While getting ready for work this morning, the Holy Spirit whispered something to me:
“Listen to your Bible plan on your way out.”
Now listen- I’ve missed a few days. (Okay, more than a few.) But when the prompting came twice, I knew it wasn’t just a passing thought. It was an instruction. So, I plugged in my phone, hit play, and the topic that came up?
Whew. I wasn’t ready. I thought I’d be easing into the day, not having an emotional drive to work.
Listen, if you were on the road with me this morning, you probably caught a glimpse of someone frowning, smiling, almost crying, then nodding like she just got a full therapy session in traffic. That was me. I wear my thoughts on my face. Always have.
As I listened, my mind did what it often does—it traveled back to that breakup.
The one that used to sting if I poked at it too long, now I use it to teach my little sisters...
The one where he chose… well, something else over me.
I won’t rehash all the details because, truthfully, I’ve talked about it enough. This isn’t about him.
This is about what rejection felt like in that season:
Betrayal.
Anger.
Sadness.
Confusion.
Self-doubt.
Silence in rooms that used to echo with laughter.
The quiet ache when everyone else moved on and I still had questions.
I remember asking God, “Is this what rejection feels like?”
And He didn’t sugarcoat it. The answer was yes.
That was rejection. Raw. Loud. Uninvited. Real.
But this plan reminded me that healing isn’t just about moving on.
It’s about letting go.
It’s about tearing down walls you built to protect yourself but that now keep love out.
It’s about forgiving, yes, even when the apology never came.
I used to think letting go meant I lost. That if I moved forward, I was saying the pain didn’t matter.
But the truth?
Letting go is powerful.
It’s a declaration that what happened won’t define the rest of your story.
And guess what else I realised?
I was holding people hostage to a pain they didn’t cause.
I met kind people but assumed the worst. I heard compliments but dismissed them. I was afraid to feel too deeply, so I built walls and called it “guarding my heart.” But what I was really doing… was hiding behind fear.
The plan said something that stuck with me:
You must be willing to tear down the walls to let healing in.
And healing isn’t just about being whole for yourself—it’s about being whole enough to know love again, trust again, and be seen again.
So here I am, 1,100 days later.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m open.
I’m not just healing—I’m healed enough to meet people again.
To ask questions. To share parts of myself.
To laugh without fear of it all crumbling again.
I’m learning how to set boundaries—healthy, God-led ones—not as defense mechanisms, but as containers for peace.
I’m learning to say “this is who I am now,” without apologising for needing time to become her.
You don’t have to rush.
You don’t have to date because people say you should.
But when God says it’s time to open your heart again—trust Him.
You’re not starting over. You’re starting from wisdom.
Lord, thank You for the time it took to get here.
Thank You for walking with me through rejection, heartbreak, and restoration.
Today, I surrender the walls I’ve built.
Give me the courage to be seen, known, and loved again.
Help me to trust You as I open my heart to new connections.
Let my healing not just be for me, but a light to others who are trying to move forward too.
Amen.
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