It took me years to understand why this journey had me walk alone.
I'm independent. Strong. Capable of living life on my own, raising my kids, carrying all the things. But underneath all that capability, my heart was yearning — to be heard, to be seen, to be filled by a friend who would simply walk beside me.
For most of my adult life, I have walked alone. Very quietly. My husband's prayer over me, for years, has been that I would find a friend who would listen and see me the way he sees me. Because I put people first — quality time is my deepest love language — and still, the friend I longed for rarely came.
I raised my children in the middle of all my grief. They walked with me through the stories and the tears, all of us trying to make sense of loss that didn't make sense. They carried me through seasons when I didn't even recognize myself. And to them, I am grateful beyond words.
For a long time, carrying the cross of grief and loneliness was simply what I knew best.
But somewhere along the way, I had to look at a truth I'd been running from: no one was coming to save me. And slowly — so slowly — I began to understand that I had been given something not many are handed. That loneliness, the very thing I grieved, could become a blessing in disguise.
Because in all that quiet, I learned to hear from God. To trust Him. To believe He was with me even when no one else was. I learned to talk to Him daily, to lean the whole weight of myself against Him. And in that solitude, something changed.
I know I talk a lot about the pain of grief and loneliness. But I need you to hear where it led me: it became my resting place. I am at peace with myself now. With who I am. I love who I've become. I love my thoughts, my passions, my quietness. I truly believe I have been given a gift.
Here's what I know now, and what I want to hand to you: every one of us will face grief. Death. Loneliness. It's coming for all of us, eventually. And to have walked through it early — to have found goodness and hope on the other side, and to be able to sit at a table and share that with another woman who's hurting — that is a gift from God. My pain was not wasted. It became the very thing I have to offer.
So if you are walking alone right now, please hear me:
You are not being punished. You are being prepared.
The solitude that feels like it's breaking you may be the very place you finally meet yourself — and finally meet God. You are stronger than you know. You are more capable than grief has let you believe. And you are not as alone as you feel, because He has never once left your side.
You can do this. I promise you. I'm living proof.
Come as you are. There's a place for you here. 🤍
If the loneliness ever feels too heavy to carry, please reach out — to someone you trust, or a counselor who can walk closely with you. You don't have to do the hardest days alone.