Emerging from the Chrysalis Was Never Meant to Be Gentle

Lately, I’ve felt completely overwhelmed. Like I’m stuck in a fog I can’t quite name.

There’s been this pressure building behind my eyes, And a quiet, desperate wish that someone—anyone—would just take over for a while. That maybe I could stop being “strong” for everyone else.

And then yesterday… I witnessed something awful. Something I can’t unsee.

But in the middle of that shock and sorrow, i caught a glimpse—just a flicker—Of the woman I used to be. Or maybe the one I was always meant to be.

And I realized…

I’ve drifted so far from her. This rage I’ve been carrying, This grief that swells in silence, It’s not weakness.

It’s my nervous system finally saying:

“I wasn’t made to carry this much alone.”

And I believe now—God was listening. Not with judgment. Not with disappointment. But with this fierce, tender kind of mercy that whispered:

“You’ve done enough. Let Me take what was never yours to hold.”

Even the anger I’ve felt—At the world, At the pain, Sometimes even at Him—

It wasn’t rebellion. It was me waking up. Coming out of survival mode. Starting to feel again.

This isn’t a punishment. This is a return.

To softness.

To surrender.

To the truth I keep forgetting:

I was never meant to be the source for everyone else. I was meant to be held too.

And now I can feel it—

Everything that was built on over-functioning, On people-pleasing, On abandoning myself just to cope— It’s all being shaken loose.

It hurts. It feels like grief. Like rage.

Like I’m coming apart. Like someone’s holding me in place,

And I’m fighting to get away—

But gently, firmly, they won’t let go. It’s like being pinned by love that refuses to let me escape the truth I’ve been avoiding.

And maybe that’s exactly what it is. Maybe this is what it looks like

When God brings someone close—

Not with sweet comfort,

But with a grip that won’t let me flee until everything false, everything heavy, Everything I thought I needed to survive Starts to fall away.

It feels like too much. Like being broken open so something deeper can finally breathe.

But I’m starting to see…

This isn’t punishment.

This is mercy.

Because maybe I needed to be still long enough To remember who I am underneath all this pain.

I’m not broken.

I’m not behind.

I’m being refined.

So I’m exhaling now. Letting go. Letting myself unravel a little.

Because I know—

When I’m ready to rise,

God will still be here. He never left. He’s just been clearing space For me to return.

⸻