This post isn’t wrapped in a bow. It’s not a testimony with a clean ending or a breakthrough tied to a Bible verse. This is just me… in real time… trying to hold on to God while feeling like I’m slipping.
And if that’s where you are too, I hope you know… you’re not alone.
Let’s talk about it
As Christians, we take this journey… some of us knowing what it will cost, others walking in blindly, not fully understanding what it truly means to follow Christ.
I knew what I was signing up for.
We hear the words “pick up your cross daily” and say yes, not realizing that cross doesn’t just mean hardship, it means dying.
Dying to your flesh.
Not your emotions, because feeling is human. But the behaviors that are driven by those emotions… the impulsive responses, the survival patterns, the self-protecting walls, the habits you’ve used to cope for years… those are the things we’re called to lay down.
And that? That’s a hard pill to swallow.
Because what do you do when dying to your flesh feels like losing yourself?
What do you do when you’ve already lost so much and now God is asking for the rest?
That’s where I am right now.
This walk, this faith, this healing journey, it’s not glamorous.
It’s not a highlight reel or a perfectly lit testimony post.
It’s me… hanging off the edge of a cliff, trying to hold on to faith with fingers that are slipping.
One by one.
Slipping.
And I’m tired.
Trying, but Tired
Not just tired like “I need a nap.”
I mean my soul is tired.
Tired of being strong. Tired of trying to have the right things to say. Tired of having to be encouraging all the time. Tired of feeling like I have to be “on” when internally, I feel like I’m falling apart.
Yes, I’ve tried to keep showing up.
Yes, I’ve tried to push through.
Yes, I’ve tried to stay positive, stay encouraging, stay grounded.
But lately… none of that feels honest anymore. It’s like I’m on autopilot.
Because right now, I don’t feel hopeful.
I feel like I’m losing.
I feel like I’m praying and nothing’s shifting.
I feel like I’m trying to trust, but my heart is worn thin.
I feel like I’m doing all the things, serving, believing, healing, fighting and I’m still coming up empty.
Spiritually. Mentally. Emotionally. I’ve just been off
I’ve just been showing up where I need to… work, conversations, even this blog, but if I can be transparent and keep it all the way honest… I haven’t felt okay in weeks.
It didn’t happen all at once.
It started back in May, a few weeks before my small group ended for the summer. I started to feel a shift subtle at first, but steady.
I started slipping away from the Word. I stopped praying and worshiping like I used to. My zeal for God started fading and I didn’t fight for it.
I just let it happen.
And that scares me, because I love God. I really do.
And maybe the most frustrating part is, I don’t know why.
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June 17th marked six months.
Six months of being on this walk.
Six months of staying committed to my healing, my growth, my faith.
Six months of choosing God every single day, even when I didn’t feel like it.
I was actually excited to hit that milestone. I’ve never been this consistent before in my walk with Him. Never stayed in it this long without completely falling off. So I planned to celebrate that moment.
But something shifted as I got closer to that mark.
It’s like the closer I got to it, the more the disconnect started creeping in.
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I feel like I’m crumbling on the inside.
I’ve been overwhelmed… financially, emotionally, spiritually.
I’ve felt lonely, lost, and low all at once.
My house is a mess most days. My thoughts are a mess. My faith feels shaky.
I’ve been laying in bed too much. Not creating like I was. Not praying like I should. Not reaching out like I need to.
And I’ve had moments where I’ve asked God:
“Are You still here? Can You even use me like this?”
Because how am I supposed to write about healing when I feel like I’m breaking?
How am I supposed to tell people to trust God when I’m quietly wrestling with doubt myself?
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Survival Mode on Repeat
I’ve been in survival mode for years.
Not weeks. Not months. Years.
It’s like I’ve been stuck in a loop, like one of those movies where the main character wakes up and it’s the same day all over again. Except in my version, it’s bills. It’s pain. It’s praying and still struggling. It’s breakthrough just barely out of reach. It’s doing everything I can to stay afloat while silently wondering, “When do I get to actually live?”
Survival mode has made me numb to the present.
It’s kept me so focused on what I have to fix, carry, or push through that I haven’t even had time to just be.
Not without worry. Not without a to-do list. Not without fear creeping up in the background.
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When Encouragement Feels Hollow
Sometimes I feel fake. Not because I’m lying. But because I encourage people when I’m barely encouraging myself.
I find myself telling people, “Just pray,” or “God got you,” when honestly… I haven’t even been praying like I used to. It’s like the words are just in me now… on autopilot.
They come out because they’ve become part of who I am.
But the intimacy behind them? It’s been missing. And I hate that. I hate feeling like I’m pouring from a place I haven’t refilled.
I hate feeling like I’m telling others to go to a God I’ve been avoiding out of guilt, shame, or exhaustion.
I’ve even thought about stopping the blog.
For the past week or two, I’ve seriously considered taking a break from writing. Not because I don’t care anymore, but because lately, it hasn’t felt genuine.
I feel like I have to have everything together just to show up here. Like people expect me to have all the deep words and encouragement, but I haven’t even been able to encourage myself.
And I know people tell you to “share from the middle,” but what if the middle is so confusing, you don’t even know what to say?
I started feeling like maybe I should just be quiet until I feel “better.”
Until I feel like I’m back in alignment.
Until I feel like I have something real to say again.
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Even church feels hard
That hurts to admit.
Because I know God led me to the church I’m at now. I’ve felt His hand on it since the beginning.
The way I connected with the community… the way the teaching hit my soul… the way I felt seen and covered… I know it was Him.
So the fact that the enemy is fighting me so hard to be disconnected from it tells me something.
I’m supposed to be there. That something is happening in me and through me, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.
But the truth? It’s been hard to get up and fight lately.
That passion I used to have for showing up, for serving, for just being in the room… it’s been fading.
And I hate that.
Because I know what it feels like to be on fire for God.
And I miss it.
But here’s the other side of that honesty…
Holding On with Tired Hands
Even though I feel far from God right now… I haven’t stopped wanting Him.
I haven’t stopped needing Him.
I haven’t stopped believing… I’m just tired.
It’s like part of me still knows He’s right here, even though I don’t feel it.
I don’t have the words like I used to. I don’t have the strength I used to.
But there’s this little part of me, this whisper in my soul, that keeps saying,
“Don’t let go.”
That’s where I’m at.
Not on fire, but not giving up.
Not overflowing, but not empty either.
Just somewhere in the middle, trying to find my way back.
And maybe that’s what faith looks like right now…
Not loud. Not perfect. Just… holding on.
This is the part of healing we don’t post about, but it’s real.
The part where you’re trying to do everything “right,” and it still feels wrong.
The part where you love God, but you’re questioning if He still sees you.
The part where your body is exhausted, your mind is loud, and your spirit feels distant.
And I’m not writing this with a pretty ending.
I don’t have the turnaround moment yet.
I’m still in it.
Still tired. Still slipping. Still trying.
Still here.
Not because I feel strong.
But because something in me refuses to completely let go…
even if I don’t have the strength to climb back up yet.
You’re not alone
If you’ve been showing up on the outside but falling apart on the inside…
If you’ve been trying to hold it together, smile through it, saying “I’m good” when you’re not…
If your faith feels shaky, your prayers feel quiet, and you’re not even sure what you believe some days, you’re not crazy, and you’re not alone.
You’re not weak because you’re tired.
You’re not fake because you’re struggling.
You’re not less spiritual because you don’t “feel God” right now.
It’s ok to say, “I still believe in God, but I’m just… drained.”
“I love Him, but I feel disconnected.”
“I’m still trying, but everything feels heavy.”
I’ve been there. I am there.
I don’t have a big revelation today. No scripture breakdown or bullet-point reminder.
Just this truth: I’m still here.
Still trying. Still choosing faith in the dark. Still whispering prayers I barely have the words for.
And if that’s all you can do too…
It’s enough.
This isn’t the end of your story.
You’re not too far gone.
Feel free to comment if you’re in this space too, I don’t mind walking through this part together.
A Rising Remnant 
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