There are seasons in life when survival isn’t dramatic or loud — it’s quiet, gritty, and lived out one uncertain day at a time. These past few weeks have been exactly that for me.
I’ve been moved from place to place, uprooted more than once, trying to find stability in situations that felt anything but stable. I’ve had to leave places I thought would be temporary stepping stones, only to find myself starting over again somewhere new. I’ve lost a job I worked hard for, not because of my own choices, but because of someone else’s actions — actions that should never come from a person in a position meant to protect, guide, and support women rebuilding their lives.
And yet… here I am. Still standing. Still moving. Still choosing hope.
Survival, I’m learning, isn’t just about getting through the day. It’s about holding onto yourself when everything around you feels shaky. It’s about waking up in the morning with fear in your chest but deciding to take the next step anyway. It’s about trusting that God sees what you can’t, and that He’s working in places you don’t understand yet.
There were moments these past weeks when I felt completely let down — by people, by circumstances, by the very systems that are supposed to help. But even in the middle of all that, something in me refused to give up. Maybe it’s faith. Maybe it’s stubborn hope. Maybe it’s the quiet belief that God doesn’t bring us this far just to abandon us in the middle.
I don’t have everything figured out. I’m still trying to get settled. I’m still searching for work. I’m still rebuilding what was knocked down. But I’m also still breathing. Still praying. Still trusting that the same God who carried me through every other storm will carry me through this one too.
Survival isn’t pretty. It’s not polished. It’s not the part of the story we like to talk about. But it’s real. And sometimes it’s the very place where faith grows the strongest.
I don’t know exactly where my life is going right now. But I know Who is leading me. And that is enough for today.