Hey y’all,

If this is your first time reading, or even your first time coming across one of my blogs, I just want to say this upfront… I apologize, because it’s about to get real.

From the beginning, I’ve been open about the fact that I’m healing out loud. And what that really means is that the emotions I’m working through, the things I’m uncovering, the places God is touching in my heart… they don’t always come wrapped up neatly. Sometimes they come with tears, sometimes with silence, and sometimes like this—spilling out in real time.

What I’m feeling right now doesn’t just come from my recent breakup or going our separate ways. It goes deeper than that. It reaches back into a place I don’t often talk about… my divorce.

As I sit here writing, my eyes are full of tears. But these aren’t tears of pain the way they used to be. These tears feel different. They feel like release. Like something I’ve been holding onto for a long time is finally loosening its grip. There’s something about knowing that God has forgiven you, truly forgiven you, and still has a plan for your life… it softens something in your spirit. It reminds you that you’re still held, still seen, still chosen.

But I would be lying if I said that I haven’t wrestled with feeling like I failed Him.

That kind of thought… it does something to you. It sits heavy on your chest. It creeps into quiet moments. It makes you question your decisions, your worth, your obedience. And when that seed gets planted, it can grow if you don’t confront it with truth. Feeling like you failed God is a dark place. It’s not just emotional, it’s spiritual. And it’s hard to explain unless you’ve been there.

Marriage was always something I valued deeply. It was something I believed in, something I desired, something that was instilled in me from a young age. Like so many women, I had the vision—the love, the home, the family, the life that just made sense. And even now, I still believe in marriage. I am not an advocate for divorce.

But I’ve lived it.

And my decision to walk away wasn’t something I took lightly. It came from a place of enduring verbal and emotional abuse, from recognizing that what was happening behind closed doors was not healthy, not safe, and not what God intended for me or my children. Still, even with that truth, I struggled. Because sometimes you can do the right thing and still feel like you’ve failed.

What people didn’t see was the internal battle. The moments I sat in silence trying to process what I was experiencing. The prayers I whispered when I didn’t have the strength to say much at all. The way I showed up for others while quietly breaking within myself. I was wrestling with what I believed about marriage, what I believed about God, and where I fit in all of it.

And then there were my children.

At some point, everything became very clear. My daughter needs to know what love looks like, not just from me, but from a man who reflects the heart of the Father. My son needs to learn how to love, how to respect, how to lead with gentleness and strength. And what they were seeing… it wasn’t that. I couldn’t allow their understanding of love to be shaped by something broken.

So I made a choice. Not an easy one, not a painless one, but a necessary one.

People say time heals all wounds, but I don’t believe that. Time might soften things, it might create distance, but it doesn’t heal the deep places. Emotional wounds, spiritual wounds… those require something more. They require God. They require a relationship with Him, a surrender, a willingness to let Him into the places we try to hide.

He is the one who heals, who restores, who redeems. He’s the one who meets you in the middle of your mess and doesn’t turn away. And for me, overcoming what I went through had nothing to do with time passing. It had everything to do with God carrying me through it.

The hardest part was breaking free from the belief that I had failed Him. Because when that thought takes root, it can distort everything. But I’m learning, slowly but surely, that God is not looking at me through the lens of my past decisions. He’s looking at me with grace, with love, with purpose. He already knew my story before I ever lived it. Nothing about my life caught Him off guard.

And even now, I’m still in the process. I didn’t plan to share this today. I didn’t sit down with an outline or a strategy. This is just where my heart is. This is what God is pulling out of me in this moment. And I’m choosing to be obedient, even when it feels uncomfortable, even when it feels vulnerable.

I’m sharing this because I know I’m not the only one. I know there are women carrying silent battles, questioning their worth, wondering if they’ve disappointed God, trying to make sense of decisions they never thought they’d have to make. And if that’s you, I want you to know you’re not alone. I want you to know that God still sees you, still loves you, still has a plan for your life.

Even if you don’t fully know Him yet, even if your relationship with Him is still forming, I pray that something in these words draws you closer. Because there is a kind of healing that only comes from Him. A kind of peace that doesn’t make sense but somehow holds you together.

God has been so faithful to my heart, even in moments when I didn’t fully understand what I needed. And I’m choosing to trust Him with all of it. The past, the present, and whatever comes next.

I’m still healing. I’m still growing. I’m still learning.

And I’m doing it out loud.

So just keep me in your prayers. I’ll be praying for you too.