The Picture-Perfect Illusion

Freedom, whether physical or mental, is a gift—LT

The Dream Come True

I remember the day I bought my first house. Seven months after moving away, it was finally closing day. I remember pulling into the driveway and running into my new neighbor’s mom.

I was never one to show much excitement, and to be completely honest, I felt kind of unsettled—almost worried even. Though those feelings were there, I still felt a sense of accomplishment… satisfaction, as I stood there talking to her. I was proud of myself deep down, even if I wouldn’t allow myself to show it. I had worked so hard, saved, and sacrificed to get there.

This wasn’t just any house—this was my home—that I bought! I did that! I remembered being a kid, riding around with my mom and siblings through nice neighborhoods, admiring the big houses.

My young eyes were full of hope, imagining that one day, we could live in a house like that. Later, in high school, my social studies teacher, Coach Booth, taught us about the value of real estate:

“If you’re gonna buy a house, buy a brick house… it’s gonna last you longer,” he’d say.

Growing up, I watched my mom struggle, taking care of five kids. I hated that we struggled, and I always told myself, “This wouldn’t be my life when I got older.”

My whole existence after 2018, up until that moment, was about breaking generational cycles. I had reclaimed that declaration I made as a little girl. I did it. I had finally arrived—or so I thought.

I had a good job making great money. I had the house. My kids were finally coming to live with me after their dad and I agreed they would stay behind until I found a place to stay and got settled. I would tell them often:

“This is only temporary. I’m providing a better life for us.”

I was tired of singing the same old tune—always having to tell them “no” or “I don’t have it.” All I cared about was making a better life for us.

The Picture-Perfect Illusion

It was all coming together now. Everything was supposed to be perfect.

But it didn’t take long for that picture-perfect illusion I was piecing together to start falling apart. My great job didn’t see me as useful anymore. They never let me go, but they cut my hours, and money started to dry up.

Instead of leaving, I stayed—hoping my hours would pick back up, thinking things would get better. But they never did. My pride kept me from reaching out for help, and I slipped further behind on my mortgage.

I ignored all of God’s warning signs, thinking I could figure it out on my own. But threats of foreclosure showed up in my mailbox, and the panic set in.

Grasping at Control

“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” —Proverbs 16:18 (KJV)

Desperation has a way of clouding your judgment—making something that may not be the best advice sound good. I grabbed onto the first solution I heard because I was hellbent on keeping my house.

I just couldn’t let it go. All the long hours I put into that house, the tears that no one saw… months of hard work and dedication to make my dream a reality. I thought I was breaking generational cycles. But everything I was working for was slipping away, and I couldn’t look like a failure.

I was too ashamed, too afraid, and too embarrassed of being judged. I was willing to trade my peace just to save a house I had no real peace about to begin with—just to save face.

“What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” —Matthew 16:26 (NIV)

The Sacrifice

That pride I once had turned into embarrassment. As I walked into the cold lawyer’s office, with tears streaming down my face, all I could think was:

“How did I get here? I can’t believe I’m filing bankruptcy.”

I felt like such a failure. I had worked so hard, and it was all crashing down around me. But I was still too proud to admit to anyone how bad things were.

So, I made another heart-wrenching decision—I sent my kids back to their dad. I told myself it was so they could be stable while I figured things out. But deep down, it felt like proof that I couldn’t provide for them.

That’s when I decided to go to trucking school to get my CDL—a surefire way to make more money. I was focused on fixing my situation, not understanding the emotional impact it would have on my sons.

Even though I felt like I was doing the right thing, trying to provide for them meant sacrificing more time away from them.

Losing Myself in Shame

I was desperate to prove anyone wrong who thought I had made a mistake by moving. I needed to prove I wasn’t a failure. So I buried my struggle behind forced smiles and silence.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was choosing money over my sons, money over my peace, and money over trusting God. Pride and the need to be in control wouldn’t allow me to let God in.

When my children’s father remarried, I could have curled up and died—not because he was remarrying, but because it felt like I was being replaced as a mother.

I was jealous, and I started questioning myself:

Am I a bad mother? Do my kids love her more than me? Is it better for them if they have her in their life? Who even am I anymore?

I became consumed with guilt, overly apologetic to my kids, trying to be the agreeable co-parent. But honestly, trying to go above and beyond just made me feel worse.

But Then, Truth Broke Through

December 2024—God began to show me that even in my mess, even in my mistakes, He never left me.

I used to think that surrendering to God meant my problems would disappear. But He showed me that surrendering doesn’t mean avoiding suffering—it means having His strength to endure it.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” —Psalm 34:18 (NIV)

I wasn’t failing—I was being refined. He was using the very thing I was ashamed of to teach me humility, to strip me of my pride, and to draw me closer to Him.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” —Romans 8:28 (NIV)

I’m not going to pretend I have it all together, because I don’t. I’m very much still going through the process, but the difference now is that I give all my worries to God.

“Do not be anxious about anything, in everything by supplication and prayer with thanksgiving, make your request be made known and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” —Philippians 4:6-7 (ESV)

No More Hiding

This journey isn’t about me being perfect. This journey is about me being honest—with myself, with others, and most importantly, with God.

I’m still learning, I’m still healing, but now I’m doing it His way.

Reflection:

Looking back, I’ve realized something powerful—when you love something so much that you’ll go to any length just to keep it, it has become an idol in your life.

“You shall have no other gods before me.” —Exodus 20:3 (NIV)

Everything I was doing was rooted in pride and selfishness. I lost sight of what was most important. When it’s all said and done, my children are what’s important to me. Whether they’re here with me or not.

A Message to You:

If you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt ashamed of your struggles—if you’ve ever hidden behind pride or felt too far gone to turn back to God—I want you to know you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I’m still walking through it. But there’s hope even in the mess.

God isn’t waiting for you to have it all together; He’s waiting for you to invite Him into the broken pieces. You don’t have to pretend to be strong—real strength is found in surrender. 

So let go of the shame. Let go of the pride. And know that He is near, ready to walk with you, heal you, and bring peace that doesn’t even make sense in the midst of your storm.

A Prayer For You to Keep

Lord, we come to You, honest and humbled, asking for your forgiveness for letting pride keep us hiding and shame keep us silent.

Lord, sometimes pride makes us pretend we’re fine, and shame tells us we’re not enough. But we need You. Remind us that You are near to the brokenhearted, that Your strength is made perfect in our weakness, and that Your love is greater than our fear.

Help us let go of the need to prove ourselves. Teach us to be honest—with You, with others, and with ourselves. Let Your peace, which surpasses all understanding, guard our heart and mind.

And please, Lord, take my story—no matter how messy—and use it for Your glory. Show me that nothing in my life is too broken for You to heal. Thank You for never giving up on us.

In your Holy name, Jesus,

Amen.

If this post resonated with you, I’d love to hear your story. You can always stay anonymous, this is a safe space and judgment free zone.

Remember healing is a journey, not a destination and you’re not walking this healing journey alone.

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