God loved me long before I ever began to love Him. And ever since then, He has been my living Father.

I grew up in a Christian family. My father is a pastor in an evangelical church, and my mum is a deeply devoted pastor’s wife. From a young age, I knew about God and genuinely loved Him. Everything my momma taught me about Him made sense, and I tried to live out her teachings with my friends.

But my childhood was harsh. I became a victim of constant verbal abuse and grew up in an environment filled with fighting, brokenness, and bitterness. I thought it was normal. Those experiences shaped my soul, my mental health, and my understanding of what healthy, loving relationships should be. (If you ever want to know more about my past, feel free to contact me through the link below.)

As a teenager, I began questioning God. Why would He let me suffer like this? I barely had a childhood. I always felt responsible for protecting my little brother and comforting my crying mum. Being constantly told that I was unworthy, annoying, dumb, financially burdensome, and simply “not wanted,” created wounds that ran deep. Bitterness grew in me—toward my family and even toward my Father in Heaven. I couldn’t understand how a loving God could allow such pain. As I grew older, rebellion took over. I drifted away from my family and my faith. I left the church because I was tired of hearing the same phrases:

“Forgive.”

“God loves you.”

“Let’s pray about it.” 

None of that soothed the pain I carried. So I distanced myself from church and looked for distractions. I felt emotionally imprisoned…but deep down, I always knew Someone was still behind me. At 18, I found my peace in alcohol, clubbing, and heavy metal. Twice a week I was out at concerts or clubs. Heavy metal gave me a sense of identity and strength. On top of that, I got into chaotic and unhealthy relationships with all sorts of guys. God slowly became a distant shadow in my life. I threw myself into darkness—almost willingly. The loudness of black metal felt like therapy; it helped me release the anger and frustration I had carried for years. I became emotionally dependent on music. 

I still called myself a Christian, even though I hated church. Drugs, hookups, and one-night stands became my normal. That was my hobby. Yet even in the middle of my mess, God was still there. Every time I got into dangerous situations—especially as a woman surrounded by drug‑addicted men—I found myself crying out to Him. And every time, He protected me. Twice, He saved me from situations that could have turned into assault. Despite running from Him, He never let go of me. Eventually, my mental health collapsed. Anxiety and depression took over my daily life. At 20, I met a counselor who encouraged me to consider baptism. I liked the idea because my life felt upside down, and I had no sense of identity. I knew something had to change—even if I didn’t know how. So I got baptised in May 2017. But the horror was only beginning. 

The next two years were some of the hardest of my life. After baptism, the fights at home grew more aggressive. I wasn’t the only one struggling with mental health. At the same time, I went through toxic breakups with a narcissistic ex and other men. PTSD and panic attacks controlled me. I became angry, unstable, and still relied heavily on alcohol. 

In February 2018, I went to a pub to meet my clique. After about an hour, everything around me went numb. No sound, no movement—just stillness. Then I heard God’s voice:

“Debora, look around. Is this what you want? These people—are they truly your friends?” 

I froze.

I stopped drinking.

Suddenly, I saw “labels” above each person—revealing their real struggles:

the guy with sexual addictions,

the friend trapped in heroin,

the girl battling a severe disorder,

others entangled in drugs and toxicity. 

It felt like waking up from a nightmare. I couldn’t deny what God was showing me.I whispered, “Lord, I can’t do this anymore… I’m sorry.” 

I left the pub, ran home, and collapsed in my mum’s arms, apologizing for everything. That night, I repented and surrendered my life to Jesus. You might think everything became perfect after that. But no—things actually got worse. Right after surrendering, I faced a darker spiritual battle than ever before. I felt like the ground disappeared from under my feet. Suicidal thoughts hit me constantly. Three times I came close to ending my life. The Enemy whispered: “You hate your life. You accepted the Lord—why not go be with Him now? End it.” But every time, God spoke softly: “Debora, you know I have prepared a future for you. Hold on.” 

Those words pulled me back every time. One Sunday, after years away from church, I forced myself to go alone. On the way, I felt tormented—spiritual oppression so heavy it felt like something crawling over me, screaming at me not to enter. When worship began, I collapsed to the floor, crying uncontrollably. In that moment, every tormenting spirit left. The suicidal thoughts disappeared. I was free. Since that day, God has set me free from my past and sealed my heart with His presence forever. Afterwards, I quit my job, left my environment, and moved to England—leaving behind everything that once held me captive. 

Soon after, God gave me my first revelation for a Project‑Ministry. If you want to know more about this crazy journey—stay tuned.