What I’m Currently Working Through (And How I'm Supporting Myself)

2025 has not gone the way I thought it would. And maybe that’s the biggest understatement of the year.

At the start of this year, I found out I was pregnant — a moment that should’ve been filled with joy and excitement. And while I am incredibly grateful for this life growing inside of me, my pregnancy has been rough. Like, really rough. From the very beginning, I was extremely sick — so sick that even the most basic things became impossible. Showering, brushing my hair, tidying up the house — all the simple routines that once brought me joy and grounded me — felt out of reach.

It wasn’t just my body that suffered, but my spirit too. I had to step back from so many things I love — self-care, my work, and most painfully, my independence.

I’ve always been someone who prides herself on being able to handle it all. Asking for help is not my default mode — I’m that “hyper-independent, I’ll do it myself” kind of person. But I couldn’t do it all this time. I had to lean on others, mainly my husband, who stepped up in every possible way — working, taking care of our daughter, running the household, and tending to me, all at once. Watching him carry all of that with love and strength made me so thankful... but also broke me in a way I didn’t expect. It’s hard needing help when you're used to being the one offering it.

Then, I lost my job. And without diving too deep into the legal mess of it all, let’s just say my rights were violated. I was discarded at the exact moment I needed support — and that hurt more than I can explain. I wasn’t just losing a paycheck; I was losing a piece of my identity, my routine, my purpose.

With all that unfolding, my husband and I made a huge decision — to move back to our home state. We wanted our unborn child to be close to family, and our daughter to reconnect with everyone she had been missing since we moved away. Logically, it made sense. Emotionally? It rocked me.

Because I didn’t leave this place without reason. And as soon as I came back, the weight of those reasons came flooding back — grief, resentment, old trauma. I’ve been riding emotional waves ever since — big, crashing, unpredictable waves that hit just when I think I’ve found solid ground.

But here’s the thing: I’m still standing.

I’m not out of the storm yet, but I am finding ways to stay afloat. My physical health has improved significantly in the third trimester, and that’s been a game-changer. It’s allowed me to take baby steps back to myself — doing a little more each day, finding moments of joy again, reminding myself that even if I don’t feel like me yet, I’m still in here somewhere.

There are days where my thoughts wander to dark places — where I feel like I’ve lost progress, where I question everything. But then I catch myself. I realize the old version of me wouldn’t have survived the last six months. She would’ve numbed with distractions — with alcohol, weed, or emotionally unavailable friendships. But that’s not an option anymore.

I’m growing a human. And I’m growing myself, too.

So instead of leaning on old habits, I’ve leaned — fully and completely — on God. On faith. On the belief that even in this storm, He is guiding me somewhere beautiful. He told me this season would come. He told me there would be grief. I just didn’t know it would look like this.

Nothing has gone according to my plan. But maybe that’s the point.

I still have waves coming at me, sometimes one right after the other. But now, I try to focus on the sunshine I know is coming. I can see it — not just as wishful thinking, but as a promise. A truth. A future that’s already unfolding, even if I can’t feel it fully just yet.

And that’s how I’m supporting myself:

By honoring the mess.

By giving myself grace.

By holding onto my faith.

By remembering that I’ve already made it through what once would’ve broken me.

There’s power in that.

And there’s healing in sharing it.

If You’re in It Too...

If you’re in a season that feels never-ending, where everything is shifting and nothing makes sense — I see you. Keep breathing. Keep believing. You don’t have to have it all together. You just have to keep going.

There’s sunshine coming for you, too.