Smooth Seas Dont Make Skilled Sailors ⛵️

My subconscious mind. My fears. My life. My hopes. My diary.

[forthetimesyoujournal]

I felt the shift.

Not in words —but in weight.

Not in sight —but in silence.

The room didn’t change, the air did. Thick where it used to be light. Still, but not peaceful. Quiet, but not welcoming.

It didn’t come in a confrontation. It came in the coldness. In the pause that lingered. In the warmth that quietly faded.

I used to have a place here. Not just a task, but a chair pulled out. A space where my questions were welcomed —my voice didn’t echo, but was held.

But somewhere along the way, the room rearranged itself. The light shifted. And slowly, I faded into the wallpaper. Present but no longer perceived. I wasn’t the pillar of the place, but I was part of the foundation. Trusted to lean on, to ask, to listen.

There was once a lantern in this space. Steady, warm, quietly leading. Not towering, but close. Not loud, but kind. And I followed its glow. I trusted its rhythm. I found rest in its flicker. That lantern feels far or maybe dimmed. Perhaps it just doesn’t shine when I am around.

And so, I sit in the same room, but not the same way. Not as a welcome light, but as a quiet shadow. The lantern now scans the horizon, but I’ve become part of the static. Just another hum in the distance it no longer tunes in to. One more obligation. One more inconvenience.

I had opened a window, allowing access to the inside —the wiring, the wear. The lantern illuminated the framework. Decorated the foundation —embellishing the groundwork of the contractor. But now? You’ve dimmed the lights, drawn the curtains. And I’m left in a room that still looks familiar, but no longer feels recognizable. Similar to moved furnishings or furniture left behind. It's the quiet emptiness where trust once lived.

Prayers and Apologies.

Yet, like furniture shifted without anyone noticing. I now sense like I'm becoming furniture myself. I’ve walked the halls of memory, replaying every moment— each word spoken, every silence that once held peace, but now echoes like a shadow.

And still furniture, useful— but, disregarded.

I don’t need words to know. Your flame dimming says enough. No explanations necessary. The shift has already testified. I’ve always lived with this sensitivity. Not as weakness— but as quiet wisdom. From a young age, rooms rearrange themselves. Instantly, the air changes. Furnishings may still be there, but the welcome has left the room.

I will stay in the room. Furniture, maybe, but determined to complete the race faithfully as the contractor sought fit for that room. I have not moved much. Quiet. Present. Reliable. I hold things together —the contractor put me in the exact location, indeed.

One day, the light dimmed in that lantern, though. The room rearranged itself. The chair was still there, but it is no longer a safe place. And maybe that wasn’t the intent, perhaps the lantern is worn down. But intent doesn’t erase impact.

I will not beg to stay embraced by a lantern that’s turned dim. Nor will I shrink to fit a corner I once helped hold up. I remain —nonetheless the furniture, still faithful. But I’ve moved my heart out of this room. In this, I must say goodbye. Not in bitterness —but in obedience.

[forthetimesyoujournal]

One thing I’ve realized today? It’s really not that deep.

Seriously, y’all really need to breathe. Relax. Let go. It really isn’t that deep. Everything doesn’t need to be a scene, a discussion, or a paragraph-long explanation.

You don’t want to come over anymore? Okay.

You don’t want to include me in the group chat, the plans, the changes, the big news? Cool.

You need a “PowerPoint presentation” just to communicate with me? Pookie, that’s fine too.

Because truthfully, I’m not mad. I’m not bitter. I’m not pressed. I’m just over it. I'm done obsessing over silly things, so I’m not anymore. I’m letting go and allowing God to be God. Ecclesiastes 3:1 tells us, “To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven.” NKJV

This is my “don’t force it” season.

My “God, if it’s not for me, remove it gently or not, I’m good either way” season.

My “thank You for the closed doors, Lord” season.

So, in the kindest, most respectful, most healed-girl way possible… I really, truly, honestly do not care. I know that sounds harsh, but I don’t. I don’t care if I’m not invited. I don’t care if I’m being “weird” by not wanting to do the “norm”. I don’t care what you think about me. “I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and indeed, all is vanity and grasping for the wind.” Ecclesiastes 1:14 (NKJV). I don’t say this in a “secretly crying inside” way. Or in a “trying to prove a point” way. Just in a “that doesn’t hold power over me anymore” way.

I’m not chasing vibes.

I’m not convincing anyone of my worth or feelings.

I’m not explaining myself in 13 different ways.

I’m not auditioning for a seat in rooms I didn’t ask to be in.

So if you want to come around, by all means, please do. If you don’t, then don’t. If you need me, I’m here always. If you don’t, I'm still going to be fine.

“Better a handful with quietness than both hands full, together with toil and grasping for the wind.” Ecclesiastes 4:6 (NKJV). Because at the end of the day? It’s truly not that deep. You will forget about this moment and so will I. It won’t matter a week down the road, or a year, or 10 years. So I’m not going to let this consume my Joy. God’s got me. Peace is expensive, and I finally learned how to protect mine.

So Lord, thank you for the detours.

Thank you for the unanswered texts, the last-minute cancellations, the “oh, I forgot to tell you.” And the “I meant to have you change that.”Thank you for the places I thought I belonged but didn’t. For the people I thought I needed in my life, but don’t.

You’ve been pruning my circle while protecting my peace. You’ve been pulling me closer while pulling things away. And though it stings, sometimes. I see it now. This is mercy, not punishment. This is clarity, not rejection.

I will continue to let them think what they want. Let them go where they need. Let them live without including me. Because I will not beg to be chosen by a person. I will not break myself to fit what You’ve outgrown in me.

For I am a woman of quiet strength.

Not loud to prove a point,

but still enough to hear You.

Let my “I don’t care” not come from pride but from peace. Not from ego, but from healing. Not from bitterness, but from freedom.

I don’t want to carry what You’ve asked me to release. I don’t want to chase what You’ve already walked me past.

So here I am, unclenched.

Unbothered.

Unbound.

Because it’s not that deep.

Not when You’ve called me higher.

Not when You’ve shown me who I am.

Not when You’ve been this faithful.

That I am forever grateful ♥️

[forthetimesyoujournal]

One year ago, Jesus placed it on my heart to share my testimony.

; Jesus.

A fitting testimony for May—Mental Health Awareness Month.

The funny thing is, I didn’t even know this last year.

I wish I could put into words what was brought out through this testimony words, but honestly, no matter how I try to describe it, I could never fully grasp it. These words brought forth obedience, submission, heartfelt gratitude, deliverance, hope, love, peace, and more.

So where does one even begin? I assume at the beginning of a never-ending fountain of grace.

My story starts with a semicolon.

A pause.

A moment to remember the rooting process.

A moment to reflect on what He brought me through.

A moment to rest in His presence.

In English writing, a semicolon is commonly used when a brief interval in a sentence connects two related thoughts. It’s a pause to let the reader know there is more to the story. In layman’s terms, it links two closely related independent clauses. The sentence could have ended but it continued.

A reasonable explanation. Yet, it’s more than just grammar in this story. It represents the continuation of a story that could have ended. It depicts suicide awareness and prevention. It displays that life continued even when Satan thought he had you. A moment when life could have ended, but the choice was made to keep going. You see, the semicolon represents that a story doesn’t have to end, it can continue with Jesus.

With all this said:

Hi, I’m Marsha.

I am 1 in 5

I wear no shame.

Yet you won’t see me flaunt this as a badge or a bondage.

Yes, I am 1 in 5.

But God didn’t let this be my end.

But God didn’t let this be my story.

You see, I was and some days, I still am—weak, But in my weakness, I am strong.

“And He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

— 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NKJV)

I was made an overcomer through the blood of Jesus Christ.

“Yet in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”

— Romans 8:37 (NKJV)

Moreover, If He did it for me, He will do it for you!

“For the testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.”

— Revelation 19:10 (NKJV)

My testimony is a prophetic invitation for others to receive the same breakthrough. What Jesus has done in one life, He can and will do again.

Let me take a moment to glorify what God has done for me. Jesus is the Author of this story, my story.

We are all presented with the ability and opportunity to choose: life or death, doubt or faith, truth or lies, fears or reality. The choice is yours.

“I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore choose life, that both you and your descendants may live.”

— Deuteronomy 30:19 (NKJV)

The choice to continue our stories even during our darkest moments. The pause and Jesus stepping in is my testimony.

As I sat there one night, scrolling through my nightly memories, as I often do, I came across old TikTok videos I had saved from 2020.

It often saddens me when I watch them, because I can see the sadness in her eyes, my old self. I can see the emptiness, the longing to be loved, the search for something more, and the unmistakable cry for help. But no one offered asylum.

I had saved a video that said:

“When I talk about death, understand I don’t mean of me. There is someone else occupying this body, and I don’t know how to rid their existence without them taking me too. I do not want to die. I can find beauty in almost everything I meet. I could gaze at a dull sky for hours and wait until the moon takes place. I know just how bright she can be. I could find a field full of weeds and dance in it like they were hydrangeas because nobody ever believes that dandelions aren’t flowers. So when I say I want to die, investigate the hesitation. Take a moment to know that it is not me speaking, and promise me you will search for me. She is lost in this flesh somewhere.”

Even then, in my darkest time, I paused.

“When I say I want to die, investigate the hesitation. Take a moment to know it’s not me speaking. Promise me you will search for me.” My soul was pausing to cry out for help.

The whole time, I was sad.

I mean, so miserable I wanted to die.

I had it planned out, and I was ready to do it. Yet I kept hesitating, uncertain of who would find that lost little girl, but holding on to the idea that someone was searching.

You see, even when I didn’t know Jesus, even when I was furthest from Him, my soul was still crying out to Him. My innermost self knew Him because He knew me.

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you; Before you were born I sanctified you;

I ordained you a prophet to the nations.”

— Jeremiah 1:5 (NKJV)

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by your name;

You are Mine.”

— Isaiah 43:1 (NKJV)

The more my soul cried out for Him, the more I know He heard me. I know that today, by the grace of God, I am alive. He saved me from my very self until I could see Him beside me.

“The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, And saves such as have a contrite spirit.”

— Psalm 34:18 (NKJV)

As I cried out, telling the air:

“Although this body and mind are telling me I want to die, I don’t want to die. I am lost in this flesh and don’t know what to do!”

He was there.

He kept me.

He found His one lost sheep.

Man, God is good.

“Our soul waits for the Lord;

He is our help and our shield.”

— Psalm 33:20 (NKJV)

Even in my darkest moments, my soul was waiting for the Lord, pursuing Him, because even though I didn’t know it, He was the answer to my despair.

Now when I reflect, I can’t help but thank Him. I have nothing but gratitude.

I am weak, but my God is stronger than depression or any anxiety diagnosis.

I am more than what society tells me I am.

I am not bound by diagnosis limitations.

My diagnosis will not be my badge of honor.

My disease may have been part of my story, but it is not my story.

It makes me grateful for each day but more than that, for the mercy and grace of God.

What a God, what a God!

I have more to my story. God has more for my future.

I am living proof of the power and testament of the blood of Jesus Christ, the power of salvation. I was so lost in the world. I sought everything and anything. seeking validation, love, and joy. For a long time, I was ashamed of what I had done and didn’t want to speak about it. But Jesus brought me back to life from the brink of death.

“Likewise you also, reckon yourselves to be dead indeed to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

— Romans 6:11 (NKJV)

Now until my last breath, I will proudly say:

I know the Author and you can know Him too.

Take a pause. Your story does not have to end. Jesus is the Author. He quite literally saved my life. He found His little lost, roaming sheep. He brought me from the depths of darkness into the light.

He gave me joy unspeakable and unwavering hope.

I am proof of His miracles.

I should be dead.

I had it planned.

I could have done it.

But God.

Your story doesn’t have to end.

Instead; Jesus.

[forthetimesyoujournal]

Tonight I am holding a letter burning ceremony.

I am releasing all hurt. 😔

Releasing all pain.

Releasing all shame.

Releasing all doubt.

Releasing all anger.

Tonight I am releasing the hold you have over me.

The Word tells us “And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.”

‭‭Ephesians‬ ‭4‬:‭32‬ ‭NKJV‬‬

I didn’t even know the hold you had over me. The pain you caused. The way you made me feel. The doubt I felt. The fear. The pain. the amount of anxiety over such a little detail.

But Tonight.

I refuse to let you have control anymore.

You are a HUMAN.

You are just a mere PERSON.

You are not a GOD.

You are NOT MY GOD.

I refuse to allow you to break my trust with others! You don’t have that power. You won’t!

[faith-avenue]

With GOD silence is not absence.

[resqectable]

“Rejection doesn’t mean you aren’t good enough. It means the other person didn’t recognise what you have to offer.”

— Unknown

[thoughtkick]

“When someone is going through a storm, your silent presence is more powerful than a million, empty words.”

— Thema Davis

[surqrised]

“In my opinion, the best thing you can do is to find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you … That’s the kind of person that’s worth sticking with.”

— Juno

[remanence-of-love]

[perfeqt]

“I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.”

— Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

[resqectable]

“Be confused, it’s where you begin to learn new things. Be broken, it’s where you begin to heal. Be frustrated, it’s where you start to make more authentic decisions. Be sad, because if we are brave enough we can hear our heart’s wisdom through it. Be whatever you are right now. No more hiding. You are worthy, always.”

— S.C. Lourie

[thespiritualencourager]

“This is what the LORD says— “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.””

‭‭— Isaiah‬ ‭43:16, 18-19‬ ‭(NIV‬‬)

“Always remember that your present situation is not your final destination. Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations. The best is yet to come.”

—Zig Ziglar

[perfeqt]

“That’s what people do who love you. They put their arms around you and love you when you’re not so lovable.”

— Deb Caletti

[thespilledquotes]

“you are still learning. you are still changing. you are still growing. breathe. you will find your way.”

— Unknown

[forthetimesyoujournal]

Someone asked me today, "What does it mean to have a healthy lifestyle of prayer?" To be honest, I was very intrigued by the question becaus

[thespiritualencourager]

🔴 Take your hands off

“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!”

‭‭— Psalm‬ ‭46:10‬ ‭(NKJV‬‬)

The Hebrew word translated “be still” actually means, “take your hands off.” God is saying to us, “Take your hands off, and let Me be God in your life.” So often we want to manipulate and control. We talk about those who are “hands on” people.

In the Christian life, God uses our hands. He used Noah’s hands to build the ark. He used David’s hands to kill a giant. He used the apostles’ hands to feed 5000 people. But sometimes only God’s hand can do the job. Sometimes our hands get in the way because we are manipulating, plotting or scheming.

A friend of mine used to remind me, “Faith is living without scheming.” Whenever I discover myself pushing and prodding, God says to me, “Take your hands off. Be still, and know that I am God.” The difference is simply this— If we play God in our lives, everything is going to fall apart. But if we let Him truly be God in our lives, He will be exalted. He will be with us and He will get the job done.

Are you facing a problem or a challenge today? Are you wondering what you will do? Give it to the Lord. A time will come when He will say, “Alright, I will use your hands.” But until then, keep your hands off. Know that He is God. He does not expect us to do what only He can do. We can roll the stone away from the tomb of Lazarus, but only He can raise the dead. We can hand out the bread, but only He can multiply it. Let Him be God in your life.

—Warren W. Wiersbe

[irisgmii]

“Are poets not just fools with fancy words?” - malakai azer

“tell me you hate me, and i’ll still count every heartbeat, every freckle, every shiver of your body, if only you say it with a smile. I may be a monster but if you cut me, i’ll bleed. and if you break my heart pae, you’ll break me.”

“maybe you really are a poet”,

“or just a fool for you.”