By Robyn Young

Recently, I had a conversation with a friend that didn’t go the way I had hoped. I was deeply hurt and couldn’t seem to shake it. The pain settled in and soon turned into irritability—I found myself snapping at my family and constantly on the verge of tears. My hurt was quietly morphing into anger.

I knew I couldn’t bottle it up any longer. It was interfering with my ability to focus and fulfill my responsibilities. So I sat down and wrote a letter to my friend—one I never intended to send—just to let it all out. I poured my heart onto the page, explaining how I felt and why. For two hours I wrote and cried, letting the emotion spill out in what turned into several pages of raw, unfiltered word vomit. As I wrote, I began to recognize that I was overreacting—but I honored my feelings anyway. I wrote as if my hurt was completely justified. I kept going until I wasn’t angry anymore. Then I took the pages outside and burned them. Watching the fire, I felt the anger turn to ash along with the paper.

I felt lighter, but the experience lingered in my mind. I believe there’s a lesson tucked inside every significant experience—and this one had clearly shaken me. For days, I searched for what I was supposed to learn from it, but nothing I came up with seemed to match the intensity of my emotions. I told myself, “Maybe the lesson isn’t mine to learn. Maybe it’s hers,” and tried to move on.

Then, unexpectedly, I ran into her. I saw her before she saw me and briefly considered ducking out of sight. Instead, I masked my nerves with a smile and said, “Hi,” as we passed. She smiled back and said, “Hi,” too—as if nothing had happened.

And suddenly, a new possibility hit me: what if, to her, nothing had happened? What if she held no anger, no hard feelings? I had been assuming that she was as emotionally stirred by our conversation as I was. But maybe… she wasn’t. Maybe she had spoken directly, yes—but not harshly. And maybe I had taken offense where none was intended. I had created a narrative in my head, believed it wholeheartedly, and let it wreak havoc on my peace for over a week. The hurt and the anger? That was me. I had done that to myself.

I felt a bit foolish—but also incredibly free. I didn’t have to keep believing the story in my head.

So I wrote again—this time about this realization. And as I did, the real lesson came into view. The emotion I felt was real and powerful, even if it wasn’t logical. It needed to be seen, acknowledged, and understood. The emotion was born from false beliefs buried in my mind—beliefs that had been passed down by well-meaning adults who lived by them, and unknowingly taught me to do the same. I had absorbed those beliefs and, without realizing it, was shaping my life around them. Without this painful experience, I might never have uncovered them.

What’s in our minds truly governs our lives—for better or worse. When I finally identified the false beliefs behind my emotions, I saw clearly how they were holding me back in other areas of my life, too. And I realized something else: I could only recognize and challenge these beliefs through difficult, uncomfortable experiences. Our relationships—especially the ones that challenge us—are incredible mirrors. They show us the things we might otherwise never see about ourselves.

Looking back, there were a few key steps that helped me learn this lesson:

• I assumed there was a lesson meant for me.

• I spent time in prayer, asking God to help me understand.

• I wrote about it—because writing brings a kind of clarity that talking doesn’t always offer.

• I made sincere efforts to release my negative feelings. And when I couldn’t, I trusted there was still more I needed to learn.

• I chose to face the situation, rather than hide—from her, and from myself.

• Most importantly, I wanted to learn the lesson. I expressed gratitude for what I discovered and continued to ask for help through the process.

God doesn’t want us to stay stuck in pain. He wants us to grow, to heal, and to find joy. Sometimes that means facing uncomfortable truths about ourselves. But when we do, our pain becomes the very thing that moves us forward. And the lies we once believed no longer have the power to hold us back.

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