She Was Doing the Best She Could, A Love Letter to My Past Self

Dear one,

If you’re anything like me, there are chapters of your story that you wish you could rewrite. Pages you’d tear out, choices you’d change, tears you’d rather not have cried. There are memories that still sting, words you can’t un-hear, moments you look back on and wonder, “Why did I do that? Why didn’t I know better, do better?”

But today, I want to invite you into something gentler.

What if you could look back at that version of you, not with criticism or regret. but with compassion? What if you stopped punishing her for not being someone she hadn’t yet become? What if, instead of scolding her, you held her hand?

Because here’s the truth:
She was doing the best she could with what she knew at the time.
She was navigating pain she didn’t yet have language for, surviving things that no one else could see. And somehow, she kept showing up.
She kept breathing, loving, trying, hoping, even when it looked more like clinging.

She wasn’t perfect, but she was precious.

She wasn’t wise yet, but she was willing.
And maybe that’s what makes her worthy of your forgiveness, not because she earned it, but because she needs it. And because holding onto shame doesn’t help either of you heal.

So maybe it’s time.
Time to let her off the hook.
Time to look her in the eyes, the tearful ones, the tired ones, and say,
“I see you. I understand now. And I don’t blame you anymore.”

You were carrying so much. You didn’t have the support you needed. You thought love meant sacrificing yourself. You stayed too long. You left too soon. You fought the wrong battles. You let the right ones go. And still, still, you are here.

That says something beautiful about you.

Grace is not just for the present you. It’s not only for the polished version you’ve become. It’s for the messy, uncertain, younger version too. It’s for the girl who didn’t have words for her wounds. It’s for the woman who gave too much of herself away trying to earn something she already had.

So today, let’s honor her.
Let’s thank her and let’s forgive her.
Let’s hold her like Jesus does, tenderly, truthfully, with arms wide open.

Because here’s the sacred mystery of grace:
You don’t have to be ashamed of who you were to celebrate who you are becoming.

You get to say:
She was brave in ways I didn’t appreciate then.
She was learning, even when it looked like failing.
She was trying, even when it looked like retreating.
She was still His, even when she felt lost - and was lost.

So let’s stop judging her for what she didn’t know.  For what she wasn't given that she should have received.  Let’s stop holding her hostage to standards she couldn’t meet yet. Let’s stop calling her weak when she was actually quite strong.

And in her honor, let’s become even kinder to our present selves.

Because healing doesn’t come from shame, it comes from love.
Transformation doesn’t grow in the soil of self-hatred, it grows in the safety of grace.

So, to the past versions of me, the hurting ones, the hopeful ones, the hiding ones, the ashamed ones, I love you. And I forgive you. And I’m so, so proud of how far you’ve come.

With all the love I used to withhold,

Me