Dear God,

I'm sorry for every time I blamed you for the things that have gone wrong in my life, but never once thought to thank you for all that has gone right. I'm sorry for all of the times that I let my anger taint my image of you because I was desperate to blame someone or something for the occurrences outside my realm of control. I can remember saying that I don't believe in your existence, but at the same time, thinking that I was mad at you for placing me in situations that tested my strength. I look back now and very obviously see that it's impossible to not believe in something, while labeling it as the deserving source of blame. The thing is I've always had faith -- it just took me a little longer than others to realize.

When I was a young child, my severe food allergies left me isolated from other children my age. I ate lunch alone in a separate area, had my own art supplies and had separate snacks for birthday parties (which were often better, but different nonetheless). I remember these things, but they were pale in comparison to the sting of knowing that I wasn't invited to birthday parties or play dates because other parents feared the responsibility of looking out for my allergens.

Elementary school was the first time I questioned you.

In middle school, I walked into my pediatrician's office happy, only be told that I had scoliosis and needed to see a spine specialist. I was sent from office to office, finally finding myself in a tiny room as my small body was wrapped in a hard, plastic brace. I wore it diligently for 16 hours a day and tried to distract myself from the pain of the sharp edges digging into my soft skin. I kept myself up at night with the anxiety that the next appointment would result in forcing me to wear the brace to school, once again serving as another thing that would set me apart from my peers. It was around this time that my questioning turned into an uncontrollable anger that swelled inside of me and became a monster that viciously attacked what was left of my belief in you.

On Halloween night in ninth grade, my best friends left me miles away from my house to walk home alone because they had chosen to eat at a restaurant that I couldn't eat at. This was my breaking point. The emotions that I had so carefully suppressed, caught up to me and gushed out like water that had just broken free of a stifling dam. I felt everything all at once, and then nothing at all. Every day became an effort. My desires vanished and all I could think was, "Why was it always me?"

It was in high school that I continued to think that I had no faith left.

My sadness turned into a loss of confidence in myself, which then morphed into self hatred. I had lacked control over so many circumstances for my whole life and for once I wanted to have a say. So I fostered unhealthy eating habits, exercised excessively and still managed to rip myself apart before the mirror each night. I blamed you for every problem I had encountered and I blamed you for the awful things that I thought of myself.

But you weren't to blame and I recognize that now.

God, I no longer see you as the cause of my hardships. If anything, I believe that you gave me the strength to overcome them. We don't get to choose the hand that we're dealt, but we get to choose how we play the game. I struggled and life was hard, but I'm still standing. In fact, I believe that I'm the person I am today because of my experiences. I believe that you are the reason I made it through and I look back now and realize that you were with me through every tear-stained night and darkened day. People my age are quick to publicize their disbelief, but I am here to say that as a 20-year-old girl who has questioned you with every ounce of her heart, I still believe and I am grateful.