A mother had two daughters. The hard-working eldest found and filled her purpose in life.

The abundantly talented youngest struggled to find hers. Vulnerability struck and drew her from the safety of her loving family and into a toxic secret world.

To her sister and mother, she painted a counterfeit canvas bathed in hollow hues of happiness. But nothing about her life reflected the falsehoods she outwardly presented. Shame grew suffocating as she wished she was living the life she untruthfully portrayed.

She loved her older sister, but envy was a wedge. She loved her mother, but deceit was a wall. Those in her current world struck hard, then covered the wounds with temporary bandages. But nothing could mask the excruciating internal pain.

Depression engulfed her. Her life, once full of limitless possibilities, was spiraling into a dark abyss.

To save herself, she knew what she had to do. She had to learn to love herself. And the only way was through the unconditional love of her sister and mother. It was time to go home.

Walking away from her current life ripped her heart to shreds because there were small parts she thought she loved. But they couldn’t come with her if she were to mend the broken parts.

When she arrived home, her sister and mother embraced her. She melted into their loving arms and finally, let the painful grip of her past go.

Her sister and mother promised they would help her find her purpose. Then once she found it, they would help her fill it and build a life upon it. A life of integrity. A life she’d be proud of. A life abundant with love and joy.

If you have a family member suffering from addiction and/or domestic abuse, it is my hope the Prodigal Daughter will encourage you to never give up. I didn’t. And mine eventually came home.

Amy Nielsen