May I never lose myself again, says the version of me that survived what tried to erase me. I lost myself in seasons where endurance was praised more than obedience, where staying was called faith and leaving felt like failure. But God was speaking the whole time, telling me that sacrifice without instruction is not holy, and survival without wholeness is not victory. What I thought was strength was sometimes fear wearing discipline. I lost myself saying yes when heaven was silent, shrinking when God was expanding me, calling exhaustion "purpose" instead of warning. I gave grace until I disappeared and called it love, but God was teaching me that love does not require self-abandonment. Losing myself was not rebellion, it was forgetting that obedience includes rest, boundaries, and listening when the Spirit interrupts. So I speak this over my life over and over again: may I never lose myself again. May discernment rise louder than obligation, may alignment matter more than applause, and may I obey God even when it costs me comfort. I am not returning to who I was, I am becoming who God preserved. And this time, I will recognize myself when I arrive.