You Have a Story and It Matters

As a therapist, I’ve had the honor of walking with many people through the sensitive work of looking back—especially at childhood wounds. I know how intimidating it can be. My clients often wonder, “What good will it do to dig up the past?”

I understand that impulse. As a child, I learned to move on as a way to cope with scary and painful moments. But I’ve learned that I (and we) never actually move on in the way we might think or hope. When we ignore the pain of our early experiences, those wounds don’t just disappear. They often show up in hidden ways: in our relationships, our reactions, and even how we see ourselves.

For a long time, my story was one of a boy and a young man addicted to pornography. I carried a lot of shame with that identity. The story ended there. There was something wrong with me that I could not fix. Something was broken. I was broken. But over time, that story became less believable to me. Others challenged me to reconsider my past, to learn about addiction. Over time, my curiosity grew, and the story I told myself began to change.

I believe the process of exploring your past is not about blame—it’s about healing. It’s about understanding how you learned to survive, and how those coping strategies may no longer be serving you. And most of all, it’s about making space for God to do a redemptive work in your story.

I find deep comfort in the way Scripture honors brokenness. The Bible isn’t a story of perfect people—it’s a story of God redeeming the imperfect. Joseph’s story comes to mind. After years of betrayal, slavery, and imprisonment, he looks his brothers in the eye and says, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20). That’s the heart of redemption—not pretending the pain isn’t real (not spiritual bypassing), but trusting that God can bring beauty out of it.

Jesus Himself was “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). He doesn’t shy away from suffering—He steps into it with us. We do not have to try to hide our wounds from God; instead, we can accept his invitation to join us in our pain and receive His comfort and healing.

I’ve seen people’s lives change—not because they simply moved on or tried harder, but because they dared to face themselves with compassion, curiosity, and the hope that God is still writing their story.

If you’re ready to begin that journey, know you don’t have to do it alone. We’re here to walk with you—honestly, gently, and with hope for God’s redemptive work in your life.

With care,

Ryan McDaniel, LPC