For years, I thought I had simply lost my love for writing—but the truth is, I stopped because my heart was shattered, and my voice was stolen.

I remember being introduced to poetry in elementary school. It was in the 4th grade when I started attempting to write my own. We had a creative writing assignment, and I wrote a short book of poems. My teacher, Mrs. Parker, entered it into the district’s creative writing contest for young writers. I won 2nd place. That was the beginning.

Creative writing became a way of life for me. In a world I didn’t feel like I fit into, the page never made me question if I belonged.

As I got older, if it wasn’t on paper, the notes in my phone became a safe haven for my writings. I always wanted to be a writer. And I had plans for those notes. The problem? I was too afraid of opinions to share my writings with anyone.

Fast forward to junior year of college, and I finally felt safe enough to share my writing—with someone I trusted. That backfired.

He ended up deleting every single note in my phone–every poem, every story. Years of writing, gone. This was the first time I truly experienced heartbreak and betrayal. My emotions haven’t felt safe since. I stopped writing altogether after that violation. My safe space was gone. 

Over the years, I would write occasionally, usually when life got hard. It felt so good every time I did. I’d reread any old work I had on my laptop endlessly. Promising myself I’d write again—but I never did. 

After years of running from it, I began to miss it. Truly miss it. As life grew hard, I longed for my outlet, but I also began to fear that it had been so long that I wouldn’t be able to do it anymore. That fear deepened as I studied the book of Matthew and read The Parable of the Talents in Matthew Chapter 25, 14-30. 

Then, God introduced me to a writer. We quickly became friends and her passion for her craft inspired me. One day, I told her what happened—how my ex deleted my notes. She put it into a context I never thought about before. His deleting those notes was spiritual warfare, and when I stopped writing, I gave power to the enemy. I sat with that statement for a while. 

I realized the enemy hadn’t just deleted my notes—he had stolen my voice. 

The next time I saw her, she gifted me with a notebook. On the first page, she wrote:

“The Lord has given you a gift. When you’re ready, in His perfect time, use it again. Create words only you and God can.”

All of this happened just as I began feeling the need to grow in my faith and share the Good News of God. However, I don’t do well with social interactions in general, let alone speaking about my beliefs. Just the thought of vocalizing them left me frozen.  

Meanwhile, God began shifting everything in my life. Within weeks, the life I knew, the one I had finally grown comfortable with, was stripped away.

I was isolated, facing the most stressful season of my life. All I had left was Him. Yet, amid my pain, I still felt peace. 

I was overcome by the desire to share the impact that choosing to walk with God has. Yet, I knew that vocally, I just wasn’t sure how.

I prayed about it. The next day, I opened my bag and saw the gifted notebook I had yet to use. I didn’t even remember packing it, but there it was. 

That moment, I realized maybe I couldn’t vocalize God’s message and the peace His love provides. However, I could write about it. 

The words have been flowing ever since, and for the first time, sharing them became necessary. 

The enemy may have tried to steal the gift God gave me, but I’m writing again–not for validation, but for His glory.