The Unfocused Faith 🌿

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I Went Quiet for a Reason

🌿 A Long Overdue Catch-Up

It’s been quite a few weeks. I think I needed the quiet, a reset, and a break from feeling so pressured. I started this blog so that I can relate, and others can relate to my story—my story of co-parenting, motherhood, work, family, and balancing my diagnosis.

Today’s post is what my cousin and I like to call a catch-up session. It might be a little all over the place, but it’s my way of filling you in on the chaos that is my life.

⏳ Life Has LIFED

I think we can all relate to the feeling that life has just…LIFED. This year has flown by. It had its highs, but also some very deep lows.

While the lows were hard, the inner growth that’s come from them has been incredibly satisfying. Recently, I had a session with my therapist, and Jhosef joined me. One of the best things he said was that he could see the growth in me. I was taken aback.

Why? Because while Jhosef and I aren’t perfect—and often say or do the wrong things—something is working, and he noticed the shift inside me.

🕍Letting Go and Letting God

Sometimes, it feels like I’m still a child, having to prove myself to my family. And even when situations arise that might trigger me, I’m learning to let go and let God speak for me.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. My anger still seeps through at times. I’m human, and my therapist constantly reminds me of that. I spend a lot of time reminding others to give themselves grace, but I give zero grace to myself.

💔 The Triggers

The voices of my family and my ex still echo, especially when I’m in a rut emotionally. It can spiral me down into depression.

A few weeks ago, we went to the outlets with his family. I mentioned that my medication sometimes causes high anxiety/social anxiety, especially in loud, crowded places. I did this to communicate potential risks and set expectations, because he often forgets.

Yet, in front of his family, he said loudly:

“Oh my god, what’s wrong with you? Can’t you take a joke? Jesus, I can’t seem to do anything, but when you do something I don’t like, I just laugh it off! You should go by my mom if you’re going to be in a bad mood!”I immediately shut down. Even after setting expectations, it felt like I was still a burden or a problem.

🌱 Relationships and Trauma

Sometimes the hardest part of maintaining a relationship—or even surviving life after a toxic relationship—is just getting through it.

Even though I’ve overcome a lot, explaining what makes me who I am today is still difficult. It feels like I’m constantly defending myself, like imposter syndrome—like I don’t fully belong.

💡 A Reminder for You (and Me)

If there’s anything to take from this post, it’s to give yourself grace. Life is messy. Growth is slow. But we’re here, we’re trying, and that matters.

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Healing in the Quiet

🐚 Retreating Into My Shell

There are times—honestly, most of the time—when the hardest part about being myself is how easily I slip into silence. I become a hermit crab, retreating into my shell and trying to be completely unbothered. I know it isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, because in shutting down, I unintentionally shut out the people who genuinely love me and want to support me. But when life gets heavy, silence becomes my default.

😔 When the Weeks Feel Heavy

These last few weeks have been rough. I told a friend recently that the adversary has been working overtime, and she agreed. Maybe it’s the shift that always comes as we approach a new year, but I’ve felt uninspired and disconnected from my writing. I never want my posts to sound like constant complaints, and sometimes that makes me feel hypocritical—even though this is my real journey, and not every day is sunshine.

🧠 The Weight of Everything at Once

A lot has hit at once. Work stress. Relationship stress. My emotional and physical struggles—especially with body dysmorphia. It all builds up, and I end up feeling overstimulated, overwhelmed, and close to shutting down. That loneliness creeps in too—the kind that doesn’t come from lack of people, but from not having someone you can call instantly to vent to.

But I’m reminding myself that energy shifts. Seasons change. And yes, hormones play a part too. Feeling low doesn’t make me weak; it makes me human.

❤️‍🩹 Learning Where to Give (and Receive) Love

I always want to be the fixer, the strong one, the person who shows up for everyone. But the reality is not everyone shows up for me in the same way—and that’s something I’ve had to make peace with. I’m learning to go where the respect, reciprocity, and love actually are.

🌱 A Small Step Forward

My blogs have been shorter lately, but I’m not giving up. I’ll pull myself out of this funk. I always do. And maybe this chapter—this messy, quiet, uncomfortable one—is just as important as all the ones I’ve written before.

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Parenting With Patience & Prayer

🗣️ Battling the Urge to Gossip

One of the biggest things I’ve been struggling with this past year is gossiping. I’ve had to learn how to literally bite my tongue because it’s so easy to give in. It’s so easy to slip. And honestly, the adversary knows exactly how to create scenarios that tempt us into opening our mouths when we shouldn’t. I’m aware of it — painfully aware — and yet the struggle continues.

👩‍👧 My Journey Into Motherhood

I’ve always been transparent about my journey as a mother. About what I wanted to provide for Ali, and what I was (and wasn’t) willing to do. I grew up in a strict, deeply religious, very “cookie cutter” home. Discipline and punishment were familiar visitors, and I was labeled early on as the difficult, rebellious, or misunderstood child.

It took years — and multiple therapy sessions — to unpack that trauma. I’m still unpacking it.

When I first got pregnant with Ali, I remember telling her father that I was ready to do this with or without his support. And for a long time, that’s exactly how it was. Being a single mother was the hardest thing I’ve ever walked through, but also the most rewarding. I was blessed with community — my parents, my sister, my friends, even school. But the weight still fell on me.

I didn’t always have patience. I didn’t always respond the way I wish I had. And I’ll never forget one moment while living with my ex (not Ali’s father). There was a misunderstanding, and I responded with, “my mother did this to me.” He looked at me and said:

“The goal is to be better than your parents, not to repeat history.”

And that hit me like a ton of bricks.

Sometimes we move through life thinking, this is what I know, so this is what I’ll do. Not realizing that familiarity doesn’t always mean healthy, right, or best.

📚 Learning to Become the Parent I Needed

When Ali was younger, I read every parenting and self-help book I could get my hands on. I wanted to understand children — their behavior, their emotions, their needs. I wanted to understand myself too.

And one of the many reasons I love Jhosef is because of the father he is. I admire his patience. I admire how he stays calm even when he’s caught off guard. I love that we don’t always agree, but when we talk about it, I understand where he’s coming from. I respect that.

👨‍👩‍👧 Navigating a Blended Family

Being part of a blended family takes intentionality. It means:

Making decisions that are fairRespecting co-parentsHolding boundariesUnderstanding when to speak and when to stay quietAs much as I want to defend or explain things for others, I’ve had to learn that it’s not always my job.

One thing I appreciate about my partner is how observant he is. He tells me when he disagrees with something I did with my child — and because I can take accountability, I can step back, reflect, and address it later with her in a healthier way. And I can do the same with him. We always remind each other:

“I know this is your child, but if I can offer my two cents…”

Not everyone can handle that.

Not every co-parenting dynamic is healthy.

Not every blended family communicates well.

🧠 Therapy, Triggers & Choosing Long-Term Peace

The message of today’s blog is simple:

Think long-term.

Think about how your choices impact your child.

Is it worth the chaos? Is it worth hurting yourself, the other parent, and ultimately your child? Is it worth the years of tension they will carry on their tiny shoulders?

It took time to get to a peaceful place with Ali’s father. Time, effort, maturity, grace, and therapy.

Therapy taught me to understand my anger. To recognize my triggers. To advocate for myself in a healthy way. To break cycles instead of repeating them.

I thank God — and my therapist — every day for that growth.

Psalm 103:13 — A Parent’s Compassion

As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear Him.

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Healing in Real Time

🌫️ When Inspiration Feels Far Away

Lately, the days have felt a little heavier, a little harder to get inspired. Life has a tendency to… life, right? And recently, it’s definitely lifed. I started this blog because writing brings me peace, and I’ve even toyed with the idea of starting a podcast. But honestly? Sometimes all the background work completely turns me off. It sounds silly, but I promised myself I’d be transparent — even about the parts that don’t look polished or productive.

Work has been busy — not complaining, just acknowledging. With the constant movement, it’s harder to hold onto the topics that float into my mind throughout the day. And sometimes that leaves me feeling a bit… uninspired.

❤️ Navigating Love in Real Life

The past few weeks — maybe even months — between my partner and me have been smoother. Thank God we’re bickering less. But we’re human, and humans are creatures of habit. Every so often we fall back into our comfortable patterns… or what I lovingly call our “toxic traits.”

Yesterday? We hit a small hiccup.

I work in a role where I manage people, expectations, emotions, and outcomes — all while smiling. Being a woman in any industry is hard; honestly, being a woman in general is hard. That’s not playing victim, that’s acknowledging reality. We’re expected to be composed, unemotional, and endlessly patient.

Before I met Jhosef, I made a commitment to myself: the next person I dated, I would be honest from day one. No games. No masking. No pretending. I’ve been open about my ADHD, situational depression, rejection sensitivity, all of it. The hardest part of being vulnerable with someone is the risk that your struggles might be used against you.

And, truthfully, that has happened — even with him.

🔥 When Buttons Get Pushed

People closest to us know our buttons. They know where it hurts. And in this particular argument, I reached my breaking point. I yelled out of sheer frustration — not because it’s healthy, but because it’s familiar. I grew up in a house where raising your voice was normal. I’ve even joked about being tone deaf. But still… I know it’s not ideal.

When I got home, he was on the phone and looked annoyed. I asked if he was okay. He said he was frustrated, but not with me. Later, while I was putting away groceries, he offered to help — but he was still on the phone. And I simply asked for his full attention if he was going to ask me questions.

Nothing wild. Nothing disrespectful.

But then he said the person he was talking to told him I “clearly had an attitude.” And suddenly, I was the problem.

That comment lit me up.

Every day, I’m absorbing the stress of other people, solving issues, multitasking, running a property, texting clients, keeping a smile on my face, and then coming home to show up for my life there too. I work extremely hard to regulate myself. So when he throws my mental health struggles into the argument — struggles I’m painfully aware of — it hurts. It feels like a jab, not a conversation.

I snapped.

He snapped.

And it spiraled.

🌧️ Tiny Storms Still Feel Like Storms

The good news? An entire day later, we’re okay. We talked it through. We apologized. We reset. Relationships — romantic or not — require constant effort, humility, and grace. Sometimes we revert, sometimes we heal, and sometimes we just have to ride out the tiny storms.

And even though the inspiration hasn’t been flowing lately, maybe this moment was exactly the reminder I needed: that honesty is still worth writing about.

🤲🏻 Psalm 121:2

My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth.

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Holiday Overstimulation & Holy Reset -

✨ Holiday Feelings & Quiet Realizations

This past holiday feels like such a blur. It was wonderful to be surrounded by family, but this year carried a strange heaviness. Even while sitting with loved ones, I felt this odd sense of missing people. I won’t name names, obviously, but I’ve blocked a lot of individuals this year — for the sake of my peace. And while creating that distance has given me clarity, it has also brought a certain loneliness.

But here’s where the contradiction comes in — and I fully own it: Even in the loneliness, I’ve found tranquility.

🧘‍♀️ The Calm After the Noise

The only “drama” in my life right now isn’t even mine — it’s my partner’s. Co-parenting is never easy, and it’s something that triggers something deep in me. My emotions. My patience. My sense of justice.

When I became a mother, I had to think long and hard about how I would handle situations like these. Practicing discernment (and maybe forgiveness too) is one of the hardest things I continue to learn.

👶🏼 Becoming a Mother at 19

So many people judged me for becoming a mother at 19. It was the first thing people attacked — as if age makes you incapable of love, stability, or maturity. But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

When I found out I was pregnant, I had a real choice to make, and I knew exactly what my heart wanted. I’ve always been mature for my age, and motherhood only amplified that.

The things I endured while pregnant and even afterward are things I wouldn’t wish on any woman. But they shaped me. They strengthened me. They transformed me into the woman I am today.

⚖️ Choosing Peace Over Revenge

I remember telling myself so many times:

“If I try to hurt my daughter’s father right now, she’ll be the one who pays for it later.”

I refused to weaponize my child. I refused to teach her to hate her father. Even when he wasn’t present in the ways she needed, I didn’t plant resentment in her heart.

Because what would I gain from that?

Nothing.

I trusted that God would fix things — not on my timeline, but His.

🛡️ My Biggest Trigger: Motherhood Judgments

One of my biggest kryptonites is when someone calls me a “bad mother” or questions my parenting. My response is simple:

If you’ve never walked a day in my shoes, kindly keep it moving.

No one but me knows the battles I’ve had to fight.

No one knows the sacrifices.

No one knows the storms I’ve survived.

Judgment usually comes from projection or insecurity, and I’m learning to release what doesn’t belong to me.

🌱 Growth, Grace & Letting Go

I’m raw and honest in this journey — and through it all, I know I am one hell of a mother.

Sometimes I catch myself craving validation, but I’m learning to come back to the truth:

the work I’ve done, the healing I’ve fought for, and the growth reflected in the conversations I can now have years later — even with my daughter’s father. I’m learning to give myself grace. Maybe that’s the real growth after all.

📖 Bible Verse for This Season

“She is clothed with strength and dignity, and she laughs without fear of the future.” — Proverbs 31:25

This verse beautifully reflects your journey — strength, resilience, wisdom, and the quiet confidence that God is guiding every step.

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Counting Down to the Long Weekend: Little Joys, Big Breaths

📝 Learning to Write Without Pressure

When I first started this blog, I remember telling myself, “I can’t wait to write about everything.” And that still feels true. But lately, I’ve noticed it’s been harder to sit down and sort through my thoughts. Not because I don’t want to — but because life has simply been a lot.

In the beginning, I was moving through a wave of depression. Some of it was burnout, and some of it was just everything happening in my world at once. I’m in a better headspace now — and I truly thank God for that — but giving myself a break from writing ended up being something I desperately needed.

🧠 Breaking Old Patterns of Pressure

It reminds me of when I used to work out religiously and post every single day. I put so much internal pressure on myself, and I was unnecessarily harsh whenever I missed a day. I don’t want this blog to become another place where I push myself past my limits.

Writing genuinely makes me happy. People have told me my whole life that I have a way with words. But this space is meant to reflect my actual journey — and that means some days will be heavy, and some days will be sweet.

🌿 A Space for the Good & the Hard

Stepping away for two weeks helped me reset and figure out what I want this blog to feel like. I don’t want it to be a place where I only sound depressed or like I’m pouring out my wounds. I want it to hold the good, too — the blessings, the joy, the small moments of growth. Because life is not one-sided.

A lot of things can be true at the same time:

✨ I can struggle and still be grateful.

✨ I can carry weight and still recognize my blessings.

✨ I can heal and still have hard days.

Two things can be true — and I think I’m living proof of that.

💼 Protecting My Peace (Especially With Work)

I’m learning not to let everything take up space in my life, especially when my job already demands so much of me. I take pride in my work, and over time, I’ve grown into someone who really wants my clients to feel cared for. That matters deeply to me.

🍂 Short, Sweet, and Sending Love

Today’s post is simple, but I want to take a moment to wish you all a happy and safe holiday. I’ll be back next week. 💛

✨ Closing Prayer — Psalm 121:7–8

English:

The Lord will guard you from all harm; He will watch over your life. The Lord will watch over your going out and your coming in, both now and forevermore.

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When Looking at Myself Hurts More Than It Should

Trigger Warning: Body Dysmorphia, Mental Health

This is one of those topics that sits heavy on my heart, and I want to approach it gently.

One of the biggest things I struggle with—aside from my ADHD, anxiety, and depression—is body dysmorphia. It’s something that often triggers my depression, and it’s what I’m currently navigating.

For me, the hardest part isn’t the number on the scale (which is honestly fine). It’s my mom pouch—my fupa. I have such a love-hate relationship with it, mostly hate if I’m being real. Because my weight has fluctuated so much over the years, that area has stretched, shrunk, stretched again… and sometimes it just feels like a mess I can’t make peace with.

And while I haven’t worked out in a long time, Jhosef tries to motivate me in the most loving way. But it’s been incredibly hard to find a rhythm again. There was a time when I worked out almost seven days a week. I was a beast—disciplined, driven, nonstop. But looking back now, I realize that with ADHD, that phase wasn’t just dedication. It was a hyper-fixation. If I missed a workout, it felt like my entire nervous system would collapse. Years later, I’m finally recognizing how intense and unsustainable that was.

What I’ve been trying to figure out now is how to simply become more active again. My job keeps me moving, and I genuinely loved seeing my body change in positive ways when I was consistent. I never wanted to consider surgery—not out of judgment, but out of fear. It’s just not the direction I see for myself.

This is also the second time I’ve written about my struggles with body dysmorphia. It affects me deeply—my mood, my confidence, my overall sense of self. I try to be kinder to my body, to remind myself this is the same body that carried life. But saying it and believing it are two very different things. I keep searching for motivation, trying to hype myself up, trying to force myself into a routine—but nothing seems to stick. And I hate that feeling.

It’s like I’m giving up on a version of myself that once meant so much to me. And while “hate” is a strong word, there’s still a part of me that wants to understand why this is part of my journey. I know I can’t blame anyone but myself here. The only thing I ask God for in this season is strength—or maybe not strength, but guidance.

I’ve been tired. Deeply tired. From 2019 to 2022, I was waking up at the crack of dawn, working out for almost two hours every day. That takes a toll on a person. Add the mental load from work, and it becomes a heavy weight to carry.

Maybe this isn’t the chapter where I figure everything out.

Maybe this is the chapter where I rest, listen, and allow myself to be led—both in my physical journey and my spiritual one.

Maybe this is the chapter where I learn to be gentler with myself.

More patient.

More human.

None of this is easy.

But I’m trying.

And for now… that has to be enough.

A Prayer / Psalm for Strength

Psalm 121:1–2 (Tehillim קכ״א):

“I lift my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord, Maker of heaven and earth.”

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Change Hits Different in Your 30s

I’ve felt a shift in myself lately — one I can’t quite label as positive or negative yet — but it’s there. Some people around me have pointed it out too. I think what’s changed is how I handle things and how much energy I give to certain situations. I’m more selective now, more intentional. And honestly, that can feel unsettling.

I’m nervous to write about this next part because I never want my honesty to hurt someone. But I started this blog to be raw and authentic, not to perform or to please. So here we are.

I became a mom at 18, almost 19. I’ve carried that label of “teen mom” for years — the looks, the whispers, the assumptions. Even now, walking into my daughter’s school events in my 30s, I still get those same stares. When I first had Ali, I was so hard on myself. My family, especially my mother and sister, were hard on me too. Every move I made was questioned. Every decision was judged. I lived with this constant fear that I was a “bad mom.”

But every single choice I’ve made — even the painful ones — has been to create a better life for myself and for Ali.

That includes walking away from my mother and sister. Setting boundaries with family is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But becoming a parent so young forced me to grow up quickly, and therapy taught me something I wish I knew at 18:

I don’t have to be perfect. Perfection is an illusion — and the only one who holds perfection is God.

Parenthood comes with opinions from every direction. When people ask me for guidance, I always try to speak gently. I never want to be judgmental; I know how that feels. But the hardest thing is watching someone you love struggle as a parent — especially when stepping back feels easier for them than stepping in. It breaks my heart when I see a child getting the short end of the stick because the adults around them feel overwhelmed.

Maybe I feel it so deeply because I know what it’s like to feel like the adults in your life have “given up on you.” As a teen, my parents threw their hands up during my rebellious years, and they made sure I knew it. That kind of wound never leaves. You heal, you grow, you forgive — but you never forget how it felt.

I’m not writing this to bash my parents. I forgave them long ago. I simply hold space for the truth of what happened.

And I think many women understand this too — we tend to do the emotional work, the soul work, the hard work. Not because we’re better, but because we’re taught to reflect more. Many of the men I know who truly needed therapy convinced themselves they didn’t. Meanwhile, the children connected to them carry the consequences.

I pray for that child. He’s young. He’s moldable. He can still be helped. But I’m learning that even with the biggest heart, you can’t save everyone — you can only offer what’s within your capacity, and the rest you have to place in God’s hands.

My hope in writing all of this is simple:

May someone reading this feel a little less alone. May someone feel encouraged to go to therapy. May someone feel safer taking their walk with God more seriously.

Healing is not linear, but it is possible. And there is better ahead.

Psalm 34:18

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; He saves those crushed in spirit.”

A reminder that God sits with you in every version of yourself — young mother, hurting daughter, healing woman, growing soul. He never stepped back. He has been here the whole time.

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My mind, My mess, My God

✨ A Reset in the Rain

The last few days, I’ve been waking up with this mentality of reset. Ever since I got back from my trip, I’ve been slowly understanding the importance of truly stepping away from work and giving myself a break. With ADHD, burnout comes fast, and I had reached that point.

Once I got home, I realized I needed rest—not just sleep, but real pause. And even though I was frustrated about getting sick after my trip, I knew it was God’s way of telling me to slow down.

🌿 Breathing Through the Break

Yesterday morning, listening to the Daily Dose, the host said something that gave me chills:

“We need to come to God every time—not just in emergencies, and not just in the good moments. Every breath we take should be blessings.”It made me reflect on how I’ve shifted in my walk with God. I’ve been learning to speak light into myself and situations. Every breath, every word, every thought—I’m trying to center them in gratitude and faith.

💛 Finding My People

I caught up with my cousin recently and shared about some situations I experienced over the past week. I realized how proud I am of myself for the boundaries I’ve set.

The last two years have been full of trials and growth. I’ve walked away from relationships and friendships that didn’t serve me, not because I hate people, but because I’ve learned that quality over quantity matters.

Before I met Jhosef, I was single for almost four years. I feared another failed relationship. But through this time, I’ve realized that life isn’t about rushing to fill spaces; it’s about letting God prepare what’s coming. “Nothing is sticking” isn’t a failure—it’s patience and divine timing.

🕊️ Trusting God’s Timing

I’ve reflected a lot on envy, especially toward loved ones who seem more supported or celebrated. But God’s been teaching me that my journey is mine alone. Boundaries, patience, and self-respect are key.

Even when I feel lonely, I recognize that peace comes from honoring myself and my walk with God. I no longer force relationships that don’t serve me, and I no longer seek validation from people who aren’t meant to be in my life.

Psalm 37:7 beautifully sums this up:

“Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him; do not fret when people succeed in their ways.”

God is teaching me that patience, trust, and stillness are part of the journey.

🌟 Closing Thoughts

Stepping away, resting, and resetting isn’t weakness—it’s strength. ADHD makes burnout inevitable if I ignore myself, but God meets me in the pauses.

I’m learning that healing, growth, and spiritual alignment aren’t linear. But through patience, boundaries, and trust, I’m walking a path that is truly mine. And that feels enough.

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Back, But Different

🌿 When Peace Looks Like Being Left Out

You know how yesterday I basically left myself on a cliffhanger after that chat with my coworker? Well, God said, “Oh sweet girl, here’s the next chapter.” Because of course He did.

So I’m talking to my coworker — her name is Neisha, and she is truly the sassiest Jamaican queen alive. She welcomed me with open arms when I started my job, and we’ve clicked ever since. I was telling her how entering my 30s has felt… weird.

She goes, “Weird how?”

I said, “Just… with friendships. Relationships. The vibe is different.” She goes, “Good. That means you’re growing.” And when I sat with it, everything that happened over the weekend suddenly made sense.

🤒 Sick… and Also Apparently Excluded

So y’all know I was sick all last week. I’m still recovering and still sound like a 1990s dial-up modem. Anyway, I’m scrolling on Instagram and I see a group of “friends” hosting Friendsgiving. And I’m like:

…hold on. Pause. Why wasn’t I included?

My first instinct was to spiral, but then my brain immediately checked me:

“Girl, you’re sick. Why would you even go?”

Fair enough. But it still felt… off. So I reached out to our mutual friend — who also wasn’t there — and we chatted for an hour. Catching up, laughing, venting. And then she confirmed it:

I was being iced out.

And the wildest part?

It didn’t hurt.

I told her, “Honestly… I only kept that friendship out of respect for you. And because it gave me something to do. But I don’t have space for people who don’t show up for me — and they never showed up for me.”

💉 No Ragerts (Yes, Tattoos Included)

The enemy wanted me to spiral. Especially because one of the girls and I have a matching tattoo.

But listen — every tattoo on my body comes with a story, not a regret (“ragerts,” if you will). If that’s the symbol of a chapter closing, so be it. Later, I told Jhosef, “Part of me wants to fall into those old thoughts — that I’m not good enough, that I should try harder.”

But at the same time…I felt this strange, deep tranquility. Because I know I’m a good person. And he reminded me of that too.

🕊️ This Isn’t Loneliness — It’s Peace

I’m proud of myself. I’m not sending long paragraphs trying to explain my value. I’m not begging people to choose me. I told God months ago that I only want the people He wants for me — the ones with real energy, real care, real reciprocity.

And He’s been clearing the room ever since. I’m not for everyone. And not everyone is for me. That’s not loneliness. That’s peace.

And God… thank You. You always answer my prayers, even when the answer comes disguised as silence.

✨ Psalm 34:18 (Tehillim 34:19) - English: God is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

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The Two Week Pause That Found Me

🌼 I’m Back, and Wow… I Missed You All

I’m back, guys! I really did miss you so much. I was on vacation for a bit, and I honestly debated blogging the whole time — but I needed a break from everything. And then the second I got home? BAM. I got sick.

The whole trip I kept complaining about how little sleep I was getting, so I guess God was like, “Alright… sit down.” And believe me, I sat down. After a few days stuck in bed (and some very dramatic back pain), I finally lit the Shabbos candles on Friday and prayed, “God, please make me better.”

And of course… He did. He always shows up for me.

✨ EDC Felt… Different This Year

This year EDC felt weird. The energy was thick — off somehow. It felt like so many people were there for the wrong reasons, or maybe my spirit just wasn’t matching the room anymore.

Part of me even felt hypocritical, wondering if the way I dress at festivals makes me “less faithful.” Then I laughed because… girl, look at my tattoos. I’ve never believed faith is about the aesthetics anyway. It’s the heart behind everything.

🧘‍♀️ A Reset I Didn’t Know I Needed

Even though it was a “vacation,” I don’t think festivals count as rest for the soul. I was socializing nonstop. What I actually want is to just lay on a beach somewhere and disconnect the way I did for those few days — no noise, no pressure, barely posting anything. Just breathing again.

That silence did something for me.

🔕 When You Raise Your Standards, Life Gets Quieter

Talking with my colleague today, I realized something big.

Ever since I’ve made changes — created boundaries, shifted access, and chosen myself in steady, honest ways — life has gotten quiet.

And the clarity that comes with that silence? Whew.

I’ve walked away from certain relationships and friendships. And the truth is… I know I’m the “bad guy” in some of those stories. Not because I was wrong, but because every person tells their own version, their own truth.

And I used to want to defend myself.

Now? I don’t.

I’m okay with being the bad guy if it means I protected my peace.

They have their truth, and I have mine — and God sees all of it.

🙏 Today Was Simple

Today’s post is short and sweet:

God, thank You for my health. For the rest. For the reset. For the clarity. This reminds me of Psalm 121 Shir La’Ma’alot (A song of Ascents) the English translation is:

English: *I lift my eyes to the mountains— from where will my help come? My help comes from God, Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot stumble; your Guardian does not slumber. Behold—the Guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps. God is your keeper; God is your shade at your right hand. The sun will not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. God will guard you from all harm; He will guard your soul. God will guard your going out and your coming in, from now and forever.*

I’m back — a little more grounded, a little more grown, and a lot more grateful.

[betsee]

Oops, God Again

As I get ready to leave for a few days, I’m scattered.

I’m a perfectionist—and honestly, that’s dang near impossible. Everything feels all over the place. I feel all over the place.

Lately, I keep wondering how I went so many years unmedicated. Back then, I kept creating different systems to manage myself—different planners, routines, and tricks that worked for a while until they didn’t. But as I’ve gotten older, it’s become harder to mask.

🧩 So… What Is ADHD Masking?

ADHD masking is a coping mechanism that many of us use—often without realizing it—to hide or suppress our symptoms so we can “fit in” with social or workplace expectations.

It’s pretending to focus when your mind is somewhere else.

It’s rehearsing conversations to sound put-together.

It’s forcing calm when your body wants to move.

I masked for years. I thought if I tried hard enough, I could blend in. But masking always comes at a cost—it’s exhausting.

🌿 The Moment Everything Clicked

For years, I felt deep down that something was “off” about how my brain worked. But I didn’t get my diagnosis until I was 31—and how it happened still makes me smile.

My cousin had once said, “You should ask a psychiatrist.” I brushed it off for months. Then one day, during a tour with a couple, the girlfriend asked me out of nowhere, “Are you neurodivergent?”

I laughed and said, “I don’t even know what that means.”

She smiled and said, “You should look into it. I don’t usually chat this much, but there’s something about you.” Then she said something that made my whole brain freeze:

“Do you ever make a pot of tea or boil water… and immediately forget about it?”

My jaw dropped. I said, “OMG, yes.”

That small moment, that random conversation, was the lightbulb I needed. She was placed on my path for a reason—and that push led me straight to my diagnosis.

🔮 From Crystals to Clarity

At that time, my faith was tangled up in confusion. I believed in spirituality, but I still dabbled in crystals and tarot readings. I told myself, “This person was sent by the universe,” but looking back now, I know God was guiding me even then.

That moment—just like so many others—wasn’t coincidence. It was grace.

So much has changed since then, and I’m truly grateful for it all.

💔 When God Shows You the Mirror

Lately, God’s message to me has been clear but challenging: forgiveness.

I’ve had a few situations come up—with friends, at work—and they’ve stirred something inside me. Anyone close to me knows that when I love, I love hard. I show up, I listen, I support. Sometimes to a fault.

But I’m learning boundaries. I can love deeply and stand firm in truth. I can support people without lying to protect their comfort. That honesty isn’t for everyone—and that’s okay.

I think what God has been whispering lately is this:

“Forgive. Let go. Stop trying to control what only I can heal.”

My ego has been loud, but my spirit knows the truth. Healing doesn’t mean being “fixed.” It means responding differently than you used to—and I know I do.

⚡When My Body Remembers Before My Mind Does

Still, it scares me sometimes.

Recently, I told my coworker that whenever I deal with confrontation, my body has this visceral reaction. My heart races. My hands tremble. My breath gets tight.

She’s noticed it too—how calm I seem on the outside. She’s even complimented me on how, when someone yells at me, I don’t react. My tone stays neutral, steady. But inside? My nervous system is on fire.

A few weeks ago, I had an incident during an event. A man was loitering near the retail area and started lighting something—either a blunt or a cigarette. I went outside, trying to stay composed, and politely told him he couldn’t smoke there.

He got aggressive. Started cussing at me. And my hands began to shake again. I wanted to yell, to defend myself—but I didn’t. I stayed calm. I knew eyes were on me: residents, corporate, staff. And reacting wouldn’t serve me.

That moment showed me how much I’ve changed.

🌺 Growth You Can’t Always See

A few years ago, I would’ve handled that differently. But therapy—and faith—have transformed me.

Only a few close people know how far I’ve come. But honestly? What matters most is that I know.

My walk with God has been slow, imperfect, and sometimes unfocused. But He’s guided every step. He’s teaching me that strength isn’t loud—it’s quiet. It’s shaking but still standing. It’s showing up even when your voice trembles.

✨ A Psalm That Speaks to This Season

Psalm 34:18 (Tehillim ל״ד:י״ח)

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

This verse reminds me that God doesn’t wait for me to be “fixed.” He meets me in the shaking, the doubt, and the mess. He doesn’t need my perfection—just my presence.

🕊️ Closing Reflection

I’m learning that healing isn’t about becoming flawless; it’s about being faithful. It’s about letting God into the places I’ve tried to control and realizing that I was never meant to carry it all alone.

And maybe that’s the beauty of it all—

Even when my faith feels unfocused,

God’s focus on me never wavers.

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The Body I Live In, The Grace I’m Learning

Before you read, I want to note that this post touches on body dysmorphia and eating struggles. If this is something sensitive for you, please take care and step away if needed.

Hey guys, welcome back! 💛

I took a few days off — it was hard not to. I’m still beyond stressed about my father and juggling some last-minute travel anxiety. But I’m here. I’m showing up. Because even when it’s hard, I have to keep showing up — for myself, for God, and for this space.

💭 What Is Body Dysmorphia, Really?

The definition says it’s a mental health condition where a person spends a lot of time worrying about perceived flaws in their appearance.

But what does that actually mean?

For me, it meant trying on six different outfits this morning and feeling like nothing fit — nothing looked right, nothing felt right. I got to my office and still couldn’t shake the frustration.

👗 Growing Up in a World That Praised Thinness

I grew up in the late 90s and early 2000s — a time when women were scrutinized for having curves. Being “thin” wasn’t just preferred, it was demanded.

I remember watching my mom constantly try to lose weight. When she wore shapewear to sweat more, she’d look at me and say, “The C-section I had with you ruined my body.”

And I remember that guilt settling in, even as a child. I thought, I ruined my mom. I felt like she resented me — and that feeling has lingered over the years.

I was always “the thick one” between my sister and me.

My mom would put me on diets, make me drink terrible juices, and tell me I needed to “control my mouth.” I learned to eat in shame… or in hiding.

🌸 Breaking the Cycle

Now, as a mother myself, that memory hits differently. After my own C-section, I see how hard it is to accept the changes in your body.

But with Ali, I try to change that story. When she says she feels bloated or doesn’t like something about herself, I remind her that her body is beautiful — just as it is.

Sometimes I’ll even catch myself joking about my own body, and she’ll say, “Mommy, your body is perfect.” And she’s right. My body carried her — and that’s something sacred.

That’s a full-circle moment. The generational trauma ends with me.

It made me think of Psalm 139:13-14 “ For you created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise You because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

🪞 When Confidence Feels Like Work

As a society, I think we all struggle with body image — especially those of us who grew up before “body positivity” became a movement.

For millennials, it’s confusing. We were raised to believe that being “thick” or “curvy” meant we weren’t enough — and now, suddenly, it’s celebrated. But internally, some of us are still at war with that little voice that tells us we’re too much, or not enough.

The other day, I ordered new clothes as a little birthday treat — cute work pants from Fashion Nova and Shein. My Shein order got lost (which was frustrating), and the first Fashion Nova pair didn’t fit. Two others did.

But instead of being happy, I was irritated.

When I showed Jhosef the outfits, he said, “Model them a little — have fun with it!” And I replied, “I don’t feel good right now.” That moment carried over into today.

I was listening to “The Daily Dose” this morning while getting ready for work, but I couldn’t shake that feeling of failure. I’ve always believed that when you look good, you feel good — but when you struggle with body dysmorphia, it doesn’t work that way.

Depression doesn’t care if your closet is full. You’ll still open it and feel like there’s nothing to wear.

💫 Healing Out Loud

I share this not to label myself or to declare illness over me — but because awareness is healing. Accepting my struggles helps me recognize when others might be silently fighting too.

If someone reading this recognizes themselves in my words, maybe it’s the nudge they need to reach out for help.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned through this, it’s that even while I struggle, I can still show compassion. I can still show grace.

Because healing isn’t about perfection — it’s about transformation.

And I’m still transforming — spiritually, emotionally, and physically.

🙏 Prayer for Today

Thank You for the body You gave me — one that carries me, holds me, and continues to heal. Help me to see myself the way You see me — whole, loved, and enough. Teach me to break free from comparison and self-criticism, and instead, to walk in gratitude and grace. Remind me that my reflection is not my worth, and that every curve, every scar, and every stretch mark tells a story You’ve already redeemed. Amen.

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Feeling 12 Again While Living as an Adult

Trigger Warning: This post discusses family illness, emotional struggles, and grief. Please take care while reading.

Sorry guys, I have to shift today’s blog. Sometimes life hits you with ten things at once, and I always feel like when it rains… it pours. Balancing the weight of parenting my parents while healing myself, all while walking with God, feels both sacred and achingly lonely.

I got a text from my sister today — she’s worried about our father. At work, I have my imaginary “fix-it-all” helmet on. My job is to problem-solve all day: for my staff, my residents, and my home. But the dynamic with my parents is completely different.

She tells me about Dad’s declining health. I immediately call her. I put on my best “listening/fix-it-all” hat and just hear her out. I offer solutions. She cries and says, “I don’t want to carry the guilt of speaking badly to them or raising my voice, because when they pass, I don’t want that image lingering as the last one.” Her words still weigh heavily on me.

We hang up, and in a split second, I feel like a child again — fearing for my life. I’m still at work, so I slip into an empty unit and cry. I call Jhosef and tell him what’s going on.

I say, “Man, I’m an adult, and yet I can feel 12 years old again, terrified I’ll be an orphan if I lose my mom or dad.” I also tell him, “I feel guilty because I’ve set so many boundaries with my mother, and in doing so, I’ve distanced myself from my dad too.” Even as I write this, it hurts.

I play so many roles. At work, I have to be strong, calm, level-headed — and especially not emotional. As women in any industry, we constantly face the misconception that emotion equals weakness. But being emotional does not make us weak. Not dealing with our emotions does. People break eventually — often men, ironically.

And as a mom, I am the doctor, the therapist, the good cop, the bad cop — but in the end, I have to be the adult. I realize now, as a parent myself, that my parents were doing the best they could with my sister and me. And that has taught me to be a better parent to Ali, even through all the trauma. I am learning — and will keep learning — how to show up for her in ways my parents couldn’t for me.

This isn’t about blame. I forgive them. And maybe… it’s time I forgive myself too.

I feel scared. Life includes death, loss, and lessons. Before hanging up with Jhosef, I said, “I fear I am my mother, because of how she behaves toward my dad. That I am no better.” He reminded me, “No, you’re different. Instead of dwelling and not changing, you’re in therapy. You’ve improved so much.”

I’m terrified, but instead of blaming God, I am asking God. I am talking to God. However, I still feel guilty, especially because of the boundaries I’ve set. But I’ll continue to pray for my parents. I will continue to light Shabbat candles for them as if they were home with me. Because they’ll always be home with me.

Lord, the only thing I can ask now is forgiveness. I cannot change the past, but I can move forward. Please give me strength. I do not declare illness over them. Please have your hand over my family in this time. Thank you for hearing me.

I know this post is different from anything I’ve written before, but I feel it was exactly what my heart needed today.

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I Was Never Meant to Be Big Here

I listened to a video recently by Dr. Jacob Ambrose where he said that women with ADHD are among the most stressed human beings. He also mentioned that we’re wired to take up space, yet we live in a world that constantly tells us to be small.

That hit me hard.

Growing up, I was always told I was “too much.” Too loud. Too sensitive. Too emotional. My parents often told me to stop being selfish, to stop making everything about me — that my problems weren’t even real. And I believed them. For years, I minimized my feelings. I told myself that my problems weren’t that bad, that other people had it worse.

But deep down, I felt unseen. Unheard. Invalidated.

It wasn’t until I became close to my cousin that I started to understand what healthy relationships — romantic or not — could look like. My cousin and I have come such a long way, and through that bond, I realized how much I had been accepting less than what I deserved.

🌧️ Familiar Pain

For so long, I found comfort in what was familiar — even when it was painful. I stayed in relationships where my feelings were brushed off or made to feel small, because that’s what I grew up with. I didn’t recognize it as toxic; I recognized it as home.

My turning point came after a long and exhausting relationship with someone I’ll call Chad. It was a mutually toxic relationship — one of those where you lose yourself little by little without realizing it. I finally reached a point where I had to go no contact, even threatening to involve law enforcement when things escalated.

That moment was both terrifying and freeing. It was the first time I truly chose myself.

🌱 Rediscovering Myself

Around that time, I decided to do something bold — I shaved my head. Not for attention, but because I wanted to strip away everything I thought made me worthy or beautiful. I wanted to love me, without the distractions, without the hair, without the external validation.

It was hard. Society tells women to fit into this tiny mold:

Be successful, but not too successful.

Be beautiful, but not too bold.

Be confident, but not too loud.

And as a woman with ADHD, I felt like I didn’t fit any of those molds. I took up space. I was loud. I was emotional. I was a lot.

But then I received my ADHD diagnosis, and suddenly, so much made sense. I wasn’t broken — I was just wired differently. And learning that helped me start treating myself with compassion instead of criticism.

🙏🏻 Letting Go and Letting God

By February 2023, I told my therapist that I was done chasing — relationships, validation, all of it. I told God that I was going to trust Him to lead me where I needed to be.

I prayed:

“God, when the time is right, bring me the person You’ve chosen for me. Help me become the woman I’m meant to be.”I started journaling again. I started writing prayers. I cleaned up my social media and stopped posting things that didn’t reflect who I was becoming. I told my friends not to post anything of me that didn’t align with that growth. I was showing God that I was ready for better.

💕 Answered (and Tested) Prayers

And then came Jhosef.

He wasn’t the answer to my prayer — he was the practice of it.

Our relationship isn’t perfect, but we pray together, we talk through things, and we keep God at the center. That’s something I’d never experienced before.

The other week, he said something like, “Well, as my wife, you’ll have to…” and I immediately went, “Uhhh, y el anillo?” — “And the ring?” We laughed, but he looked at me seriously and said, “You can’t rush God’s plan. You don’t know what’s in the works.”

It wasn’t a proposal, but in that moment, I felt peace. I felt God. It was like He was whispering, See? I heard you.

I had prayed for a partner who was patient, kind, loving, affectionate, and faithful. And even though no one is perfect, Jhosef embodies so much of what I’d asked for. I still struggle sometimes — I still feel like I’m “a lot” to love. But when I shared that with him recently, he looked at me and said, “You’re not a burden. I’m sorry you’ve been made to feel that way.”

That moment stayed with me.

✨ The Lesson

When you ask God for something, He doesn’t just hand it to you wrapped in a bow. He gives you the opportunity to grow into it.

When I ask for patience, He gives me moments that test it. When I pray for love, He gives me someone to practice it with. And when I ask for grace, He gives me mirrors — not to shame me, but to show me how far I’ve come.

So even when Jhosef and I face challenges, I remind myself — this is God saying, Here’s the relationship you prayed for. Now show me what you’ve learned.

🌤️ Full Circle

I used to think I was never meant to be “big” in this world — that I was too loud, too sensitive, too much.

But maybe I was never meant to be big here.

Maybe I was meant to be big in Him.

Because God didn’t design me to shrink.

He designed me to grow — to take up space, to love deeply, to live boldly, and to walk faithfully, even when I feel small.

And that’s where I’ve found peace.

Not in being less, but in being whole.

💭 If you’ve ever felt like you’re “too much,” I hope this reminds you that you were never meant to fit into a smaller version of yourself. God didn’t make you to shrink — He made you to shine.

Lord, I thank You for the gift of love in my life.

I ask You to bless and protect this relationship from envy, negativity, and any forces that seek to harm it. Help us grow together in patience, kindness, and faith. May our hearts remain open, our spirits connected, and our love grounded in You. Amen.

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Still Showing Up (Even When My Brain Won’t)

My anxiety lately has been such a whirlwind. I’m trying to play catch up, but there’s just so much going on. I’m traveling in a week, and I feel overwhelmed — excited, but also drained. The end of the month is usually stressful with work reports and paperwork, and now I’m adding packing and travel prep to the mix. I keep trying to show up, but honestly, my mind is in distress.

I started this blog on Monday. It’s now Tuesday. I almost told myself to wait — to give people a chance to rest — but today, God spoke to me. I know that might sound odd, and I can almost hear the eye rolls. Still, His message came through this amazing podcast my prayer bestie shared with me. In Spanish, it’s called La Dosis Diaria (“The Daily Dose”) by William Arana.

Through it, God basically told me: Keep going. Keep writing. Don’t stop. It’s never too late. The episode talked about Abraham’s story — how he had to leave what was secure and familiar and walk where God sent him. That really hit me. I realized that I have to walk this path too. It’s scary and unfamiliar. I’m sharing my story publicly, and that’s different… but maybe not really. Maybe it’s just another step of faith.

I often psych myself out of things. I’ll feel so excited and motivated — and then, like a ton of bricks, it all stops. Suddenly, those little voices creep in: You’re not worthy. You’re not good enough. This is bad. But even if just one person can relate to any of this, then my work is done.

Yesterday, I had one of those moments. I called my boyfriend in a panic, anxious about bills piling up — especially since we’re traveling right before rent is due. It felt like everything was last minute. I’m so grateful for his patience. Sometimes, his own anxiety gets in the way, but yesterday he just said, “It’ll be okay. You’re not alone in this.”

My voice trembled when I said, “Yes, but Woori, the expenses… I don’t want to go to Orlando not being able to contribute.” He replied, “We’ll handle this. That won’t be the case. It’s okay that you feel this way, but you’re not alone, okay?”I sighed, “Okay. Sorry to bother you at work. I love you.”He said, “You never bother me. I’ll check in on you later.”

People who struggle with ADHD, PTSD, anxiety, or depression often need reassurance — but not always in the “tell me you love me” kind of way. It’s this internal battle between feeling like you’re a burden, when the reality is that carrying the burden alone gets heavier than lightening it through your loved ones. I’ve learned that how people show up for me is reassurance. When I can call you in a panic and you calmly walk me through breathing, or remind me of the 5-4-3-2-1 method, or just let me vent or cry — that’s love. That’s showing up.

And God? He always shows up.

I realize now that my constant need to control everything comes from my upbringing — from feeling like I always had to hover and protect those around me. But that’s not my job. That’s His. I used to feel alone, abandoned even, but God has always been with me.

He takes His time, but He always answers. Maybe not right away, but always right on time.

If you’re reading this and feel like you’re barely holding it together, please know — you’re not alone. God’s still writing your story, even when the pages feel messy. Keep showing up. Keep breathing. He’s not done with you yet. Lord, thank You for meeting me in my chaos. Thank You for the quiet reminders that I don’t have to have it all together to be loved by You. Help me to trust that showing up, just as I am, is enough.

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When My Mind Wanders, God Still Finds Me

Trigger Warning: This post discusses grief, depression, and self-harm.

Hi again, everyone!

I've been so antsy about this blog lately. I keep trying to get opinions from my loved ones on what I’ve created so far, but there’s this pressure I put on myself — this fear of rejection mixed with wanting to please everyone. I keep reminding myself that this is for me.

This space is my outlet. But I also hope it’s something someone else can find value in.

I stopped writing years ago because of a “friend” who, out of her own insecurities, told me I was talentless. I learned later in therapy that she was just projecting her own stuff onto me. But I let her words get to me, and I stopped writing — it felt like I let her win.

Well, joke’s on you, girl, because I’m here — and screw you! (Sorry, tangent.)

🪞Addressing the Elephant

In my last post, I mentioned that I had to face myself in therapy recently — and wow, was that hard. I kept trying to gaslight myself into believing I could “fix” things on my own.

When you struggle with depression or mental health issues, it feels like you’re lying in bed with 45-pound plates holding you down. And lately, life has felt heavy — between work, my relationship, friendships, and family.

It always feels like when it rains, it pours.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve found myself asking God:

|“Why is this all happening at once? What lesson am I missing, God? Please guide me because maybe I’m too dumb to understand the bigger picture here!”|

I remember telling my sister, “It feels like God is angry and punishing me.”

She said, “God doesn’t punish us — that’s the adversary trying to make you doubt yourself. Remember, around Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur our souls are cleansing themselves. It’s a time for a clean slate. You’ve walked this path alone, and you are fearless.”

It was nice to hear her say that about me. But honestly, the boost that pep talk gave me didn’t last long. Things just kept getting harder emotionally and mentally.

🏋️‍♀️ The Weight of October

October has always been a weird month for me — it’s my birthday month. And birthdays, ever since my aunt and grandmother passed, have been bittersweet.

I get this instant sadness, almost like I’m 12 years old again, reliving those losses.

For those who don’t know, in Jewish tradition, a girl’s 12th birthday marks her becoming a woman — a time of new responsibilities. But mine was marked by tragedy. Seven days before my 12th birthday, my grandmother (my father’s mother) passed away unexpectedly.

What should’ve been a celebration became a year no child should have to endure.

My Hebrew birthday landed in November, so my parents postponed the celebration. The Rabbi told my father to at least let me invite a few friends, and I did. It was small and sweet — until my uncle started sobbing mid-party, still deep in grief.

Even as I write this, I feel that familiar knot in my throat.

That’s when I think I started to blame God. It felt like He was punishing me. I felt unloved, forsaken — and I couldn’t understand why.

But now, as an adult, I can see how those experiences shaped me. They’ve made me a better mother. Being Ali’s mom has healed parts of my inner child — especially in how I show up for her.

🐛 The Year Everything Changed

Twelve was rough. Shortly after my grandmother’s passing, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. My parents became more devoted and pushed my sister and me to pray harder. My mom gave herself to God completely.

I, on the other hand, was angry. I couldn’t understand how God could do this to us.

I started to rebel. I was cruel to my mother, and I began to self-harm. My family wasn’t one that “felt.” We didn’t talk about emotions or express them openly. When I cried, I was told I was being selfish.

So I learned to numb myself. But self-harm made me feel like I could at least release something.

My mom survived, thank God. But exactly a year later, we lost my aunt — right before my 8th-grade graduation.

Another celebration turned into grief. Another reason to wonder if God was punishing me.

🦋 Growing Through the Grief

Birthdays are still hard, but I always try to make the best of them.

This year, my 34th, came with its own drama — friend issues, food poisoning, and miscommunication with my partner (like most couples have). I haven’t really celebrated it at all actually.

But instead of dwelling, I told myself: maybe God knew I needed rest. And while being sick sucked, my partner stayed home and took care of me. I spent the day with people I love. I turned a shitty (pun intended) situation into a better one.

His birthday was yesterday, and we didn’t celebrate big like we usually do — we’re going away soon — but I got us a great dinner. He said, “I’m grateful for simplicity.”

That stuck with me.

It made me reflect on how everything that’s happened — the grief, the anger, the lessons — has prepared me.

And while my mind still wanders to dark, familiar places (because it’s easier there, and familiar), God still finds me.

Every single time.