Where I’ve Been, What I’ve Been Walking Through, and What’s Opening Again

 

Over the past nine months, I’ve been quiet.

Not because I didn’t care.

Not because I didn’t have anything to say.

 

But because I needed to step away…

to heal…and to grieve.

 

Losing my father changed something in me.

 

Even in a relationship that wasn’t perfect, there was a familiarity… a thread that had always been there. And when that thread was gone, it unraveled more than I expected.

 

It slowed me down in a way I didn’t choose…

but, looking back, I needed.

 

During this time, something else resurfaced.

 

Old patterns.

Old themes.

 

Things I hadn’t dealt with since my 20s. The most significant one… was anxiety.

 

And that surprised me.

 

Because for years, I had felt steady.

Grounded.

Capable.

 

And suddenly, I wasn’t.

 

It didn’t show up loudly.

It showed up quietly… and consistently.

 

In my body.

In my thoughts.

In small habits that told me something deeper was going on.

 

This is what I’ve come to understand:

 

Anxiety isn’t always something that needs to be “fixed.”

 

Sometimes… it’s something that needs to be met.

 

Listened to.

 

Handled differently.

 

For me, it often shows up through my hands.

 

• Picking.
• Fidgeting.
• Trying to fix small things.

 

And instead of fighting it… I’ve been learning to pay attention to it.

 

To let it be a signal.

 

The best way I can describe what’s been happening internally is this:

 

It’s like a ceiling fan.

 

When it’s running, it’s spinning because there’s a current feeding it.

 

When you turn the switch off…

it doesn’t stop immediately.

 

It slows… gradually.

 

That’s what this season has been.

 

A slowing.

 

Not instant peace.

Not a sudden shift.

 

But a gradual unwinding of things that have been in motion for a long time.

 

And in the middle of all of this… I’ve been meeting Jesus in a different way.

 

Not in big, polished moments.

 

But in very small, honest ones.

 

When I feel the anxiety rise…

when I catch myself trying to manage it on my own…

 

I stop.

 

I close my eyes.

 

And I picture Him walking toward me.

 

I hold my hands out and I give Him whatever I’m carrying.

 

Sometimes I can name it. Most of the time, I can’t.

 

So I don’t try to figure it out. I just hand it over as it is.

 

No explanation. No perfect words.

 

Just…

“Here.”

 

And something shifts.

 

Not always dramatically. But enough.

 

• Enough to remind me I’m not alone.
• Enough to soften what feels tight.
• Enough to take the next step.

 

I’m still in this process. I’m not on the other side of it. But I’m no longer resisting it the way I used to. I’m learning to live differently inside of it.

 

And slowly… very slowly… I feel something opening again.

 

A readiness.

A quiet nudge.

 

Not to go back to what was but to move forward in a new way.

 

Because of that, I’m beginning to open myself back up to working with others.

 

Gently.

Intentionally.

Without pressure.

 

I’m ready to start offering spiritual direction sessions for those who are looking for:

 

• clarity in the middle of confusion
• peace in the middle of overwhelm
• a way to discern what’s truly from God versus what’s coming from fear or noise

 

This won’t be about fixing you.

 

It will be about sitting together noticing what’s already there and learning how to trust God in the middle of your real life.

 

If you’ve been wondering where I’ve been this is it.

 

In the healing.

In the grieving.

In the returning.

 

And if you’re in a season that feels similar…

 

you’re not behind.

You’re not broken.

 

You might just be in the part where things are finally winding down so something new can begin.

 

If you’re looking for support, clarity, or someone to sit with you in this kind of space, you can book a private spiritual direction session. 

$150/60 min