📖 “Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”(Philippians 4:6-7 CSB)

When I first received my diagnosis in 2021, I never expected the biggest battles would happen inside of me.

Yes, the breathlessness was real. The fatigue was overwhelming. But the silent storm of emotions—the fear, the grief, the isolation—was where I often felt most lost. What started as medical terms and test results quickly turned into a flood of emotions I didn’t know how to name, much less manage.

The first year was the hardest. COVID was still a very real threat, and having a compromised immune system meant I lived in constant caution, constantly worried. My world narrowed. My spirit dimmed. And emotionally, I felt like I was being pulled under.

I missed the old me—the vibrant woman who used to travel, laugh freely, move effortlessly, and feel in control. That person felt like a ghost. And what took her place was someone afraid, exhausted, and unsure of who she was becoming.

At first, I tried to be strong in the way many of us are taught to be: by staying silent, smiling through it, and hiding my pain. I didn’t want to make others uncomfortable. I didn’t want to burden my husband. I cried only when no one was looking. And even then, I wiped my face quickly.

But by the fall of 2024, it all caught up to me.

I was breaking down in private, unraveling in ways I couldn’t explain. That’s when I knew I needed help—real, emotional help. I asked a trusted friend for a therapist recommendation, and reaching out became a holy act of surrender.

📚 Sneak Peek from Chapter 3:

“Working with my therapist has opened doors inside me that I didn’t even know were closed. She’s helped me uncover grief I hadn’t processed, fears I hadn’t named, and sadness I hadn’t allowed myself to feel… Through therapy, I’ve learned that being strong doesn’t mean being silent. It doesn’t mean hiding my pain. It means being honest. It means being whole. And it means trusting that God can meet me in both the breakdown and the breakthrough.”

💛 A Gentle Reminder for You

You can love God deeply and still feel overwhelmed.
You can be a woman of faith and still need help.
You can quote Scripture and also need a counselor.
God is in all of it.

We weren’t made to carry everything alone. Our emotions aren’t evidence of failure—they’re invitations to draw closer to the One who made us.

You are not weak for feeling deeply.
You are not faithless for having questions.
You are not alone in the valley.
Keep riding the waves—God is holding you steady.

With grace,
Stacy

🕊️ 🙏🏽 A Prayer for the One Who Feels Alone in Emotional Turmoil

Dear Heavenly Father,

I feel like no one sees the storm inside of me. I smile when I’m breaking. I stay quiet when I’m drowning. And I carry a weight that no one seems to notice.

Lord, You see what no one else does. You see the tears I don’t let fall. You hear the cries I never say out loud. You know the pain I’ve hidden in the corners of my heart.

I’m tired, God. Tired of pretending. Tired of being strong. I don’t want to keep locking away how I feel just to make others comfortable. But sometimes I don’t know how to let it out. I don’t know where to begin. So I begin with You.

Please come into the middle of my silence. Sit with me in the sorrow. Remind me that I don’t have to fix everything, feel okay, or have it all figured out to be loved by You. You are close to the brokenhearted—so stay close to me now.

Help me find a safe place to talk, to cry, to feel. Lead me to people who will listen without judgment, and love me in the unraveling. And help me be gentle with myself as I begin to heal. You are my refuge. You are my safe space. You are my peace. Even when I feel alone, I am never truly alone—because You are with me.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.