Dear God; This dream became a nightmare.

Dear God,

I am deeply sad and heartbroken. The pain within me is overwhelming. I remember the joy in my soul, the excitement I felt on my first day, but that joy was fleeting—lasting only seconds. In just a few weeks, I found myself mostly in tears, my heart heavy with pain. Why? I couldn't have done anything so wrong to deserve this treatment. I constantly ask myself, what did I do to warrant this?

I thank you for being with me, loving me, and caring for me. You've reassured me that you created me deliberately and with purpose. I’m grateful that my identity and sense of self were firmly rooted before I entered this space, or else I might have lost myself completely.

In this place, I’ve questioned myself in ways I never have before. I’ve doubted whether I’m good enough, whether my life and achievements have any substance. What began as a dream quickly turned into a nightmare. Over these months, it has felt like living in a den of lions. Every day, fear gripped my heart as I woke up and prepared to face another day there.

A Black American man once came to Ghana and said that when he arrived, he forgot he was Black because everyone looked like him; no one treated him differently. But when I entered this place, I was reminded that I am a woman—every single day. I was reminded through actions and responses, the things an insecure man said to me, the ways people reacted, and the unfair situations I encountered. Stereotypes, patriarchy, and misogyny were endorsed, constantly reinforcing my identity as a woman in the most painful ways.

Why, Lord, do people go out of their way to break someone’s spirit? Before I came here, I knew I was a woman, but inside this place, I was constantly reminded of it in ways that made me feel diminished. I feared being myself because it was deemed as being too much. I never knew someone could be irritated by another’s laughter and happiness, or even plan to wipe the smile off your face, until I came to this place. They hated a woman with personality, confidence, and a strong sense of self—especially if she refused to dance to their tune, because women are expected to dance. They didn’t like a woman who is comfortable in her own skin.

I wish I had never participated in that competition. I regret engaging and trying to live fully while in that place. That competition was my biggest mistake. Even my determination upset certain people. My drive to succeed was seen as a threat, an attempt to undermine or make myself look better. It was as if my efforts highlighted insecurities, especially those of an insecure man who mocked and deeply hurt me.

God, why did I pretend I wasn’t hurting in the beginning? Why did I stay silent and let things fester for so long? The desire to fit in, to be accepted in a new place, can make us do foolish things, accept foolish things. Now, I am traumatized, and my heart is breaking.

Sometimes we underestimate the power of wicked people and the lengths they will go to. When breaking my spirit didn't work, they sought to isolate me. They identified the people and things that brought me peace, attempting to ensure that anything or anyone that brought me joy was taken away or turned against me. And when that failed, they attacked my character, labeling me as overthinking, too emotional, or dramatic. They claimed they had nothing against me, insisting I was imagining things, to the point where I felt like I was losing my mind.

The things they did were blatant, yet I was made to feel like the problem. I have never questioned myself so much as I did in that place. I am hurting deeply. Lord, heal my heart. Remind me of who I am. Please tell me I am not mad, that I am not overthinking. You know more than I do; you saw everything. Please heal my heart and bring me joy again, for I am sad and in pain.

And so I begged you, God, to take away the pain. The days of crying into my pillow, the fear of waking up to face a new day, the moments of crying in my car in the parking lot while pleading for strength, asking you for courage. The days of frowning to avoid laughter, of suppressing my happiness to avoid irritating others, and of acting cold when it was not true to who I am. I ask that all these days come to an end. This is the last dance, Lord. Hold my hand and guide me through it.