Healing has looked a lot like this for me: Protesting the very things I prayed for. Sometimes we shrink when life starts getting better because surviving chaos taught us how to expect less. I spent years acting like I didn’t need good things. Like wanting restoration was too much. Like b

There was a season I thought my story was too damaged to become anything meaningful. Too many mistakes. Too much loss. Too much rebuilding. But healing has a way of turning what looked ruined into something redeemed. Holding these pages still feels surreal because every chapter was w

Day 12 of Hot Mess, Holy Ground hit different today. I've said "never again" more times than I can count. And every single time — He kept meeting me there. Not applauding it. Not pretending it was fine. Just standing in the middle of my "again" like it wasn't the end. B

I used to call it “needing closure.” What I really wanted was one more conversation… one more emotional loop… one more chance to feel important in an ending that was already over. Turns out healing isn’t always dramatic. Sometimes it’s just not hitting send. And honestly? “Just check

Day 7 hit me hard. I used to think grace had a limit. Like eventually God would look at the mess, the relapse, the spiral, the same old prayer again and say, “Yeah… we’re done here.” But grace disagreed. Not quietly. Not politely. Loudly. Grace does not shatter when you relapse. It d

I spent years thinking God only showed up after people got their lives together. After the addiction. After the breakdown. After the mess. After the shame. But recovery taught me something different. Jesus has a habit of showing up right in the middle of the dumpster fire like: “Move o

I used to think rock bottom would look dramatic. Turns out, sometimes it looks like scrolling at 2:13 a.m. trying to distract yourself from the mess you made. The scariest part wasn’t the chaos. It was how comfortable I had gotten in it. Day 10 of Hot Mess, Holy Ground. #hotmessholy

I used to pray like I was filing a complaint instead of surrendering. Trying to explain to God why my timing made more sense. Why I deserved one more chance. Why “my way” would somehow work this time. Meanwhile addiction had already been giving me a masterclass in where “my way” leads. R

Day 6 hit me in the throat a little. I tried to drown the faith planted in me as a kid. Turns out it swims. Annoyingly well. Six months sober and I’m realizing God was never as far away as I pretended He was. He was just floating back up every time I ran out of excuses. I cannonballed