Post:
I didn’t break all at once.
It came in waves.
A phone call.
A funeral.
An empty seat at the table.
And then the silence that followed.
I remember lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d ever feel like myself again.
Grief wrapped around me like a heavy blanket I couldn’t shake off.
There were days I couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
Couldn’t function.
But here’s what I learned in the middle of the breakdown:
🌿 Sometimes survival is as sacred as a miracle.
Sometimes, just breathing is the bravest thing you’ll do all day.
We live in a world that tells us to “be strong,” “keep going,” and “stay busy.”
But grief doesn’t follow schedules.
Pain doesn’t punch a clock.
And breakdowns are not signs of weakness—they are signals that your heart has carried more than it should alone.
I cried in the shower.
I prayed with clenched fists.
I screamed into the air, “God, are You still here?”
And somehow, in the stillness…
In the very moment I thought I was losing myself…
I felt the peace of God begin to whisper:
“You don’t have to fix this today.
Just breathe. I’m here.
And I’m not leaving.”
💧 This post is for the woman in the middle of the breakdown.
You’re not broken beyond repair.
You’re not faithless because you’re falling apart.
You’re being held—even when it doesn’t feel like it.
If you’ve felt overwhelmed lately—if it’s hard to even breathe—please know you’re not alone.
God is near to the brokenhearted.
And I’m still breathing with you.
Tag someone who needs this post.
Let them know it’s okay to pause, to fall apart, to breathe through the storm.
