Chapter One: Before the Break
I didn’t know I was breaking.
That’s the thing about it—it rarely announces itself.
I was still showing up. Still praying. Still smiling when people asked how I was doing. I knew how to sound faithful. I knew how to look strong. I knew the right words to say when life felt heavy.
What I didn’t know was that I was surviving, not living.
Somewhere between being the woman everyone needed me to be and the woman I was trying to convince myself I still was, something cracked. Quietly. Invisibly.
Faith was supposed to feel like peace. That’s what I’d been taught. But mine felt like work—like holding my breath underwater and calling it trust.
I prayed, but my prayers felt scripted. Rehearsed. Safe. I didn’t ask God the real questions because I wasn’t sure He could handle them—or maybe because I wasn’t sure I could handle the answers.
I believed in God. I just didn’t know where He was when my life stopped making sense.
And so I kept going.
Until going wasn’t an option anymore.
That’s when the breaking began.