Today, I’m not coming to you polished. I’m not coming to you as the “big girl.” I’m not coming as the mature one, the responsible one, the strong one.

I’m coming tired.

Real tired.

I’m tired of always being the one who holds it together.

Tired of putting my feelings on the back burner for the comfort of others.

Tired of being emotionally aware enough for everybody in the room.

These past four months have been months of pruning. And if you’ve ever been in a pruning season, you know it’s not cute. It’s not glamorous. It’s not Instagram-pretty.

Pruning takes courage.

I’ve been praying, “God, heal my whole heart.” But what I didn’t fully grasp is that healing a whole heart means examining every nook and cranny. Every hidden corner. Every buried feeling. Every unspoken truth I tucked away because I was trying to be mature.

And today… I released.

I told someone exactly how I felt.

Not to pressure.

Not to manipulate.

Not to force an outcome.

But to free myself.

I didn’t even realize how much weight I had been carrying until I put it down. Years of holding it in. Years of being careful. Years of choosing silence because I thought that was strength.

But silence can become self-abandonment.

When I spoke my truth, I didn’t even have the capacity to go deep into conversation. He may not have had the capacity either. And that’s okay. Sometimes maturity isn’t about having all the answers in the moment. Sometimes it’s about being grown enough to say, “This is how I feel,” and letting that be enough.

The moment I released it, my body responded.

Tears. Uncontrollable tears.

Not dramatic.

Not forced.

Just flowing.

It felt like baptism.

Not the kind in front of a congregation.

The private kind.

The sacred kind.

The “me and God in this moment” kind.

It felt like my soul was finally exhaling.

What died today was silence.

What died today was the version of me that swallowed her feelings to keep peace.

What died today was the belief that being the “big girl” meant never needing to be held.

And what’s being reborn?

A woman who tells the truth.

A woman who doesn’t betray herself to be loved.

A woman who can be mature and emotionally honest at the same time.

There is something powerful about releasing weight you’ve carried for years. Your body literally feels lighter. Your chest feels open. Even the tears feel cleansing instead of crushing.

And here’s the beautiful part: whatever comes of that conversation… that’s just what it is.

That’s surrender.

I did my part. I was honest. The rest is not mine to control.

The Bible says in Book of Job 8:7, “Though your beginning was small, yet your latter will be very great.” And I believe that wholeheartedly.

But I’m starting to understand something deeper: the “latter” becomes greater when you do the work. When you prune. When you stop hiding. When you allow God to heal the places you’ve been protecting.

Greater doesn’t just happen.

Greater is prepared for.

And I’m preparing.

If you’re in a pruning season right now, let me tell you this: you are not falling apart. You are shedding armor. And armor is heavy.

It’s okay to be tired.

It’s okay to cry.

It’s okay to admit that you’ve been strong for too long.

Healing your whole heart requires honesty.

And honesty is freedom.

Today, I shedded some major weight.

Today, I freed myself a little more.

Today, I stepped closer to what God has for me.

And whatever that is… I want to meet it with a healed heart.