in reality, I controlled none of it. Sometimes in class I couldn’t share; all I could do was listen—and that turned out to be a gift.

Proverbs 13:10 says, “Pride leads to conflict; those who take advice are wise.” I chose to listen, and in a step of faith, I invited Jesus back into my heart. That’s when real healing began. Jesus started healing my wounds, cleansing my heart, and removing the “junk” inside me—painful at times, but necessary.

John 15:1–2 says, “I am the true grapevine, and My Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch of Mine that doesn’t produce fruit, and He prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more.”

There was one branch I resisted letting go of: vengeance. Anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness were destroying my heart. Two verses spoke powerfully to me during this time:

Matthew 6:14–15 reminds us that forgiveness is not optional, and James 4:12 calls us to release judgment to God alone. Jesus showed me that vengeance is a heavy burden with a high cost. When I surrendered it to Him, an enormous weight lifted. Releasing judgment made room in my heart for love—and more room for Jesus.

For years, I asked, “Why me?” Jesus showed me that we live in a fallen world, where pain touches everyone, even the innocent. Forgiveness—especially for those who hurt me most—didn’t happen overnight. But Jesus was faithful. Through His Word, I learned that no sin outweighs another (James 2:10). When I truly forgave and released the hatred in my heart, I found peace. Eventually, I even began praying for those who hurt me—that they would find Jesus and the freedom He offers.

That freedom is indescribable.

Today, when I feel tempted to return to old behaviors, I ask myself: Am I going to turn to Jesus and His truth? Am I going to reach out to those He placed around me? Or am I going to pick up chains He already broke?

True hope isn’t found in drugs, food, or people—it’s found in Jesus.

Proverbs 13:20 says, “Walk with the wise and become wise, associate with fools and get in trouble.” I once believed I deserved shame, eating disorders, and self-harm. Those were all lies. Today, I have joy. I have hope. I am healing. I have love in my heart—and without Jesus, none of this would be possible. I can’t even begin to count all the ways He has blessed me.

My trials prepared me for where Jesus has me now—walking beside other women who are hurting and sharing with them that healing, recovery, and hope are found in Him.

As 2 Corinthians 1:4 says, “He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.”

I am no longer a victim. I am a survivor, saved by the blood of Jesus.

And finally, Romans 12:21: “Do not let evil conquer you, but conquer evil by doing good.”