Steps of Liberation: Paths to Wholesome Freedom

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

Not the peaceful kind that wraps around you like a soft blanket - but the kind that echoes. The kind that reminds you of absence. The kind that sits across from you at the dinner table and dares you to say something. Anything.

I never knew how loud loneliness could be.

Shadows in the Quiet

After the dust of the divorce settled and the boxes were unpacked in my new little basement suite, reality showed up like an unwelcome guest. I wasn’t just navigating a new address - I was grieving a life I had envisioned and fought for. For better for worse... In Sickness and In Health... Till death...???? I had spent years pouring prayers, patience, and pieces of myself into a marriage that could not hold. And now I was left holding only... space, emptiness.

There were evenings I knelt by the little window, hot coffee growing cold in my hands, watching snow fall like it had something to say. My phone was still. No texts. No missed calls. No "Just checking in" messages from the friends who once filled my weekends with laughter and my inbox with encouragement.

I wanted to believe this silence was sacred — that it was making room for something better.

But some nights, it just felt like abandonment.

The Weight of Missing

I missed companionship, yes — but not just the presence of another. I missed being seen. I missed being understood without having to explain the entire story. I missed the version of me who was confident, bold, and not afraid of the quiet.

Loneliness has a way of making you question everything - especially your worth.

Was I too much?

Too Loud?

Not enough?

Too Nagging?

Why did they stop calling?

Was my pain too inconvenient?

These questions settled in my mind like fog, thick and heavy.

But in the stillness, I began to realize something profound:

Letting go isn’t just about walking away from someone. It’s about releasing every version of yourself that clung to being chosen - even at the cost of your peace.

The Gift Hidden in Grief

I didn’t know it then, but the loneliness was doing a holy work in me. It stripped away the noise so I could finally hear my own voice again. It carved space in my soul where joy could return - not the performative joy people expect from you, but the kind that bubbles up unexpectedly on a slow walk, or in a deep breath, or in a new song of worship.

Slowly, I began to welcome the quiet. I lit candles in the evening and wrote in my journal. I cried without shame and laughed at old memories without pain. I cooked for one - and made it beautiful. And in those small, sacred acts, I began to remember that I was never truly alone.

God had been there all along - not rushing my healing, not demanding a smile - just holding space with me.

And that was ENOUGH!

If You're There Now...

To the woman staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m. wondering if the ache will ever go away...

To the one who deleted her wedding photos but can’t delete the pain...

To the sister who feels forgotten and unseen...

I see you.

I was you.

And I promise - this season will not last forever.

You are being refined, not rejected.

You are shedding, not shrinking.

You are not alone - not even for a moment.

Your voice is still yours.

Your life is still beautiful.

And your freedom is still unfolding.

Let’s Continue This Journey Together

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“When you make peace with the silence, it stops shouting back at you.”