Tag: healing

Trust the Power Your Prayer Holds..

There is something dangerous about a woman who knows how to pray. Not the soft kind of prayer whispered out of habit, but the kind that shakes heaven and rattles hell. The kind of prayer that is born out of battles fought in silence, out of nights soaked in tears, out of faith that refused to die when everything else did. You see, when a woman of GOD opens her mouth, the universe listens, because she is not just speaking words, she is releasing power.

A pure heart does not mean she is weak. It means she is armed differently. Her strength does not come from shouting or showing off, it comes from her connection to something far greater. When she asks, it is not begging, it is commanding. Because she has been through enough storms to know that her voice in prayer carries weight. And when she speaks to GOD, He does not flinch. He moves. He shifts atmospheres. He rearranges what man said was impossible.

Never mistaken her softness for submission, she only bowed her head to pray, not to surrender. She knows exactly who she is and WHO stands behind her. And when a woman like that prays, things happen, mountains move, enemies tremble, blessings unfold like dominoes falling into divine alignment.

The world tries to tell her to be quiet, to settle, to doubt her worth, but she is not built for silence. Her faith is loud even when her lips are still. She has learnt that her prayer is her weapon, her peace, her power, her proof. Every “AMEEN” she whispers is an act of defiance against everything that ever tried to break her.

So yes, she is a woman of GOD, do not mistaken that for fragility. She is a warrior in heels, a storm in human form, a walking testimony of what happens when you trust the power your prayer holds. She is not out here begging for validation, she is out here manifesting divine will. And if you stand in her way, understand this, she does not fight you, she prays about you. And that is when you should start worrying.

Because when GOD hears her voice, He answers. Without hesitation. Without flinching. Without fail.

She is faith wrapped in fire. Grace sharpened into a sword. A woman of GOD and a force to be reckoned with.

Self-Love Will Not Give You Butterflies.. It Will Give You Wings..

They told us that love was supposed to make our hearts race.

That it was supposed to make us nervous, breathless, “giddy” the kind of dizzy that makes you forget who you are for a while.

Butterflies, they called it. The flutter of excitement before the fall. But nobody told us that sometimes those butterflies die once the fantasy fades, that they were never meant to carry the weight of real love, especially the kind you owe yourself. Because self-love does not flutter. It does not tremble. It does not leave you lightheaded, it makes you light-hearted.

Self-love does not give you butterflies .. It gives you wings. And that is the difference between temporary highs and permanent healing.

See, butterflies make you feel something for a moment. Wings make you become something for a lifetime.

Butterflies belong to infatuation, wings belong to transformation. Butterflies make your stomach dance.

Wings make your soul soar.

Self-love is not the soft hum of validation or the adrenaline rush of being seen, it is the silent, stubborn decision to stay even when no one else does.

It is the moment you stop asking, “Am I enough?” and start saying, “I am enough.”

It is messy. It is unglamorous. It is waking up one morning and realizing the only person who can save you .. IS YOU.

It is choosing to pour back into the same cup the world kept sipping from and left empty. People often chase butterflies, those fleeting feelings that make them feel alive for a second.

But wings???

Wings are built slowly, painfully, and beautifully through boundaries, through healing, through saying NO when you have been taught to always say YES.

Wings grow in seasons of silence and solitude. They grow when you choose growth over guilt, peace over pressure, and authenticity over approval.

Butterflies do not survive storms.

But wings?

Wings were made to fly through them.

Self-love does not look like fireworks, it looks like discipline. It is not a spa day, it is shadow work. It is calling yourself out and comforting yourself right after.

It is taking accountability for the pain you allowed and still having grace for the version of you who did not know better.

When you start truly loving yourself, you will stop chasing butterflies because you will realise they were never your destiny .. They were just distractions.

You will stop waiting to be chosen and start choosing yourself. You will stop begging for closure and start building peace. You will stop mistaking excitement for alignment.

Because butterflies cannot take you where wings can. Butterflies live for the moment, wings live for the journey.

And babe, once you grow wings .. You do not go back to crawling. You will start flying in directions they told you did not exist. You will rise above the noise, glide past the opinions, and finally see your worth from a higher view.

Not everyone will recognize you when you do, that is okay. You were never meant to stay grounded for their comfort. Self-love is not supposed to make you nervous.

It is supposed to make you free.

So no, self-love will not give you butterflies. It will give you something far more permanent, it will give you wings. And once you learn how to use them…

You will never crave the ground again. 🕊️

The Power of Presence..

There are certain things in life you cannot put a price on, presence being one of them. I have come to realize that showing up is not about fixing, proving, or saving. It is about being. Just being there, in the room, in the silence, in the storm, with your heart open and your spirit grounded enough to say, “You are not alone.”

See, we live in a world where people mistake presence for performance. They think comfort means giving advice, offering solutions, or filling the silence with clichés that sound like care but feel like distance. But presence, true, sacred, healing presence, requires none of that. It is wordless. It is the kind of love that sits next to pain and does not flinch. It is the kind of loyalty that does not demand spotlight or recognition.

Sometimes, presence is just holding someone’s hand while they fall apart. Sometimes it is sitting on the edge of their chaos, saying nothing, because words would only ruin the honesty of the moment. Sometimes it is answering the call at 2 a.m., not to talk, but to breathe together through the ache.

I used to think being there for people meant doing. I thought love needed effort, action, or noise to count. But this season taught me otherwise. It taught me that the loudest form of love is often silent. That sometimes, your energy says what your words never could. That healing often happens in shared stillness, not speeches.

And then .. I experienced it.

For the first time, someone was just there for me. No fixing, no advice, no “have faith” sermons, just presence. Their silence held me in ways words could not. I did not realise how powerful that was until I felt it. It is a rare kind of peace to be seen and not spoken over, to be understood without being explained.

Now I know .. Presence is everything.

It is a soul language that requires no translation.

It is the unseen medicine this world is starving for.

It is love, without agenda.

So, if you ever wonder what to do for someone who is hurting, do not overthink it. Do not rush to fill the air. Just show up. Be there. Let your soul do the talking. Because sometimes, the purest way to say “I care” is to simply stay.

“It Will Be What God Says”..

There came a point in my journey where I had to quietly, but firmly, distance myself from “it is what it is” people. You know the kind, those who take every setback, every disappointment, every heartbreak and simply shrug it off with defeat disguised as acceptance. But let us be real now, that phrase is not peace, it is surrender. It is the sound of giving up before the battle has even begun. And I am not built for surrender. I do not walk with a spirit of defeat. I walk with a spirit of faith.

Yes, life be lifing..

I will not deny that. Storms come. Bills pile up. People switch up. The weight of it all can sometimes feel unbearable. But here is the difference between me and the .. “it is what it is” .. crowd, I do not let life’s chaos define my destiny. I do not let what is happening around me dictate what GOD has already promised me.

When you say “it is what it is,” you are giving circumstances the final word. You are surrendering authority to a situation that was never meant to have power over you. But see, I know better now. I know my GOD has the last word, and when GOD speaks, everything else must bow.

That means I can look at a season of struggle and still say, “This is not the end, this is the setup.” I can stare at a closed door and whisper, “This is not rejection, this is redirection.” I can face the very thing someone else calls permanent and declare..

“No babe, that is temporary, because my GOD has already spoken.”

You see, I am not just an “it is what it is” woman. I am an “it will be what GOD says” woman. And that right there? That is a game changer. That means my battles are already won before I even step onto the battlefield. That means my struggles do not define me, GOD’s promises do. That means when the ground shakes and the walls tremble..

I do not crumble.. I praise.

Because faith does not wait for proof. Faith is the proof.

So when life tells me to give up, I remind it, who my LORD is. When fear whispers, “This is too much,” I whisper back, “Maybe for me, but not for my GOD.” When the enemy tries to convince me that I have reached the end of my story, I flip the page, because my AUTHOR does not write unfinished chapters.

I had to learn that protecting my faith meant protecting my space. I could not keep sitting at tables with people who glorify defeat and call it realism. I could not keep shrinking my hope just to make others comfortable in their doubt. I had to create distance, not out of pride, but out of preservation. Because peace is holy ground, and not everyone can stand where faith is still fighting.

I am done surrounding myself with people who settle for what is. I am called to walk with those who believe in what will be. I am drawn to souls who do not panic when the plan changes, because they trust that GOD’s purpose never does.

And you know what?

I have realised that every “NO” that broke me was really a “NOT YET” that built me. Every delay was divine. Every detour was direction. Every tear had purpose.

So, no.. I do not do “it is what it is.”

Not anymore.

Because my GOD is not finished with me yet.

Because my story is still being written.

Because my faith has outgrown my fear.

And as long as GOD is still speaking over my life, I will never lower my faith to match someone else’s doubt. I will stand tall, bold, and unshaken, anchored in grace, covered in mercy, and fueled by promises that cannot fail.

So let them say “it is what it is.”

I will keep saying..

IT WILL BE WHAT GOD SAYS..

Because that is not denial, that is destiny.

And I am walking straight into it, head held high with a heart full of faith, and oceans of trust in the ALL-KNOWING 🕊️

I Cannot Afford to Lose Me Again..

There is a kind of loss that does not involve death, but it kills you slowly anyway.

It is the loss of yourself.

The quiet kind.

The kind that happens piece by piece while you are too busy trying to be enough for everyone else.

I used to shrink myself to fit into spaces that did not deserve my light. I would silence my own voice to keep the peace, dim my own flame so no one felt uncomfortable standing next to me. I became whoever people needed.. The listener, the healer, the forgiver, the one who “understood.” Until one day I looked in the mirror and realized I did not recognize the woman staring back. Her eyes were tired. Her smile was rehearsed. Her soul felt like an empty room.

That is when it hit me.. I had abandoned myself.

Not suddenly, but slowly.

Every time I said “I am okay” when I was not.

Every time I put someone else’s comfort above my own truth.

Every time I convinced myself that peace meant silence, when really it was suppression.

Losing yourself does not happen with noise, it happens in the quiet moments where you stop fighting for you. And by the time you notice, you have become a stranger wearing your own skin.

Finding myself again was the most painful resurrection I have ever lived through.

There was no applause, no guidance, no map. Just me.. Raw, broken, and stripped of every identity I had built around other people’s expectations. I had to sit with the guilt of choosing myself. I had to grieve the versions of me that survived on crumbs of love. I had to forgive the girl who thought she had to earn her worth.

Healing was not pretty.

It was crying at 2 a.m. because I did not know who I was without pain.

It was saying “no” and shaking because I was terrified someone would leave.

It was deleting numbers that once felt like lifelines.

It was walking away from people I loved because they only loved me when I was small.

But every boundary I built brought me closer to peace.

Every tear I cried was a cleansing.

Every lonely night taught me how to hold my own hand again.

I found power in solitude, not the lonely kind, but the sacred kind.

The kind where silence becomes sanctuary.

The kind where you hear your own voice again and realize it had been begging to be heard.

And now, after everything, I have made myself a promise..

I cannot afford to lose me again.

Not for love.

Not for validation.

Not for belonging.

Because nothing is worth the price of self-betrayal.

I have learnt that the world will take everything from you if you let it, your softness, your fire, your identity, and then ask why you are empty. But the moment you decide to guard your peace, people will call it selfish. Let them. They do not know what it cost you to come back to yourself.

This time, I choose me, loudly, unapologetically, and without explanation.

Because I know what it feels like to disappear behind a smile.

I know what it costs to love everyone but yourself.

And I know that when you finally rebuild the woman you lost, you protect her differently.

So no, I cannot afford to lose me again.

Not when I fought through hell to find the parts I buried.

Not when I have turned my pain into poetry and my wounds into wisdom.

Not when I have learnt that peace is not the absence of chaos.. It is the presence of self.

What Alternative Career Paths Have I Considered or Am I Interested In?

What alternative career paths have you considered or are interested in?

Maybe my purpose was never meant to stay in one place, maybe it was meant to evolve with me.

I have always been the type of person who naturally leans toward helping people, the kind who listens, feels deeply, and somehow carries the weight of others without being asked. For a long time, I thought that was my calling, to be there for others, to guide, to counsel, to offer clarity in the chaos. It felt right… until life started testing the very strength I was using to hold everyone else together.

When anxiety, depression, and eventually a diagnosis of BPD, then Kahlers disease and the creeping up of that sly old cervical cancer, came into the picture, the path I once envisioned started to blur. You cannot pour from an empty cup, and at some point, I had to face that truth. I realized that to help others, I first needed to heal myself. You cannot be a lighthouse when your own light keeps flickering.

There is a humility in admitting that your dream version of helping others needs to shift shape. It is hard, because part of me still aches for that version of myself, the one who could listen endlessly, who had advice ready for every storm. But the older I get, the more I understand that sometimes the best advice you can give the world is to show what healing actually looks like. To model rest, self-awareness, and the courage to change direction when something no longer serves your peace.

But here is the thing about purpose, it evolves. Just because one road closes does not mean your story ends, sometimes it is just a divine redirection. Lately, I have found myself drawn to something completely new, teaching abroad. English has always been my comfort zone, my safe space, my first love, and maybe it is time I use that gift to step into a whole new world. The thought of teaching, traveling, and seeing life from a different corner of the globe excites me. It is unfamiliar, yes. It is intimidating, definitely. But it also feels like growth knocking on my door.

And maybe that is what I have been craving all along, growth that does not just look good on paper, but feels right in my soul. The idea of standing in a classroom somewhere far from home, sharing language, laughter, and lessons with students who see the world through completely different eyes, that thought lights a spark in me I have not felt in a long time.

Getting out of my shell and comfort zone will not be easy, I know that. I have lived in my own head long enough to know that fear does not vanish, it just becomes something you learn to move with. But maybe the most beautiful transformations come from doing the things that scare us the most. Maybe this new chapter is not about abandoning who I was, but about discovering who I could still become.

I am a starting to believe that purpose is not a fixed destination, it is a conversation between who you were and who you are still becoming. And right now, my heart is whispering, “Go. See. Try. Teach. Live.”

To the Woman I Was, Am, and Will Be..

To the woman I was. Thank you for surviving. For the nights you cried quietly so no one would hear, for the days you still showed up even when your soul was breaking in silence.

You carried pain you never asked for, wounds you did not deserve, and still found ways to smile when everything around you screamed collapse. You were the foundation, the raw, unfiltered beginning of everything I am now.

You did not fail, even when you thought you did. You endured. And that endurance became my strength. To the woman I am. I am so proud of you.

You learned to walk without seeking applause. You stopped begging people to understand your worth. You are softer, yes, but not weaker, you have learned the art of quiet power.

You hold yourself with the kind of grace that comes from being broken and rebuilt a thousand times.

You do not shrink anymore to make others comfortable. You are both the storm and the calm that follows. You have become the woman your younger self prayed to grow into, the one who does not chase peace anymore because she is peace.

And to the woman I will be. I cannot wait to meet you. The one who laughs without fear, who sleeps without carrying yesterday’s pain, who wakes up not out of habit but out of joy.

You are everything every version of me has been fighting for. You are the harvest of all this healing, the gentle breath after the storm, the woman who finally learned that peace is not found, it is built.

Every scar has brought me closer to you. Every heartbreak, every ending, every “I cannot do this anymore” moment, it all lead here. So to every version of me, thank you. You have made me proud of the woman I am, and hopeful for the woman I am becoming.

She did not just survive, she evolved. And that is the kind of pride no one can take from her.

The Pendulum Mind..

“Healing is not linear, it is the silent war between the parts of you that want to hold on and the parts that are begging to let go.”

Nobody really talks about how exhausting it is when your own mind becomes a battlefield. One minute, you are convincing yourself that it is fine, that you are strong, unshaken, and above it all. You whisper, “It is okay, I do not care, I will be fine.” And for a fleeting second, you almost believe it. Then suddenly, the calm cracks, and that quiet voice inside breaks into a whisper that feels like a scream.. “I really do not know how much more of this I can take.”

It is the emotional whiplash that drains the life out of you. You swing between strength and surrender, numbness and ache, hope and despair, all in the same breath. You start to feel like two people living in the same body, one fighting to survive, and one silently slipping under. That is the part no one warns you about. The constant mental tug-of-war between wanting peace and wanting to be heard, between pretending you are fine and admitting you are falling apart.

Sometimes you wake up feeling okay. You manage to smile, breathe, even laugh. You start to believe that maybe you are healing. Then something small happens, a memory, a word, an empty moment and boom suddenly you are spiralling again, wondering if healing is just another word for hiding pain. You are tired, not just physically, but soul-deep tired. Because carrying the weight of being your own comfort, your own motivator, your own rescuer, it is not easy.

And it is lonelier than people think. Because how do you explain to someone that you are both okay and not okay at the same time? That your smile does not mean peace, it means survival. That you laugh not because you are healed, but because you need a break from the heaviness pressing on your chest. You learn to wear your calm like armour, soft eyes, steady tone, but inside you are negotiating with your own thoughts just to stay upright.

Still, beneath all the exhaustion, there is this stubborn spark that refuses to die out. That quiet, trembling part of you that whispers, “You have made it through every time before.” That is the part that keeps you going when nothing makes sense. That is the part that drags you out of bed when your soul wants to shut down. That is the heartbeat of every broken warrior, the refusal to quit even when every part of you is tired of trying.

Healing does not look like peace. It looks like chaos that eventually learns how to breathe. It looks like crying on the bathroom floor, then getting up to wash your face. It looks like repeating, “I am okay,” until one day you actually are. It looks like surviving one more night and calling that victory.

You are not weak for wavering between strength and surrender. You are human, for feeling deeply, for still showing up, for surviving battles no one else sees. The pendulum of your mind is not proof of your failure, it is proof of your fight.

So on the days when your mind cannot make up its mind, when the weight feels unbearable and the silence is too loud, remember this.. You have been here before and you made it out. You will make it out again.