Growing up, I was always in trouble. Teachers, principals, and even my family labeled me a bad kid. I pushed kids on the playground, almost got expelled in fourth grade, and switched schools twice because I couldn’t stay out of trouble. By the time I was 9, I had already been in therapy for years and had been diagnosed with Oppositional Defiant Disorder. I knew I wasn’t the “sweet” girl everyone wanted me to be. I was the bad kid. I was the one whose behavior chart card was always flipped to red. That’s who I had always been and who I believed I always would be.
By middle school and high school, I felt like I’d already messed up too much to fix anything. When my parents started going through a divorce, things only got worse. I became the problematic friend who stirred up drama, posted passive-aggressive things on my private story, and the girlfriend who’d blow up if my boyfriend wanted to hang out with his friends. Deep down, I hated it, but I felt like I couldn’t stop. I told myself I was already bad. I thought that was just who I was. So, I leaned into it even more.
I was always in conflict with my parents, and breaking their rules became almost addictive. Sneaking out, drinking, and having boys over were all part of the identity I had built. By the time I went to college, I thought distance would be my fresh start. But running away didn’t solve anything—it only deepened my struggles. I was 18 hours away from home and thought I could leave my old self behind, but I found myself at a new low. In the first month of my freshman year at TCU, I was drinking four nights a week, numbing myself after a breakup and the loneliness that followed. I was in another “crazy ex girlfriend” spiral, had no friends, no direction, and no clue how to fix my life. I started giving myself away to anyone who asked, hoping it would make me feel something, but it never did.
I grew up Catholic and went to Catholic school, and I had this picture of God as someone who followed me around, keeping track of every rule I broke. I figured I’d already messed up too much for Him to care about me. Still, I started going to some church services on TCU’s campus, mostly because they made me feel good in the moment. I didn’t think it would actually change anything. One night, I got dinner with an older girl I’d met. She explained something to me that I’d never fully understood: Jesus had seen everything I’d done—the good and the bad—and still wanted me. He still loved me and loved me so much that He chose to die for me so I could be with Him forever.
That idea changed everything for me. I told her I never thought heaven was an option for me. I thought I was too far gone. But for the first time, I saw Jesus differently—not as someone keeping score, but as someone who had been loving me all along. That night, I decided I didn’t want to keep living the way I had been. I gave my life to Him. I started reading the Bible, learning about who He really is and what He asks of us, and things started to change. The struggles I thought I could never overcome didn’t disappear overnight, but I could feel my desires shifting in a way I couldn’t explain.
Anger and defiance are still struggles I face daily. But the beautiful thing about walking with God is that He provides ways out of temptation (1 Corinthians 10:13). One of the biggest ways He’s helped me is through community. Pretty soon after giving my life to Him, God gave me friends who love Him and love me in a way I had never experienced before. These friends are patient, forgiving, and genuinely care for me. I remember one time this summer when I lost my temper on one of them. I felt like I had failed again, and all the old lies about being a “bad kid” started creeping in. I doubted everything God had done in my heart because of one mistake, and I was ready for her to never speak to me again.
But her response surprised me. She didn’t write me off or try to meet me in my anger. She wanted to reconcile and forgive me. The way she handled our conflict reminded me of how God forgives me—with grace and love. That moment was a turning point. God used her to show me that my mistakes don’t define me anymore. I don’t have to carry the weight of being “bad” because Jesus has already taken that burden for me.
Honestly, I still struggle every day. I still fall short constantly. But what I’ve learned is that this sin in my life doesn’t define me—Jesus does. I don’t have to fix myself or try harder to be better, that will never take me anywhere. I just need Jesus. I need His grace, His strength, and His forgiveness every single day. Without Him, I’d still be stuck in the same cycle, trying to fill a void I could never fill on my own, believing it would always be that empty. But because of Him, I can walk forward – not identifying as a “bad kid” doomed to failure, but as a follower of Jesus, saved and transformed by His grace.
My life now looks a lot different than it did when I ate lunch in the principal’s office every day. I’m surrounded by people who genuinely love me and encourage me to grow. I go through life with so much more peace, knowing I’m loved by the Creator of the universe and that I don’t have to earn His love—He has already given it to me. When I mess up, I’m no longer stuck in shame. Instead, I know I can come to God, ask for forgiveness, and move forward relying on Him. I still might not be known as the “sweet” girl, but I am loved and redeemed by God, and I don’t have to strive on my own to be better—I can rest knowing that He sees me, loves me, and is growing me. He’s still growing me in so many ways, and I still have so much to learn, but I know I’m not doing it alone—Jesus is with me every step of the way. Because of Him, I have confidence that my past no longer hangs over my head, and instead, I can live in freedom.
<3 Ashley Pitts
Thanks for sharing Ashley! God is using your story to bring people to Him 💜 Thank you for being vulnerable and honest. Keep clinging to him!