My worship is loud because my wounds were deep
There was a time when my worship was a whisper, almost silent, because I felt broken. Abandonment cut me deep, teenage trauma shaped how I saw myself, domestic violence bruised more than my body, and betrayal from people I trusted left cracks I thought would never seal. I walked through seasons when the world felt tight around my chest, when depression shouted louder than my thoughts, when anxiety showed up without an invitation, and when fear whispered like it owned me.
But here is the truth:
My wounds were deep, but God’s healing went deeper.
So now my worship is loud and unapologetic. Not because life is perfect, but because God pulled me out of pits I never thought I’d climb out of.
To the woman reading this who feels afraid to worship when everything is closing in, hear me. Worship is not for the perfect, it is for the wounded who refuse to stay buried. Your worship is not a performance, it is a lifeline. It is your way of saying, “God, I am still here, and I still believe You can carry me.”
Take a breath. Lift your voice. Let your worship break what your silence has been carrying.






























































































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