I Don’t Have to Prove I’m Good Anymore

I used to think if I just acted right, people would finally see who I was. That maybe the way they looked at me would change. But no matter how respectful I was, how quiet or helpful I tried to be, they already had a picture of me in their heads. It wasn’t based on truth. It was based on what they heard.

In school, I was called names. Fast. Rebellious. Loud. There was this one teacher who wouldn’t even look at me when I asked questions. That kind of treatment didn’t just happen once—it was a pattern. They didn’t care about my heart. They didn’t ask why I was withdrawn or struggling. They believed the lies. And I kept trying to undo them.

I was trying to prove I was a good person. I spoke softly when I wanted to shout. I apologized when I had nothing to be sorry for. I tried to help everyone around me, thinking if I gave enough of myself, maybe they’d stop seeing me as a threat.

But that never happened. No matter how hard I tried, the assumptions stuck. And all that effort to change their minds? It only drained me.

It took counseling for me to realize what I was doing. My therapist gave me space to speak without fear. I didn’t have to convince her I was worth listening to—she just listened. That alone started breaking something open in me.

I said to her, and I said it again to myself: "I was trying to prove I was a good person."

And then I asked myself the question I had never really faced: Who told me I had to prove that?

That’s when I started to separate their voices from God's voice.

Because God never asked me to prove anything. He already knew my story—the girl who was abused, silenced, judged. The one who survived. The one who still had love in her heart, even after all that.

He knew me. And He called me good. Not because I earned it. Because He created me that way.

Do I still catch myself trying to explain or justify who I am? Yes. Sometimes that old feeling comes back. But now I can stop myself. I can pause and remember: I don’t need to twist myself into a version someone else will accept. I don’t need to carry their words on my back like they belong to me. And I definitely don’t need to keep trying to prove I’m good when I already know I am.

If you’re reading this and you’ve spent your life trying to be enough for people who only ever saw the worst in you—I get it. I’ve been there.

But you don’t have to do that anymore.

God sees you clearly. He sees beyond what they said. Beyond what they assumed. And He still calls you good.

You are not what they call you. You are not who they thought you were. You are loved by a God who knows the truth.

That’s enough for me now. And I hope one day, it’ll be enough for you too.