4. When the Storm Hits

We’re taking a brief pause on the career-crisis saga I was going to post next because, well… life has been life-ing. Hard. Some deeply personal things have happened—things I’m not going to share publicly—and they’ve honestly taken up most of my emotional bandwidth. That’s a big part (but not all) of why I haven’t posted in a while.

The other part? Exhaustion. The kind that no nap or iced latte can fix.

Needless to say, none of this has been part of the secret recipe to feeling witty or charming, so… apologies if you came here for comic relief. This post is coming from a different space. A quieter one.

This current season, which I’ve unofficially titled “a series of unfortunate events,” has forced me to slow down and zoom out. It’s reminded me (again) that there’s more to life than worrying about careers, timelines, and whether I’m making the “right” decisions. I used to roll my eyes at phrases like “life is about the moments,” but… turns out, it really is. It’s about relationships. About presence. About seeing God in the smallest, most difficult things.

And for a while, I misunderstood what it meant to “see God.” I thought it was about getting divine instructions: “Which path should I take?” “What do You want me to do?” “Who should I become?” But now I’m learning it’s more about seeing Him in this moment—even when it hurts. Even when things feel wrong, unfair, or incomplete. God didn’t mess up. This is not a detour in the plan—it is the plan. I don’t need to decode it. I don’t need to fix it. I just need to breathe, and let Him keep working.

That said, this season has pulled something uncomfortable to the surface. A pattern I’ve noticed—especially in my relationship. I often seek validation. I overthink what I say. I try to be the version of myself that I think will be most loved. And when someone I love is hurting, I instantly feel the need to fix it. To step in. To carry it. To be the pillar. But when that kind of help isn’t needed, or when there’s distance or silence, I spiral. My anxiety spikes. I panic. Did I do too much? Not enough? Why don’t they need me? Am I not their “person”? And then it hits me—I’m making it about me. Again. So I stop. But then I don’t know what to do next. Until now.

I’m not God. I can’t be what only He can be for someone else. End of discussion.

Sometimes, my only job is to be available. Present. Patient. To offer peace instead of performance. And if my offer isn’t taken, that doesn’t mean I failed. It just means it wasn’t needed in that form or in that moment.

That’s hard for me. Like, deep-core-wound hard. But it’s also freeing. Because when I stop striving to be someone else’s savior, I finally get to just be… me.

God has a purpose for me in every stage. With every person. And it’s not always going to be a grand, glowing moment. Sometimes, it’s just a hug. A sentence. A small act of presence. And if more is required—He’ll call me. Calmly. Clearly. I don’t need to force it. I don’t need to read between the silences. I don’t need to rehearse my next move. I just need to trust.

Because peace doesn’t come from knowing the plan. It comes from knowing the One who has the plan. And today, that’s enough for me. And I hope, in some way, it’s enough for you now too—if it wasn’t before.