I Deserve

I've spent years believing blessings had to be earned through struggle—that if I didn't fight for something, I didn't deserve it. Survival mode taught me to brace for impact, expect the hard way, and assume ease meant I'd missed something. But lately, God has been showing me something different. I don't have to suffer to receive what's already mine.

Sometimes things can simply be good, and that's enough.

I prayed, and God provided. I asked, and He answered. So why shouldn't I feel good about the abundance He's placed in my life? What is for me is mine, and I'm allowed to receive it without guilt, without shrinking, without questioning whether I earned it through pain. I no longer accept the idea that every blessing requires a battle. I can rest in peace and ease, knowing I deserve the life God created for me. Every opportunity, every experience, every win, and every moment of joy.

I'm not perfect, but I am a good person. It took years to understand that my flaws aren't curses; they're part of my humanity. Unlearning self-abandonment has been slow, intentional work. After years of dimming myself, I'm finally choosing happiness. I'm realizing my joy doesn't depend on someone else's capacity to see me, love me, or understand me.

I've carried insecurities for most of my life, the kind people never see because, on the outside, I look like I'm fine. I've always shown up and kept moving, even when my confidence was hanging by a thread.

I can remember the exact moment I first felt less than worthy. I was in elementary school—tall, awkward, and nowhere near the “pretty” standard of the time. I towered over everyone, and the kids teased me. They called me the Jolly Green Giant (because my last name is Green) and even sang the song. Kids can be cruel, and back then, I didn't have the language to understand how deeply those words cut.

I had a gap in my smile, which wasn't considered cute yet. I was a chocolate girl in a world that hadn't learned to celebrate us. None of the boys liked me, and they made sure I knew it. That was the first time I felt invisible… and the first time I learned how to pretend it didn't bother me.

And because I didn't know how to hold my own pain, I learned to mask it. When I had leverage over someone, I teased them just to fit in. I didn't realize I was reenacting the same hurt that shaped me. It was a façade, a performance, a way to convince myself I wasn't the one being laughed at. It wasn't right, and it wasn't who I truly was. It was just the only armor I had at the time.

I carried those insecurities into early adulthood. That little girl who felt invisible grew into a woman constantly looking for approval, constantly wondering if she was good enough or if people actually liked her for who she was. I bent over backward to appease people, put myself last, and called it strength. I didn't realize I was still trying to earn the acceptance I never got as a child.

A turning point came around 25. I was finally starting to understand myself, my value, my voice, my place in the world. I was growing, healing, and becoming a woman who felt genuinely happy for the first time. Then someone entered my life who made me feel like I had to shrink just to exist. It made all the healing, growth, and unlearning feel suddenly fragile.

It felt like I was back in that elementary school classroom—tall and awkward, trying to make myself small enough to be chosen. That experience reminded me how easily old wounds can return when you're still learning your worth. It showed me that healing isn't just about becoming stronger; it's about noticing when someone tries to make you become smaller and choosing not to.

So yes—I am choosing happiness in this season because I deserve it. I deserve ease. I deserve softness. I deserve every good thing that finds its way to me. I'm no longer questioning whether I've earned joy or whether I'm worthy of the blessings God has placed in my life. I am worthy simply because I exist. I am worthy because God said so. And I'm finally allowing myself to believe that.

Just because you lose yourself along the way doesn't mean you stop deserving happiness or tenderness. Losing yourself is human; finding yourself again is the true prize. You cultivate the life you want by choosing it, showing up for yourself, and refusing to shrink back into the versions of you built on survival instead of love.

I'm stepping into this season with my whole chest! No shrinking, no second-guessing, no apologizing for the woman I've become. I've carried the weight of old wounds long enough. Now I'm choosing to live fully as who God called me to be. I'm choosing joy that doesn't require permission, peace that isn't conditional, and a life that feels soft, abundant, and mine. I'm done surviving. I'm ready to receive. And I'm finally allowing myself to stand tall. Not as the girl who once felt invisible, but as the woman who knows she was never meant to be anything less than deserving.

LLL ❤️