To the Girl Numbing the Pain

Hi! For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Daisy — born in China, adopted at age 6 into an American family. Growing up, my adoption was a sore subject I never wanted to talk about. In middle school, I really struggled with my identity, worth, and belonging. I was consumed with the whys and filled with anger toward God. “God, why would you let my parents leave me? Why was I not enough?” And after years of asking, I started to believe the lies — that I wasn’t enough, that love is conditional, that God didn’t care. I let those lies take root in my heart.

 When the lies you tell yourself become beliefs about your identity, shame and despair settle in. The pain became so unbearable that I needed to numb it. What I thought would be the solution became the very thorns taking root in my heart.

Hi, my name is Daisy, and for years I struggled with porgnography, but God began a journey of healing, freedom, and restoration in my life. The once curious 8-year-old never would have seen where her curiosity would take her. The once deeply ashamed 12-year-old would have thought she’d never get out. The once 16-year-old tried to validate it instead.

Behavioral addiction was very taboo in the Christian spaces I grew up in — the only thing I heard about sex was “never have sex before marriage,” and that was that. So I carried my shame alone. For years, I watched, read, and talked to the wrong people about not-so-good things. The deeper in the addiction, the more I loved the secrecy. I took pride in being the “Christian girl” who got straight A’s and looked so good on the outside. But deep down? My identity was rooted in temporary gratification, false identity, and artificial love and belonging.

Fast forward a few years. The pride of secrecy was gone, replaced by a desperate cry — “How could the closest people in my life not see I’m struggling?” I would weep and beg God to take this from me every night. Every summer camp, I’d raise my hands, go to altar calls, and ride the highs. But it always came back to the same question: “God, I thought we dealt with this.”

Then COVID hit — and for me, it wasn’t just the world falling apart, my home life was too. My addiction felt like a wildfire. Then came the news that my parents and I were moving, leaving all my friends and siblings behind. Just when I thought things had settled, my life continued to crumble. I remember yelling, sobbing, falling on my knees. No person could comfort me, and when even porn couldn’t either, I felt absolutely hopeless. “God. Why?” — the only two words I could get out.

And in my weeping, God met me where I was. I felt His arms wrap around me. And three words: My beloved daughter. I knew I had been living in sin and that I needed to surrender. I had been entangled in a messy, weed-infested garden. But then — John 15:1-2: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.” God had begun to clean up my messy garden, uprooting all that bore no fruit, and reminded me that my identity and worth are rooted in Christ. And in Christ alone.

When I let the lies from my adoption hurt take root, I allowed so many other weeds — like pornography — to grow alongside them. But what I truly needed, what pornography could never give me, was God’s unconditional love, to be chosen, and to belong. What’s so beautiful is that adoption was once a sore subject — but now I read Ephesians 1:5: “God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.” When I thought God was disgusted with me and would never forgive me, Romans 5:8 says: “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” And when I thought freedom wasn’t possible, Galatians 5:1 says: “So Christ has truly set us free. Now make sure that you stay free, and don’t get tied up again in slavery.”

I was rooted in the wrong things, hit my lowest, and in that moment God didn’t just save me — He adopted me and told me who I am. The addiction may have been the road I walked for so long, but adoption into Christ’s kingdom became the destination. Even having a family who chose me wasn’t enough to fill what only God could fill. And when I finally let Him be the gardener of my soul, I understood adoption in a whole new way — not just as my story, but as my identity in Christ.

I don’t know what your story looks like — maybe it’s similar to mine, with different addictions and struggles. Hear me: to know is one thing, but I pray you would believe that God can redeem. And if you let Him, He will be the gardener of your soul. Colossians 2:6-7 says it best: “Just as you accepted Christ Jesus as your Lord, you must continue to follow him. Let your roots grow down into him, and let your lives be built on him. Then your faith will grow strong in the truth you were taught, and you will overflow with thankfulness.”

Recovery isn’t easy, and yes, slip-ups may happen — but freedom in Christ is what carries you, and a life rooted in Him is what will see you through.