My Name is Alexie and I'm Done Hiding

My Name Is Alexie, and I'm Done Hiding

I am a young girl from Utah. I am a survivor of trafficking, ritual abuse, programming, and every form of abuse.

After I turned 18, I was ready to leave my small town and step into the real world. College felt like a new beginning. But my first year took unexpected turns—including COVID, which sent me home early. My second year began with changing schools to be closer to someone I loved. I never imagined that year would become a nightmare.

By day, I earned good grades.
By night, I endured unimaginable pain.

The world saw a young adult starting her life, but inside, I was barely holding on. For five years, I kept silent. For five years, I fought flashbacks. I tried to forget, to bury my past, to convince myself it didn’t happen. But I can't stay silent anymore.

Everyone knows there is evil in the world. Some realize it’s in our country. But what many don’t see is that even a place like Utah—a place considered safe—is not untouched by darkness.

My name is Alexie, and my story is not an easy one to tell.
For years I carried shame. But recently, God began to show me that my story isn’t something to hide— it’s something He’s going to use. My story has power. And I believe it will change lives.

Beauty From Ashes
There was a day I’ll never forget.

The shed was dark and cold, but my skin burned from fear. My hands were tied above my head, the rope digging into my wrists. I stood barefoot on a tipped-over garbage can, struggling to stay balanced. My legs shook. My body was weak. The air felt thick with evil, and I couldn’t breathe.

I had no strength left.

And in that moment—raw and desperate—I screamed out loud,
“God, where are You?”

I begged Him to come. To do something. Anything.
But all I heard was silence.

I felt forsaken. Unseen. Like maybe I didn’t matter. Like maybe even God had walked away. In that shed, I truly felt like I was in the fire. Not just metaphorically—but burning from the inside out with hopelessness. I believed I would die in that place. That I would never be free.

But now, years later, I see something I couldn’t then:
God was there.

He didn’t answer the way I wanted. He didn’t break through the door or untie the ropes. But He never left me. He carried me through that fire. He protected my mind. He preserved my life. And in time, He began to heal what was broken.

A few months ago, as wildfires burned across California, we prayed for the people facing the flames. One morning, my mom walked outside and looked up. The sky was painted with the most beautiful colors—deep purples, radiant oranges, golden streaks of light. And in that moment, God spoke to her heart:

“I really do make beauty from ashes.”

When she told me, I knew it was for me too. I had walked through the fire. I had been reduced to ashes. And now… God was painting beauty across the sky of my life.

“…to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and the garment of praise for the spirit of despair.” – Isaiah 61:3

My story isn’t just about what I survived.
It’s about who saved me.
It’s about the One who sat with me in the fire and never let go.
It’s about the beauty He’s creating from the ruins I thought would define me.

If you’re reading this and feel like you're still in the fire—
If you’ve screamed out and heard nothing—
If you’ve started to believe you’ve been forgotten—

I need you to know: you haven’t.

God hears you. He sees you.
And He’s not done.

Hold on.
There is still purpose.
There is still beauty to come.
And the ashes in your life? They are not the end.

A Prayer for the One Still in the Fire

God,
For the one reading this who feels abandoned—wrap them in Your presence.
For the one who’s been silenced—give them a voice again.
For the one who’s barely holding on—be their strength when theirs is gone.

You see every shed, every secret place, every fire.
You see the ashes, and You are not afraid of them.
You are the God who draws near to the brokenhearted,
who sits with us in the flames,
and who writes resurrection stories where the world only sees ruins.

Remind them today that You are not done.
That beauty will rise from this.
That their cries have been heard,
and their healing has already begun.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.