I'm going to be honest here.

I was supposed to write this article a week ago, but stopped when I was confronted with the notion that perhaps, I didn't really believe in God. Things had been getting pretty rough in my personal life -- I was offered an amazing scholarship to return to my dream school in the fall, but was put in a situation where I could not financially support it.

Not only would I have to leave all of the things I loved -- working at the little office of public affairs and getting paid to fill spaces with my words, my sorority and the unconditional love from my sisters, the smell of the beach that was only 20 minutes away from campus, the feeling of wind in my hair as I ran down Nassau Boulevard every morning, the smile from my professors as I bolted down the hall, perpetually showing up to class late -- and still being welcomed with a smile or a wink -- but most importantly, I would have to give up my education, which had always been my light at the end of the tunnel in this whirlwind world.

All of this, happening the day directly following a brief, shoeless meeting with a soccer ball on a field at 11 p.m., which resulted in the break of my pinkie toe. This meant I couldn't cover some events for my internship, which I actually love doing and always look forward to, couldn't run, which is basically saying I couldn't breathe as running has kept my blood pumping in these very veins which are typing this as we speak since I was 13-years-old, couldn't work (which surely wouldn't help all of the financial troubles which were limiting me from school) and I couldn't enjoy my summer -- the summer of cliff jumping, hiking and running which had motivated me through the troubles of being a freshman away at school during their first finals week.

Originally I was motivated to write this piece by a string of rather lucky events. June was good to me, it gave me my dream internship, a waitressing job, the attention of an amazing young man, the offer of a potential internship in New York City for the fall...

I was shooting a Miranda Lambert concert for my internship and had not yet purchased my ticket to enter the venue. After taking their photo, an older couple asked me if I would take their extra ticket. After pleading with them to let me pay them for it, they ran away giggling and promising to see me inside.

As I entered the venue, which was half outside, half inside, I discovered that my ticket hadn't been the standard lawn, which I had assumed, but was actually inside of the venue. As I stood there, alone and awkwardly aware of my own solitude, I felt a strange sense of companionship. I wasn't alone...

I was with God.

My freshman year in college was not your average. On the outside it seemed like everything was fine. I was getting very involved on campus, working hard and receiving good grades. But on the inside, I was suffering. My naive heart and soul were not prepared for the harsh social environment which is Long Island. While some nights were so incredibly amazing, these being the ones I so long to have again -- wandering under the Brooklyn Bridge at night, running down the boardwalk of Jones Beach, sprinting down the stairs of Penn Station to catch the 11:53 p.m. LIRR train, changing my major to my one true love, Journalism, some were so very awful.

The night I met him at a party, the nights I spent slumped over my desk screaming at my chemistry textbook. The days I couldn't bring myself to eat for fear of getting fat. The night I looked around and realized I had become so consumed with perfection and achievement that I realized I pushed everyone who cared about me away. The night I was left on the floor of the Glen Cove Mansion, alone, for two hours before anyone had ever realized I was gone.

Those were the nights that made me question my belief in God.

Those were the nights I found myself sitting outside wailing on the phone to my father, or the nights here with my head on his chest swearing I just couldn't do it anymore.

Last night was a night I found myself believing in God again.

Although at one point I found myself cursing to the heavens at the notion that everything happens for a reason, I now truly believe it does.

God has a plan for us.

If I hadn't been as low as I have, I would never have felt the highs like the sweet bliss of laying in the arms of someone who is looking at you like you are the stars, and he is the very moon illuminating you.

Perhaps, breaking my toe was God telling me to slow down.

Maybe, colliding head on with extreme financial circumstances, requiring me to consider transferring to a local college and commuting, was God's way to steering me toward a school which actually has a better Journalism program than the one I'm currently in.

On Wednesday, I am getting an X-Ray to see if my toe is healed. On Friday, I am going to the city to discuss a possible internship with one of my old professors who may have a way for me to intern remotely if I have to transfer.

And while I am scared of all these changes -- the unknown -- perhaps this is just God offering what he knows I crave most in life -- a fresh start.

So yeah, in a world where 99 percent of my friends are atheist, constantly swearing that God doesn't exist. In a world where society is constantly pushing scientific theory over my own faith, during a time where human beings are evolving into these monsters that commit senseless murders and hate crimes -- I believe in God.

And I hope one day, you do too.