How do I stop feeling guilty about losing my faith after years of devotion?

The guilt you're carrying—I know it well. It arrives like an uninvited guest, whispering that you've betrayed something sacred. But consider this: the devotion itself wasn't false. What you felt in prayer, in longing, in those moments of reaching toward something greater—that was real. What's changing now isn't your capacity for love or seeking; it's the container you're pouring it into. Rumi spent his whole life redefining what devotion meant, moving from ritual to rawness, from institution to direct experience. He understood that sometimes the deepest spiritual act is honesty—even when that honesty breaks you away from what you once held. The guilt often says: you wasted years. But those years shaped you. They taught you what matters, what doesn't, where your real hunger lives. That's not wasted. That's education. What if you spent one week writing letters to the version of yourself who believed—not to convince her, but to thank her for the protection she offered when you needed it? Acknowledge the devotion. Honor the ache. Then ask: what am I being called toward now that I'm brave enough to see differently?