You Asked for This

Embracing the Challenges that Shape Us into Who We Are Meant to Be

You Asked for This.

Don’t You Remember?

You prayed for strength. Life gave you the weight.

Heavy burdens, sharp edges, the kind that press into your shoulders until you either break, fold, or build yourself into something new.

The weight that asks you not to falter, but to rise, to carry what feels impossible and emerge with a deeper understanding of your own resilience.

You prayed for vision. Life gave you the darkness.

Not to blind you, but to teach you that light isn’t something you find.

It’s something you discover within.

It’s not a thing you chase, but a spark you kindle in the midst of shadows, an illumination that rises from your own soul, growing clearer as you dare to see what’s right in front of you.

You prayed for purpose. Life gave you the wilderness.

Empty spaces, deafening silence, a map with no markings.

Purpose doesn’t reside in comfort. It’s forged in the unknown, in the vast expanse where answers don’t arrive neatly wrapped.

Here, in the wilderness, you learn that purpose isn’t a destination, but a path that you carve, step by step, guided only by the quiet call of something more than what you see.

You prayed for love. Life gave you lust, hate, envy, ridicule, anxiety, avoidance, fear.

Not to punish you, but to reveal love’s true form.

Love isn’t something you wait for, it’s something you create, something you learn to master, like a steady, unwavering force, a powerful ocean liner cutting through a sea of crumbling rowboats.

Love—true love—is the anchor that holds steady in the storm, not the fleeting impulse of anxiety and fear that rides on the surface and avoids the deep unknown.

You prayed for life. Life showed you death.

Loss, heartbreak, grief.

Not to crush you, but to remind you that every breath matters, every moment counts, every conversation is a song.

The brevity of life teaches us its preciousness. In the presence of loss, we discover the infinite value of what is still here, in everything that remains.

You asked for this. Don’t you remember?

You didn’t ask for ease. You didn’t ask for comfort.

You asked for transformation. For growth. For renewal.

To be stretched. To be shaped. To be awakened.

You asked for challenges that would carve you into something stronger, something truer, something everlasting.

You asked for this.

And here you are.

The weight, the darkness, the wilderness, the love, the loss.

They’re all part of the journey. Each moment, each challenge, each episode of discomfort you face is an invitation.

An invitation to rise. To grow. To transform.

So the next time you find yourself overwhelmed, stressed, tired—remember.

You asked for this.

And it’s only in the asking, and in the living, that we become who we were always meant to be.

In solidarity,

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P.S. As always, thank you for reading this edition of Freedom Papers. If you found this piece meaningful, share it with a friend. Let our stories of resilience, justice, and love continue to inspire others, as we all work toward a better, more inclusive future. And write. Write, day and night, my friend. We are running out of time.