Tag Archives: Faith and healing

Not Meant to Heal Alone

This past week, the theme has been community, and honestly, it’s hard for me.

Out of the blue, an internet friend and I started checking in with each other weekly. It wasn’t planned, but it’s been a blessing. We share what we’re working through, hold space to vent without judgment, and support each other without the expectation of advice. It’s not a big group or anything fancy, but it’s meaningful. Knowing that someone out there genuinely gets it is starting to change the way I view healing and helping me understand what I truly need. I’ll be honest—it’s also terrifying to be in that space.

Growing up, I didn’t have a clear picture of what real friendships looked like. I held onto relationships that weren’t always the healthiest, and I wasn’t always the best at being a friend myself. Over time, I found myself pulling away from people—sometimes because I got hurt, and sometimes because I didn’t know how to show up for others. That pattern left me feeling disconnected and thinking maybe I was better off on my own.

But here’s the thing: as much as isolation feels safe, it’s not where healing happens. God didn’t create us to live in isolation. From the very beginning, He designed us for connection—to support one another, encourage one another, and carry each other’s burdens (Galatians 6:2). Community is one of the ways God reminds us that we’re not alone.

It’s terrifying for me because this is new territory. I don’t want to fall back into old habits and let this connection fizzle out. At the same time, if it’s meant to be temporary, I want to let it go with grace. Thanks, abandonment issues—lbvs. Still, I believe this could be the start of a beautiful sisterhood.

Here’s what I’m learning: healing in community doesn’t replace the work we have to do on our own, but it enhances it. Having someone to walk alongside you as you work through your healing doesn’t make you weak or dependent; it reminds you that we were never meant to carry the weight of life alone. Community gives us perspective, strength, and the reassurance that even in our hardest moments, someone is standing in the gap for us.

The need for community doesn’t mean I don’t feel supported by my family or that I lack a go-to person in my life. I’m incredibly grateful for the love and support I have within my village. But there’s something unique about having an environment where someone supports your healing journey. It’s about connecting with people who can walk with you through the process, who understand the ups and downs of healing, and who remind you that you don’t have to do it all alone. With that in mind, I’m so excited to continue building genuine connections in this space—lifelong relationships built on healthy foundations, rooted in love and light. That’s exactly what I hope this blog embodies.

Sweets, if community feels hard for you, I want to encourage you: start small. Maybe it’s one person or one group where you feel truly seen and understood. Community doesn’t have to be perfect, and it doesn’t have to happen all at once. Sometimes, it starts with a simple conversation or reaching out to someone you trust. Healing is a journey, and while it’s deeply personal, it’s not meant to be walked alone. I truly believe that God knows what we need and, in His timing, will allow us to meet the right people who can support and uplift us in the ways we need most.

When you find the courage to let someone in, you might discover that healing feels a little less heavy. It’s not about leaning on others to fix you, but about allowing space for shared understanding and support. Community provides love, encouragement, and the reminder that even in your hardest moments, you don’t have to carry the weight of healing all on your own.

Remember, small steps lead to big changes. Whether it’s a weekly check-in with a friend, joining a group where you feel safe, or simply being open to connection, each step can bring you closer to a sense of peace and wholeness. Healing is hard work, but it’s lighter—and more meaningful—when you allow others to walk alongside you.

With love,
Tru

Farewell, 2024: Reflecting on a Year of Pain, Growth, and Gratitude

Hey Sweets,

As I sit here reflecting on the past year, I feel a whirlwind of emotions—grief, growth, gratitude, and everything in between. 2024 was a year that stretched me in ways I didn’t think possible. It was a year of deep pain and profound lessons, but also of unexpected joy, strengthened faith, and a clearer vision of the life I want to live.

The year began with me in recovery from an emergency hysterectomy, a life-altering event that left me grappling with physical and emotional changes. Shortly after, I received news that could have been devastating: I had cancer of the appendix. But even before the diagnosis, God had already spoken healing over my life. By the time I heard the words, the battle had already been won, and I was cancer-free.

In the midst of recovery, my heart was tested. A relationship I thought would be my last came to an abrupt end, broken by betrayal. It was a painful reminder that not every connection is meant to come with you into your next season. Grieving that loss, alongside the changes in my body and the life I thought I was building, was overwhelming.

This year also brought the passing of my father, a loss that shook me to my core. It wasn’t just his death I mourned—it was the dreams I had attached to him, the future I envisioned with him in it, and the version of myself I thought he’d see.

That grief layered on top of the loss I was still carrying from 2022, when my aunt passed away. Grief isn’t linear. It doesn’t come in tidy waves or leave when you want it to. It has a way of showing up when you least expect it, demanding to be felt.

This year taught me to stop running from grief and to make room for it. I learned that grieving isn’t just about mourning what’s gone; it’s about letting go of what could have been and finding peace in what is.

But 2024 wasn’t all grief and loss. It was also a year of joy, community, and growth.

I grew closer to God in ways I hadn’t experienced before. Through the challenges, I leaned on Him more deeply, and He revealed His presence in every step of the journey. Whether it was declaring me cancer-free before a diagnosis, guiding me through heartbreak, or showing me the beauty of stillness, God reminded me that I am never alone.

This year, I also had the privilege of holding my first back-to-school giveback. Seeing the joy and gratitude in the faces of children and their families reminded me of the power of community and giving. It was a moment that filled my heart and reminded me why I do what I do.

Every birthday this year was a celebration of life, not just for me but for the people I love. Despite the challenges, I found joy in those moments, knowing how precious each day truly is.

And while some relationships came to an end, others grew stronger. I realized that not every loss is a setback; sometimes, it’s God clearing the way for deeper, more meaningful connections.

On Christmas Eve, as I looked around my home, I was overwhelmed by gratitude. For the first time, I saw it clearly: I am living in an answered prayer. Stability, peace, and a safe space for my family—these were once distant dreams, and now they are my reality.

Sweets, Remember This

As we step into 2025, let’s remember that rest is just as important as action. Slowing down doesn’t mean giving up—it means prioritizing peace, stability, and the blessings we’ve already received.

For me, 2025 will be a year of intentional rest and reflection. I’ve decided to bow out of the rat race and make Sundays sacred—a day to reset, recharge, and honor God’s provision.

Wherever you are in your journey, take a moment to pause, look around, and give thanks. You may find that you’re living in parts of your answered prayers right now.

Here’s to a new year filled with grace, growth, and the courage to rest.

Thanks for reading,
Tru